Secular Wizard

Chapter 15

The sun peeked over the horizon, the huge gates opened, and the crowd of runaways poured through into Venarra with a delighted shriek. It was echoed by a collective hum from the crowd waiting inside the gates; it sounded suspiciously like “Yum!”

Each of the mature men was instantly visited by a prosperous-looking, if flashy, city man or woman; each mature woman was accosted, too. If couples tried to stay together, the city folk wheeled and cajoled and showered them with flattery that gradually pulled them apart. That happened with the young folk, too, though much more quickly. Girls with shining eyes were listening, entranced, to the blandishments of older, motherly looking women-and if the paint on their faces was a little too thick or too flashy, well, wasn’t that the way all city women looked? Matt picked up a few odd sentences as he hustled his two charges through the ring of human sharks, firmly keeping them in hand. “Yes, dear, a place to stay till you’ve learned your way around Venarra,” one grandmotherly sort was saying. “Clean sheets, and a way to earn some money-sisters to show you how things are done-and ever such handsome gentlemen to come calling!”

“But why are you willing to help us so?” a starry-eyed girl was asking another woman decked in costume jewelry. “Why, bless you, child, welcoming newcomers is my pastime,” the woman gushed. “It is my charity!”

The clamor of promises of glamorous living even caught Flaminia’s ear. She twisted about to try to watch the beldame who was professing altruism. “Why, how good of them! Why do I not go to her house, friend Matthew?”

“Because once you’re in, she’ll never let you out until you’re well and truly corrupted,” Matt said grimly. “The charity she has in mind is for you to give her every penny the handsome men give to you in return for your sexual favors-and most of them won’t be terribly handsome, or very young, either. It’s a business doing pleasure with her.”

Flaminia paled, but wasn’t willing to admit her mistake so readily. “What are they telling the boys, then?”

“The same thing, for some of them-and their customers won’t all be rich old women. For others-”

“It’s an easy job, mate!” A flashy juvenile crowded up to Pascal. “All you have to do is take this bundle across town to a house on Fleet Street!”

Pascal looked tempted, lifting a hand, but Matt said, “And you’ll be just fine, as long as nobody catches you-but if the Watch should happen to look in that bag, you’ll spend the next couple of years in prison, and you won’t even be able to tell them who hired you.”

“What business is it of yours, mate?” the youth asked, turning savagely on Matt.

“My friends are always my business,” Matt said, “sometimes even my enemies are.” He let his anger out in a wolfish grin. “Want to be my enemy, bucko?”

The youth stepped back, trepidation in his eyes. “Yuh. I do,” growled a basso behind Matt’s shoulder. Matt turned and found himself facing an expanse of bulging, hairy chest with a row of buttons on one side and buttonholes on the other. He followed the breastbone up to an unshaven chin, a cauliflower nose, and two gleaming piggy eyes over a gap-toothed grin. Matt felt his stomach hit bottom and bounce back up, but he scowled his fiercest and said, “You know what you’re getting into?”

“Yuh,” the big beefy man said, and a huge fist came out of no-where and struck sparks inside Matt’s head just before a wall came up and slammed into his back. He straightened his legs, pushing back against the wall to hold him up while the ringing in his ears faded to the point where he could hear the big man’s guttural laughter while he held a furious, flailing Pascal six inches off the ground. Flaminia’s mouth was wide open, but Matt couldn’t hear anything over the big guy’s hooting. Except, maybe, the ringing of his lute strings when the instrument bumped into his side as he stepped away from the wall. He caught it and held it up-miraculously, it was undamaged. It must have swung wide about him as he shot backward, and thus slapped into his stomach instead of the wall. Matt staggered up to the giant, slipping the strap off his shoulder and reminding himself that he was a belted knight. That meant, among other things, that in this universe he could hit a lot harder than anyone his size ought to be able to. He staggered up to the thug, holding out the lute. “Here-hold this.”

