Fabrizio darted a glance at Maria, held his breath, and pulled the door open.
Light from the skull’s glowing eyes revealed books scattered, and papers and parchment strewn helter-skelter. On the table lay an open book. Fabrizio recognized it as the magic book he’d been secretly studying.
He turned around. Prince Cosimo had followed them into the room and was watching them closely. His face was tense, his eyes wide.
He’s frightened, thought Fabrizio. “My lord, do you know where my master is?”
“Did … did he not send you here?” said the prince.
“The last time I saw him was in a prison cell. In the Hall of Justice.”
“Ah! Well, yes, I visited him there, too. He … he told me that he believed Magistrato DeLaBina made these treasonous papers. That he was being used by the magistrato for his own reasons.” The prince gestured toward the papers that still lay on the table.
“I asked him if he would make that accusation to His Majesty. When he said he would, I … I left him in search of a more comfortable room. When I returned … he was gone. Vanished. Magic, I thought. After all, he is a magician, isn’t he? He should have stayed. I … I was trying to help him.”
“My lord,” said Fabrizio, “we think we saw him beyond the hall, walking through the fog.”
“Did you!”
“He was with someone,” Maria added.
“Who?” cried the prince, clearly alarmed.
“We couldn’t see,” said Fabrizio. “It was too foggy, and the people were wearing black robes. Like that one.”
Fabrizio pointed to a robe that hung by the side of the door.
The prince shifted from foot to foot. He was growing more agitated. “Very well. I’ll tell you what happened to your master.”
“Do you know?”
“I fear —”
“Has he been killed?” cried Fabrizio.
The prince started to speak, stopped, and then said, “I believe Count Scarazoni took him away to the Castello.”
“Scarazoni!” Fabrizio and Maria said at the same time.
“You said you saw him with someone. I’ve no doubt it was Scarazoni.”
“But why?” asked Fabrizio.
“The count intends to put Mangus on trial.” The prince’s voice was growing more confident.
“Trial! For what reason?”
“Everyone knows magic is illegal in Pergamontio. My father fears it greatly. He believes what DeLaBina said, that Mangus made those papers, magically, on behalf of someone. I’m quite sure that someone is Scarazoni. He’s trying to overthrow my father. To conceal the truth and to protect himself, the count is … prepared to sacrifice your master. If your master is found guilty of doing magic, he’ll be put to death.
“Alas,” concluded the prince, “I can only do so much. My father has great trust in Scarazoni. I’m afraid he won’t believe me if I tell him Scarazoni is the traitor. There … there’s only one way your master can save himself.”
Fabrizio struggled to make sense of the prince’s words. “How?”
“Mangus must force the count to confess his crime.”
“Is that why Scarazoni took my master, to keep him from doing that?”
“That appears to be so,” said the prince.
Fabrizio, trying to absorb all the prince had said, looked around. He glanced at the open book of magic. “My lord,” he asked, “why are you here?”
“It’s my duty to protect the king. Believing your master is innocent, I came here in search of evidence to establish his innocence. In the same fashion I sent you to be executed — to protect you.”
“Protect me from whom, my lord?”
“Count Scarazoni. And Magistrato DeLaBina. It was I who told the king to release you.”
“Was it?” said Fabrizio. “I thank you. I thought it was the king. But, my lord, perhaps you don’t know: DeLaBina is dead.”
“Dead?” cried the prince.
“Murdered,” said Maria.
The prince seemed at a loss for words. “How do you know?”
“We saw his body, my lord,” said Fabrizio.
“There was … a dagger in his back,” Maria added.
“When … when did this happen?” asked the prince.
“Last midnight,” said Maria.
“Have you … have you any idea who did it?”
“We heard DeLaBina arguing with someone in the halls,” said Fabrizio.
“And,” said Maria, “we saw the hilt of the dagger that killed him. It was covered with red rubies.”
The prince looked grave. “A dagger like that belongs to King Claudio.”
