The Wind Dancer

  "I don't care for ultimatums, Giulia." Lion's hand encircled Sanchia's wrist and he drew her toward the door. "Nor do I care for viragos. I don't believe I'll be returning to your casa."

  "But Lion, I didn't mean--" Giulia stopped. The door had closed behind them.

  Giulia's hands slowly clenched into fists. She should never have pushed him, she thought. She had known it was a mistake to show her anger the night before, but she hadn't been able to stem the vitrolic words. Jealousy. Dio, she was jealous of that bony child. It was just as well that this madness with Lion was at an end. Caprino was right; a woman in her profession had to maintain control. Money was important, not pleasure... not the pleasure she had received from Lion, certainly.

  She turned away from the door, lifting her skirts as she started up the stairs. Still, she did owe Lion a small debt for giving her so many hours of servicing in the bedchamber. She would repay him by waiting until late this evening to summon Caprino and tell him what she had overheard as she came down to the front hall. Caprino might be delayed as much as a full day before starting whatever it might be he chose to do with the information she would sell him. He'd promised her seven ducats for finding out what Lion wanted Sanchia to steal for him. In this she'd failed, but the name of the place where the theft was to occur should be worth at least five, Giulia thought shrewdly.

  Solinari. The name sounded vaguely familiar, she mused. Now in what connection had she heard it?

  "Where is Solinari?" Sanchia asked as Lion lifted her onto the saddle of the chestnut mare. She clutched desperately at the reins trying not to think how far she was from the ground.

  "It's a palazzo just outside of Pisa."

  "What am I supposed to steal there?"

  "A key."

  "A key to unlock what?"

  "A door." Lion mounted his own black stallion.

  "Oh." Sanchia was silent a moment. "What's behind the door?"

  She heard a low chuckle from Lorenzo, who was already mounted behind her.

  "You're very inquisitive." There was an edge to Lion's tone.

  "I'll have to know sometime, won't I?" She asked anxiously, "Do questions displease you?"

  "Cristo, what do I care? Question away as you please."

  Lorenzo chuckled again. "I'm sure she will."

  Lion scowled at him over his shoulder. "I never have to worry about you saying what you like, Lorenzo."

  "That must be a great comfort to you."

  "You'll have to tell me how to please you," Sanchia said quickly. "This is all new to me. I've had no master but Giovanni and he--"

  "I don't want to hear any more about that man," Lion said tersely as he turned his stallion, Tabron, toward the south. "I find any comparison between him and me less than flattering."

  "And I'm sure Lion will let you know what pleases him," Lorenzo murmured, "when he gains the courage."

  Lion's expression was lethal. "It may please me to take a mace to your head in the very near future."

  Lorenzo clucked reprovingly. "Such violence. How can you set a fitting example for the young when you are clearly a barbarian?"

  "Lorenzo, I'm going to--" Lion stopped abruptly. "Sanchia, you may ask your questions when we stop at the Inn of the Two Swords this evening. I'm in a hurry now." He kicked the stallion into a trot. "Bring her." A moment later he was halfway down the street.

  Sanchia frowned. "I made him angry."

  Lorenzo shook his head. "The situation makes him angry, but that will change shortly. I'm surprised he's lasted this long." He edged his horse closer and took the reins from Sanchia's hand. "However, perhaps I shouldn't have goaded him so. I believe we can expect to have an extremely hard and fast trip today. Lion grew up on a horse and forgets there are others who prefer traveling on two feet rather than four." He grimaced as he turned his horse and began leading Sanchia's mare in the direction Lion had taken. "Dio, now I hate riding these foul-smelling beasts."

  The trip was as grueling as Lorenzo had predicted, and Sanchia was near exhaustion when they finally stopped at sunset at the Inn of the Two Swords. A hundred times she had wanted to ask Lion to stop and let them rest, and a hundred times she had bitten her lip and remained silent. It was not her place to complain, and she had little opportunity to speak to him anyway. For most of the journey he rode at least a quarter of a mile ahead of her and Lorenzo.

