The Shadow Master by Craig Cormick Page A

it festers and causes infection.”
    The Nameless One was silent for a moment and then said, “Would not my lord prefer to have the thorn remove itself voluntarily?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Cosimo asked.
    â€œTo have the thorn removed would simply invite another lesser thorn to take its place. And one more after that. And another and another and another. If you were able to have the thorn submit to your will, though, and remove itself, there would be no danger of lesser thorns each trying to dig deeply into your side, spring after spring, when thorns grow.”
    Cosimo pondered this. He was right; killing the Duke would be very satisfying, but it would lead to a blood feud that would not stop until the bloodletting had worked its way through the entirety of the Lorraine and Medici Houses. The war would be long and the spice trade would suffer worse than it did now, and then they would have no way of holding the plague back from the city. He would rather cut the Duke’s throat and have him hung from one of the towers, but to have the Duke bow down to him publicly, that would be as sweet. He had been too obsessed on taking revenge for his brother to consider this. Vengeance would have been good for the family’s honour, but bad for business. He needed to not just dominate the city through force, but have those who challenged him bow down to him. “How would such be done?” asked Cosimo.
    â€œIf you hold what is valuable to the thorn you will have control of the thorn.”
    â€œAnd what is most valuable to the thorn?” asked Cosimo.
    â€œThe most precious thing to the oak tree is the acorn,” said the Nameless One. “The most precious thing to the rose bush is the flower.”
    Cosimo considered this for some moments. Yes, he could have the Duke humiliate himself time and time again. He could gain control of those mysterious birds and whales of the Lorraines. The spice trade would flow unimpeded, and he could be the only one with ships on the seas. As long as he held the Duke’s daughter captive.
    â€œYes,” he said. “It shall be done as you say.” He smiled to himself at the audacity of it, and then asked, “What assistance can I provide you in this?” But the Nameless One was gone. As silently as he had come. Cosimo the Great rose to his feet and stepped out of the small alcove. The chapel was empty except for the sound of his guards mumbling to each other outside the door. Cosimo stood there a moment and then raised a fist into the air as if he had just won a game of chance. It was pleasing to receive good counsel for once.
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XVIII
    The plague people had started gathering at the city’s gate before the first hesitant light of dawn, so it looked to the guards on the walls as if they had been standing there all night long. They were waiting for the city guard to lead the six-ox cart down the winding streets to the gate in the early morning light. The guards up on the gate assembled in tight formation to let the crowd outside know they were being watched. If the plague people grew too restive or rebellious the gates would not be opened.
    There was a large crowd there today, several hundred people. They had been slowly increasing in size over the past week, but the City Council were too preoccupied with the conflict within the walls of the city to concentrate overly on the conflict without. Each day the Captain of the Guard would report that the number of plague victims was increasing, and that they were become more and more difficult to control, but the City Council would dismiss him with a curt admonition that if he were unable to maintain discipline over sickly beggars then they would find somebody else who could.
    What was the man to do? He increased the number of men on the wall and the number of armed men that escorted the ox cart outside the gates each morning, and hoped that the lottery would be enough to keep them all in