"Don't say it, Ezio."

"Why not?"

"Because I cannot say it back."

No weapon could have cut more deeply into him than those words. "You used me, then?"

"That sounds rather harsh."

"What other words would you wish me to use?"

"I tried to explain earlier."

"You are a ruthless woman."

"I am a woman with work to do, and a duty."

"Then whatever serves your cause, goes."

She was silent again, then said, "I've tried to explain this to you already. You must accept it." She had taken her hands from his shoulders. He could see that her mind had wandered back to her journey. She was looking at the stuff yet to be packed.

He thought, recklessly, To hell with the Brotherhood! I know what I want! Why shouldn't I live for myself, for a change? To hell with the Brotherhood! I know what I want! Why shouldn't I live for myself, for a change?

"I'm coming with you," he said.

She turned to him again, her eyes serious. "Listen, Ezio. Perhaps you are making a choice, but you are making it too late. Perhaps I have done the same thing. But you are leader of the Assassins now. Don't give up the work you have started-the great work of rebuilding after the disaster at Monteriggioni. Without you, things will fall apart again, and then who will there be to save us?"

"But you never really wanted me."

He looked at her. She was still there, in the room with him, but her spirit had long gone. How long ago it had left him, he did not know-perhaps it had never really been there. Perhaps he had only hoped for it, or imagined it. At that moment, he felt that he was looking at the corpse of love, yet still he refused to believe in its death. But, as with any other death, he saw that he had no choice now but to get used to its reality.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," said Caterina, and her attendants returned.

Ezio left them to their packing.

The next morning he was determined to resist seeing them off, but he could not. It was cold. When he got to the appointed square, in a safe district of the city, they were already mounted, the horses restless. Perhaps, even now, at the last moment, she would relent.

But her eyes, though kind, were distant. He thought he could have borne things better if she hadn't looked at him with kindness. Kindness was almost humiliating.

All he could say was, "Buona fortuna, Contessa-and...farewell."

"Let's hope it's not 'farewell.'"

"Oh, I think it is."

She looked at him once more. "Well, then-buona fortuna anche, my prince; and-Vittoria agli Assassini!"

She wheeled her horse around, and without another word, without even a backward glance, at the head of her guardian entourage, she galloped north out of the city and out of his life. He watched them until they were mere specks in the distance, a lonely, middle-aged man who had been given a last chance at love and missed it.

"Vittoria agli Assassini," murmured Ezio tonelessly to himself, as he turned and made his way back into the still-sleeping city. murmured Ezio tonelessly to himself, as he turned and made his way back into the still-sleeping city.

THIRTY.

With Cesare's return imminent, Ezio had to put his private grief aside and get on with the work Fate had given him. In his attempt to cut Cesare off from his funds, the first step was to find and neutralize Cesare's banker, and the initial lead would come from the Rosa in Fiore.

"What do you want?" Claudia couldn't have been less friendly if she'd tried.

"You spoke of a senator at the meeting."

"Yes, I did. Why?"

"You said he owed money to Cesare's banker. Is he here?"

She shrugged. "You'll probably find him on the Campidoglio. Surely you don't need my help for that."

"What does he look like?"

"Oh-let me see-average?"

"Don't play games with me, sister!"

Claudia relented slightly. "He's maybe sixty, lean, worried looking, clean shaven, grey hair, your height or a little less. Name's Egidio Troche. Stubborn type, Ezio, pessimistic, set in his ways. You'll have your work cut out trying to get around him."

"Thank you." Ezio looked at her hard. "Now-I intend to track down this 'Banker' and kill him. I've a pretty shrewd idea who he is, but I need to find out where he lives. This senator could lead me to him."

"The Banker's security's pretty tight. So would yours be, if you were in a position like his."

"You think mine isn't?"

"As if I cared."

"Listen, Claudia-if I'm tough with you, it's because I worry about you."

"Spare me!"

"You're doing well-"

"Thank you, kind sir-"

"-but I need you to organize a big job for me. Once I have neutralized this Banker, I need your girls to get his money to a place of safety."

"Just let me know when-or should I say, if if-you succeed."

"Just-stay alert."

In a dark mood, Ezio set off for the Capitoline Hill, the administrative center of Rome. He was greeted by a busy scene. There were several senators going about their business in the broad piazza around which the government buildings were arranged, accompanied by secretaries and assistants, who carried papers in leather folders and bustled after their masters as they moved from building to building, all trying to look as busy and as important as possible. Ezio, as far as he could, blended into the melee, keeping a watchful eye out for a man answering the description Claudia had given him. As he moved through the crowd, he kept his ears pricked for any hint he might pick up about his quarry. There certainly wasn't any sign of Egidio among the senators at the moment, though he seemed to be providing his colleagues with a lively topic of conversation.

"Egidio's been asking for money again," said one.

"When doesn't he? What's it for this time?"

"Oh, some proposal to reduce the number of public executions."

"Ridiculous!"

Ezio moved on to another knot of senators and there gleaned more information. He wasn't sure, from what he heard, whether Egidio was a militant (and therefore foolish) liberal reformer or a rather ham-fisted con man.

"Egidio's petitioning for an end to the torturing of witnesses in the criminal courts," someone in the next group was saying.

"Fat chance!" replied the harassed-looking man he was talking to. "It's just a front, anyway. All he really wants the money for is to pay off his debts!"

