hissed Dino. He drew the slender blade from the cane and stepped out into the courtyard, only to come stumbling back in moments later, nose bloodied. He collapsed in the straw and stared up, ferocity blazing in his eyes.
Golia filled the doorway with his bulk, sword drawn, a cruel smile sketched on his vulgar lips. Three years older than Lucien, he was a slab of man, shoulders hunched unnaturally and heavy with muscle. His neck was almost as broad as the crude bulb of his head. He wore his black hair in a close crop, the way all of Giancarlo’s school did. Golia hulked over all of Demesne’s inhabitants with the exception of the Majordomo. As ever, he wore a hooded voluminous tunic in the black and scarlet of House Fontein. Wicked spines sprang from his forearms, extending back to his elbow. People whispered they were poisonous, a rumour Golia had not discouraged. The Allatamento novice from Lucien’s testing accompanied him. The boy lurked behind House Fontein’s favourite Orfano, struggling to see past. Golia pointed one hand at the stable boy and stared at him.
‘Be somewhere else,’ he grated.
The boy complied, grasping blankets and cider jug, slinking out into the courtyard followed by his faithful companion.
‘Lucien was just leaving,’ said Virmyre. ‘It would be unfortunate if anyone prevented him.’
Golia made an unpleasant hacking sound. Lucien realised he was laughing. He’d not heard it before and had no wish to again.
‘What do you intend to do, Professore?’ said Golia. ‘Bore me to death with one of your lectures?’
Virmyre snatched up a nearby pitchfork and calmly extended the tool in front of himself, the twin tines gleaming in the lantern light.
‘Leave this alone, Golia.’
‘I’m afraid not. I’m under orders from Superiore Giancarlo. Sinistro is to be arrested.’ Golia smiled at Lucien. ‘And if he’ll not come willingly…’
And then the Orfano lunged forward, lashing out with his blade. Camelia gave a shriek, falling as she tried to retreat.
‘Get on the damned horse!’ hissed Virmyre before lunging forward. Golia parried the strike from the pitchfork casually, sneering back at the professore. Lucien clambered up into the stirrups, almost missing his footing. Golia had moved into the stable now, grinning at Lucien as he closed with Camelia. The Allatamento novice pressed in behind him, clutching a blade in both hands. Lucien cried out impotently and caught his breath. Dino dashed forward, chin dark with his own blood, eyes shining with fury. He parried Golia’s strike with the slender blade, turning it to one side. Golia followed up with another, but Dino slipped back and sketched a deep slash across the back of his opponent’s hand. Golia swore, thrusting forward, but the younger Orfano danced away, kicking Golia in the knee, eliciting a grunt. A heavy backhanded swipe resulted in Golia’s blade lodging in the wooden wall of the stable, but Dino had already ducked under it and rolled forward. The novice dared to step from Golia’s shadow a moment, but there was no one within reach to attack. He hopped about from one foot to the other and paused.
Camelia scrambled back on hands and knees, Virmyre helping her to her feet. They didn’t dare to take their eyes from the fight between Dino and Golia, who even now was wrestling his blade free. The horses in the stalls stamped their feet and whinnied, clearly rattled. The smells of fear and pungent sweat misted the interior of the stable. Fabien backed up, away from the melee, clearly unsettled by Golia. It was not uncommon for creatures to be skittish or antagonistic in the presence of streghe . Golia in particular never failed to unnerve them.
Virmyre stepped forward as if to sweep the hulking Orfano out of the stables with a broom. The pitchfork bobbed back and forth in a series of jabs. Frustrated, Golia held his ground and struck the haft of the fork with a backhanded blow of his sword. Suddenly Virmyre found
Golia filled the doorway with his bulk, sword drawn, a cruel smile sketched on his vulgar lips. Three years older than Lucien, he was a slab of man, shoulders hunched unnaturally and heavy with muscle. His neck was almost as broad as the crude bulb of his head. He wore his black hair in a close crop, the way all of Giancarlo’s school did. Golia hulked over all of Demesne’s inhabitants with the exception of the Majordomo. As ever, he wore a hooded voluminous tunic in the black and scarlet of House Fontein. Wicked spines sprang from his forearms, extending back to his elbow. People whispered they were poisonous, a rumour Golia had not discouraged. The Allatamento novice from Lucien’s testing accompanied him. The boy lurked behind House Fontein’s favourite Orfano, struggling to see past. Golia pointed one hand at the stable boy and stared at him.
‘Be somewhere else,’ he grated.
The boy complied, grasping blankets and cider jug, slinking out into the courtyard followed by his faithful companion.
‘Lucien was just leaving,’ said Virmyre. ‘It would be unfortunate if anyone prevented him.’
Golia made an unpleasant hacking sound. Lucien realised he was laughing. He’d not heard it before and had no wish to again.
‘What do you intend to do, Professore?’ said Golia. ‘Bore me to death with one of your lectures?’
Virmyre snatched up a nearby pitchfork and calmly extended the tool in front of himself, the twin tines gleaming in the lantern light.
‘Leave this alone, Golia.’
‘I’m afraid not. I’m under orders from Superiore Giancarlo. Sinistro is to be arrested.’ Golia smiled at Lucien. ‘And if he’ll not come willingly…’
And then the Orfano lunged forward, lashing out with his blade. Camelia gave a shriek, falling as she tried to retreat.
‘Get on the damned horse!’ hissed Virmyre before lunging forward. Golia parried the strike from the pitchfork casually, sneering back at the professore. Lucien clambered up into the stirrups, almost missing his footing. Golia had moved into the stable now, grinning at Lucien as he closed with Camelia. The Allatamento novice pressed in behind him, clutching a blade in both hands. Lucien cried out impotently and caught his breath. Dino dashed forward, chin dark with his own blood, eyes shining with fury. He parried Golia’s strike with the slender blade, turning it to one side. Golia followed up with another, but Dino slipped back and sketched a deep slash across the back of his opponent’s hand. Golia swore, thrusting forward, but the younger Orfano danced away, kicking Golia in the knee, eliciting a grunt. A heavy backhanded swipe resulted in Golia’s blade lodging in the wooden wall of the stable, but Dino had already ducked under it and rolled forward. The novice dared to step from Golia’s shadow a moment, but there was no one within reach to attack. He hopped about from one foot to the other and paused.
Camelia scrambled back on hands and knees, Virmyre helping her to her feet. They didn’t dare to take their eyes from the fight between Dino and Golia, who even now was wrestling his blade free. The horses in the stalls stamped their feet and whinnied, clearly rattled. The smells of fear and pungent sweat misted the interior of the stable. Fabien backed up, away from the melee, clearly unsettled by Golia. It was not uncommon for creatures to be skittish or antagonistic in the presence of streghe . Golia in particular never failed to unnerve them.
Virmyre stepped forward as if to sweep the hulking Orfano out of the stables with a broom. The pitchfork bobbed back and forth in a series of jabs. Frustrated, Golia held his ground and struck the haft of the fork with a backhanded blow of his sword. Suddenly Virmyre found
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