Renaissance

28

One morning early in August 1503, Ezio, a man now of forty-four, his temples streaked with grey but his beard still dark chestnut, was bidden by his uncle to join him and the rest of the Company of Assassins there assembled, in his study at his castle of Monteriggioni. Paola, Machiavelli and La Volpe had been joined by Teodora, Antonio and Bartolomeo.

'It is time, Ezio,' said Mario solemnly. 'We hold the Apple and now all the missing Codex pages are collected here together. Let us now finish what you and my brother, your father, started so long ago. Perhaps we can at long last make sense of the prophecy buried within the Codex, and finally break the inexorable power of the Templars for ever.'

'Then, Uncle, we should begin by locating the Vault. The Codex pages you have reassembled should lead us to it.'

Mario swung back the bookcase to reveal the wall on which the Codex - now in its entirety - hung. Near it, on a pedestal, stood the Apple.

'This is how the pages relate to one another,' said Mario as they all took in the complex design. 'It appears to show a map of the world, but a world bigger than we know, with continents to the west and south which we are unaware of. Yet I am convinced they exist.'

'There are other elements,' said Machiavelli. 'Here, on the left, you can see the traced outline of what can only be a crozier, indeed what may be a Papal staff. On the right is clearly a depiction of the Apple. In the middle of the pages we can now see a dozen dots marked in a pattern whose significance is as yet mysterious.'

As he spoke, the Apple began to glow of its own accord, and finally flashed blindingly, illuminating the Codex pages and seeming to embrace them. Then it resumed its dull, neutral state.

'Why did it do that - at that precise moment?' asked Ezio, wishing Leonardo had been there to explain, or at least deduce. He was trying to remember what his friend had said about the singular properties of this curious machine, though Ezio didn't know what it was - it seemed to be as much living thing as mechanism. But some instinct told him to trust in it.

'Another mystery to unravel,' said La Volpe.

'How can this map be possible?' asked Paola. 'Undiscovered continents.!'

'Perhaps continents waiting to be rediscovered,' suggested Ezio, but his tone was one of awe.

'How can this be?' said Teodora.

Machiavelli replied, 'Perhaps the Vault holds the answer.'

'Can we see where it is located, now?' asked the ever-practical Antonio.

'Let's look.' said Ezio, examining the Codex. 'If we trace lines between these dots.' He did so. 'They converge, see! On a single location.' He stepped back. 'No! It cannot be! The Vault! It looks as if the Vault is in Rome!' He looked round the assembled company, and they read his next thought.

'It explains why Rodrigo was so anxious to become Pope,' said Mario. 'Eleven years he's ruled the Holy See, but he still lacks the means to crack its darkest secret, though he clearly must know he's at the spot itself.'

'Of course!' said Machiavelli. 'In a sense you have to admire him. He's not only managed to locate the Vault, but by becoming Pope he has control of the Staff!'

'The Staff?' said Teodora.

Mario spoke: 'The Codex always mentioned two "Pieces of Eden" - that is, two keys - it can mean nothing else. One -' he turned his eyes to it, '- is the Apple.'

'And the other is the Papal staff!' cried Ezio, in realization. 'The Papal staff is the second "Piece of Eden"!'

'Precisely,' said Machiavelli.

'My God, you are right!' Uncle Mario barked. He suddenly became grave. 'For years, for decades, we have sought these answers.'

'And now we have them,' added Paola.

'But so, too, might the Spaniard,' put in Antonio. 'We don't know that there aren't copies of the Codex - we don't know that, even if his own collection is incomplete, he nevertheless has enough information to.' He broke off. 'And if he does, if he finds a way into the Vault.' He dropped his voice. 'Its contents will make the Apple seem a trifling thing.'

'Two keys,' Mario reminded them. 'The Vault needs two keys to open it.'

'But we can't take any risks,' said Ezio urgently. 'I must ride now to Rome and find the Vault!' No one disagreed. Ezio looked at each of their faces in turn. 'And what of the rest of you?'

Bartolomeo, who had hitherto remained silent, now spoke, with less than his usual bluffness: 'I'll do what I do best - cause some trouble in the Eternal City, some uproar - cause a diversion so you can get on undisturbed.'

'We'll all help make the way as clear as possible for you, friend,' said Machiavelli.

