Free The Boy with the Porcelain Blade by Den Patrick

selecting clothes for the road.
    ‘Master D’arzenta, Dino, Camelia and Massimo.’
    ‘What?’ Lucien turned to Virmyre. ‘Why are there so many?’
    ‘We barricaded the door to stop Giancarlo’s men entering the apartment. He was going to have you arrested in your sleep.’
    Lucien blinked a few times wordlessly. The professore ’s face gave nothing away. Only his pale blue eyes showed his concern.
    ‘ Figlio di puttana. Angelicola is going to be the death of me.’ Lucien resumed packing. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he muttered testily. He pulled on a heavy greatcoat. It was waxed and had a sturdy high collar. He’d never worn it before, thinking it bulky and crude.
    ‘Why is Massimo here?’ said Lucien suddenly. The boy was Lord Contadino’s personal aide and was regarded by him as indispensable. It was rumoured he received private duelling lessons from Ruggeri.
    ‘Lady Contadino decided she wanted a witness here if anything were to befall you.’ Virmyre cleared his throat. ‘No one in their right mind would move against Lord Contadino’s page. And D’arzenta is armed of course. There’s not many who’d be quick to move against a maestro di spada , even at a time like this.’
    Suddenly a booming sound came from next door, accompanied by muffled shouting.
    ‘What now?’ hissed Lucien. Virmyre opened the door a crack, peering through into the sitting room. He flashed a warning glance at Lucien, then closed the door, turning the key in the lock.
    ‘Giancarlo has returned. It must be midnight. Quickly, through the window. No time for goodbyes.’
    The sound of shouting increased from the next room. Lucien thought he could hear Camelia crying. D’arzenta was calling out in his most superior tone. He imagined he could hear the rasp of steel as his sword came free of the scabbard.
    ‘ Avanti , Lucien,’ said Virmyre. ‘If they’ve brought axes they’ll be through the door in minutes. Let’s not give them anything to find.’
    Virmyre crossed to the windows and opened them. It had finally stopped raining and a full moon shone with harsh intensity from inky skies. The stars looked muted by contrast.
    ‘I can’t do it,’ said Lucien quietly.
    ‘You don’t have much choice. Climb up to the roof. I’ll meet you in the House Erudito courtyard. I’ll have a horse saddled, but you’re going to need to give me some time. Come on now, quickly.’
    Sounds of dull chopping issued from the sitting room. D’arzenta was swearing at the top of his voice. Virmyre held out a hand and gestured impatiently. In three quick steps Lucien was across the room and perched on the windowsill like a huge raven. The bulk of his bag lay in the small of his back, the strap straining across his shoulders. He realised he had no scabbard resting on his thigh, the reassuring weight of a sword painfully absent. He turned to Virmyre breathing hard, steaming in the night air.
    ‘What the hell is going on?’ he whispered.
    ‘Chaos,’ said Virmyre. ‘Now go.’
    Lucien’s fingers sought the gaps in the masonry, gingerly grasping coarse networks of ivy root, not trusting them to support his weight. His feet slipped and struggled to find purchase; his wounded shoulder complained spitefully. The walls of Demense were still slick and treacherous with the day’s rain. Underneath and far below men scoured the perimeter with lit torches and spears. Raucous voices carried through the gloom; muffled cursing could be heard from the surly guards. Lucien climbed up, whispering incredulously to himself as he went, shocked by the unfolding consequences of his final testing.
    So consumed with the climb was Lucien that he forgot Anea’s room was located two floors above his own. He glimpsed her through a gap in the curtains as he squatted on her windowsill to give his wounded shoulder a rest. Anea was tearstained and tired, folded in on herself on the couch. Professore Russo was comforting her, one arm holding the girl close. The Orfano girl