Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [241]
I didn't believe him, not until we descended and rounded a curve in the gorge and the plain of Lucca stretched before us. There was the city, walled around with red brick and surrounded by a moat. Smaller villages clustered around its base, and a river glinting to the north with a canal feeding into the city's moat. At first, I still refused to believe, certain that spreading oak-crowns visible above the city walls belonged to trees inside its perimeter. But as we drew near, I realized he spoke the truth. The trees were rooted atop the very walls themselves.
Brigitta frowned, pointing. "What is that?"
"Trees," I said. "Growing from the walls."
She shook her head. "Not the trees. That."
"That's the bell-tower." Lucius followed the line of her pointing finger. "They say that when Gallus Tadius and the Red Scourge descended—" He broke off his sentence.
"Smoke," Eamonn said briefly.
We all saw it, then; a trickle of smoke, rising to blend with the autumn haze, hanging over the city. I felt a feather of foreboding brush me.
Lucius turned pale. "Something's wrong." He rode alongside the carriage, pounding on the door. "Claudia! Deccus! Someone's set fire to the bell-tower."
"What?" Claudia's voice was incredulous.
"Stay here." Lucius was grim. "All of you. I'll go find out."
"I'm going with you," I said.
"So am I," said Eamonn. Brigitta merely narrowed her eyes.
"Montrève, you can't, you're—" Lucius paused and glanced toward the city. "I don't have time to argue."
"Then don't," I said.
We all went; all four of us, tearing hell-for-leather toward Lucca, and Gilot only stayed behind because I swore on Anna's head and in Blessed Elua's name that I'd dismiss him out of hand if he didn't. I meant it, too.
It was strange and unreal. Minutes ago, we had been laughing and jesting, anticipating our arrival. In a heartbeat, everything had changed. It might be nothing, of course. More often than not, fires happen by accident.
But the nearer we got, the deeper my sense of foreboding grew.
The gates of Lucca were sealed, the bridge drawn up and the portcullis closed. We drew rein on the far side of the moat. The tree-lined wall loomed over us.
Luccius shouted up at the guard towers flanking the gate. "Guards! What passes here?"
"Who asks?" a muffed voice called.
His voice was grim and precise. "Lucius Tadius da Lucca!"
The tip of a crossbow emerged from a high window atop the tower. "Show yourself."
Astride his black mount, Lucius opened his arms in a disgusted gesture. "What in the hell do you think I'm doing, you idiot? Look at me. Now open the gate and give us passage!"
Behind the crossbow, a guard peered out the window. "It's him," he called to someone inside, adding, "Sorry, my lord."
There was a grinding sound as the bridge was lowered and the portcullis raised. We followed Lucius across the bridge, the horses' hooves sounding hollow and echoing over the moat. The water stirred, sluggish and green. I knew that smell. It smelled like the fetid pool in the zenana. It stayed with me as we passed under the massive gatehouse.
Inside the walls, a contingent of the city guard awaited us. "My lord Lucius—" began one man, wearing a badge of rank.
"Captain." Lucius cut him off. "What the hell happened here?"
The captain gritted his teeth. "Valpetra."
Lucius swore violently and brought one hand down on his mount's withers in a hard slap. The black startled under him and he wrenched at the reins with cruel force, jerking its head. Its eyes rolled wildly, and there were flecks of bloody foam at the corners of its mouth. Eamonn and Brigitta exchanged a glance.
"Tell me everything," Lucius said in a voice as cold as winter.
It didn't take long. We learned in short order that a few hours ago, Domenico Martelli, the Duke of Valpetra, had entered Lucca with an entourage of men-at-arms under the pretext of bringing the peace offering of a wedding gift to the Correggio family.
Instead, they had kidnapped the bride and strewn havoc