'Just let me know when you're ready, nipote, and we'll all be behind you,' said Mario. 'Tutti per uno e uno per tutti!'

'Grazie, amici,' said Ezio. 'I know you'll be there when I need you. But let me carry the burden of this last quest - a lone fish can slip through a net that catches a shoal, and the Templars will be on their guard.'

They made their preparations fast, and soon after halfway through the month, Ezio, the precious Apple in his custody, arrived by boat on the Tiber at the wharfs near the Castel Sant'Angelo in Rome. He had taken every precaution, but by some devilry or the astuteness of Rodrigo's ubiquitous spies, his arrival did not pass unnoticed, and he was challenged by a squad of Borgia guards at the gates to the wharfs. He would have to fight his way to the Passetto di Borgo, the half-mile-long elevated passage that linked the Castel with the Vatican. Knowing that time was against them, now that Rodrigo must know of his arrival, Ezio decided that a quick, precise attack was his only option. He sprang like a lynx on to the mantle of an ox-drawn cart that was taking barrels from the docks, and skipping on to the higher-most barrel he leapt up to an overhanging gantry. The guards watched open-mouthed as the Assassin launched himself from the gantry - cloak billowing out behind him. Dagger drawn, he slew the Borgia sergeant atop his horse, and relieved him of his mount. The whole manoeuvre had unfolded in less time than it had taken for the remaining guards to draw their swords. Ezio, without looking back, rode off down the Passetto far faster than the Borgia uniforms could pursue him.

As he arrived at his destination, Ezio found that the gate through which he had to enter was too low and narrow for a horseman, so he dismounted and continued through it on foot, dispatching the two men who guarded it with a single deft

movement of his blades. Despite his gathering years, Ezio had intensified his training, and was now at the peak of his powers - the pinnacle of his Order, the supreme Assassin.

Beyond the gate he found himself in a narrow courtyard, at the other side of which was yet another gate. It seemed to be unguarded, but as he approached the lever at its side which he assumed would open it, a cry went up from the ramparts above: 'Stop the intruder!' Glancing behind him, he saw the gate through which he had entered slamming shut. He was caught in that cramped enclave!

He threw himself on the lever controlling the second gate as the archers ranging themselves above him prepared to fire, and just managed to dash through it as the arrows clattered to the ground behind him.

Now he was inside the Vatican. Moving catlike through its labyrinthine corridors, and melting into the shadows at the merest hint of now alerted guards passing, for he could not afford confrontation which might give his position away, he found himself at last in the vast cave of the Sistine Chapel.

Baccio Pontelli's masterpiece, built for the Assassins' old enemy Pope Sixtus IV and completed twenty years earlier, loomed around and above him, the many candles lit at this time just penetrating the gloom. Ezio could make out wall paintings by Ghirlandaio, Botticelli, Perugino and Rosselli, but the great vault of the ceiling had as yet to be decorated.

He had entered by a stained-glass window which was undergoing repair, and he balanced on an interior embrasure overlooking the vast hall. Below him, Alexander VI, in full golden regalia, was conducting the Mass, reading from the Gospel of San Giovanni.

'In principio erat Verbum, et Verbum erat apud Deum, et Deus erat Verbum. Hoc erat in pricipio apud Deum. Omnia per ipsum fact sunt, et sine ipso factum est nihil quid factum est. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehendeth it not. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.'

Ezio watched until the service came to its conclusion and the congregation began filing out, leaving the Pope alone with his cardinals and attendant priests. Did the Spaniard know Ezio was there? Did he plan some kind of confrontation? Ezio did not know, but he could see that here was a golden opportunity to rid the world of this most menacing Templar. Bracing himself, he threw himself outwards and downwards off the embrasure to land close to the Pope in a perfect crouch, springing up immediately, before the man or his attendants could have time to react or call out, and driving his spring-blade hard and deep into Alexander's swollen body. The Pope sank soundlessly to the ground at Ezio's feet and lay still.

Ezio stood over him, breathing hard. 'I thought. I thought I was beyond this. I thought I could rise above vengeance. But I can't. I'm just a man. I've waited too long, lost too much. and you are a canker in the world that should be cut out for everyone's good - Requiescat in pace, sfortunato.'