The man blinked with surprise, dropped Pascal-Flaminia cried out and ran to pick him up-and took the lute. Matt nodded and slammed a right into his jaw. The big man dropped the lute-fortunately, it landed on Pascal-and staggered back. His buddies shouted in anger and charged in. Matt ducked the first punch, kicked the legs out from under the other punk, then straightened up just in time for the first guy’s left to smack into his chest. Of course, the hoodlum had been aiming for his face, but the blow still knocked Matt back, staggering-and the big guy bellowed and waded in, slab fist winding up for a very final punch. Matt knew when he was outnumbered. Knight or not, up against three seasoned street fighters he didn’t stand a chance, unless he pulled his sword and started slicing-and he was reluctant to kill these guys without knowing why they deserved it. Also, there was the little problem of the local constabulary, who might take a very dim view of a tourist killing off three of the locals, even if they weren’t paying taxes. That meant that there was no way out but magic. If it worked here. But if he was going to run a spell, he had to do it fast-he ducked, and the big guy’s first haymaker whizzed by overhead, but the next one would probably bit. Matt stepped inside and cracked another uppercut into his opponent’s jaw. That would slow him down, but not for long-and Matt caught a jab in the short ribs on the way out Wheezing, he nonetheless managed to chant,

The big guy snarled and came at him again. Matt gulped, hoping the spell would work right, feinted with his left and, as the big guy lifted his right to block, bopped him soundly. The big guy stared at him for a second before he toppled.

The other two punks stared in surprise, too, at their buddy’s inert body. “So much for the main course.” Matt pushed up his sleeves and started for the pair. “Now, about dessert…”

They didn’t, even stay to curse him-they just ran. Matt watched them go, almost trembling with relief. Either his magic had worked ever so slightly, or he really had managed to fake out the big guy, and seeing him beat the unbeatable had scared his sidekicks-all thanks to Matt being a knight. Presumably having been knighted by a legendary emperor overcame even the antimagic field of Latruria. But then, that was the way his magic had been working here-if it had been. There was every possibility that reciting verses was merely giving him an extra edge of self-confidence, by his believing he was working magic. If so, he intended to do nothing to puncture that illusion. He turned back to his two young charges. Pascal was holding Flaminia, Flaminia was holding the lute, and they were both staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. “You are a more powerful fighter than I took you for, friend Matthew,” Pascal said, but Flaminia blurted, “How did you manage that?”

“Not as well as I could have,” Matt said grimly, “or I wouldn’t have had to start fighting. Come on, let’s get away from here. The Watch will be swooping down any second now.”

“But why?” Pascal protested. “The fight is over!”

“Safest time for them,” Matt assured him. Besides, he knew that if any sorcerer had been paying attention, they would have picked up the traces from the spell he had just worked and know there was a rival magic worker in town. He was very sure that King Boncorro maintained a twenty-four-hour magic sentry-he must, since he was still alive and on his throne. Not that it really mattered, of course. Boncorro, or one of his advisers, seemed to have known where Matt was every step of the way. In fact, it was a good possibility that the trio Matt had just chased off was one more group sent out to kill him. He didn’t really think so, though. They hadn’t come close enough to success. No, this was just the same kind of reception that greeted any new arrival in Venarra. As they entered one of the streets that led away from the plaza around the gate, they passed one of the more mature couples who had been with them. The woman, with her hands on her hips, was accusing, “You said you had gold in your purse!”

“I did.” The man held up the ragged stumps of two thongs tied to his belt. “The louse cut them through, and I never even knew!”

“A fine guardian you are,” the woman said with withering sarcasm. Flaminia plucked Matt’s sleeve and pointed. “Yonder goes one of the beldames who greeted us, with three of the girls in our party in tow! Let us follow them-mayhap she will give us lodging for the night!”

So she didn’t share Matt’s skepticism. He waged a brief struggle within himself, then decided that she couldn’t come to too much harm with himself and Pascal near. “Okay. Let’s go look.”

They followed the quartet down a broad concourse, keeping their distance. The madame was pointing out the sights. “Yonder coach, with the team and the footmen, is that of the Contessa of Mopona-see you her crest on the door? And yonder is the Theater of the Comedia.”

But the girls were still watching the coach with great, huge eyes, waiting for a peek at the grand lady within. They went on down the boulevard until the girls were dizzy with the sights-then the older lady led them into a side street that very quickly turned into a maze of lanes. “This city is grown much less grand of a sudden,” Flaminia said, staring about them. Laundry was pegged to ropes that ran across the street. Peddlers hawked their wares, and grimy children played on the cobbles. The procuress wound her way adroitly between them. Matt slowed the pace, keeping the party just barely in sight. “We will lose them!” Flaminia said impatiently. “No,” Matt said, “but we don’t want them to know we’re following.”

