A Summoning of Demons

by Cate Glass

  In the Ucelli Gardens all was celebration. The white pavilion appeared as an island of light floating in a darkening sea of grassy swales, groves, and autumn flowers. Lanterns were hung from the branches of autumn-hued trees like the stars I’d seen reflected in the river on the previous night. The music of vielles and flutes floated on the cool air alongside laughter and conversation.

  I pulled the voluminous gray cloak around my shoulders. Made sure the folds of my plum-colored underskirt showed stylishly through slits in my plain black skirt. Adjusted the fat, plushy toque that covered my hair and tugged at the filmy veil that would float in front of my face. A Beggars Ring seamstress had been delighted to press the wrinkles from a costume I had used when impersonating a wealthy young matron. I’d had no time to seek help from Vashti.

  From what I could see, some seventy or eighty guests had obeyed il Padroné’s request to honor his vicino-figlia’s coming of age. I watched from a grove of birch trees atop a soft knoll about halfway between the pavilion and the Ucelli’s south gate, where a gardener was packing up his barrow of tools after a hard day’s work. Only it was Placidio, who had paid the gardener a fair sum to borrow his barrow and tools for the evening. Neri and Dumond manned the other two gates.

  I held back until the evening waned a bit more, allowing the paths through the groves outside the party ring to be a little darker. A pause in the music yielded to unintelligible speeches followed by cheers and applause. The birthday well-wishes. When the music resumed, the guests scattered a bit, strolling about the gardens. Time to go.

  A short sprint across a darkening meadow brought me up behind a small party who had taken a turn around a small pond. They were speaking of ducks and swans and whether it was fair to hunt them in such a lovely place. An older woman stopped to adjust her shoe, waving the others on. I offered to hold her steady and then took up the conversation as if I’d been there all the while.

  Talking of gravel paths, and cobblestones, and shoes, we drifted back toward the pavilion where food and drink enough for half the city had been laid out.

  “Such a pleasure, damizella,” said the elderly lady with the uncomfortable shoe. “I shall certainly give your cobbler a try. I would as soon wear peasant clogs as these miserable pattens.”

  I wished her more comfortable feet and scanned the crowd. Directly across the pavilion, Livia’s exuberant hair stood out like a beacon. She stood beside her father, the city’s steward, speaking to several ladies. I did not see Sandro, though I guessed him to be the center of a boisterous group off to my left.

  My costume would not bear scrutiny under the bright lamps underneath the canopy. Nor would my face, even veiled, bear scrutiny from many of the guests. Thus I snatched a cup of wine from a side table and meandered along the peripheries until I found where the servants were refilling the wine pitchers.

  “Young man,” I said to one. “These lights are sorely bothersome to my poor eyes—I have a condition, you see—but I must offer my felicitations to Damizella di Nardo. Would you take her a message for me? What is your name?”

  “Certain, segna. One moment.” He wiped his hands and bowed. “My name is Oswilio. What message?”

  “Tell her that her friend is waiting by the swan pool, wanting to know how she got to be so very brave.” I lifted my veil and winked at him in my best Moon House fashion. “Don’t fail me, Oswilio. It’s a jest between us.”

  “Right-right away, segn—damizella. Certain.”

  I retired to a stone bench by the swan pool. Livia arrived before I could drain my wine cup.

  “Romy?” she said, keeping a few steps away. By speaking my name, she demonstrated exactly why I had to do what I’d come to do.

  “Indeed so. Alive and possessed of my own mind.”

  The very air moved aside for her, she rushed so quickly to my side. “I’m so glad. I’ve felt so awful throwing you in like that. And I need to ask you more about what you experienced last night.…”

  “Shh. I daren’t stay but a few moments, and you need to get back before you’re missed. I just have know to how things have fallen out here. Are you free?”

  She took my hands in hers. “We challenged the contract. His father balked, but Dono held firm. He told his father that he could not dishonor his office by accepting a marriage contract the woman was not prepared for. As his duties kept him so preoccupied, it was necessary that his wife be ‘comfortably left on her own.’”

