Free The Shadow Master by Craig Cormick Page A

“So, tell us what you believe happened.”
    â€œThis man has undoubtedly been in the employ of your enemies and had poisoned this soup bowl in front of him that was undoubtedly meant for you. See the fine bowl he has used.” They all saw this and nodded. Leonardo then held up the man’s fingers on each hand. “See the traces of powder on these fingers,” he said. “That is residue of the poison. You can taste it in the soup slightly now that it is cold, but when heated up I’d wager it is not detectable.”
    â€œWhat do you know of poisons?” the Captain of the Guard asked.
    â€œEnough,” said Leonardo. Then, “The person who shot this man saved your life, your grace,” he said to the Duke.
    â€œThen who was it?” asked the Captain of the Guard. “One of my men?”
    â€œA stranger,” said Leonardo. “This arrow is like no craftsmanship I have ever seen. Can you dig it out and have it sent to my chambers for further examination, though?” The Captain of the Guard nodded dumbly.
    â€œHow long has this man been in our employ?” asked the Duke. The cook screwed up his face and tried to recall, but Leonardo said, “About two months, I’d estimate.”
    â€œHow can you tell that?” asked the cook.
    â€œThat’s when the household soup first started tasting of piss and when I stopped eating it,” said Leonardo. The other five people in the kitchen, the Duke, the Captain of the Guard, the cook, the kitchen hand and the kitchen girl all looked at the dead man’s member and the pot of soup under the table.
    â€œYou don’t mean…?” said the kitchen hand.
    â€œImpossible,” said the cook.
    â€œUnthinkable,” said the Captain of the Guard.
    â€œOutrageous!” said the Duke, knowing his wife would turn purple with rage when she heard of this. Then Leonardo rolled up the dead man’s sleeve to reveal the Medici sign of six balls in a circle tattooed on his inner arm. Everyone in the room stared at in dumbfoundment for a moment. “The Medici will answer for this!” the Duke railed. “We will serve them up baked turds!” The cook wondered if that was a metaphor or if he’d actually be called upon to do such baking, and while the others expressed variations of increased outrage, it fell to the kitchen girl to ask the relevant question, “So, if this man was a Medici spy, who killed him?”
    â€œThat I cannot tell you as of yet,” Leonardo said. “But clearly whoever he is, he is exceedingly skilled in the art of death, and let us hope that he proves a friend and not our adversary.”
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XII
    Standing inside his new machine Lorenzo was a giant metal man, taller than any of the great statues in the main plaza. He was three times the height of any militia man and about ten times as strong. He stood in the metal man’s heart, his limbs working the arms and legs, striding along the streets of the Walled City like one of the ancient gods. People ran from the sight of him, scurrying around his feet like rats in the gutters. Now and then a braver soul would throw a rock at him, but it bounced harmlessly off his metal chest.
    He turned his head to look at whoever dared defy him and the eyes of the giant metal man shot out a concentrated ray of heated light, driven from a lens that captured the rays of the sun. As he strode closer to the Lorraines’ household, men on horseback galloped out towards him, waving spears and swords. But the horses shied away at the sight of him and when rallied, he emitted a high-pitch scream from the mouth of the machine that panicked them so badly they turned and ran.
    Lorenzo laughed and it boomed out the trumpet inside the metal man’s mouth, echoing around the streets and alleys about him. The next line of defence was soldiers, who ran towards him. But their spears and swords bounced harmlessly off his