He turned to go, but then a peculiar thing happened. The Spaniard's hand curled round the Staff he had been holding. Immediately, it began to glow with a brilliant white light, and as it did so the whole great cavern of a chapel seem to whirl round and round. And the Spaniard's cold cobalt eyes snapped open.

'I'm not quite ready to rest in peace, you pitiful wretch,' said the Spaniard. There was a mighty flash of light and the attendant priests and cardinals, together with those members of the congregation who were still inside the chapel, collapsed, crying out in pain, as curious thin beams of translucent light, smoke-like in the way they curled, emerged from their bodies and travelled into the glowing Staff which the Pope, now standing, held in a grip of steel.

Ezio ran at him, but the Spaniard shouted, 'No you don't, Assassin!' and swung the Staff at him. It crackled in a strange way, like lightning, and Ezio felt himself thrown across the chapel, over the bodies of the moaning and writhing priests and people. Rodrigo Borgia rapped his Staff briskly on the floor by the altar and more smoke-like energy flowed into it - and him -from their hapless bodies.

Ezio picked himself up and confronted his archenemy once more.

'You are a demon!' cried Rodrigo. 'How is it that you can resist?' Then he lowered his eyes and saw that the pouch at Ezio's side, which still contained the Apple, was glowing brightly.

'I see!' said Rodrigo, his eyes glowing like coals. 'You have the Apple! How convenient! Give it to me now!'

'Vai a farti fottere!'

Rodrigo laughed. 'Such vulgarity! But always the fighter! Just like your father. Well, rejoice, my child, for you will see him again soon!'

He swung his Staff again and the crozier's hook smashed against the scar on the back of Ezio's left hand. A shock thrilled through Ezio's veins and he staggered back, but did not fall.

'You will give it me,' snarled Rodrigo, closing in.

Ezio thought fast. He knew what the Apple was capable of and he had to take a risk now or die in the attempt. 'As you wish,' he replied. He withdrew the Apple from his pouch and held it aloft. It flashed so powerfully that the entire lofty chapel seemed for a moment to be illuminated by bright sunlight, and when the gloom of the candlelight returned, Rodrigo saw eight Ezios ranged before him.

But he remained unruffled. 'It can make copies of you!' he said. 'How impressive. Hard to tell which is the real you, and which a chimera - but that'd be hard at the best of times, and if you think such a cheap conjuring trick is going to save you, think again!'

Rodrigo swung out at the clones, and each time he hit one, it vanished in a puff of smoke. The ghost-Ezios pranced and feinted, lunging at the now worried-looking Rodrigo, but they could do no harm to the Spaniard other than to distract him. Only the real Ezio was able to land any blows - but they were minor glances, such was the power of the Staff, that he was unable to get close enough to the vile Pope. But Ezio quickly realized that the fight was sapping Rodrigo's strength. By the time the seven ghosts were gone, the repulsive pontiff was tired and out of breath. Madness imparts an energy to the body that few other things can, but despite the powers the Staff imbued in him, Rodrigo was after all a fat old man of seventy-two, and suffering from syphilis. Ezio put the Apple back in its pouch.

Breathless after the fight with the phantoms, the Pope sank to his knees. Ezio, almost equally breathless because his phantoms had necessarily used his energy to disport themselves, stood over him. Looking up, Rodrigo clutched his Staff. 'You will not take this from me,' he said.

'It's all over, Rodrigo. Put the Staff down and I will grant you a swift and merciful death.'

'How generous,' sneered Rodgrio. 'I wonder if you'd give up in such a supine way if things were the other way round?'

Summoning his strength, the Pope rose abruptly to his feet, at the same time slamming the foot of his Staff against the ground. In the dimness beyond them, the priests and people groaned again and new energy whipped from the staff against Ezio, hitting him like a sledgehammer and sending him flying.

'How's that for starters?' said the Pope, with an evil grin. He walked over to where Ezio lay winded. Ezio started to take the Apple out again but too late, for Rodrigo crushed his hand with his boot and the Apple rolled away. The Borgia stooped to pick it up.

'At last!' he said, smiling. 'And now. to deal with you!'

He held the Apple up and it glowed banefully. Ezio seemed as if frozen, trapped, for he was unable to move. The Pope leaned over him in fury, but then his expression calmed, seeing his adversary completely in his power. From his robes he drew a short-sword, and, looking at his prostrate foe, stabbed him deliberately in the side, with a look of pity mingled with disdain.

