He didn't know how to tell her there was no ba. He leaned back, closed his eyes. There would be time after he was better.

  "Did you find what you were looking for?"

  "In a way. You made up with Drusus?"

  "I was wrong to send him away. There's something Drusus didn't tell you, because I asked him not to."

  There couldn't be more bad news, could there? Carlo braced himself. "Tell me."

  "We are expecting a daughter."

  Carlo held her hand. "Really?"

  "Truly."

  "You know it's a girl?"

  "I do."

  No one was more in touch with her body than a blood magician. Some good news, although given Lucy's problems, a complication. Carlo closed his eyes again. "Stay with me?"

  Lucy climbed into bed beside him, and he drifted back to sleep.

  Lucy was near a small table in the lavender room, drinking cocoa McAllistair had brought her. Drusus told Carlo he insisted Carlo be moved to the west side of the house. "The shadows are good for no one's well-being," he said.

  Carlo wasn't certain of it yet, but almost so. He had been mending and noticing. He needed to push events a little further along, see if he was right. Carlo was tired, sitting at the edge of the bed. "I'd like a cup of that, Tesoro."

  "Whatever you want is yours." Lucy moved into the hallway. "Drusus, see if you can get him to walk to the door."

  Drusus looked at her, or rather over her head, as he said yes. Carlo closed his eyes and sighed. Reconciliation, indeed. He couldn't stand to look at her. Why? Lucy wandered out and Drusus moved from the window to the doorway. "Carlo? Are you ready?"

  Carlo leaned forward, gritting his teeth. "Is anyone ever ready for torture?"

  "You can do this."

  "I feel like a child." He moved forward shakily across the room. Honestly, he couldn't complain. He'd been awake a week, and today he graduated to a cane. He was lucky to be alive at all.

  "A little farther," said Drusus.

  "What happened to my power of healing?" he said, leaning heavily on his cane.

  "I would call your trauma great," said Drusus, "and I would say you are only here because of your power of healing. This will take you some time. Now keep walking."

  "I can't help but feel things would have turned out differently if I had not gone on a fool's errand." Carlo took another grueling step. "And I am exactly where I started, with nothing to show for this condition." Carlo grimaced. "Talk to me, take my mind off this."

  Drusus looked squarely at him, anticipating, Carlo thought. "What do you want to talk about?"

  "Where do you think Octavia is?"

  "My best guess? Magicians have places to keep treasures secret. Little pocket dimensions, secret rooms. Places it is not easy to escape from if you have magic. They would hardly tell me in which one they have imprisoned her, but no doubt she is in one of those."

  Another step. "Somewhere there could be no shadows. Is there a family who has light magic, something like it?"

  Drusus stepped into the hallway. "Yes. Keep coming."

  "It's no fair moving the goal." Carlo was sweating. His heart was squeezed by an invisible fist. "Why won't you look at Lucy?"

  Drusus' eyes sparked. The tension in his face was replaced by relief. He tried to speak, but his mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish. "I…" He closed his eyes. "I…Carlo…" He made a fist. Carlo watched his nails bite into his palm, making small red crescents. He breathed with effort.

  "I see," said Carlo. "Let's move away from that topic, then. You might feel better."

  Drusus' eyes watered. "My head does hurt rather suddenly." His palm was bleeding.

  "Why did Octavia come to see you in Gibraltar?" Carlo panted.

  "She thought she could help me with Khun."

  Carlo reached Drusus and sagged. "Oh gods, that was horrible."

  "It was." Drusus steadied him. "Good work." Drusus didn't mean the walking.

  Carlo touched Drusus' shoulder. "You too. Octavia can do something for you, then. Good. I'm not walking back over there alone." Lucy had Drusus. How and why? "I understand now, the way it must be for you. To what extent can I rely on your help?"

  Drusus half-carried Carlo, Carlo's feet dragging on the carpet. "I would say very little, if none at all."

