Assassin of the Damned

— 7-

To my surprise, I found Ofelia a quarter mile later. The right rear wheel had spun off her wagon. That corner of the wagon touched the road. Ofelia had unhitched the mules and tied their reins to branches. She had one end of a pole under the wagon, with wood under the pole to make it a lever. Her lantern-light cast the pathetic scene in a yellow glow. Ofelia grunted and pulled. It appeared as if she wanted to lift the wagon corner and kick a piece of wood under it. She would have to lever it many times to get all her wood under. Only then could she think about wrestling the wheel back onto the axle.

She sweated, grunted and cursed with crude profanity. And suddenly with a crack of wood, her lever splintered. She sprawled backward onto the road.

“You should have unloaded the corpses first,” I said.

She yelped, jumped up and waved a trembling knife in my direction. From under her hood, she squinted into the darkness as if I was invisible.

I strode into the lantern’s radius. “The wagon’s too heavy,” I said.

Terror twitched across her pockmarked face. The knife shook worse. She looked at it, shrugged, sheathed the knife and tried to smile. It was the most insincere smile I’d ever seen.

“I wager you won the fight,” she said.

“Do you want their corpses?” I asked.

She forced a chuckle and nodded as if she appreciated my humor. “Did you slay them all?”

I shook my head.

Worry pulled at her mouth. “Please tell me you killed Filippo.”

“Was he truly a sorcerer?” I asked.

“Was?” She smiled. “That means he’s dead, right?”

Ofelia was clever. “When I killed him,” I said, “the others reacted oddly.”

“They’re bonded to him. They’re creatures of the Lord of Night.”

I wondered if ‘the Lord of Night’ was a nickname for the Devil. “Was Magi Filippo a creature of this lord?” I asked.

Ofelia clapped her hands in delight. “He’s dead. Oh, he’s finally dead. What wonderful news.”

“Is the Lord of the Night the Devil?”

“You’re not truly asking me that,” she said with a laugh.

“Why not?”

“Because everyone knows about the Lord of Night. Peasants in Ireland know. The lord is as human as the two of us…well, as me. He brought the Great Mortality. He changed the world. Why pretend you don’t know?”

“Tell me about this Great Mortality.”

Ofelia laughed. “Where have you been that you can ask me that?”

“Explain,” I said.

She nodded and with one of her grubby hands, she wiped away her smile. “I’m sorry I fled, signor. But how would it have helped if I’d stayed? You said some of them escaped. They might have kidnapped me. This way I’m still free to pay you the thousand florins.”

“Fifteen hundred,” I said.

“You earned every coin of it, signor. That was a knightly leap. I turned back to watch. I should have halted the mules, I know. But by the time I turned to control them, the mules had their heads. They were terrified. It was all I could do to keep the wagon intact. These cursed potholes are everywhere. I would have escaped but for them. When the wheel came off, I pitched off the wagon. But I was a juggler before this and remembered my tumbles.”

“Bravo,” I said.

“I hope you’re not bitter.”

“What? That you’re a treacherous ingrate?”

“I explained that, signor,” she said, sounding wounded.

I nodded. “Good night to you, madam. I wish you luck.” I began to stride past. I’d had enough of her.

She watched, surprised. “Wait, signor.”

I saluted the uneasy mules as I passed. Then I strode along the road, headed for the castle.

“You owe me!” Ofelia shouted.

I paused, looked back. “…Do you have rope?”

“Rope?” she asked.

I looked at the trees. “Ten feet should be enough to hang you.”

“What?”

“I owe you for Ox’s attempted murder of me.”

“That’s ridiculous. Consider, signor, you’ll never get your fifteen hundred florins if I’m not with you.”

“You never offered in good faith.”

“It was my powder that allowed you to attack successfully.”

“Magi Filippo hunted you,” I said. “I was never in danger.”

She shook her head. “He hunted anyone who neared the castle. He would have come for you. You saw his hounds, the luckless men twisted by sorcery. You must have seen the others. They hate us.”

“Us?”

“Those who are still human,” Ofelia said. “Those they capture are hideously treated. You would have been no exception.”

I pondered that. I liked the idea of sorcery twisting them better than the idea they were escapees from Hell. Besides, Dante’s Inferno had made it clear that none escaped from the infernal abyss. Priests and bishops taught the same thing.

Ofelia approached with the lantern. Hooded cunning creased her face despite her efforts to hide it. “Where is Filippo’s chain?”

She was observant, this little grave robber. “It’s on his corpse,” I said.

“No. You should have taken it. Please tell me you took it.”

“The gold is cursed,” I said.

She laughed as if I were a cretin. “The gold is fine. It’s the pendant that is cursed, and that’s why you should have taken it. You’re in danger now.”