But the pain of the wound seemed to weaken the power of the Apple. Ezio lay prone, but watched through a haze of pain as Rodrigo, thinking himself secure, turned and faced Botticelli's fresco of The Temptation of Christ. Standing close to it, he raised the Staff. Cosmic energy arced out of it to embrace the fresco, a part of which swivelled opened to reveal a secret door, through which Rodrigo passed after casting one last triumphant look back at his fallen enemy. Ezio watched helplessly as the door closed behind the Pope, and only had time to fix the location of the door before he passed out.

He came to, he knew not how much later, but the candles were burnt low and the priests and people had vanished. He found that although he was lying in a pool of his own blood, the wound Rodrigo had delivered had cut into his side and touched no fatal organ. He got up shakily, leaning against a wall for support and breathing deeply and regularly until his head cleared. He was able to staunch his wound with strips torn from his shirt. He prepared his Codex weapons - the double-blade on the left forearm, the poison-blade on the right - and approached the Botticelli fresco.

He remembered that the door was concealed in the figure, on the right-hand side, of a woman bearing a fardel of wood to the sacrifice. Stepping close, he examined the painting minutely until he had traced the barely visible outline. Then he looked carefully at the details of the painting both to the right and left of the woman. Near her feet was the figure of a child with an upraised right hand, and it was in the tips of the fingers of this hand that Ezio found the button that triggered the door. As it opened, he slipped through it, and wasn't surprised that it snapped shut behind him immediately. He would not think of retreating now in any case.

He found himself in what looked like a catacomb corridor, but, as he cautiously advanced, the rough walls and dirt floor gave way to smoothly dressed stone and a marble floor that would not have disgraced a palace. And the walls glowed with a pale, supernatural light.

He was weak from his wound but he forced himself onwards, fascinated, and more awed than scared, though he was still on his guard, for he knew the Borgia had passed this way.

At last the passageway opened into a large room. The walls were smooth as glass and glowed with the same blue iridescence he'd seen earlier, only here it was more intense. In the centre of the room was a pedestal, and on it rested, in holders clearly designed for them, the Apple and the Staff.

The rear wall of the room was punctuated with hundreds of evenly spaced holes, and before it stood the Spaniard, desperately pushing and poking at the wall, oblivious of Ezio's arrival.

'Open, damn you, open!' he cried in frustration and rage.

Ezio came forward. 'It's over, Rodrigo,' he said. 'Give it up. It doesn't make sense any more.'

Rodrigo spun round to face him.

'No more tricks,' said Ezio, releasing his own daggers and throwing them down. 'No more ancient artefacts. No more weapons. Now. let's see what you're made of, Vecchio.'

A smile slowly suffused Rodrigo's debauched and broken face. 'All right - if that's how you want to play it.'

He shook off his heavy outer robe and stood in his tunic and hose. A fat, but compact and powerful body, over which little bolts of lightning raced - gained from the power of the Staff. And he stepped forward and landed the first blow - a vicious uppercut to Ezio's jaw that sent him reeling. 'Why couldn't your father leave well enough alone?' asked Rodrigo sorrowfully as he raised his boot to kick Ezio hard in the gut. 'He just had to keep pursuing it, though. And you're just like him. All you Assassins are like mosquitoes to be swatted. I wish to God that idiot Alberti had been able to hang you along with your kinsmen twenty-seven years ago.'

'The evil resides not with us but with you, the Templars,' rejoined Ezio, spitting out a tooth. You thought the people -ordinary, decent folk - were yours to play with, to do with as you pleased.'

'But my dear fellow,' said Rodrigo, getting a body-blow in under Ezio's ribs, 'that is what they are there for. Scum to be ruled and used. Always were, always will be.'

'Stand off,' panted Ezio. 'This fight is immaterial. A more vital one awaits us. But tell me first, what do you even want with the Vault that lies beyond that wall? Don't you already have all the power you could possibly need?'

Rodrigo looked surprised. 'Don't you know what lies within? Hasn't the great and powerful Order of the Assassins figured it out?'

His torvid tone stopped Ezio in his tracks. 'What are you talking about?'