  The interior of the small inn appeared clean and a cheerful fire burned in the stone fireplace in the common room. The delicious aroma of roasting hare drifted to Sanchia's nostrils from the spit that a buxom maid was turning over the fire.

  The innkeeper bustled forward, a broad, toothy smile lighting his angular face. "Welcome, my lord, it's a pleasure to have you again under my roof. How long will you be with us?"

  "We leave at dawn tomorrow, Antonio." Lion drew off his leather gauntlets and tucked them in his belt. "See that our horses are cared for and water heated for us for washing."

  "At once, Magnifico. I'll call my son to take your horses to the stable and they'll receive the finest care." The innkeeper snapped his fingers and the maid left the spit and hurried toward them, an eager smile on her lips. "Heat water and bring it to Lord Andreas and his companions at once, Letitia." His gaze went to Sanchia and he frowned. "You remember, we have only the two rooms, my lord. Will the lady--"

  "The lady will occupy my bed," Lion interrupted. "Send Letitia with wine at once and with our dinner after we've had an opportunity to wash."

  Sanchia caught the flickering expression of disappointment on the servant girl's face before she hurried from the room, trailing the innkeeper.

  Lorenzo was already climbing the short flight of stairs. "I'm going to stretch out and rest these aching bones. When the wench brings the food call me." He grimaced as he glanced down at them from the landing. "I don't know why I let you persuade me to mount one of those beasts from hell, Lion."

  "Because you're too lazy to walk," Lion said dryly. "And you're afraid you'll miss something if you stay at Mandara."

  "Things were much simpler and more comfortable before you decided to save me from my life of iniquity." Lorenzo opened the door at the top of the stairs. "I managed very well in Naples without running from place to place jarring my bones and doing grievous harm to my person." He glanced over his shoulder. "By the way, you'd best care for your urchin. If you weren't avoiding looking at her, you would notice that she may collapse at any moment."

  Lion's gaze flew to Sanchia.

  "I'm not tired," Sanchia said quickly. "Well, perhaps a little." She tried to keep from swaying. "I've never ridden a horse before and the sun--"

  "Cristo!" Lion's hand was on her elbow propelling her up the steps. "Why didn't you tell me you needed to stop?"

  "You said you were in a hurry."

  "So you let me drive you until you were ready to fall off the damned horse? Have you no sense?" Lion threw open the door next to the one through which Lorenzo had disappeared and half pushed her into a small bedchamber. "Lie down until Letitia comes with the wine."

  "I don't have to lie down. I'm not ill."

  He picked her up and tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed. "And you're not going to be ill. I have no time to be your nursemaid."

  A ghost of a smile touched her lips as she thought of Lionello Andreas in a sickroom. He was so big, his energy and vitality so great, she couldn't associate him with illness. "I'll endeavor to ward off all maladies so as not to inconvenience you."

  "Are you laughing at me?"

  Her lashes fell to veil the glint of mischief in her eyes. "I would not dare, my lord."

  "You'd dare." He stood looking down at her for an instant before turning on his heel. "Rest. I'll go next door and let Lorenzo laugh at me awhile. I'm more accustomed to his barbs than yours."

  Sanchia raised herself on one elbow. "Barbs, my lord? I merely jested a bit. If you'd rather I wouldn't laugh, you must tell me and I'll--"

  He held his hand up. "Must you be so obliging? I'm not so p
uffed up that I can't laugh at myself." Suddenly a smile lit his harsh features with rare warmth. "And I always get my own back eventually."

  The door shut behind him before she could answer.

  She gazed at the door for a long time before she settled her cheek on the pillow and closed her eyes. He was difficult to understand, she thought wearily. So many hard, sharp edges and so much brutal driving force and yet his hands had held nothing but rough kindness when they touched her just now.

  And his smile had been beautiful...

  Chapter Five.

  Well, if I must face the horrors of mounting that repulsive monster at dawn, I suppose I must bid you good night." Lorenzo pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. A faintly mocking smile was on his lips as his gaze rested on Sanchia sitting on a stool by the hearth. "A very good night. Shall I tell Letitia to take away the remains of this sumptuous repast so as not to disturb you... later?"