“My lord,” said Fabrizio, “do you think someone stole it?”
“The count and the magistrato were trying to wrest power from His Majesty. But they quarreled. I have no doubt — the count stole my father’s dagger and killed DeLaBina.”
“A short time later we think we spoke to the one who killed him.”
“Did you?” The prince placed his hand on his dagger as if prepared to act. “Who was it?”
“My lord,” said Maria, “we didn’t see his face. He was wrapped in a black robe.”
“Scarazoni wears such a robe,” said the prince.
“If you say so,” said Fabrizio.
“And now,” the prince continued, “the count has your master. Not only do I fear for his life, but King Claudio is in great danger.” He moved toward the door. “I need to warn him.”
“My lord!” called Fabrizio. “Will you tell him you believe that my master is innocent? That Scarazoni is the true enemy?”
The prince hesitated. “The count is very powerful. But I will try.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said Fabrizio. “Just one more question. The other night when my master performed at the Sign of the Crown, were you there? In a black robe? Like that.” He pointed to the one that hung on the wall.
“Of course not,” said the prince. “I don’t usually mingle with common people.” The prince stepped into the hallway.
“At that performance,” said Fabrizio, following after him, “there was another black robe. We don’t know who he was.”
“Does it matter?” said the prince.
“That black robe sent a warning to my master.”
The prince swung around. “A warning about what?”
“He said, ‘Tell your master he’s in grave danger.’”
The prince stared at Fabrizio, then abruptly turned back down the hall, only to pause and say, “Boy, let us hope Mangus can convince the king that Scarazoni is guilty. Only that will save his life. As for your own safety, I advise you, beyond all else, avoid Scarazoni. He won’t hesitate a moment before killing you, too.”
CHAPTER 19
FABRIZIO STOOD IN THE DOORWAY TO HIS MASTER’S STUDY, staring after the prince. When he was sure Cosimo was gone, he returned to Mangus’s table. He picked up one of the treasonous papers, stared at it, and then put it down. “If we believe what the prince said, it must have been Scarazoni — along with DeLaBina — who wanted these made.”
Maria, who was behind the table, said, “He didn’t convince me. I thought he was making things up as he spoke.”
“The place is a mess. He said he came here to look for something to prove Master’s innocence. But why would he be going through Master’s magic books?”
“Maybe he believes in it,” said Maria. “He was nervous and frightened. Fabrizio, do you think he really didn’t know that DeLaBina was killed?”
“He acted surprised,” said Fabrizio. “I keep thinking about what he said, that he visited my master in his cell. Maria! The man who was with DeLaBina right before he was murdered, didn’t he say he visited Mangus in his cell? And did you notice the prince’s boots?”
“No.”
“They were red. Master Mangus told me, ‘Pay attention to what’s visible and you can discover what’s hidden.’ That black robe we met — right after DeLaBina was killed — was completely covered exce
pt for the tip of one boot. A red boot.
“Another thing,” said Fabrizio, growing more excited, “the king’s dagger. I just remembered. When I stood before the king, I saw the prince take it. I didn’t see him return it.” He stared at the skull on the table. “Maria, do you think the prince killed DeLaBina?”
“And is now trying to blame Scarazoni.”
“Except, according to the prince, it was Scarazoni who took my master to the Castello….” Fabrizio didn’t finish his thought.
“Couldn’t you go to the count, tell him what we’ve discovered, and plead for your master?” said Maria.
“But — what if the prince is right?” said Fabrizio. “He warned us to avoid Scarazoni. Maria, the count is really frightening.” Full of gloom, he sank down into Mangus’s chair.
After a while, Maria said, “Fabrizio, is there something to eat? Even some bread. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten.”
Fabrizio got up and led Maria out. “There should be food in the kitchen.”
He stopped at the doorway and stared at the black robe that hung on the wall.
“Maria,” he said, “look!” A piece of type clung to the sleeve of the cloak. Fabrizio plucked it off. It felt sticky.
