The Shades of Time (27 page)

Backing toward
the far wall, he realized with dismay that he was completely naked.
And he ached for good reason. Whoever held him captive had
pleasured themselves with fists and who knew what devices. Not a
stretch of skin lacked ugly greenish yellow bruises, the dull hues
indicating he'd been subjected to such punishment over days, not
hours, the colors showing healing. Only his weeping scalp indicated
recent activity.

Why can't I
remember?

He sank to the
floor and waited as his captors, and it seemed an invading army's
worth, jostled about outside the dank cell. What light entered came
from a narrow slit situated high on the wall against which he
braced himself. Even with his imposing stature, the window was too
high to see out.

That left out
dungeons, a small comfort.

Three swarthy
men crowded into the narrow space effectively blocking his exit.
Bracing, he rocked on his haunches, thighs screaming in agony as
his sore muscles protested.

The man to his
left smirked and said, "So the demon is finally awake." The other
two tittered appreciatively.

Antonio watched
the three through slitted eyes, waiting for one of them to make a
wrong move, but in truth he doubted he could move fast enough to
overpower them, even if given the chance. Ribs ground in protest as
he attempted to snatch a breath and stabbing shards of pain rent
through his gut. The small movements were a symphony of agony
leaving him light headed and disoriented. Parched lips and thick
tongue spoke to days without water or sustenance.

What do they
want with me?

The leader growled, "Bring him," and backed away so his burley
cohorts could advance toward the crouching figure. As Tonio's
muscles twitched with the effort to hold himself steady, the man
said, "Don't try it,
senyor
."

The man relayed
rapid instructions to his men who quickly bound and blindfolded
Antonio before he could react. The accent seemed familiar,
tantalizingly so.

Roughly his
captors shoved and pulled him through what seemed an interminably
long corridor—he knew this from his frequent collisions against the
rough stone walls—until releasing him to fall in a heap on a smooth
stone floor that felt blessed cool against his fevered, battered
body.

He took what
small measure of comfort he could from the sweet contact, knowing
the surcease from pain would not last long.

To his right, a
high-pitched voice giggled with glee. "Suspend him. Let's see if
his memory improves when we start to peel layers off his back."

Two, maybe
three, men jerked him off the floor and attached manacles to his
wrists—not for the first time judging from how his flesh screamed
in protest as the burred metal scrapped and tore through scabs and
lacerations.

With a howl of
pain, he twisted violently against the inexorable pull on his
shoulders, yanking the joints to within their breaking point.

With the first
bite of the lash, he moaned, "Why…?" then bit down on his tongue,
the words choked back until only agony and blood and the first
thrill of fear consumed him.

The last thing
he remembered was a faint voice admonishing him, "Tell us what your
brother plans at court … and we will end this."

****

Veluria hissed
in dismay as Antonio slid bonelessly to the floor, a silly smile on
his face, as he dragged her with him.

With a slur he
murmured, "You love me?"

She'd regretted
the words as soon as they left her mouth, knowing she'd condemned
them both, but the truth of it was undeniable. The giant had flung
himself across the room, pinning her against the door.

That had been
his undoing, the migraine and wine finally taking their toll. She
wanted to rail at him, call him a stupid ass, but instead she
gently brushed his lips and disentangled herself from the
unconscious man.

"Well, you big
oaf, what do I do with you now?"

She should
leave him to snore fitfully on the hard floor or try to lift him to
the bed—an impossible task for one his size and weight. She tried
tugging on his legs and barely managed to move them away from the
door.

"All right.
Think. Maybe the innkeeper can help me get him on the bed." Why she
needed to see to the idiot's comfort was beyond her. He was the one
who'd spent the entire afternoon banging the bitch downstairs. Then
he went and got himself shitfaced on top of that.

"Then he tells me he
loves
me? Sweet Mother, tell me he isn't the one." But
he was and her lips twitched at the memory of his tongue tangling
with hers, and the scent of a man in full rut, claiming his
prize.

She stared at
the expanse of chest, and pictured how those hard muscles would
bunch as he thrust…

Blushing, she debated her options. Let him stay on the
unforgiving floor and wake up stiff …
oh
dear, yes
… or try to make him comfortable
enough to sleep off the effects of the migraine and his exertions
of the day.

"Damn it, bed
it is."

She kicked at his legs to make more space so she could exit
the room, her skirts catching on a rough bit of wood. Annoyed, she
heard the fabric tear. She was going to look like a vagrant if she
didn't find new clothes. Her laughable undergarments could stand in
a corner as it was. If she could trade places with Tonio, she
wouldn't touch
her
without a power wash with industrial grade soap.

When the Demon
had opened to her, he'd tapped into almost everything she was. He
might not understand the full extent of his new knowledge but he
would, given sufficient time. She felt strangely free to express
her thoughts as if she were in her own time, a liberating and
imminently stupid lapse of judgment. She could not presume that
Tonio was the only adept in this time and place. She had more to
protect than just herself now.

She had to find
a way to shield the man who had stolen her heart. Skipping down the
uneven steps, she found her way through the weak light cast through
the taberna's leaded glass windows. Raucous laughter and singing
greeted her as she pushed through the door. The party toward the
rear of the small room did not take note of her progress to the
archway at the rear that led to the kitchen.

She peered
around the door jamb, hoping to spy the innkeeper. The man seemed
to be nowhere about, nor was the slovenly whore. Another narrow
door led to the back of the taberna. She smelled the rank odor of
manure and rotting bedding. Wishing for a candle or a lantern, she
cautiously edged past the paddock, wondering what she might be
stepping in.

For some reason she felt the need to be cautious. Something
seemed out of place and she couldn't put her finger on it.
Whispering, "
Senhor
," her heart nearly stopped when a hand gripped her arm and
yanked her into a lean-to of some sort.