  “So you chose to stay?”

  “I did. I told his father I wished to study both Confraternity history and … diseases of the mind. But we are not betrothed or otherwise committed to stay together. I made that clear and Dono agreed. We will talk and dine and perhaps travel—if something can be done about his illness. And if I can help him bring down the villain who murdered Marsilia, my stay will be doubly worthwhile.”

  “I’m glad it’s your choice. About your friend the bookbinder, I found her before she died.…” I told of Marsilia’s bravery and her clever hiding place.

  “Oh, stars.” Her bright spirit had turned ragged. “She died for me.”

  “She believed in you. At some time, when you think it safe, I’ll return your papers and the book. Until then, they’ll be well-protected.”

  “I can’t say when,” she said. “Dono and I will have to be so careful.”

  “That’s very true. And you must persuade Dono to tell you the truth of his … condition. It should be a part of your getting to know each other.”

  “That is most certainly true. Thank you, Romy. I do like being alive. Which means I should go.”

  “I need to speak to Dono as well.”

  “I’ll send him.”

  “Just one more thing, Livia. I want to tell you how I recall a few things about our adventure…” As I spoke, I reached deep for magic.

  I had rehearsed the story I would tell her, and the variant I would tell Donato, not only replacing Teo with a wandering soldier of amazing strength who had died in the river, but also replacing Romy, Placidio, Neri, and Dumond with four people who looked nothing like us. I made the least possible changes needed to protect our identities.

  “If you ever need help, send a message to the box I told you and someone will answer.”

  “Message box six, yes, in the Beggars Ring Road. All right … thank you … uh … dama. Tell Nis she was a great comfort and I’m sorry we threw her in the river. We were just so angry.…”

  The uncertainty in her voice grieved me. As ever, I hated the breakage this magic left behind, fragments that could never be resolved no matter how hard she puzzled. And I could not help but regret removing the chance to know her better. But this was for her safety and Dono’s, as well as ours and Teo’s.

  “You’ll send Dono here, yes?”

  “Of course. Fortune’s benefice, segna.”

  “Virtue’s hand uplift thee always, Livia.”

  She took a last puzzled look at me and vanished into the dark.

  So Donato had kept his word. Certain, it was the lure of the Athenaeum—and perhaps the chance at understanding the events she had witnessed—kept Livia at his side. Perhaps something else, as well. I entertained the notion that an attachment had developed between the two over those last few hours. Foolish perhaps. Or an echo of the romantic streak I had developed in my years with Sandro, and excised so bitterly on the day he discarded me. But shared hardships could create interesting friendships. Livia had stayed solid and true to her beliefs through unbelievable and horrific events, but her curiosity would lead her forward, not hold her back. Her concern for Donato at the end had been generous. And he … what a sad, strange, brave young man who had done so much that was reprehensible … and yet desired so deeply to do better. Maybe a dose of intelligent, acerbic Livia would help him on his path.

  “Romy?”

  I sighed at the reminder of necessity, yet again. “Indeed so.”

  “Strange. Livia couldn’t recall your name.” Dono, too, sat beside me as if we’d been frien
ds for a lifetime. As if we did not stand at opposite compass points with regard to the moral foundations of magic.

  “You’re free of them,” he said, knowing I wouldn’t be sitting there if I yet had a horde of demons inside me. “I—I hoped I would hear news of you. So it was indeed the river, the flow of water took them … and the Enemy … away.”

  “It was magic,” I said. “The demons were created by twisted, horrible magic, but restored by something marvelous, healthy, and beautiful.”

  “I’m guessing your friend, the … Vodai Guardian … lived after all.”

  “I will not speak of him again, and you must not either. We are all at risk. Thank you for seeing that my brother and our friend were not taken.”

  “How could I not after what you all did for me?”

  “Livia says you kept your word about the contract. And yet she chose to stay.”

  “She seems agreeable to a term of courtship. Though truly I think the lure of our library outweighs her anxieties about me or my father. I swore to her and I will to you, that she will never be used to destroy her father.”