“Fabrizio, it has to be one of ours. There’s no other printing press in the city.”
“This is Giuseppe’s robe. He’s my master’s servant.”
“How would he get the type?”
“We’d better ask him.” Fabrizio led the way to the kitchen shed. “Hello!” he called.
Giuseppe poked his head out of the inner room. “You!” he cried upon seeing Fabrizio. “How did you get here? You were arrested.”
“I was able to get free.”
“How?”
“With permission, Signore. The door was open.”
“Idiot! And what are you doing with my robe?”
“I was just bringing it to you,” said Fabrizio.
Giuseppe snatched it. “Who’s the filthy girl?”
“My friend Maria. Signor Giuseppe, we haven’t eaten since yesterday. Can we get something?”
“Take what you want.” Giuseppe started to retreat into his room.
“With permission, have you heard what happened to Master?”
Giuseppe hesitated. “He’s being held in the Hall of Justice.”
Benito came into the room and said, “For treason.”
“He’s not a traitor,” Fabrizio said hotly. “Not even Prince Cosimo believes Master is guilty.”
“How would you know?” said Benito.
“He was just here. He told us.”
Giuseppe and Benito exchanged looks of alarm.
Fabrizio noticed that Benito was holding a full sack. “Signore, are you going somewhere?”
“We’re leaving Pergamontio,” said Giuseppe. He hurried into the inner room.
“Did he say you’re leaving?” Fabrizio asked Benito.
Benito nodded. “We no longer wish to be associated with Mangus.”
Giuseppe reappeared holding a bulging sack of his own. “Besides, we’ve made enough money to be independent.”
“How?”
The two servants grinned. “I was working for the Primo Magistrato DeLaBina,” said Giuseppe.
“And I for Count Scarazoni.”
“Since when?” cried an astonished Fabrizio.
“I met with DeLaBina the other night, right after Master’s performance,” said Giuseppe.
“And I with the count,” said Benito.
“But why?” said Fabrizio.
“The magistrato wished to know what Mangus did at his performance. I told him — for a price.”
Benito grinned. “As for me, the count wished to know about the magistrato.”
“So it was you who told DeLaBina about Master’s ‘making something from nothing’! And me collecting the papers!”
Giuseppe laughed. “He pays well.”
Fabrizio turned to Benito. “What did you tell the count?”
Benito was unable to hide his amusement. “Giuseppe told me what DeLaBina was doing and I told Scarazoni. Didn’t we tell you servants run the world? Good-bye.”
The two headed for the door.
“Signor Giuseppe! Signor Benito,” Fabrizio called after them. “Perhaps you didn’t know Magistrato DeLaBina was murdered last night.”
The servants swung around.
“We found him,” said Maria.
They stood openmouthed.
“It’s true,” said Fabrizio.
“Who … who killed him?” said Benito.
“The prince told us it was Count Scarazoni. And to protect himself Scarazoni is accusing Master. He took Master to the Castello.”
Benito, looking ill, pulled at Giuseppe’s arm. “We need to get out of the city fast.”
Fabrizio held up the piece of type. “We found this sticking to that robe of yours.”
“It’s from my house,” said Maria. “Signor Giuseppe, do you know anything about DeLaBina going to a house on the Street of the Wood Sellers and destroying something there?”
“Giuseppe, we must leave now!” cried Benito.
Giuseppe held back. “You two need to understand what kind of friends we have. Yes, I was asked to go to a house to pull apart some machine.”
“Early this morning?” said Fabrizio. “In the fog?”
“Exactly so. I met someone outside the Hall of Justice. He sent me.”
“Who was it?”
“When you’re given orders by higher-ups, you don’t look at their faces, just their money. I can assure you, I saw a lot.”
“Giuseppe and I,” bragged Benito, “only deal with powerful people.”
“The one who sent me to that house,” said Giuseppe, “told me he spoke for the king.”
