Be silent, beast. Lest I return you to the place from which you came.
The thought brought a fierce yearning to the monster. To roam free again—!
But the urge was fleeting. Chernobog possessed the monster’s soul, still. The monster had no illusions that the master would return it—nor that it would be cast back into its homeland uninjured. Chernobog would surely rend the monster before he set it free. And, outside of the casket-world, mortal wounds were genuinely mortal. The monster would simply bleed to death, disemboweled in a forest, leaving its soul to be chewed by Chernobog for eternity.
Besides . . .
The pain was receding now, as it always did. And the monster was able to remember the pleasures as well as the agonies of serving Chernobog. It would feed again, soon enough. That knowledge brought relief—relief from frustration, this time, not pain. The monster had not been able to devour the prey’s soul because of that cursed priest. It was hungry.
Eventually, Chernobog ceased his ruminations. The monster could sense the dark form shifting somewhere in the surrounding grayness. As if some huge beast, roused from torpor, were stirring again.
It will have to be the burning again. At least for a time. I cannot risk another premature encounter. Especially not now, with the Shadow stirring in slumber.
The monster had to struggle not to cry out a protest. It was, in the end, a creature of the forest and the lakes and the mountains, who much preferred the corporeal rending of flesh in its beast-form to less fleshly methods. But the struggle was brief, very brief. There was a certain pleasure in burning also. More ethereal perhaps, but not without its own rewards.
Yes. The burning again. And soon. The monster sensed Chernobog’s form seething with anger, but knew the anger was directed elsewhere.
Lest my enemies think a mere priest, with a common holy symbol, can bring them surcease. Their growing terror must be fanned, like flames in a forest, until all of the city burns.
Yes. The burning, again.
The monster’s wounds were almost completely healed by now. Enough, certainly, to enable it to utter words of obeisance and submission. And if the tone of those words contained a trace of regret, there was not enough to reawaken the master’s displeasure.
Again, the monster sensed the great form swirling, a darkness in the mist, as if an enormous arm was moving in a gesture of command. In an instant, its body began to shrivel and shrink. Soon enough, the beast-body with its talons and teeth and clawing suckers had vanished, replaced by something which bore a vague resemblance to a salamander.
As always, the monster’s regrets vanished with the change of form. There was no room in that salamanderlike body for anything but salamander thoughts.
Burning soon. Hungry!
Chapter 30
The Old Fox smiled. “Angelina Dorma. Well, well, well! How serious do you think it is, Antimo?”
The Duke of Ferrara’s agent considered this silently. Finally he said, “Angelina Dorma is a young woman of some beauty and absolutely no common sense. Your grandson Marco is besotted with her—to the point of foolishness. Angelina has bragged about her ‘secret admirer’ to several confidantes both inside and outside the Casa. It was easy enough for my spies in the household to get wind of it, to see young Marco and to track him. This was done as part of our ongoing research into Casa Dorma, milord, not with our agent being aware of whom he was tracking.”
The Old Fox raised an eyebrow. “We were all young and foolish about women once, weren’t we?”
Antimo Bartelozzi didn’t respond with a smile. “Foolishness gets people killed, milord. And Dorma is very protective about his family.”
The duke pulled a wry face. “His weakness is his family, Antimo. His mother and sister can be used against him. It’s been a factor which has held me back in my approaches to him, despite his many impressive qualities. And as for the foolishness, those it doesn’t kill—learn. So, I want Dorma watched closely. I see possible alliances here as well as possible dangers. And it is conceivable my foolish grandson may have found a way to remove one loose cannon from the Casa Dorma, and tie it down.”