Rodrigo's eyes glittered. 'It's God! It's God who dwells within the Vault!'

Ezio was too astonished to reply immediately. He knew that he was dealing with a dangerous madman. 'Listen, do you really expect me to believe that God lives beneath the Vatican?'

'Well, isn't that a slightly more logical location than a kingdom on a cloud? - Surrounded by singing angels and cherubim? All that makes for a lovely image, but the truth is far more interesting.'

'And what does God do down here?'

'He waits to be set free.'

Ezio took a breath. 'Let's say I believe you - what do you think He'll do if you manage to open that door?'

Rodrigo smiled. 'I don't care. It certainly isn't His approval I'm after - just His power!'

'And do you think He'll give it up?'

'Whatever lies behind that wall won't be able to resist the combined strength of the Staff and the Apple.' Rodrigo paused. 'They were made for felling gods - whatever religion they belong to.'

'But the Lord our God is meant to be all-knowing. All-powerful. Do you really think a couple of ancient relics can harm him?'

Rodrigo gave a superior smile. 'You know nothing, boy. You take your image of the Creator from an old book - a book, mark you, written by men.'

'But you are the Pope! How can you dismiss Christianity's central text?'

Rodrigo laughed. 'Are you really so naive? I became Pope because the position gave me access. It gave me power ! Do you think I believed a single goddamned word of that ridiculous Book? It's all lies and superstition. Just like every other religious tract that's been written since people learned how to put pen to paper!'

'There are those who would kill you for saying that.'

'Perhaps. But the thought wouldn't disturb my sleep.' He paused. 'Ezio, we Templars understand humanity, and that is why we hold it in such contempt!'

Ezio was speechless, but he continued to listen to the Pope's ranting.

'When my work here is finished,' Rodrigo went on, 'I think my first order of business will be dismantling the Church, so that men and women may finally be forced to assume responsibility for their actions, and at last be properly judged!' His face became beatific. 'It will be a thing of beauty, the new Templar world - governed by Reason and Order.'

'How can you speak of reason and order,' interrupted Ezio, 'when your entire life has been governed by violence and immorality?'

'Oh, I know I am an imperfect being, Ezio,' simpered the Pope. 'And I do not pretend otherwise. But, you see, there is no prize awarded for

morality. You take what you can get and hold on tight to it - by any means necessary. After all,' he spread his hands, 'you only live once!'

'If everyone lived by your Code,' said Ezio, aghast, 'the entire world would be consumed by madness.'

'Exactly! And as if it hadn't been already!' Rodrigo jabbed a finger at him. 'Did you sleep through your history lessons? Only a few hundred years ago or so our ancestors lived in muck and mire, consumed with ignorance and religious fervour - jumping at shadows, afraid of everything.'

'But we have long since emerged from that and become both wiser and stronger.'

Rodrigo laughed again. 'What a pleasant dream you have! But look around you. You have lived the reality yourself. The bloodshed. The violence. The gulf between the rich and the poor - and that is only growing wider.' He fixed his eyes on Ezio's. 'There will never be parity. I've made my peace with that. You should, too.'

'Never! The Assassins will always fight for the betterment of humanity. It may ultimately be unattainable, a Utopia, a heaven on earth, but with every day that the fight for it continues, we move forwards out of the swamp.'

Rodrigo sighed. 'Sancta simplicitas! You'll forgive me if I've grown tired of waiting for humanity to wake up. I am old, I've seen a lot, and now I've only so many years to live.' A thought struck him and he cackled evilly. 'Though who knows? Perhaps the Vault will change that, eh?'

But suddenly the Apple began to glow, brighter and brighter, until its light filled the room, blinding them. The Pope fell to his knees. Shielding his eyes, Ezio saw that the image of the map from the Codex was being projected on the wall which was dotted with holes. He stepped forward and grasped the Papal Staff.

'No!' cried Rodrigo, his claw-like hands futilely gripping the air. 'You can't! You can't ! It is my destiny. Mine! I am the Prophet!'

In a terrifying moment of clear truth, Ezio realized that his fellow Assassins, so long ago in Venice, had seen what he himself had rejected. The Prophet was indeed there, in that room, and about to fulfil his destiny. He looked at Rodrigo, almost in pity. 'You never were the Prophet,' he said. 'You poor, deluded soul.'