They passed another mature couple they knew from the road, being guided by an enthusiastic young city man. “Only a little farther, and you shall see the bridge for yourself!”

“Then we can truly buy it, and charge toll to everyone who would pass?” The man fairly licked his chops at the prospect of riches. “Indeed you can! I shall give you a lawyer’s deed to it!”

“But it must cost a fortune,” the woman said anxiously. “Not a bit! It will cost you only… How much did you say you had in your purse?”

Matt hurried his charges ahead. “Can they truly buy a bridge?” Pascal asked, eyes round.

“No,” Matt said, “but they can lose every penny they have, trying.”

“We must stop them!” Flaminia protested. “If we do, we’ll lose the madame and her flock of gullible little geese,” Matt told her, “and I think they’re about to lose something more than cash.”

Flaminia blanched and hurried on. They turned three more comers, then came out into a narrow street of tottering houses. It was dusk, and lean, wasted-looking men were coming out to hang red lanterns over every other doorway. “Here is my house!” The beldame waved at a doorway-and waved harder. The ferret-faced man in the doorway whisked his lantern behind his back, then pasted on a smile and bowed. “Welcome, mistress! And have you brought us guests, then?”

“Aye, Smirkin-three lonely girls, fresh from the country!”

“Fresh meat for the grinder, you mean.” Matt came up right behind her. “Away, rogue!” The woman turned on him sharply. “Get you hence, or I’ll call the Watch!”

“Why, ‘tis the minstrel!” one of the girls said in surprise. “Ask her what she sells in there,” Matt told them.

“I sell nothing!” The woman drew herself up indignantly.

“Don’t you really?” Matt climbed the steps. “That’s funny. Half the houses on this street have red lanterns, and…”

Suddenly, he yanked Smirkin through the doorway. The man squalled, bringing up his hands to ward off a blow-and one of them held a red lantern. Unlit, but his other hand held a tinderbox. “She’s in the same business everyone else is here,” Matt told the girls. “The red lantern is the sign of a brothel. She’s right about one thing-she doesn’t sell anything, only rents them by the hour.”

“What is that?” one girl said, eyes wide. “Women,” Matt said, “for men to do whatever they want with, short of killing.” He turned to the proprietress. “Or do you allow that, too?”

“You lie, sir!” she said indignantly. “No, but all the girls you bring home do lie-lie down, that is, or suffer until they’re willing to.” He turned back to the country girls. “Let’s go. There’s someplace better for you than this.”

“Do not believe him!” the madame cried. “He seeks to use you for his own purposes!”

The girls hesitated, uncertain. The door of the house across the way burst open and a half-undressed man shot out, with a huge burly brute behind him. “Be off with you! If you’ve no cash to pay, you can’t have her!”

“But I had money!” the man bleated. “Gold! She took it while I was undressing!”

“The more fool you, for letting her know where it was,” the bouncer said contemptuously. “Go on, get your clothes on and get out of here!”

The girls turned pale.

“Yes, that is my business, too!” Suddenly, the nice old granny had turned into a sneering harridan. “But you’ll come to it sooner or later, my chicks, so why not sooner?”

“Never!” the tallest girl cried indignantly.

“No? Is there a one of you that’s still virgin, after that carnival trek you’ve taken? Where do you think you’ll find husbands? What work do you think you can find in a town overflowing with girls new from the country?” She shook her head. “Oh, no, sweetings-this is the only bed you’ll find, and the only bread you’ll eat. You can starve until you’re willing to take it, until you throw yourselves into the trade with no training or bracing-or you can come in now, and learn the business properly and at a decent pace.”

The girls shrank back, looking very frightened. ‘There are other choices,“ Matt told them. ”Let’s go.“ He strode down the steps and away. They followed him with relief. ”Go men, fools!“ the harridan screeched at them. ”But remember where this house is, for you’ll need it within the week!“ And to Matt, ”A pox on you, minstrel! A pox that you will give to them! Did you think him a rescuer, girls? No! He’s just a pimp, come to steal you from a procuress!“

“No, I’m not,” Matt told the girls. “I’m not going to keep you, just find you a safe haven for a couple of days.”

The girls still looked uncertain, but followed him, shuddering at the harridan’s screeches behind them. As they came back into the high street, a sergeant came strutting along. “Hup! Hup! That’s right, lads, at the barracks they’ll give you fine clothes like mine, and each of you a bright new florin! Then dinner, and bed with a score of brothers!”