  Carlo collapsed on the bed. "You are too modest. You might surprise me." Drusus' face twitched under his eye. "Yes, I know. Me too. Now, stop trying to say something you shouldn't. It looks painful, and right now that depresses me." He lay back on the bed, letting the heaviness of his exertion dissolve into the mattress. "I have to get out of this room as soon as possible. They'll let me see Octavia, I'm certain of it."

  "What makes you think so? You're as dangerous as Lucy or myself."

  "No. You and Lucy are involved with the Egyptian gods, but I am a harmless little Venetian, remember? I will argue Octavia has a right to an advocate. You, I, and Balthazar saw what happened the day she killed her father."

  "Which is part of the problem."

  Carlo hissed as pain knifed his chest. He closed his eyes to concentrate the pain away. The doctor told him his heartbeat was strong and steady. This pain was his imagination. "Let's get at the truth of the matter. The real truth. You don't remember what you said or why. We can access your memories of that day at Mistraldol, Khun's memories from before we came here.

  Drusus moved Carlo's legs onto the bed. "Where do you hurt?"

  "My chest," said Carlo. "Always my chest. Legs too. You see? Trauma of the mind, just like you. Solidarity. Brotherhood."

  "Don't go to any trouble on my account." Drusus rubbed one of Carlo's legs. "Helpful?"

  "Yes. Let me use a truth potion on you during the examination, and you can represent the facts as they were, and as they are. I'll need to use it on myself, to prove my testimony is not biased."

  Drusus glanced at the door.

  "We have time," said Carlo. "She's not back yet."

  "You know how to make a truth potion?" Drusus asked.

  "I know how to make a lot of potions. The truth might help us sway the council back toward Ra being at fault, especially if Khun lends credit to the idea Octavia would never have acted upon what she may have said to the contrary."

  "You believe that?"

  "I do. Octavia would not have acted upon any personal wishes if it had not been for Ra. Her father had her firmly under his control. You know this better than anyone else. We can illustrate this to the council."

  "Maybe," said Drusus. He worked on Carlo's other leg. "What about Lucy? What happens if they find out how much she and Ra are—?" Drusus shook his head and gasped.

  Carlo winced as Drusus squeezed his leg too tightly. "I refuse to lose Lucy to Ra, to Isis, or to any of this council. I'm going to keep my family this time. Now, let go of me."

  Drusus' hands shook as he pulled them away. "You still believe you can save us all?"

  "Nothing is certain," said Carlo, "but I will give all of you my best effort."

  "Get the children away from here." Drusus rushed the words out in one great breath, the closest, Carlo thought, he could get to what Drusus was really worrying about.

  Lucy stepped back into the room with a cup. "Drusus," said Lucy. "I hope you haven't been working Carlo to exhaustion?"

  Drusus' skin turned to gray ash. The effort had cost him.

  Carlo made his voice light. "I am exhausted," said Carlo. "Perhaps you could read to me?"

  Drusus backed away from the bed while Lucy placed the cocoa by her own cup on the small table and fussed with Carlo's pillows. Carlo watched Drusus totter unsteadily out of the room out of the corner of his eye.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Carlo waited for Vergilius in a private room upstairs at The George. After Drusus had left him last night, he hadn't been able to sleep, and he was exhausted. Leaving the house today made him more self-conscious about his pronounced limp and how easily he tired. Last night had been confirmation of many silent fears he had been dreading since he had been awake. The more time he had to think, the more he had pieced together, and the more trouble he knew everyone was in. How on earth could he find a solution where he lost no one?

  Carlo heard the stairs squeak, and George brought in a joint of beef Mother Hamwich had gone to some trouble with.

  "Thank you," said Carlo, glancing out the window.

  "He's a man like you are, Carlo," said George. George had his hair tied back and was wearing the cleanest apron he could find. "For all that he's the king of the sorcerers."

  "Is that what he is?"

  "For the next few years he is. He's nothing to you, though. You would beat him in a bust up."

  "Thank you for the vote of confidence," said Carlo. "You prove adept at ignoring the evidence of your eyes and my cane."

  "It's the truth," said George, placing the carving knife and fork just so on the table. "You won a duel with Atreus Galt and came back from the dead. Lord Claudian is no one you can't handle."

