The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [47]
Ospero graveled out a laugh, and many of his men echoed it. “I’m no gentleman,” he said. “That, above all, you can be sure of.”
Cazio raised his sword deliberately.
“You don’t want to do that, boy,” Ospero said.
“I think I know better than you what I want to do,” Cazio replied haughtily.
Ospero nodded slightly. Then he moved with astonishing speed, dropping and whipping his leg out so that he clipped Cazio’s leading foot. Cazio spun half around, and Ospero stood and almost lazily took his sword arm and twisted it so the sword fell clattering to the ground. As if by magic, a knife appeared in his other hand and flashed up to Cazio’s throat.
“I think,” Ospero said, “you’ve need of a lesson in respect.”
“He’s in need of many lessons of that sort,” a new voice said.
“Z’Acatto!” Austra shouted.
It was indeed the old man, shuffling down the street toward them. “What do you plan to do with him, Ospero?” z’Acatto asked.
“I’m just deciding whether to bleed him out quickly or slowly.”
“Do your worst,” Cazio gritted.
“I’d say to do it quickly,” z’Acatto advised. “He’s likely to make a long-winded speech otherwise.”
“I can see that,” Ospero mused.
“Z’Acatto!” Cazio yelped.
The old man sighed. “You’d better let him go.”
Anne braced herself. She knew that despite his appearance, z’Acatto was a mestro of the sword, and also that he had a deep love for Cazio. He wouldn’t let the younger man die without a fight. Could she summon the power of Cer again, blind Ospero, and make him drop the knife? She would have to try, for all their sakes.
But to her surprise Ospero took the knife away and stepped back. “Of course, Emratur.”
Cazio looked shocked. “Emratur?” he asked. “What is this? Emratur?”
“Hush, boy,” z’Acatto muttered. “Just be glad you’re alive.” He turned to Ospero. “We’ll need to talk in private,” he said.
Ospero nodded. “It would seem there are things you did not tell me.”
Z’Acatto nodded, too. “Cazio, take the casnaras back to the room. I’ll join you there shortly.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue for once,” z’Acatto said bluntly.
Ospero’s men dispersed as the two older men walked off together.
Cazio watched them go, sighed, and sheathed Caspator. “I wish I knew what that was about,” he said.
“What was that name Ospero called z’Acatto?” Anne asked. “Emratur? I’ve never heard you call him that.”
“Come on,” Cazio said. “We’d better do what he said.” He started walking.
Anne followed. “Cazio?” she persisted.
“Cazio’s just saved our lives,” Austra reminded her. “Again.”
Anne ignored her. “You looked surprised,” she said.
“It’s not a name,” Cazio grunted. “It’s a title. The commander of a hundred men.”
“You mean as in an army?”
“Yes, as in an army.”
“Was z’Acatto an emratur?”
“If he was, I’ve never known it.”
“I thought you had known him all your life.”
They had reached the steps to their apartment, and Cazio started up. “I have. Well, sort of. He was a servant of my father’s. He taught dessrata to my brothers and me. But sometimes, when I was young, he would leave for months at a time. I suppose he might have been off fighting. My father had many interests in those days. He might have commanded a hundred men.”
“But z’Acatto still serves your father.”
“No. My father fell on hard times, and eventually was killed in a duel. I inherited z’Acatto, along with a house in Avella. They are all that remain of my father’s estate.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Tears welled in Anne’s eyes. In the excitement, for just a few moments, she had forgotten to grieve.
Cazio stopped, looked a little puzzled at her expression, and put a hand on her shoulder. “It happened a long time ago,” he said. “There’s no reason for you to cry.”
“I just recalled something,” Anne murmured, “that’s all. Someone I lost.”
“Oh.” He looked down at his feet and then brought his gaze back to hers. “I’m sorry to be so brusque,” he said. “I’m just—well, I wish