Eager young men trooped after him.

“Why, there is Berto!” one girl cried. “And Samolo, and Gian! Are they going to be soldiers, then?”

“Looks like it,” Matt said, “and the sergeant will become a lot less friendly as soon as they’re safely in his barracks. Even so, they’ve got a better choice than you girls have-at least they’ll have room, board, and safety.”

“And all for nothing but the risk of their lives,” Flaminia said darkly. “I think I would prefer that,” said the thinnest girl, with a trembling voice. “Where will you take us, minstrel?” one girl asked.

“To the…” Matt’s voice trailed off. He had been about to say “the church,” that always being a safe place for girls needing sanctuary and advice-but in Latruria the churches were boarded up, and the few priests still ministering to the faithful weren’t about to go public just yet. “We’ll find you jobs,” Matt told them. “You can clean house, make beds, cook meals, that sort of thing.”

“But that is what we fled our village to escape!” one girl protested. “Where is the wealth of Venarra, the continual parties and fine clothes and dancing?” asked another. “In the palace,” Matt said, “and the mansions of the wealthy. Rumor lied to you, damsels.”

The youngest girl began to weep. ‘To come so far… to have lost… have lost…“

“Your home is still there,” Matt told her, ignoring what else she might have been saying. “If worse comes to worst, you can join one of the bands of people going north.”

“Not the wasted, haunted ones!” the tallest girl cried, looking up in horror. “Better to join them before you’re washed out, too,” Matt said, “but in the meantime, if you want to be able to earn the money to enjoy the life of Venarra, we’d better find you some honest work.”

They trooped along behind him in silence for a few minutes. Then the oldest girl said bitterly, “We shall have to get it ourselves, shall we not? No one will get it for us!”

“No.” Matt shook his head sadly. “No one will. You have to pay for what you get, one way or another-and if anybody tells you he can get it for you without any cost to you, he lies. He may not know it, but he lies.”

Matt may have known the ways of cities better than the girls did, but that didn’t mean he knew the ways of this city. He took them into a tavern, to ask a few discreet questions and learn the lay of the land-but the questions must not have been discreet enough, for the jolly-looking man he was asking only laughed and said, “New come to Venarra, are you?”

“Does it show so badly as that?” Matt asked, deflated. “I’d know you in a minute, and I’ve only been here a year and some months myself!”

“Then there are jobs!”

“Yes, if the Burglars Guild lets you learn the trade.”

Matt stared. “Burglars Guild?”

“Yes. We keep needing new members-so many of them go to the king’s gaol, and half of those to the noose. No, there’s always room for a newcomer who’s willing to learn to steal. You and I, now, minstrel, might do great business together-you holding the attention of a crowd while I slip into their homes…”

“Well, maybe some other time,” Matt said, abashed. “How about girls’ jobs? Is there a Housemaids Guild?”

The burglar gave him a tolerant smile. “There is, if you’re looking for that line of work-though I’d scarcely call it a guild, more of a gossip club.”

“Better than nothing,” Matt sighed. “Where do I find them?”

“In the Street of Rough Hands. Can’t miss them-there are always young women standing about the door, waiting to be sent out.”

“And older women, trying to recruit them into a different sort of housework?”

The burglar grinned broadly. “No, the Housemaids Guild keeps a couple of bruisers about to scare off the jackals. Your young charges will be as safe there as anywhere. The young man, now, might do well to join my guild.”

Pascal glanced about nervously. “Thanks,” Matt said, “but he’s not limber enough for second-story work.”

Pascal looked up indignantly. “Anyone can learn to cut a purse,” the man offered.

“Yes, but I’m afraid that if he starts cutting leather, he’ll get carried away and start cutting skin.”

“Ah.” The burglar nodded. “No, that kind of thing is out of our purview. He might try the Murderers Guild.”

“Yes, of course.” Matt was feeling increasingly nervous. “Say, do you folks take care of armed robbery, too?‘

“No, that’s the Thieves Guild.”

Matt could imagine what the jurisdictional disputes must have been like. “You can only take things when people aren’t around, huh?”

“Not around, or sleeping. We can steal, but cannot rob.”

“I don’t suppose you set fires, either-or steal people?”

“The Arsonists Guild and the Kidnappers Guild?” The burglar scowled. “You are not really looking for that sort of work, are you?”