“Less than before, I’d warrant.”

“You can mock if you like,” she said. “But that shows your ignorance.”

I refused to let her goad me. “I bid you goodbye.” I bowed, began to turn away.

“The medallion showed the Cloaked Man, one of the manifestations of Old Father Night. The riders that escaped will return to the battle site. They’ll take the medallion. They’ll wrap Filippo’s corpse in a shroud and take it to his master.”

“Why should that trouble me?” I asked.

“Filippo’s master is the Lord of Night. By sorcerous means the medallion will show him Filippo’s death. It will show him you. The Lord of Night will want revenge.”

Ah. I saw the depth of her cunning then. It was something that would have been worthy of that viper Bernabo Visconti of Milan or Pope Clement VI in Avignon. She’d obviously wanted me to murder Filippo so she could escape the coming retribution from his master the Lord of Night.

“When the Lord of Night arrives with his minions,” I said, “I’ll tell him you hired me to murder Filippo. This lord will come and seek you then as the author of Filippo’s death.”

“No,” Ofelia said. “You’re too strange to pass over. The Lord of Night or his avenging minion will take you. You need protection, signor. You need a patron.”

“And how has your patron helped you?” I asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ofelia asked, surprised. “She sent you.”

The silver coin suddenly felt heavy in my belt.

“Four riders are still out there,” Ofelia said, indicating the woods, “four riders and the hounds.”

“Let them come.”

“If you leave,” Ofelia said, “they might capture me.”

I shrugged.

“They’ll question me concerning you. I’ll be forced to talk. I think there are things about you, you want kept secret.”

I lacked the knowledge to know if she was right or not. Prudence dictated I see this little grave robber to the Moon Lady’s castle or I should kill her now to silence her lying tongue.

She gave me another of her insincere smiles.

I was not a Visconti viper or a scheming pope. I had no desire to stamp a rat, or at least not stamp this rat with its scrabbling thirst for life. I would not kill Ofelia.

“Do you not believe me, signor?” she asked.

Ofelia had used her magic powder to help me slay Filippo. The man and his creatures might have attacked me. That was true. She had given me a good sword and she yet owed me florins, a goodly sum of them.

“You may join me,” I said.

“What about my wagon?”

“I’m in a hurry,” I said. “Leave it.”

Ofelia worried her lower lip. “You don’t understand, signor. It was hard work collecting the dead. They’re worth money.”

Her collection of the dead suddenly sickened me. The many webs of witchery around me were enraging. I longed to slash them with a sword or burn them out with fire. I told her, “Your life is worth more than a wagon of corpses.”

“You’re strong,” Ofelia said, “supernaturally so. Why not lift the edge of the wagon so I can put the wheel back on?”

“You dare to mock me?” I shouted.

She cringed before my anger. Then hounds howled in the distance. We both turned toward the sound. The hounds kept silent after that, so we couldn’t tell if they retreated or advanced.

With her sweaty features, Ofelia looked up at me with hope and with her grave-digging avarice. “Try to lift it,” she pleaded. “Try it once. If it works-I’ll double my offer.”

Three thousand florins-the idea was madness. Yet there was something in her voice…she knew more than she said. I didn’t want to believe that I was supernaturally strong. Yet something strange had happened to me. I strode to the wagon. “Get the wheel ready,” I said hoarsely.

Ofelia scrambled to it.

I squatted and wondered why I played along with her madness. Then I grabbed the corner of the wagon and made sure I had a solid grip. I gritted my teeth and strained. Slowly, my thighs straightened. By the stars, the corpses in the wagon were heavy.

Ofelia rolled the wheel near. “Just a little higher!” she shouted.

I actually lifted higher.

She shoved the wheel back onto the axle. I let go of the wagon, and it settled with a ponderous creak. Ofelia produced a hammer, wedges of wood and banged away.

I stood to the side and examined my hands. I’d just stumbled onto a terrifying discovery. It had occurred while I’d let go of the wagon. I should have breathed hard after such a strenuous effort. I should have gasped. Sweat should have poured off me. I did not sweat. I did not breathe hard. In fact, I didn’t breathe at all. I waited, and my chest remained level. I searched for my heartbeat, but there wasn’t one. Before, I’d been too busy or preoccupied to notice my lack of breath.

Was I truly dead?

No! I stood. I talked. I thought and acted. The corpses in the wagon did none of those things. They lay inert. They were dead. What was I then?

Ofelia must have sensed my mood, or perhaps my feat of strength had terrified her. She quietly climbed onto the buckboard. I followed her example. She flicked the reins, and the mules resumed their steady clop. We were off to the castle of the Moon Lady.