  "I'll clear it away." Sanchia jumped to her feet, eager to have something to do to relieve the tension that had been building steadily within her during the meal. "There's no use your troubling yourself, Messer Lorenzo. I'll be glad to--"

  "Sit down, Sanchia." Lion's voice was as lazy as the position of his big body sprawled in the chair opposite Lorenzo. "Tell Letitia to come and take care of it, Lorenzo."

  "But I can... " Sanchia trailed off as she met Lion's gaze. The room was suddenly close, airless. She quickly sat back down on the stool and looked at the reflection of the firelight in the ruby red wine in her wooden goblet.

  Lorenzo nodded as he moved toward the door. "I'll see you at dawn."

  The silence in the room after the door closed behind him was broken only by the hiss and crackle of the olive logs burning in the fireplace. Sanchia could feel Lion's gaze on her face but avoided looking up to meet his eyes.

  The tension was growing, the tightness in her chest robbing her of breath. Why didn't he speak? Then when he let the silence drag on she realized she must be the one to break it. "You should let me serve you. It is my place."

  "I didn't buy you to serve me at the table. Your time will come."

  Involuntarily her glance flew to the bed across the room.

  He chuckled. "I didn't buy you for that either. It will only be an extra delight for us both."

  "Not for--" She broke off. It would be foolish to anger him when he seemed to be more mellow than she had ever seen him. There were answers she must have if she was to understand him. "What lies behind the door, my lord? The one that I'm to steal the key to unlock?"

  "Why does it matter to you?"

  "It's important for me to try to know about things that have an effect on my life. You're a very rich man. Why should you steal more?"

  Lion smiled cynically. "My dear Sanchia, haven't you found there's never enough wealth for some men?"

  "Yes." A frown furrowed her brow. "I do not know you very well, but I don't think you're one of those men."

  "No, but Francisco Damari is." The wooden chair creaked as Lion leaned back and stretched his legs out before him, his gaze on the fire. "Ruling all the city-states of Italy would only whet Damari's appetite. He thinks to reign over the world." Lion's lips tightened. "But he'll not use the Wind Dancer to buy him more power."

  "The Wind Dancer?"

  "A statue belonging to my family." In the firelight Lion's rugged features were softened to real handsomeness in sharp contrast to the bitter tone of his voice. "While I was away in France negotiating the purchase of another shipyard, he bribed one of my servants at Mandara, a man called Giuseppe, to steal it and bring it to him. He's now keeping the statue at his palazzo at Solinari."

  "How do you know?"

  "Lorenzo and I chased down Giuseppe and asked him a number of pertinent questions. He was delighted to answer... eventually."

  Sanchia, shivered and looked away from the stark brutality of his expression. "If the statue is yours, why don't you just march in and take it? Lorenzo said you were a condottiere."

  "It may come to that. However, I disbanded my armies two years ago and it would take a good deal of time to form another condotti. I do not wish to bring Damari, even Borgia perhaps, down on Mandara until I have a chance to refortify. Mandara is well guarded but not strong enough to withstand a thrust by Borgia."

  "Borgia?" Her gaze flew back to his face.

  "Oh, you've heard of the illustrious Duke Valentino?" Lion's lips twisted. "But of course. All of Italy knows of the great Cesare."

  "Yes, I've heard of him." Who in Florence was not familiar with the name? Borgia had been eyeing Florence with greed and speculation for many years and, after his recently completed conquest of the Romagna, every week there had been a new rumor that the duke was on the march to lay siege to the city. "I've heard that he wishes to rule all Italy, but who is this Damari?"

  "Damari is a condottiere who is now serving under Borgia's banner. They have similar goals and similar methods for obtaining them."

  Sanchia didn't have to ask the nature of those methods. The ruthless slaughter of women and children, the maiming of innocents by the captains serving Borgia had become legend over the years. "Then why do you not let him have the statue? You can buy others."

  "There is no other statue like it in the world. It's part of my family history." His voice vibrated with intensity. "We guard it." He paused. "And it guards us."

