The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [128]
Cazio glanced at Anne then, and for a moment she couldn’t take her gaze away from his. She felt as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t have, but couldn’t form the words of an excuse.
Cazio broke the spell.
“Well, that’s one kiss for luck,” he said. “How about another?”
“That wasn’t a kiss for luck,” Anne said softly. “And you’re still a fool.”
Then she followed Austra.
“She’s right,” Malconio said, once the two women were out of sight. “You’re a fool, and playing at a fool’s game.”
“What could you possibly mean?” Cazio asked, irritated.
“Two girls. The one you’ve set your hopes on is the rofola—Diuvo knows why—but you’re cozying up to her friend.”
“I’ve no interest in Anne,” Cazio lied, “though if I did, it would be none of your business.”
“Your very apparent interest in her is about to get me killed, so it’s entirely my business,” Malconio said, “but I’ll let that pass. Still, it’s cruel to play with a girl’s heart.”
“Anne doesn’t have a heart.”
“I’m talking about the other one now.”
“Ah, but you just said we were about to be killed, so there’s no time for that to happen.”
“Yes, well, that’s your best hope.” To Cazio’s surprise, Malconio clapped him on the shoulder. “Stay under cover. You won’t be of any use until they actually board us, if they do.”
He started off.
“Wait a moment,” Cazio said.
His brother paused. “Only a moment.”
“What do you know about z’Acatto?”
Malconio shrugged. “Less than you, I should think. What do you mean?”
“A man in z’Espino—a man who knew him—called him Emrature.”
“That’s odd,” Malconio conceded.
“So I thought.”
“He did fight in the wars,” Malconio said. “Almost everyone did, even father.”
“Yes, but as a commander? Then why would he—?”
“Why would he dedicate his life to teaching the ill-behaved brats of a nearly destitute nobleman how to swing a sword around? I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.”
“Have you ever tried asking him anything personal?”
Malconio smiled. “Once or twice, when I was too young to know better. But he’s always loved you, Cazio. You were different to him. It was you he stayed for.”
“Who killed our father, Malconio?”
His older brother’s features softened a bit. “Cazio, I’ve never understood you. Maybe when we were boys—we had a little fun, didn’t we? You were so serious and sober, like a little priest. Then after father died—”
“I don’t want to talk about this. And you don’t have time.”
“This may be the only time,” Malconio said. “After father died, you took to the sword as if you had no other life. Like any little boy, you were sworn to avenge his death. We wouldn’t tell you anything about the duel because we were afraid you would run away and try to find the man.”
“I would have.”
“But when you were older and—do not doubt this—the best dessrator in Avella, maybe in the whole Tero Mefio—you never asked, never tried to find out.”
“Because I didn’t care anymore,” Cazio replied. “Father was a fool. He frittered away our estates and got himself killed.”
“You fight duels every day,” Malconio said. “How can you fault father for fighting one? Especially when you know nothing of the circumstances?”
“I know he was hit in the back,” Cazio said softly. “I saw the body, Malconio. What kind of duelist gets hit in the back?”
Malconio’s face worked silently for a moment. “I didn’t see the fight, and neither did you,” he finally said. “Why do you suddenly care about this again?”
“I don’t know,” Cazio said. “It just popped into my head.”
“Z’Acatto saw the fight. He’s the one you need to talk to. But—father wasn’t so bad, Cazio. When our mother was still alive, he was a better man. A lot of him left with her.”
Another uncomfortable silence followed.
“Have you seen Chesco lately?” Cazio asked.
“Two months ago. He’s well. He’s got three ships of his own. You know, you’ve always been welcome to join us.”
“I can’t abandon our name and our home,” Cazio said. “I can’t.”
Malconio rolled his eyes. “Look around you,” he said. “You have—you just don’t know it yet.”
Cazio