“No, but I’d like to know what to steer clear of. Any kind of crime that isn’t organized in this city?”

“None that I know of, no,” the burglar admitted. “Still, there is always someone about who will dream up something new.”

Matt shuddered at the notion and decided to get out of town before someone invented racketeering. “Well, thanks for all the info.” He turned away, then stopped and turned back. “I don’t suppose the heads of all these guilds have the same last name do they?”

“Only the Thieves Guild, the Burglars Guild, and the Murderers Guild,” the burglar said. “They’re Squelfs. The Gamblers Guild, now, with the Pimps Guild and the Peddlers guild, they’re Skibbelines. All the rest are DiGorbias.”

The girls shivered, wide-eyed, and Pascal swallowed heavily. Matt didn’t blame them-he was feeling the same sort of chill inside that they must have felt-but his curiosity was piqued one more time. “The Peddlers Guild? Peddlers are criminals here?”

“Only the ones who sell you what you can’t get in the shops.”

“Oh.” Matt couldn’t help himself. “Uh, what do they sell?”

The burglar’s grin widened even more. “Anything you want.”

“Right.” Matt turned away, “Thanks, friend! Come on, folks, let’s go.”

They found the Street of Rough Hands just as the sun was setting. The bouncer snarled at them, but when Matt explained that he had brought some young women who were looking for honest work, the bruiser sent one of the loitering girls in to call the boss. She came bustling out, a matronly sort in a blue dress and white apron, saw the new arrivals, said “Ah!” with a nod, and came down to look them over from head to toe. “Well, you’ll need a bath and a chance to wash your clothes, at the least. Go to the house next door, where the house warden will give you supper and a bed until you can find your own quarters. We’ll take it from your first week’s wages, of course, and we take one part in ten from all your wages after that-one part in five for as long as you live with us. Anyone hires you, they pay us, not you, and we pay you your share. If we catch you setting up work on your own, you’re still in the guild, but out of our services. Any questions? No? Off with you, then!”

Bemused, the girls turned away. The boss woman turned to Flaminia with a scowl. “You don’t wish to go with them?”

“Not yet,” Flaminia hedged. “The minstrel needs our help with other business first, I think.”

“Well, you look honorable enough.” The matron gave Matt a quick inspection. “You brought these poor deluded lambs to our doorstep, anyway. We can’t take them all, mind you, but we do what we can.”

That explained why they hadn’t had a recruiter just inside the gate. “I understand. Not all that much call for housemaids, is there?”

“Oh, there is work aplenty!” the woman said. “The town has swollen enormously since good King Boncorro came to the throne! The nobility have come flocking in-bored to death in the country, and eager for the delights of the city, now that there’s no chance the king will demand their wives in his bed, or themselves for his arena. So they have left their lands in the care of stewards and come to Venarra for excitement-and they all need food, and furniture, and new houses, and clothing, and all manner of silliness.”

“So there’s a sudden increase in the number of tradesmen and merchants?”

“Yes, and they are all growing rich off the trade-so their wives are wanting to spend more time in the shops and less at the housekeeping. No, there are jobs aplenty for girls who can clean and mend-but there are far more girls coming in. The peasant folk wish the exciting life, too, and far too many of them find it, but on the wrong end.”

“Yes,” Matt said grimly. “The noblemen want to be entertained, don’t they? And there aren’t enough clean and open amusements.”

“There are diversions aplenty, young man!” the matron said indignantly. “You’ll find you have far too much competition here-there is a minstrel on every street corner! Aye, and a theater in every boulevard, though their plays are very bad, and more what you would expect to see in a brothel than on a stage.”

“Yes,” Matt said grimly, “the pimps always learn early on that the theater is a great place to advertise, on stage or off. Isn’t anybody trying to keep them out?”

‘Trying, aye.“ The matron gave him a hard smile. ”Has anyone ever succeeded?“

“Well, they have in my country-but it took a hundred years or so. How about music-concerts of a dozen musicians together? That’s harder to corrupt.”

“Oh, there are whole bands of musicians playing in great halls every night, and livery stables, fencing masters, taverns for the lowborn and parties in palaces for the highborn.”

“But you don’t recommend the new arrivals try to find jobs in them?”

The matron made a face. “Certainly not for the girls! You have heard what I think of the theaters, and the troupes of dancers are every bit as much apt to abuse as to foster! Music’s another thing, I suppose, but it means learning to play or sing really well, and that’s no quick undertaking, as I am sure you know.”