  "I don't understand."

  "You don't have to understand. All you have to do is go to the palazzo, steal the key from the officer on guard, and bring it to me."

  "It sounds very simple."

  Lion's hands closed on the arms of his chair. "We'll make it so. No harm will come to you, I promise."

  "I take comfort from your promise. I fear I'd not look forward to facing your Messer Damari. Men such as he don't regard the life of a slave as having any more value than a cool drink of water." She lifted her shoulder and let it drop expressively. "Less, if they have no thirst."

  "Just do what I say and you'll not even see Damari. We've laid a path of gold to get into the palazzo and buy the information as to the location of the store house where Damari keeps his treasures."

  "And you're sure Damari will have your Wind Dancer there?"

  He smiled crookedly. "Oh yes, it will be there. Damari regards the Wind Dancer as the ultimate treasure."

  "Why?" Sanchia took a final sip of wine before setting the wooden goblet on the hearth. "You said it was important to your family, but why should it be important to him?"

  "Because it belongs to me," Lion said grimly. "And he knows I want it back. He knows I have to get it back."

  "But why would Borgia let himself be swayed by Damari into protecting it?"

  "The pope is a greedy man and dazzled by all things ancient and classical. Pope Alexander's treasury grows daily with the loot Cesare brings to Rome from his conquests. As long as Cesare continues to send him such treasure Alexander will protect his clever son and give him access to the papal monies for his campaigns."

  "And the Wind Dancer is ancient?"

  Lion smiled curiously. "Oh yes, very ancient. Damari is hoping to dangle the Wind Dancer before Cesare and Alexander and possibly gain a dukedom from the pope."

  Sanchia's eyes widened. "But they would surely not give so much?"

  "They might. Alexander is superstitious and there are many legends about the Wind Dancer."

  "What kind of legends?"

  Lion shrugged. "Power. Legend says the Wind Dancer can give any victory to the one who possesses it."

  "But you don't believe it."

  He was silent a moment. "I don't know. The lives of my family have always been too intertwined with the Wind Dancer for us to look at it objectively. If the statue does possess power, we've never tried to use it."

  "Why not?"

  "Kinship," Lion said simply. "The Wind Dancer is of our family. We of the Andreas family may not be shy about manipulating others to suit us, but we stand together. We will not use each other."

&
nbsp; She shook her head in disbelief. "But a dukedom for a statue... "

  "What's a dukedom in Italy today? Cesare gathered a parcel of little states into his basket this year alone." His lips twisted. "For that matter, what is Italy today? Genoa and Milan are gone, Naples torn between the French and Spaniards. Florence is licking at the French boots and still out to pluck Pisa. All the rest of the signories are maneuvering to survive and not be swept by the pope and Rome into the empire Cesare is trying to create for himself. While France, Spain, and England have finally become unified and have strong national armies, we still hire mercenaries who have loyalty only to the highest bidder. I don't wonder Borgia considers all of Italy ripe for conquest."

  There was an indifference in his tone that surprised her after the passionate intensity with which he'd spoken of his family and the Wind Dancer. "You don't care? It's your country, after all. Is it not important to you?"

  He shook his head. "Mandara is my country. I have no interest in what the rest of Italy becomes as long as they leave me and my people out of their petty bickering." He tilted his head to look at her curiously. "Is it important to you?"

  She thought about it. "A slave has no country, I suppose." She paused. "But I think I'd like to feel as if I belonged somewhere. It would make me... warm."

  His gaze narrowed on her face. "You accept being a slave so meekly?"

  "I don't remember ever being anything else."

  "And yet you have courage. I would have thought..."

  She looked at him inquiringly.

  "I couldn't standit," he said with sudden violence. "I'd want to kill someone or run away to a land where I could be free. Haven't you ever wanted to do that?"

  "I've never thought about it. From the time I was a tiny child my mother kept telling me I must accept my station in life and make the best of it." She smiled tremulously. "And I'm not really very brave. Sometimes it was hard just to live from day to day. I have had little time to think about what it might be like to be free."