  “Even though—on the bridge, I saw your father yet believes you are his puppet.”

  “He does. For now. But he’s not stupid, either. He will worry that I am out of his sight even for these few moments. My position must be secure before I move, but I will move. Thwart, undermine, expose his crimes. Likely it will not be this month.”

  “Good. I trust you, Dono, but you’ve chosen a very hard road. I’ve lived— Well, you’ve already come through a great deal, so I have faith you can do this, too. Watch your back. Your father wore a poison ring on the bridge.”

  “That is not a new threat,” he said.

  “Well, keep your mind open. And though the Enemy will ever be a danger—as he is for me—remember that your soul houses no demon, only a powerful talent that is neither good nor evil in itself. Listen to Livia. Keep her safe.”

  “I’ll do my best at all of those things.”

  “Have you gone back as yet?” He would know where.

  “I have. This afternoon before coming here. All is quiet. I didn’t do a summoning, but for years I’ve felt … I called them lingerers. Ones who did not go deep when sent back to the pool. It’s as if they wish to be first in line to claim a life. Whenever I light a lamp or stir the ashes in the bowl, I feel them. But not today. I’m hopeful.”

  Which he had not been for a very long time. “I wouldn’t want to do all this again,” I said.

  “Nor I. Livia believes she can clog the spring without anyone knowing. She might need your friend Dumond to acquire the material she needs and your brother to bring it.”

  As I gave him the message box number, I thought of one more thing. “One more favor. At some time, I wonder if my friends and I might perhaps borrow a book or two from the Athenaeum. We all should be learning our history. Would that be possible?”

  “Yes, of course. Send me a message … best make it to Livia. Perhaps with a code word. How about incrocio?”

  “Crossroad—the Cavalieri code word!”

  “It’ll not be used for that ever again,” he said. “I swear it.”

  “Good.” I laid my hand on his and reached for magic. “Before I go, I need to go over a few things about our story.…”

  I told him his new truth and sent him away puzzled.

  The bells of the Palazzo Segnori were ringing the Hour of Contemplation. The quiet hour after the bustle of dinners and birthday celebrations or putting children to bed. The time Vashti was expecting the four of us to return and celebrate the completion of our mission. I looked forward to that.

  One more assignation first. Convenient that the man putting on the birthday celebration was the one I was to meet, so I didn’t have far to go.

  I strolled from the swan pond up the path to the highest point in the Gardens. Tucked into a grove of aged chestnut trees was a wooden bench. It had been installed there by Sandro’s grandfather Giovanni some sixty years past. Giovanni would sit there of a morning with his beloved wife … and later with his beloved grandson … and drink coffee from a flask while watching the sunrise. Sandro said they rarely talked. Indeed the eastern prospect was glorious—orderly vineyards and fields of lavender, olive groves, and the far distant mountains of Riccia, and just a glimmer Sandro claimed was the sea, but was likely not.

  Sandro had taken me there often, and though I hated rising so early, it had been a special place.

  He was already there. He jumped up as my shoes crunched on the gravel path. Naught but a silhouette—but perfectly familiar. Even his profile was beautiful.

  “Was it you?” he said, as if the question had already been spoken and was just waiting for ears to hear it. “When I heard…”

  I halted at the top of the path, not quite sure what to do. My feet were tired; I wore ladies’ slippers, not boots or pattens. They were scarce better than bare feet on the gravel. But I was not going to sit beside him on his grandfather’s bench as if we were old friends, catching up on gossip. I unclipped my cloak and threw it on the grass, along with the toque and its veil that smelled of mildew. I sat on them.

  “I didn’t jump. I was thrown.”

  “Boundless Night! Why? I’ve heard such strange reports of the goings on. Donato was ill, and the Cavalieri woman who came to collect the ransom was strange … but not you. Yet when I heard she jumped … fell … I could not but get it out of my head that somehow it was you.”

  Sandro was a cool and dangerous man. I had not heard him speak with such urgency since well before I’d left his house.

  “The fall was planned. I certainly wasn’t going to let myself be arrested. I’ve discovered I am a very fine swimmer.”

