It was Midsummer Day again—Ezio’s forty-eighth birthday. Ezio, Machiavelli, and Leonardo were gathered in the newly refurbished Tiber Island headquarters, now a proud building for all to see.
“Very small birthday party,” commented Leonardo. “Now, if you had let me design something for you, a real pageant…”
“Save that for two years’ time.” Ezio smiled. “But we have invited you for another reason.”
“Which is…?” asked Leonardo, full of curiosity.
Machiavelli, easing a slightly crooked, but fully healed, shoulder, said, “Leo, we want to extend an invitation to you.”
“Another one?”
“We want you to join us,” said Ezio solemnly. “To become a fellow member of the Brotherhood of the Assassins.”
Leonardo smiled gravely. “So—my bombs were a success!” He was silent for a moment, then said, “Gentlemen, I thank you, and you know that I respect your goals and will support them as long as I live; and the secrets of the Assassins I will never disclose to anyone.” He paused. “But I tread a different path, and it is a solitary one. So forgive me.”
“Your support is almost as valuable as your becoming one of us. But can’t we persuade you, old friend?”
“No, Ezio. Besides, I am leaving.”
“Leaving? Where are you going?”
“I shall return to Milan, and then I am going to Amboise.”
“To France?”
“They say it is a noble country. It is there I choose to end my days.”
Ezio spread his hands. “Then we must let you go, old friend.” He paused. “This, then, is a parting of the ways.”
“How so?” asked Leonardo.
“I am returning to Florence,” replied Machiavelli. “My work there is far from done.” He winked at Ezio. “And I still have that book to write.”
“What will you call it?”
Machiavelli looked levelly at Ezio. “The Prince,” he replied.
“Send Claudia back to me.”
“I will. She misses Rome, and you know she’ll support you as long as you continue your work as Mentor of the Brotherhood.”
Machiavelli glanced at the water clock.
“It is time.”
The three men rose as one and embraced each other solemnly.
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”