note addressed to you.”
She looked at Niccolo with wide eyes. He didn’t acknowledge her though, staring intently at the body. She looked at the carcass more carefully. It didn’t bother her to see the human form in this condition. If anything, the anatomy fascinated her. Still she felt bad for the poor fellow. She stared intently at the face. “I recognize him,” she declared at last. “He is the innkeeper of a place called the Romancier. I don’t know his name.”
“I agree,” declared Siobhan beside her. Diana realized the other young woman had never left her side. The sight of the body evidently didn’t bother her terribly either, as the Irishwoman didn’t look away.
Niccolo pulled at his chin and gave her a long hard stare. “This innkeeper is involved in your mother’s death?”
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. More likely, she figured, his death was simply payback for letting them into Mancini’s room. She couldn’t be sure, though.
“You don’t seem entirely surprised to see him here, though, do you?” His voice took a hard edge.
Diana remained quiet, her silence giving him the answer. She didn’t look away, meeting his stare until his eyes dropped. She wasn’t about to hand over to him every bit of information she had, not knowing his agenda. She doubted he’d tell her everything he knew either. “Can I see the letter?” she asked finally.
One hand reached into his coat and retracted a thin bone scroll case. He passed this to her without a word. She took it in her cold numbed hands, turning it over and over. It was an unremarkable bone case, the sort a courier might use to protect a message from moisture. The ends had been covered and sealed with a kind of hard wax. One of these ends was now open, and Diana slipped the parchment within into her hand.
The scroll was of rough parchment, poor quality. She unfurled it. The script was elegant with looping curves and dramatic flourishes, broad lines crossing through or underlying entire passages. It was the writings of someone well educated. The missive read:
“Diana Savrano:
You are quite clever by half. Will you laugh over this man’s fate while you and the Devil dine together on his entrails? Mourn your dead, Diana, no more should die. Your mother’s soul already burns in Hell. Seek not comfort in the bosom of the Dark God. An angel watches over your shoulder, ready to guide you to Heaven or to strike you down as your mother was struck down. Persist in consorting with the unwashed souls of sinners and her fate will be yours. Her imperfection runs through you like a crack in marble. I pray, we all pray in unison for your soul. We watch you, we pray for you, and we will be that angel to strike you down if you remain unsaved. Walk down the unholy path no longer, seek solace in the arms of Lucifer and you shall be safe. Alone you must certainly die and burn forever in desolation, lost to God’s love.
Blessed in the name of the Lightbringer,
SCA”
Diana folded the parchment in half, and slipped it back into the case. She ran her tongue over her front teeth. She passed the bone case back to Niccolo and he took it without looking at her. “It’s not Mancini,” she said at last. When Niccolo didn’t respond, she added, “We went to see him, confront him. We tricked the innkeeper into showing us his room. Mancini is a cold-blooded killer but he’s not—whatever it is that would make someone write a note such as that.”
Niccolo looked at her at last. “You didn’t tell me you confronted Mancini.”
Diana struck a defiant tone. “I figured you would have heard on your own.” Her blood raged hard through her veins. She felt a pain in her head as her thoughts pushed out against her skull, threatening to tear her mind apart. She wanted to lash out and Niccolo was the obvious target. “I imagine you have your spies keeping watch on me, don’t you?”
“If I had the authority to do so I would, but I do not. My
She looked at Niccolo with wide eyes. He didn’t acknowledge her though, staring intently at the body. She looked at the carcass more carefully. It didn’t bother her to see the human form in this condition. If anything, the anatomy fascinated her. Still she felt bad for the poor fellow. She stared intently at the face. “I recognize him,” she declared at last. “He is the innkeeper of a place called the Romancier. I don’t know his name.”
“I agree,” declared Siobhan beside her. Diana realized the other young woman had never left her side. The sight of the body evidently didn’t bother her terribly either, as the Irishwoman didn’t look away.
Niccolo pulled at his chin and gave her a long hard stare. “This innkeeper is involved in your mother’s death?”
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. More likely, she figured, his death was simply payback for letting them into Mancini’s room. She couldn’t be sure, though.
“You don’t seem entirely surprised to see him here, though, do you?” His voice took a hard edge.
Diana remained quiet, her silence giving him the answer. She didn’t look away, meeting his stare until his eyes dropped. She wasn’t about to hand over to him every bit of information she had, not knowing his agenda. She doubted he’d tell her everything he knew either. “Can I see the letter?” she asked finally.
One hand reached into his coat and retracted a thin bone scroll case. He passed this to her without a word. She took it in her cold numbed hands, turning it over and over. It was an unremarkable bone case, the sort a courier might use to protect a message from moisture. The ends had been covered and sealed with a kind of hard wax. One of these ends was now open, and Diana slipped the parchment within into her hand.
The scroll was of rough parchment, poor quality. She unfurled it. The script was elegant with looping curves and dramatic flourishes, broad lines crossing through or underlying entire passages. It was the writings of someone well educated. The missive read:
“Diana Savrano:
You are quite clever by half. Will you laugh over this man’s fate while you and the Devil dine together on his entrails? Mourn your dead, Diana, no more should die. Your mother’s soul already burns in Hell. Seek not comfort in the bosom of the Dark God. An angel watches over your shoulder, ready to guide you to Heaven or to strike you down as your mother was struck down. Persist in consorting with the unwashed souls of sinners and her fate will be yours. Her imperfection runs through you like a crack in marble. I pray, we all pray in unison for your soul. We watch you, we pray for you, and we will be that angel to strike you down if you remain unsaved. Walk down the unholy path no longer, seek solace in the arms of Lucifer and you shall be safe. Alone you must certainly die and burn forever in desolation, lost to God’s love.
Blessed in the name of the Lightbringer,
SCA”
Diana folded the parchment in half, and slipped it back into the case. She ran her tongue over her front teeth. She passed the bone case back to Niccolo and he took it without looking at her. “It’s not Mancini,” she said at last. When Niccolo didn’t respond, she added, “We went to see him, confront him. We tricked the innkeeper into showing us his room. Mancini is a cold-blooded killer but he’s not—whatever it is that would make someone write a note such as that.”
Niccolo looked at her at last. “You didn’t tell me you confronted Mancini.”
Diana struck a defiant tone. “I figured you would have heard on your own.” Her blood raged hard through her veins. She felt a pain in her head as her thoughts pushed out against her skull, threatening to tear her mind apart. She wanted to lash out and Niccolo was the obvious target. “I imagine you have your spies keeping watch on me, don’t you?”
“If I had the authority to do so I would, but I do not. My
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