  Clearly my sitting on the grass unsettled him. Standing was far too awkward. He sat on the bench fidgeting. Then, before I could get out another word, he sat himself on the ground in front of the bench.

  I had to be careful with my questions and the information I wanted him to hear. We had never talked of sorcery, of course, while I lived with him, and I felt it best to keep the subject at a distance. He upheld the law.

  “This was a lovely celebration of your near-daughter,” I said. “Rinaldo is your friend and yet you were worried about his motives in forcing a marriage with her.”

  “Rinaldo’s political motives are not always as agreeable as his company. I didn’t like the potential for compromising our most honorable steward. And I didn’t like seeing those motives engulfing a promising young woman’s intellectual pursuits. The Confraternity is not so welcoming of new ideas in natural philosophy.”

  “Your concern was and is well-founded,” I said. “She is a brilliant young woman and certainly forthright. I’m happy that they’ve come to a reasonable agreement as to the contract. Livia has chosen freely to stay, as long as no permanent commitment is involved. She’s discovered that she and Donato have some common interests. Though I disagree with him on many issues, he is an extraordinary young man.”

  Sandro was up again, pacing short lengths in front of the bench. After a few moments of stewing, he burst out, “How in the name of reason did you convince Donato to challenge the contract? What common interests could he possibly have with a young woman of intellect? When Mantegna explained all he told you, I worried that I had set an impossible task. And there was so little time…”

  Of a sudden, I felt most uncomfortable. “Segnoré, I believe your questions violate our agreement.”

  “Ah, damnation. Of course, you’re right.” His entire posture stiffened. “I have overstepped. Please, forgive me. The task I set has been amicably concluded. My vicino-figlia is satisfied that she will be safe and free to pursue her studies.”

  It was uncanny to watch Sandro shift so smoothly between the role of il Padroné—the benevolent guardian of a young scholar and generous monitor of good order trying to maintain balance between all segments of the city—and a man who cared about Romy of Lizard’s Alley, whom he’d once known by anot
her name. Now I wanted to evoke his third persona.

  “Livia is certainly not afraid to ask questions that the Confraternity and others deem unsuitable for conversation. As for her safety, I’m wondering if you heard about a woman brutally murdered a few nights ago in the Street of the Bookbinders. Her name was Marsilia di Bianchi. As it happens, she was a publisher of treatises and a great friend of your vicino-figlia. Livia, in her current situation, might be reluctant to broach the subject. The Confraternity has a long reach.”

  “I’ll look into that.” And there he was—the Shadow Lord, cold and remote. Odd that I was more comfortable with him in that role nowadays than in his other personae.

  He drew a small bag from his cloak that was draped over the back of the bench and passed it to me. “The Chimera’s fee, damizella.”

  I’d entirely forgotten that we were to get paid for this exercise.

  “If you have a moment, there was one more matter I wanted to speak of,” he said, seating himself on the bench and leaning forward as he dropped his voice. “Since the earthquake caused such a setback on the coliseum, we’ve had to cancel many art commissions. I’ve tried to find other works for the artists to keep them here, keep them fed, so I persuaded the Arts Commission to restore the old Palazzo Respighi into a cultural center. The work proceeds, but someone is damaging the artwork. No matter how many guards I set each night, by morning the work is drab and colorless. If we don’t find out who’s doing it, the Commission will withdraw their support. So I thought perhaps the Chimera…”

  “Not tonight. Certain, they will be happy to hear your proposal, but I’ve … people waiting who will worry if I’m not there. The past few days have been difficult. If you’ll forgive me…”

  “Of course. Another time. I’ll send a message.”

  “Fortune’s benefice, Padroné. May your good works prosper.”

  “Virtue’s hand, damizella.”

  I gathered my mantle and the ugly hat and left the most powerful man in Cantagna sitting alone on his grandfather’s bench.

  Every step down that hill, I felt lighter. I found Placidio outside the south gate, sitting in the gardener’s barrow sipping on a flask of wine cadged from a serving girl. We collected Neri and Dumond and headed down the Serpentine.