“The king!” cried Fabrizio.
“Did he wear a black robe?” asked Maria.
“What of it?” said Giuseppe. “I wear one, too.”
“Why did this person ask you?” Maria said.
“He knew I worked for DeLaBina.”
“Is that why the prince was here?” cried Fabrizio, finally understanding. “To pay you off?”
Benito yanked at Giuseppe again. “You’re talking too much!”
Giuseppe glared at Fabrizio. “Say anything about this and you’ll find yourself in great trouble.”
Maria glared at the servants. “What you destroyed belonged to my parents. Do you know where they are?”
“That house was deserted when I got there,” said Giuseppe.
“No soldiers?” asked Fabrizio.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t have been able to get in. Now keep your mouths shut. Both of you! Just remember how powerful our friends are.” He shook a fist. The two servants ran off.
CHAPTER 20
I THINK THINGS ARE GETTING EVEN WORSE FOR MASTER,” said Fabrizio as he watched the servants run off.
Maria, meanwhile, had found a loaf of bread, tore off a piece, and offered some to Fabrizio. Then she uncovered a hunk of cheese. They shared that, too.
“The awful thing is,” said Fabrizio, who had been trying to sort things out in his mind, “I really don’t know if we should believe everything the prince said. Or any of it. And Giuseppe suggested he was sent to your house by the king.” He shook his head. “My master told me it’s best to find the simplest solution, but this seems so complicated.”
“Do we know anything for sure?” asked Maria.
“We need to think it out,” said Fabrizio. The two went back to Mangus’s study. While Maria sat behind the table, Fabrizio walked around, putting things back in place.
“Just a few nights ago, at my master’s performance,” he began, “somebody warned him that he was in danger. Two days later, DeLaBina came barging into this room. And now … he’s dead.”
“That we certainly know,” agreed Maria.
“My master thought DeLaBina didn’t really care about the making of the papers. That he was after someone else,
some ‘devilish’ person who asked that those papers be made.”
“That was Scarazoni, right?” said Maria.
Fabrizio nodded. “At least DeLaBina wanted my master to say it was Scarazoni who told him to make the papers. The prince wants the same thing. But Mangus didn’t make the papers. And Scarazoni didn’t tell him to make them.”
“It was DeLaBina,” said Maria, “who asked my parents to make them.”
“Then somebody killed DeLaBina.”
“Your master needs to have some friends,” said Maria.
Fabrizio shoved a few books onto shelves. “Maria!” he suddenly said. “That person in a black robe who warned me that my master was in danger. He seemed to know what the magistrato was planning. If we could find out who that person is, maybe we could discover a friend.”
“How can we do that?”
“At the Sign of the Crown, where the performance took place, the tavern owner, Signor Galda, is Master’s good friend. Maybe he knows who that black robe was. I think I know how I can ask him.”
It did not take long for them to run to the Sign of the Crown. Inside, the dim air was thick with the stench of sour wine and stale garlic. Cured Parma hams hung on the walls. In one corner stood a large basket of fresh-made bread, its yeasty smell inviting.
There were only a few patrons. Off to one side, Signor Galda was sitting at a small table. In the gloom of the room his bald head gleamed as he bent in close conversation with an elderly man.
Fabrizio and Maria approached. “Signor Galda …”
Galda turned and smiled. But the moment he realized who had spoken he scowled. “What do you want?”
“With permission, Signor Galda, I am Master Mangus’s servant, and —”
“I know perfectly well who you are,” said Galda.
“My master wishes to know the best night for his next magic performance.”
Galda frowned. “You may tell your master he’s not welcome here anymore. I’ll have nothing to do with those who dabble in magic. And you can also tell him I wish he had never performed his evil arts in my establishment. Now, get out of here!” He rose up from his chair, threatening.
Taken completely by surprise, Fabrizio stepped back. “But, Signore —!”
“Out!” Galda pointed to the door.
“Signor Galda, with permission … one more question.”