The Pope sank back, old and gross and pathetic. Then he spoke with resignation. 'The price of failure is death. Give me at least that dignity.'

Ezio looked at him and shook his head. 'No, old fool. Killing you won't bring my father back. Or Federico. Or Petruccio. Or any of the others who have died, either opposing you, or in your impotent service. And for myself, I am done with killing.' He gazed into the Pope's eyes, and they seemed milky now, and afraid, and ancient; no longer the glittering gimlets of his foe. 'Nothing is true,' said Ezio. 'Everything is permitted. It is time for you to find your own peace.'

He turned from Rodrigo and held the Staff up to the wall, pressing its tip into a sequence of the holes spread across it, as the projected map showed him.

And, as he did so, the outline of a great door appeared.

Which, as Ezio touched the final hole, opened.

It revealed a broad passageway, with glass walls, inset with ancient sculptures in stone, marble and bronze, and many chambers filled with sarcophagi, each marked with Runic letters, which Ezio found himself able to read - they were the names of the ancient gods of Rome, but they were all firmly sealed.

As he passed along the passageway, Ezio was struck by the unfamiliarity of the architecture and the decoration, which seemed to be a strange mixture of the very ancient, of the style of his own time, and of shapes and forms he did not recognize, but which his instinct suggested might belong to a distant future. Along the walls there were carved reliefs of ancient events, seeming not only to show the evolution of Man, but the Force which guided it.

Many of the shapes depicted seemed human to Ezio, though in forms and clothing he could not recognize. And he saw other forms, and did not know if they were sculpted, or painted, or part of the ether through which he passed - a forest falling into the sea, apes, apples, croziers, men and women, a shroud, a sword, pyramids and colossi, ziggurats and juggernauts, ships that swam underwater, weird shining screens which seemed to convey all knowledge, all communication.

Ezio also recognized not only the Apple and the Staff, but also a great sword, and the Shroud of Christ, all carried by figures who were human in shape, but somehow not human. He discerned a depiction of the First Civilizations.

And at last, in the depths of the Vault, he encountered a huge granite sarcophagus. As Ezio approached it began to glow, a welcoming light. He touched its huge lid and it lifted with an audible hiss, though featherlight as if glued to his fingers, and slid back. From the stone tomb a wonderful yellow light shone - warm and nurturing as the sun. Ezio shielded his eyes with his hand.

Then, from the sarcophagus, rose a figure whose features Ezio could not make out, though he knew he was looking at a woman. She looked at Ezio with changing, fiery eyes, and a voice came from her too - a voice at first like the warbling of birds, which finally settled into his own language.

Ezio saw a helmet on her head. An owl on her shoulder. He bent his head.

'Greetings, Prophet,' said the goddess. 'I have been waiting for you for ten thousand thousand seasons.'

Ezio dared not look up.

'It is good that you have come,' the Vision continued. 'And you have the Apple by you. Let me see.'

Humbly, Ezio proffered it.

'Ah.' Her hand caressed the air over it but she did not touch it. It glowed and pulsated. Her eyes bore into him. 'We must speak.' She tilted her head, as if considering something, and Ezio thought he could see the trace of a smile on the iridescent face.

'Who are you?' he dared ask.

She sighed. 'Oh - many names. When I died, it was Minerva. Before that, Merva and Mera. and back again and again through time. Look!' She pointed to the row of sarcophagi which Ezio had passed. Now, as she pointed at them in turn, each glowed with the pale sheen of moonlight. 'And my family. Juno, who was before called Uni. Jupiter, who before was named Tinia.'

Ezio was transfixed. 'You are the ancient gods.'

There was a noise like glass breaking in the distance, or the sound a falling star might make - it was her laughter. 'No - not gods. We simply came. before. Even when we walked the world, your kind struggled to understand our existence. We were more. advanced in time. Your minds were not yet ready for us.' She paused. 'And perhaps they still are not. Maybe they never will be. But it is no matter.' Her voice hardened a fraction. 'But although you may not comprehend us, you must comprehend our warning.'

She drifted into silence. Into that silence, Ezio said, 'None of what you are saying makes sense to me.'

'My child, these words are not meant for you. They are meant for.' And she looked into the darkness beyond the Vault, a darkness unbounded by walls or time itself.

