Free The Blessed by Lisa T. Bergren Page A

cheek. “Thank you, Tess. I was giving in to doubt. You are absolutely correct. I must believe in the power of our Lord and his good intentions, then trust in his answer.”
    The child looked across the river to the densely wooded forest. “They are there. It is they that cast doubt and shadow in our direction.”
    â€œI know, Tess. We’re well aware of the dark ones’ presence. You are right—we must remain vigilant, standing against the pull of their dark ways.”
    â€œWho is there?” Anette asked. “Lord Amidei?”
    â€œIndeed,” Daria said. “And others. For every moment we spend in prayer to the God of light and hope, they spend another in prayer to those of darkness and despair. In him, they sow power. In him, they hope to thwart our good efforts here.”
    â€œThen we must summon the priest and get to prayer immediately. Especially as you do your work upon Lord Devenue. Our God is not one who cowers when threatened. Believe that, Daria. We all need to believe.”

CHAPTER SIX

Avignon
    CARDINAL Boeri hated to keep Hasani in chains. But twice he had tried to slip away, and the last time they had caught him at the city gates. If he had made it but fifty yards farther, to the docks, Hasani would have been long gone.
    The cardinal would let Daria d’Angelo’s man go, when it best suited him. The doge, after intercepting the Turkish slave ship, had given the freed man to him, to use him as he saw fit. Slavery was an accepted practice in Venezia, but the Turks had tried to slip the lagoon without paying the required taxes. God’s own hand had delivered Hasani to the doge, and then to the cardinal. Once he was in their care, they had bound his wounds and nursed him back to health.
    Cardinal Boeri had made the mistake of telling Hasani he planned to free him, when the time was right. Now the tall, black man followed his every move with his wide cocoa-colored eyes, saying nothing but bespeaking much. Rather than accepting Cardinal Boeri’s promise of impending freedom as placation, a reason to trust the cardinal, he saw it instead as reason for doubt. It was if he knew the cardinal’s plan without being told.
    Cardinal Boeri went to the second-story portico to again see the man, pacing down below. He moved his hands as if talking to himself, but the cardinal had yet to hear him utter a word. The doge had said his tongue had been cut some time ago, a barbaric practice common in decades past. His sources told him the man had been educated alongside Daria d’Angelo, undoubtedly making the pair of them unique in all of Italia. Educating women was rare; educating freed slaves was unheard of. But in turn, Hasani had become one of the most vigilant of guards for Daria. No doubt she wondered where her trusted friend had been taken. No doubt Amidei had tried to use the event for his own devices.
    The cardinal leaned down to rest his forearms on the guard rail of the portico, still staring down at the man as he paced. Hasani did not know that the cardinal had also purchased his long, curved sword back from the slavers. He was surprised it was still in their possession—that Amidei had thrown it into the deal and that it hadn’t already been bartered off. It was back in his guest quarters, within the trunk, a fine specimen of weaponry with the ivory handle and precious, uncommonly sharp iron blade. When he freed the man, restored him to Daria and Gianni’s side, the black man’s worst fears would be assuaged. And when he handed the blade back to the man, he was confident all would be forgiven, trust in him restored and useful in persuading the Gifted to play their cards as he instructed.
    Amidei had sliced the man’s back to bloody ribbons. Had he forced Lady Daria to watch as he did so, hoping to turn her? Spies had told the doge she had been a prisoner, and the Gifted had freed her on the eve of the biggest storm to hit Venezia in