  "So, a bust up means I could fight Lord Claudian and win?" The man exited from a carriage below in the courtyard. Finally.

  "Just so."

  "I don't want to bust up anyone, George. Did I use the phrase correctly?"

  "Almost. Bust anyone up. You can't help being odd, being—"

  "—European?" said Carlo. "In the end, that's how you think of me?"

  "European and too serious."

  Vergilius entered, taking in the simplicity of the room. His disdain for the setting slipped into his expression for a second, an awareness he was not comfortable here. Carlo had to admit circumstances would also cause Vergilius to fidget, pulling his waist coast, glancing in the corners of the room, perhaps for shadows. In Vergilius' place, Carlo would feel guilty and conflicted. Vergilius extended a hand. "Signor Borgia."

  This was a formal meeting of magicians, and essentially Carlo was the head of the Borgia family, at least the only Borgia who had come forward. "Lord Claudian." He limped to a seat and Vergilius also took a chair. George placed a tankard of beer in front of Vergilius. Carlo ran his finger around the rim of his own tankard, which held water. "I hope you have considered my request seriously."

  "You get right down to business," said Vergilius. He drank deeply from the tankard. "What you're asking—"

  "—makes great sense," said Carlo. "If you are to make a solid judgment about Octavia, a precedent-setting judgment, one which safeguards the future of your brother and his wife, you need irrefutable evidence. Anything Drusus and I say would be suspect unless we use a truth potion." Carlo added to himself, it might be the only way for him to access what Drusus knew about Lucy's plans at the moment.

  "Your truth potion could be possibly untruthful. How are we to know if it works?"

  "I will test the potion on myself under the watchful eye of a neutral third party. Perhaps George here. George?"

  George was startled and almost dropped the plate he was handing to Vergilius. "Sir?"

  Appearances, so important for everyone in the room but him. "I'm sorry. Mr. Hamwich?"

  George stood at rigid attention.

  Carlo tried again. "Would you be willing to monitor me while I use my truth serum, and prove its veracity?"

  "You promise not to poison me?" George winked.

  Perhaps not the time for a joke of that nature. "You have my word as an apothecary."

  "I'll do it."

  "Brave of you, Mr. Hamwich." Vergilius smiled. "He's a Borgia, and their reputation—"

  "Begging your pardon, Lord Claudian, but I don't think Mr. Borgia would poison anyone who didn't need poisoning."

  Nice, George. "Is my proposal agreeable then?" asked Carlo.

  "Are you certain a truth potion is necessary?"

  "Drusus has to testify already. This step will reduce hearsay and supposition for the council. On both sides. I will ask the accusers to have their witnesses take it as well."

  Vergilius jabbed a knife into the joint, tattering the beef to ribbons. "Mr. Borgia. I almost feel sorry for you, coming into the middle of this feud between the Klaereons and the Galts."

  "It cannot be easy for you either, as you are Drusus' brother."

  "Precisely because of that connection, Madame Fouchet will lead the council's hearing regarding Octavia. Very well. I will recommend the council follow your advice regarding the truth serum."

  "Good. And you have my permission to call me Carlo. I must bring up something for Drusus' sake. Can you and your wife take Marcellus and Gregorius for a short time?"

  Vergilius calculated while he drank. Carlo took this as a bad sign. "Do you have any idea how taking the children out of Mistraldol would appear? The public would believe the council had already passed judgment on Octavia as unable to control her family's magic. We don't want that."

  "No," said Carlo. "Let us say the children are not in danger. Rather, let us say some small stability during this time would be welcome for your nephews."

  "I wish I could help Drusus. You may not be aware of it, but Skye Castle is where Octavia's examination will be held. Moving the children there will only throw them into the thick of matters. Have you no relatives to whom you could reach out?"

  Carlo could feel worry lines creasing his forehead. "There is no one."

  "You have a capable governess in Olympe Vipond, and some loyal friends. Look to them."

  "As you say," said Carlo, dismissing the matter as though it were small. "One more thing. I must see Octavia as well."

  "The council may not accept that proposal."