“Yes, it did take me a few years to learn to play the lute.” Matt had needed something to fill the spare time while he waited for Alisande to set the date. “The dancers and players are poorly paid,” the woman said, “but a living is a living, I suppose.”

“Yes, if that’s all they’re after.” Matt frowned. “But if the plays and dances are really bad, they must be pretty unhappy about doing them.”

“Bitter, I would say-quite bitter.” The matron shook her head, looking angry, almost frightened. “At least, the few who have come to me for employment have complained of it They tell me there are a few of the players who will never leave the theater, they are so ardent about it-but my ex-player women think those ardent ones to be mad, or nearly so. Certainly they will rage and rant, at a moment’s notice, about the paucity of mind in the folk who come to see them, and the poverty they must endure-and what they call the hollowness of the soul.”

“Yes, I’ve run into artists like that,” Matt said, “though most of the ones I’ve talked to have been painters and poets.” He didn’t mention that he had once thought of himself as being one of them. “They start feeling that there is no substance in their culture for them to draw on.”

The matron frowned up at him. “Oddly put-but it has the sound of sense, even though I think I do not understand all of what you mean. I only wish that I could provide a living for all these poor souls who feel themselves stretched so on the rack of fashion.”

“But you can’t,” Matt said sympathetically. “Too many girls and not enough work, and you’d stop making profit.”

“Profit? What is that?” the woman said impatiently. “We make a living, and so do they.”

Matt’s opinion of her went up. “Are you open to donations?”

“Donations?” The woman stared. “You mean gifts of money? Whatever for?”

‘To help protect more of them.“ Matt fished a gold piece out of his purse and pressed it into her hand. She stared at it, then looked up at him, her composure shaken. ”Thank you, young man-but I’ll hold this a week before I spend any of it, so you can come back for it if you find you have need.“

Matt nodded. “Very prudent. But I’m sure I won’t need it back.”

“I’ll wait all the same,” she said doggedly. “Keep it or not, I thank you-your heart’s in the right place.”

“Thanks.” Matt gave her a sardonic smile. “Like you, I just wish I could do more.” He turned back to Pascal and Flaminia. “Time to start pub-crawling, folks.”

“What is a ‘pub’?” Flaminia asked. “Anyplace where they serve beer and wine to people with more money than sense.” He turned back to the matron. “Thanks ma’am-and good night.”

She watched them go, brow puckered with worry, shaking her head. Pascal and Flaminia seemed rattled. “There is far more wickedness in this city than I had thought,” the young man said. Matt shrugged. “What would you expect, when it was the capital of evil for so long? Interesting to hear her call Boncorro ‘good’-but even if he were, he couldn’t reform his town completely in just a few years.”

“And from what I have heard,” Flaminia said, “he is not dedicated to Goodness-it is simply that he is not dedicated to Wickedness, either.”

“But his reign has produced more!” Pascal burst out. “Or as much, but of a different sort! It has brought the noblemen flocking into town to prey upon the innocent, and the country folk in to be their meat!”

“That’s one side of it, yes,” Matt said, frowning, “and as far as that goes, Boncorro’s try at a worldly culture without any teaching of values has produced a great deal of emotional suffering and exploitation of the weak-but on the other hand, nobody’s starving or homeless, or at least very few.”

“I have seen many beggars,” Pascal objected. “But they have been far from starvation,” Flaminia pointed out. Matt nodded. “Plus, I haven’t seen any dead bodies in the streets, though maybe that only means that it’s the wrong time of day. No, I think I’ll have to meet this king and talk with him a bit before I make up my mind about him.”

“Meet the king?” Flaminia looked up, frightened. “Surely you are jesting!”

“He must be,” Pascal agreed. “Why, to meet the king might be as dangerous as it would be exciting!”

“No, I really do want to,” Matt said. “I do not,” Flaminia said certainly. “But you shall,” said a voice behind Matt’s ear, and he was just beginning to turn when the pain burst on top of his head and spread through it. He fought to stay conscious even as he felt himself falling, but all the good it did was to give him a quick glimpse of Pascal struggling in the hands of one bruiser while another swung a truncheon, and to let him hear Flaminia’s screams as two more men closed in on her. He was just realizing that they wore livery when the darkness closed in.