'What is it?' asked Ezio, humbled and frightened. 'What are you talking about? There's no one else here!'

Minerva bowed down to him, close to him, and he felt a mother's warmth embrace all his weariness, all his pain. 'I do not wish to speak with you but through you. You are the Prophet.' She raised her arms above her and the roof of the Vault became the Firmament. Minerva's glittering and insubstantial face bore an expression of infinite sadness. 'You've played your part. You anchor Him. But please be silent now. that we may commune.' She looked sad. 'Listen!'

Ezio could see all the sky and the stars, and hear their music. He could see the Earth spinning, as if he were looking down from Space. He could make out continents, even, on them, a city or two.

'When we were still flesh, and our home still whole, your kind betrayed us. We who made you. We who gave you life!' She paused, and if a goddess can shed tears, she shed them. A vision of war appeared, and savage humans fought with handmade weapons against their former masters.

'We were strong. But you were many. And both of us craved war.'

A new image of the Earth appeared now, close by, but still seen as from Space. Then it receded, becoming smaller, and Ezio could see it now as just one of several planets at the centre of whose orbits stood a great star - the Sun.

'So busy were we with earthly concerns, we failed to notice the heavens. And by the time we did.'

As Minerva spoke, Ezio saw the Sun flare into a vast corona, shedding unbearable light, light which licked the Earth.

'We gave you Eden. But we had between us created war and death and turned Eden into hell. The world burned until naught remained but ash. It should have ended then and there. But we built you in our image. We built you to survive!'

Ezio watched as from the total devastation that seemed to have been wrought upon the Earth by the Sun, a single ash-covered arm thrust skyward from the debris. Great visions of a windswept plain swept across the sky, which was the Roof of the Vault. Across it marched people - broken, ephemeral, but brave.

'And we rebuilt.' Minerva continued. 'It took strength and sacrifice and compassion, but we rebuilt! And as the Earth slowly healed, as life returned to the world, as the green shoots thrust up out of the generous earth once more. We endeavoured to ensure that such a tragedy would never be repeated.'

Ezio looked at the sky again. A horizon. On it, temples and shapes, carvings in stone like writing, libraries full of scrolls, ships, cities, music and dancing - shapes and forms from ancient times and ancient civilizations he didn't know, but recognized as the work of his fellow beings.

'But now we are dying,' Minerva was saying. 'And Time will work against us. Truth will be turned into myth and legend. What we built will be misunderstood. But Ezio, let my words preserve the message and make a record of our loss.'

An image arose of the building of the Vault, and others like it.

Ezio watched, as if in a dream.

'But let my words also bring hope. You must find the other temples. Temples like this. Built by those who knew how to turn away from war. They worked to protect us, to save us from the Fire. If you can find them, if their work can be saved, then so, too, might this world.'

Now Ezio saw the Earth again. The skyline of the Roof of the Vault showed a city like a vast San Gimigmano, a city of the future, a city of towers crushed together which made a twilight of the streets below, a city on an island far away. And then all coalesced once more into a vision of the Sun.

'But you must be quick,' said Minerva. 'For time grows short. Guard against the Templar Cross - for there are many who will stand in your way.'

Ezio looked up. He could see the Sun, burning angrily, as if waiting. And then it seemed to explode, though within the explosion he thought he could discern the Templar Cross.

The vision before him was fading. Minerva and Ezio were left all alone, and the voice of the goddess now seemed to be disappearing down a tunnel of infinite length. 'It is done. My people must now leave this world. All of us. But the Message is delivered. It is up to you now. We can do no more.'

And then there was darkness and silence, and the Vault became a dark underground room again, with nothing in it at all.

Ezio turned back. He re-entered the antechamber and saw Rodrigo lying on a bench, a dribble of green bile oozing from a corner of his mouth.

'I am dying,' said Rodrigo. 'I have taken the poison I kept back for the moment of my defeat, for there is no world for me to live in now. But tell me - tell me before I leave this place of wrath and tears for ever - tell me, in the Vault - what did you see? Whom did you meet?' Ezio looked at him. 'Nothing. Nobody,' he said.

He walked back out, through the Sistine Chapel and into the sunlight, to find his friends waiting there for him. There was a new world to be made.