"Ssssh,
signora
, be quiet."

"Paulo, is that
you?" Paulo was Antonio's driver. He was a wizened elf of a man,
not much taller than herself.

"Yes,
signora
." He leaned in close and kept his voice to a harsh whisper.
"We have trouble."

"Trouble?"

The man was
beside himself, his body trembling uncontrollably, muttering in a
dialect she didn't understand. She risked a scan but managed only
detecting abject terror and the fact that the innkeeper and his
serving woman had fled the premises, temporarily.

"Those men mean
him harm," Paulo hissed, "and we must warn my master."

"Who are they?"
She felt rather than saw the small man's shrug. "Paulo?"

There was no
point pressing him. He had little intelligence beyond having heard
the men boasting of their exploits—and the fact that the whore had
happened to mention that an Italian gentleman of means resided at
the taberna.

She had a good
idea they might be from the Catalan resistance, though why they
would be sequestering a cell so close to the coast escaped her. She
was familiar with Italian politics and the incessant squabbling of
the city-states, but the fractured enmities of the peninsula had
been only rough-sketched during her tutorials.

What interest they might have in Antonio wasn't clear. They
did not seem to know about
her
. She was sure she hadn't been
noticed when she'd walked through the inn. That gave her an
advantage. She would skirt around the outside of the building and
make her way to their rooms.

"Listen to me,
you must harness the horses. Work quickly. I will alert Antonio and
bring him here." Paulo pulled away before she could finish.
Hissing, "Hurry," after his retreating figure, she gathered her
skirts and made her way toward the building.

Her eyes had
adjusted to the ambient light making passage to the stairs easier.
As she reached the edge of the building light flooded the packed
dirt in front of the building—the sound of booted feet moving
quickly and with purpose brought her up short. Before she could
bolt for the stairs the group ascended stealthily and slammed the
door open so violently she could feel the impact against the
wall.

Damn it! Tonio!
Wake up, wake up, wake up!

Nothing but a
solid wall met her silent scream as she poured all her powers into
rousting him. But it was too late—her cries echoed hollowly as
Antonio's essence faded from her control.

****

Nicolo strode
to the door, his annoyance at being interrupted yet again with the
petty concerns of the court toadies overriding his natural caution.
He yanked the heavy door open and glared at two disheveled
travelers, their cloaks stained and matted with mud and other
detritus.

At first he did
not recognize the small man trembling with anxiety. He gave the
tiny woman at his side only a cursory glance as he muttered,
"Paulo? Wha—?"

"Please,
signore
, please…"

Nico looked
beyond the bedraggled couple seeking his brother's tall frame. His
gut told him something was horribly wrong.

The woman
placed a calming hand on the old man's arm and spoke huskily, the
words coming with difficulty. "We've come about Antonio. We … he
needs your help."

Gathering his
wits, Nico pulled the door completely open and called for his
manservant. "Ferran! Ferran!" The sound of running feet on the
ceramic tiles, followed by concerned chatter, seemed to agitate the
old man even more.

"Come in, Paulo,
signora
?" He tenderly grasped the old
man's arm and guided him into the foyer leaving the woman to follow
unsteadily.

He fired rapid
instructions to his staff to bring food and drink. Settling Paulo
on a settee he turned to the diminutive woman and guided her to a
stool where she could sit comfortably. Her dark eyes looked dull
and lifeless, like all hope had been drained from her, leaving just
a shell. He thought he recognized her but from her haggard
appearance it was difficult to say.

His manservant
brought a tray laden with goblets of water, wine and plates of
cheese and dried meats. The woman drank her water gratefully but
Paulo waved his away. Nico glanced at the woman who nodded at him.
Obviously she was as concerned about the old man as he was.

"Ferran, take
Paulo to our guest quarters."

Paulo protested, "No,
signore
…" but Nico insisted. Once
Paulo had left the room, he sank to the settee and said, "Now,
madam, tell me who you are and why you are here about my
brother."

The woman spoke
slowly, fighting for each word as exhaustion threatened to claim
her. Nico detected a faint energy signature, the memory of it a
niggling irritation.

Why can't I
place you?

The woman
hesitated, yet he sensed her agitation and confusion, as if she
feared revealing too much.

What the hell
is going on?

Nico disliked
using his secret abilities on strangers but he knew he must risk
it. Fear for Antonio beat like a drum in his skull. He sent out a
probe, only to be met with a sense of welcoming relief.

Shit. This was
the Frenchwoman! What was her name again?

"It's
Veluria."

"Veluria. I
must know. Will you allow…?"

She held up a
hand and bit her bottom lip, then nodded assent. Too weary to
shield herself, the woman held nothing back, every thought, every
feeling flooded his senses.

Sweet Jesus.
Antonio in love? That's not possible!

The woman, Veluria, frowned and said, "Believe it. But that is
not the issue. Tonio has been taken by separatists who plan to hold
him for ransom, torture him … oh
signore
, I don't know what they plan
to do!"

Nico rose
abruptly and left the room, his fury and fear so strong he knew he
would swamp the woman with his out-of-control powers. Ferran met
him in the antechamber.

"Call the
captain of my guard. Ask him to meet me in one hour with his full
complement."

Ferran nodded
and hastened to do his master's bidding. Nico paced the small room,
desperate to get his anger and worry under control. What he'd
gleaned from the woman made no sense although every feeling, every
sensation rang true.

He had to set
aside that which he did not understand and instead focus on the
immediate threat. He could only imagine what the separatists hoped
to accomplish by detaining Tonio. His brother had little direct
contact with the halls of power, operating instead in the shadows
doing their father's bidding. But a Medici was a prize that could
be parlayed into a sizable ransom payment since Cosimo's fondness
for his sons was well-known.