"And he wants to get rid of exemption licenses."

"Please! Like that's going to happen! Every citizen who feels mistreated by our laws should surely be allowed to pay for an exemption from those laws! It's our duty! After all, it's our own Holy Father who brought the exemption licenses in-and he's following the example of Christ Himself-'Blessed are the merciful'!"

Another Borgia scam for making money, thought Ezio, while the other senator rejoined, "Why should we give any money to Egidio? Everyone knows what he'd do with it." thought Ezio, while the other senator rejoined, "Why should we give any money to Egidio? Everyone knows what he'd do with it."

The two men laughed and went about their business.

Ezio's attention was attracted then to a small group of Borgia guards in their mulberry-and-yellow uniforms, but Ezio noticed that these had Cesare's personal crest-two red bulls, quartered with fleurs-de-lis-sewn onto their doublets. As they always spelled trouble, he made his way over to them and saw, as he approached, that they had surrounded a senator. The other senators were carrying on as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, but Ezio could see that they left plenty of space between the guards and themselves.

The unfortunate senator answered Claudia's description perfectly.

"No more arguing," the guards' sergeant was saying.

"Your payment's fallen due," added his corporal. "A debt's a debt."

Egidio had dropped any pretense of dignity. He was pleading. "Make an exception for an old man!" he quavered. "I beg of you!"

"No," snarled the sergeant, nodding to two of his men, who seized Egidio and threw him to the ground. "The Banker has sent us to collect-and you know what that means!"

"Look-give me until tomorrow-this evening!-I'll have the money ready then!"

"Not good enough," responded the sergeant, kicking the senator hard in the stomach. He stepped back and the corporal and the two other guards set about belaboring the prostrate old man.

"That won't get you your money," said Ezio, stepping forward.

"Who are you? Friend of his?"

"I'm a concerned bystander."

"Well, you can take your concern and fuck off with it! And mind your own fucking business!"

The sergeant, as Ezio had hoped, had stepped too close. With practiced ease he slipped the catch on his hidden-blade and, raising his arm, swept it across the guard's exposed throat just above the gorget he was wearing. The other guards watched, rooted to the spot in astonishment as their leader fell to his knees, his hands futilely scrabbling at the wound to stanch the fountaining blood. Before they could react, Ezio was upon them, and, a matter of seconds later, the three of them had joined their sergeant on the Other Side, all with their throats slit. Ezio's mission left no time for swordplay-only swift, efficient killing.

The piazza had emptied as if by magic. Ezio helped the senator to his feet. There was blood on the man's clothes and he looked-and indeed was-in a state of shock. But it was shock mingled with relief.

"We'd better get out of here," Ezio said to him.

"I know a place. Follow me," Egidio replied, and he set off with remarkable speed for an alleyway between two of the larger government buildings. They hastened down it and turned left, then down some stairs into a basement area and to a door. This the senator quickly unlocked, and he ushered Ezio into a small, dark, but comfortable-looking apartment.

"My bolt-hole," said Egidio. "Useful when you have as many creditors as I have."

"But one big one."

"My mistake was to consolidate all my debts with the Banker. I wasn't fully aware of his exact connections at the time. I should have stuck to Chigi. At least he's honest-as far as a banker can be!" Egidio paused. "But what of you? A Good Samaritan in Rome? I thought they were a dying breed."

Ezio let that go. "You are Egidio Troche, il il s senatore?"

Egidio looked startled. "Don't tell me I owe you money as well!"

"No-but you can help me. I am looking for Cesare's banker."

The senator smiled thinly. "Cesare Borgia's Borgia's banker? Ha! And you are...?" banker? Ha! And you are...?"

"Let's just say I'm a friend of the family."

"Cesare has a lot of friends these days. Unfortunately, I am not one of them. So, if you'll excuse me, I have some packing to do."

"I can pay."

Egidio stopped looking nervous. "Ah! You can pay pay? Ma che merviglia! Ma che merviglia! He fights off guards for one, He fights off guards for one, and and he offers one money! Tell me, where have you been all my life?" he offers one money! Tell me, where have you been all my life?"

"Well, I haven't descended from heaven. You help me, and I'll help you. It's as simple as that."

Egidio considered this. "We'll go to my brother's place. They've got no quarrel with him, and we can't stay here-it's too depressing, and it's far too close to my-dare I say, our?-enemies."

"Let's go, then."

"But you'll have to protect me. There'll be more of Cesare's guards out after me, and they won't be especially friendly, if you know what I mean-especially after that little show you put on in the piazza."

"Come on."

Egidio led the way out, cautiously, making sure the coast was clear before they set off by a labyrinthine route through back alleys and seedy lanes, across little piazze piazze, and skirting the edges of markets. Twice they encountered pairs of guards, and twice Ezio had to fight them off-this time using his sword to full effect. It seemed that the city was on full alert for both men-and both men in flight together proved too good a bounty for the Borgia henchmen. Time was not on Ezio's side-so when the next pair of guards appeared at the other side of one small piazza, they simply had to run for it, and Ezio, unable to take to the rooftops with the senator in tow, simply had to depend on Egidio's apparently exhaustive knowledge of Rome's backstreets. But at last they reached the rear of a new, quietly splendid villa, set in its own walled courtyard, a few blocks east of Saint Peter's. Egidio let them into the courtyard through a small ironbound gate set into one of the walls, for which he produced a key.