“I can place you in touch with him,” agreed Mascoli. “But for the moment, at least, I think you should have no direct contact at all. I doubt if Marina would agree, in any event. He is very frightened by the state of things in Venice.” Mascoli nodded toward the undines. “The dottore has a special relationship with them. They can serve as the messengers.”
“Difficult,” hissed one of the undines. The tone of her voice was distinctly unhappy. “The stupid dottore has gone too far from the water.”
“Not safe,” hissed the other.
Diego eyed them curiously. “From the rumors which have been swirling through the city for months, the water is the most dangerous place to be. Because of the so-called ‘canal monster.’ ”
The undines gaped shark-toothed grins. “Dangerous for most. Dangerous for us, even. Not dangerous for the dottore.” One of the undines sank below the surface for a moment, then came up gushing water out of her mouth in an undine version of laughter. “The dottore eat that one easily.”
“That makes sense,” murmured Eneko. “A Grimas would be vulnerable to steel-clad enemies. Another great sorcerer; the most powerful of demons. And not much else.”
Mascoli cocked his head in a quizzical gesture. As close as he was to the undines, he had no doubt at all that the rumors of a “canal monster” were quite accurate. “And what makes you think this thing is not a most powerful demon.”
“Doesn’t make sense,” replied Lopez. “The thing—whatever it is—is a servant of Chernobog. I’m quite sure of it, now. Chernobog would have lamed it in some manner. Broken it to his service.”
Mascoli ran his hand across his bald pate, grimacing ruefully. “You move in a strange world, Father Lopez. That thing is quite too powerful for my taste, thank you.”
Lopez shrugged. “I did not say it wasn’t dangerous. I am simply pointing out that it is, in the end, nothing more than a tool in the hands of another. It is that other that I am truly concerned about.”
He looked down at the undines, moving slowly in the waters of the chapel. “Very well. Would you take this message to Dottore Marina: Tell him to concentrate all his efforts on finding the Lion. We will see to the rest.”
The undine’s mouth gaped wide. “And who is ‘we’?” demanded one.
“He’s a special envoy from the Grand Metropolitan of Rome,” explained Diego.
The undine’s mouth gaped wide again. “That means precious little to her,” murmured Mascoli. The bald priest squatted by the edge of the water. “Just tell him that they are friends of mine. And I trust them.”
A moment later, in a little swirl, one of the undines was gone. The other remained, swimming slowly through the water-chapel.
Father Mascoli stood up. “I hope Sister Evangelina is not mistaken.” He gave Eneko a hard look.
The Basque priest smiled and spread his hands. “I could give you assurances of my own, Father Mascoli. But would they really mean very much? In the end, you must make your own decision.”
“I already have. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m just a simple priest, Father Lopez.” Mascoli pointed a finger at the still-swirling surface of the water-chapel. “These waters here are quite deep enough for me. “I tend to my flock—in whatever form they appear. I’m Hypatian—”
He gave the Basque another hard look, as if saying: as you are supposed to be. “I don’t make judgments. Let God judge. That’s His business, not mine. God has given me the gift to make it so that evil can’t freely enter here, so anything that enters freely deserves my help.”
Pierre had opened his mouth when Mascoli proclaimed his unwillingness to make judgments as if to protest, but closed it after that last sentence, looking far more satisfied.
Mascoli led the way out of the water-chapel. Once in his cell, with the water-door closed, he paused at the entrance to the main chapel. “There are still other waters too deep for me,” he added, facing Lopez. “The Marco boy you asked about.”
“Valdosta.”
Mascoli winced. “That secret is getting too frayed, I fear.”