  Carlo tapped his cane on the floor. "If you were being examined for something which might affect your liberty, wouldn't you want to know someone was looking out for your interests?" He watched Vergilius chew. "When can I see her?"

  Vergilius swallowed. "If I can arrange it, I will communicate so immediately. Do you understand what is at stake? If Octavia is responsible, she may have to be neutralized for her remaining days."

  "What does 'neutralized' mean, exactly?"

  "You will see when you visit her."

  Carlo did not care for the sound of that.

  Carlo and Olympe sat on the stone bench, watching Marcellus and Diana play with Drusus, running into and out of the vines. "I am sorry I haven't had much chance to talk to you since we first met," said Carlo. "What with eloping and then being unconscious, I have been remiss."

  "I can hardly hold you responsible—oh." A gloved hand scratched her cheek. "Drusus told me your sense of humor was wicked. I believe him now."

  "He's good with his son, isn't he?" said Carlo.

  "Yes," said Olympe.

  "How did you come to be here?" asked Carlo. "In England. Does it stifle you as much as it stifles me?"

  "I like it here," said Olympe. "My life before was tumultuous."

  "We have that in common," said Carlo. He placed both hands on top of his cane. "This situation with Octavia, well, it's grave."

  Olympia fingered the beads of her rosary, beads interspersed with shells and coins. "Octavia warned me about Lucy."

  "Good. And Drusus. You should be wary of Drusus too."

  Olympe and Carlo watched the children giggling as Drusus took them into the air. "Surely not."

  "I'm afraid so. Don't be afraid to appeal to his better nature. It will slow him up, if it comes to that. You won't be alone in this. I've enlisted another friend, George Hamwich, to help us. He's not a magician, but he's a good man, and he's a great deal more physically capable than I am at the moment."

  "Should we take the children away?"

  "That's what Drusus wants, but instead, I plan to take Drusus and Lucy away. Octavia's examination will be at Skye Castle. I believe the children are in the most capable hands I could find." Carlo stood. "Thank you for granting me a brief audience, Madame. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to see if I can avoid poisoning myself."

  Carlo made his way to the laboratory in the east wing. The Austrian army employed his grandfather's recipe only occasionally. The truth serum was expensive and the Borgias charged a great deal for it because the main ingredient was almost impossible to get. The powder came from the borrachero tree in South America. The concentration of the drug was extremely delicate: just a little was needed to make someone suggestible, honest and open. More, and you had a controllable zombie on your hands. Too much meant death. Carlo was precise with the dosage and proud of himself when he finished it. Studying the magical side of his craft meant he could now steer the person who took it away from hallucination and toward truth.

  In one of the tidier rooms near the lab, George waited for him, writing desk in his lap, paper clipped on, quill poised over inkwell. "Into the hallway with you, George." Carlo picked up a vial of powder. “Wait a precise ten minutes before you come in, otherwise the truth serum could affect you too."

  "Don't worry," said George. "I am very happy to remain in the hall while I wait."

  Carlo inhaled the powder. It sank into his bones almost immediately. All was well with the world, he thought, grinning like an idiot.

  "You look like Mr. Punch," said George as he entered the room.

  "I do not know what that means." Carlo snickered. "Oh, wait. We have something like that. Even with my beard? I would have thought I more resembled Faustus with the beard."

  "Who?"

  Carlo laughed. "It's a story about a man who sells his soul to the devil. To get Helen of Troy, among other things."

  "Never go for a pretty woman," said George.

  "I agree. Always go for one you love."

  "So," said George. "You want me to see if this truth potion works?" George dipped the quill into the small bottle of ink nearby.

  "Yes. I've put a list of questions there. Write down my answers, and when my memory returns, I'll see if I got them right."

  "Your memory returns?"

  "I will remember absolutely nothing of this conversation." Carlo started laughing. "It makes me very jolly, does it not?"

  "Fine." George squinted at the first question. "Your writing is terrible."

  Carlo giggled.

  "All right," said George, grinning lopsidedly. "Tell me about your father."

  "My father was the son of the goddess Isis and a notorious poisoner."

 

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