Free The Palace by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Page A

builders were more than willing to consent to its condition.
    "It is well," Ruggiero said, and added, "You must make your marks in your own
blood."
    The builders stopped, and once again there was suspicion in their faces.
Gasparo set his jaw. "Why?"
    Joacim Branco was about to take issue with them when a quick gesture from
Gasparo quieted him. "There is a reason," he assured the builders. "My master
makes this request of you."
    "If there is a reason"—and from Lodovico's tone of voice it was obvious that
he doubted it—"then you should be willing to tell me what it is. If there is
not, your caprice is not reason enough for me to sign in blood."
    Gasparo took up this attitude. "He will have our sworn words, given on the
honor of our souls and salvation. Surely that's enough. Or is there something
more precious than our souls?"
    This was the question that Ruggiero had been waiting for. He made a solemn
sign. "No, there is nothing more precious than your souls. And for that reason,
you must guard it. Certainly now you put honor and trust in your salvation. But
what if you are seduced by evil? Then there is no honor in your salvation. Then,
good artisans, your blood will bind you."
    Carlo guffawed. "There is nothing that would make me do that."
    "Isn't there?" Ruggiero studied his hands. "Would you still be held by this
oath if your mother were being racked, I wonder?"
    The builders were silent, and even Lodovico admitted to himself that Ruggiero
had made a powerful argument. At last he said, "After all, why not? If the
foreigner knows us so little, we should oblige him."
    The others hesitated, but when Ruggiero handed Lodovico a small knife and
Lodovico confidently cut his finger and made his sign, the rest stepped forward.
    "This is most satisfactory," Ruggiero said while the marks on the parchment
dried. "In his appreciation for your kindness, my master asks that you go to the
kitchen. You will find that Amadeo has made a repast for you. It is a full
prandium, with two pies instead of one." This was flying in the face of the
Fiorenzan sumptuary laws, but none of the builders objected.
    Lodovico, remembering that he had claimed to be hungry, was the first to
accept this invitation, hurrying out of the room into the lamp-lit dusk of the
palazzo.
    Only Gasparo waited. "I will want to talk to the Patron, Ruggiero, and
discuss this document."
    Ruggiero's expression was one of faint surprise. "Do you have objections now
that you have signed it?" he wondered aloud.
    "No. But I wish to know how the conditions will be met, and when we will be
able to arrange a way to make payments."
    "Well," Ruggiero said, "he should be back within the hour, and if you like,
you may wait for him. Or, if you prefer, tomorrow morning he will spend an hour
with you."
    Gasparo remembered the meal waiting below. "The morning will be fine." He was
about to leave, then added, "If he comes before we are finished with the
prandium, I'll talk to him then." He reached for a sack and put his tools into
it, humming and occasionally breaking into song. He paid no attention to the
alchemist and houseman until he interrupted himself. "That's been in my mind all
day. Have you ever had that problem? You get a song into your thoughts, and do
what you will, it won't leave?" He shook his head, stowed the tied sack near the
sawhorses and went off singing in earnest.
    Ruggiero smiled broadly and looked at Joacim Branco. "Did you recognize it,
that song?"
    The Portuguese alchemist frowned severely. "I did. These damned Fiorenzeni
have not the least respect for genius. Singing the verse of Dante as if it were
some trivial ditty." He snorted his disgust as he put the document in the wide
sleeve of his houppelande.
    "You're offended?" Ruggiero shook his head. "I don't know. Perhaps I'm
perverse, but I like it." He gestured for the alchemist to precede him out of
the room.
    "It is all very well for you to laugh," Joacim Branco said, "but