Part 7 (1/2)
”Very near Montalcino. A mile or two. I can see the towers on the hill. We can stop there to break your fast and change your clothing, or you can wait for Siena.”
”I can not wait for Siena.”
He paused. ”I can get out if you would like to use the chamber pot under the seat.”
”No,” she said shortly. She would not make him get out in the sunrise. The pale light was leaking in around the shades already.
She could wait a mile or two. Wait! ”Montalcino? But that isn't on the route to Florence.” A little tendril of fear wound round her.
”No. But then the direct route would be easier to follow.””You think she might follow us?” She might be uneasy about Urbano, but she was actually frightened of Elyta.
He nodded. ”She wants the stone.”
Kate shook her head. ”I wonder why she would be so persistent. I mean, it's beautiful, but really too big to wear, and of course it's hugely valuable, but one can't sell it as it is... oh.” Kate felt stupid. ”It isn't because it's beautiful or worth a lot of money, is it?”
”No.”
”It's because it drives people mad?” She still could hardly credit that. It hadn't driven her mad. But the stone cutter... Perhaps it didn't affect the owner of the stone.
He nodded in the darkness.
What could one do with a stone like that? Have revenge on one's enemies, or on important people? ”How... how does it do that?”
He paused as if considering what to tell her. ”Some say it tells all possible futures. The human brain cannot accept the myriad possibilities, and just... shuts down.”
That was actually very like her first experience with it. She remembered those flas.h.i.+ng scales that grew into little scenes, going by so fast one couldn't quite comprehend them and then... then she might have had a vision of the future, where she saw Urbano run into a burning building. Had the stone provoked her vision? No. ”Stones don't tell all possible futures,” she managed to scoff.
The carriage began to head up a long rise. ”No one knows the future.” Of that she was a little less certain these days. She hoped her voice didn't show it.
”Then what drove the jeweler mad?” he asked softly.
”I... I don't know,” she admitted.
”Well, well. Then there are some things that cannot be explained, Lady Charlatan, by what one can see and what one can touch.”
That had her.
”Montalcino, signore,” Luigi called. ”Shall I stop?”
”Si, Luigi. All'Osteria de Quattro Fiumi.”
”Luigi must be terribly tired. Shouldn't he rest?”
”I drove through the night while he dozed beside me. Adolpho rode inside with you. And to answer your next question, we stopped three times last night to change horses, so they are not being mistreated either. I know that disappoints you. You like to think the worst.”
”I'm a realist.” Was all that true?
He seemed to guess her thoughts. ”You slept through everything.”
”I was... tired.” The carriage now clattered through narrow cobbled streets.
”I should think you would be. Here we are. You may wish to freshen up.” The carriage rolled to a stop. Adolpho opened the door. Urbano didn't even speak sharply to him for letting in light. He merely squinted painfully and thrust himself farther into his corner.
Very well, she thought crossly. So he's considerate to his servants, to his horses, and to me. That doesn't mean there isn't something strange about him.
The young postboy handed her down from the carriage with a bow.
”Take in her trunk,” Urbano ordered. ”Don't dawdle.” He pulled the carriage door shut.
Kate stalked across the early-morning piazza. Women were already queued up at the well in its center to get their morning water. Around her were arched stone houses and shops. Several carriages lined the edges of the little piazza. Towers thrust up everywhere around the town. Eleven, fifteen-there were dozens of them.
”Signorina,” Luigi called. He and Adolpho carried a leather-covered trunk between them. She hurried after them.
Luigi bespoke a room. He and the proprietor carried up the trunk and left her alone to her ablutions. Three maids soon arrived with buckets of water for a bath set near a coal fire. No matter how he got his money, she could not regret that Urbano was p.r.o.ne to spend it on luxury. She sank into the hot water gratefully. As the last maid went out the door, Kate glimpsed her lying in a bed, a b.l.o.o.d.y child in her arms. It was not dead though, thank G.o.d. It was screaming in protest. The maid was weeping and crooning to it. The moment was one of extreme joy. The maid had thought she was sterile, that she could never give her husband a child; but here was a boy, healthy and screaming in her amis. The girl felt fulfilled. She herself was in pain, but she didn't mind that. A man bent over her, murmuring endearments, and kissed her.
b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. Another of these blasted glimpses into... into nothing! This was not that girl's future. This was wishful thinking because Kate herself would never have a child. Enough. She was not going to have these daydreams anymore. She was exhausted, her thoughts muddled. What did she expect, with all that had been happening to her recently?
As she washed the grime of the journey from her body the gears of her brain got moving again. She could practically feel them chunk into place. Sleep and a bath worked wonders.
Her thoughts turned to Byron. She had read Don Juan, this afternoon, holding the book up to the channel of light made by raising the window shade an inch. Something was niggling at her. She just couldn't quite bring it out. Was it about Byron? She was amazed she had never read him before. How like Urbano to be enamored of his muscular, active poetry. Not unpleasing verse, though, on the whole. What was it she had heard about his secretary really writing one of his works? Polidori was the man's name. Which book? Oh, yes, the one about the vampire. There had been quite a flap because it was quite clearly about Byron himself...
She froze, the sponge in mid-sweep down her soapy arm. Vampires.
Who couldn't stand the sun.
Who moved from place to place silently as they transformed into bats.
Who hypnotized their victims with red eyes. It was red, wasn't it?
Who sucked souls!
She found herself trembling as though with cold in the steamy room. All she had heard of vampires came cras.h.i.+ng in on her. They drank blood from people's throats-my G.o.d! Just like the girl in the hotel. They couldn't stand crucifixes or... silver (or was that werewolves?) or garlic. They were dead; corpses come to life. And strong-horribly strong. They had no reflections in mirrors.
Had she ever seen Urbano in a mirror? She dropped the sponge. Where had he said his mother came from?
Transylvania.An old family, he said.
Two parts of her began to argue. It makes such sense, the first part shouted.
Are you mad? There are no such things as vampires, the second said, more reasonably.
You know it's true in your soul.
I believe in what I can see.
Like you believe you're having visions of the future, or that stones drive people mad?