Ezio wrestled with himself for a few moments longer, then said, "All right. I agree."

He disappeared for a moment and then returned, holding a square box, lead-covered and closed with a massive lock. He took a key, tied to a silver chain around his neck, from within his tunic and opened the box. There, on a bed of green velvet, lay the Apple. It looked drab and grey, as it always did when inert, the size of a small melon and a texture that was curiously soft and pliant, like human skin.

"Ask it," urged Leonardo, his eyes keen as he saw the Apple again. Ezio knew his friend was fighting down a desire to grab the thing and run, and he understood how great the temptation was for the polymath, whose thirst for knowledge at times almost overwhelmed him and never let him rest.

He held the thing up and closed his eyes, concentrating his thoughts, formulating the questions. The Apple began to glow almost at once. Then it began to throw images onto the wall.

They came fast and did not last long, but Ezio-and Ezio alone-saw Cesare break from his prison and make his escape from Rome. That was all, until the inchoate images on the wall coalesced to show a busy seaport, the water shining and glittering beneath a southern sun, and a fleet in the harbor. The vision dissolved, and then there was a view of a distant castle, or perhaps a fortified hill town, far away, as Ezio somehow knew, and, judging from the landscape and the heat of the sun, certainly not in the Papal States of Italy. The architecture, too, looked foreign, but neither Ezio nor Leonardo could place it. Then Ezio saw Mario's citadel at Monteriggioni, and the picture moved and shifted to take him to Mario's private, secret study-the Sanctuary-where the Codex pages had been assembled. The concealed door to it was closed, and on the outside of it Ezio could see arcane figures and letters written. Then it was as if he were an eagle flying, flying over the ruins of the Assassins' former stronghold. Then, abruptly, the Apple went dead, and the only light in the room was once again provided by the calm sunlight.

"He will escape! I have to go!" Ezio dropped the Apple back into its box and stood so abruptly that he knocked his chair over.

"What about your friends?"

"The Brotherhood must stand, with or without me. That is how I have built it." Taking it from its box again, Ezio placed the Apple in its leather bag. "Forgive me, Leo-I have no time to waste." He already had his hidden-blade and his bracer strapped on. He packed the pistol and some ammunition in his belt wallet.

"Stop. You must think. You must plan."

"My plan is to finish Cesare. I should have done it long ago."

Leonardo spread his hands. "I see that I cannot stop you. But I have no plans to leave Rome, and you know where my studio is."

"I have a gift for you," said Ezio. There was a small strongbox on the table between them. Ezio laid a hand on it. "Here."

Leonardo rose. "If this is goodbye, then keep your money. I do not want it."

Ezio smiled. "Of course it isn't goodbye, and of course you want it. You need it, for your work. Take it. Think of me me as your patron, if you like, until you find a better one." as your patron, if you like, until you find a better one."

The two men hugged each other.

"We will see each other again," said Ezio. "You have my word. Buona fortuna Buona fortuna, my oldest friend."

What the Apple had predicted could not be emended, for the Apple showed the future as it would be, and no man or woman could alter that, any more than he or she could change the past.

As Ezio approached the Castel Sant'Angelo, he could see papal guards, the new ones who wore the livery of Julius II, running out of the ancient fortress and dispersing in organized bands across the river and down the surrounding streets. Bells and trumpets rang out a warning. Ezio knew what had happened, even before a breathless captain he stopped told him: "Cesare's escaped!"

"When?"

"The guards were being changed. About half an hour ago." Half an hour! Exactly the time when the Apple had shown it happening!

"Do you know how?"

"Unless he can walk through walls, we have no idea. But it looks as if he had friends on the inside."

"Who? Lucrezia?"

"No. She hasn't stirred from her apartments since all this blew up. But the Pope's had her under house arrest since he took power. We've arrested two guards who used to work for the Borgia. One's a former blacksmith. He might have been able to jimmy the lock, though there's no sign of damage to the cell door, so they probably just used the key. If they're guilty."

"Is Lucrezia giving any trouble?"

"Strangely, not. She seems...resigned to her fate."

"Don't trust her! Whatever you do, don't be lulled into a sense of false security by her manner. When she's quiet, she's at her most dangerous."

"She's being guarded by Swiss mercenaries. They're hard as rocks."

"Good."

Ezio thought hard. If Cesare had any friends left in Rome, and evidently he had, they'd get him out of the city as fast as they could. But the gates would already have been sealed, and from what he had already seen, Cesare, bereft of the Apple and unskilled in the Assassins' techniques, would not be able to escape the dragnets and cordons being set up all over Rome.

That left one possibility.

The river!

The Tiber flowed into Rome from the north and left it to the west, where it flowed into the sea only a few miles away, at Ostia. Ezio remembered the slave traders he had killed: they had been in Cesare's pay. They would not have been the only ones! Get him on a boat, or a small seagoing ship, disguised as a mariner or simply concealed under a tarpaulin among the cargo. It wouldn't take long for a ship under sail or oars, going with the current, to reach the Tyrrhenian Sea, and from there-well, that depended on what Cesare's plans were. The thing was to catch him before he could put them into effect!

He made his way by the quickest route down to the midtown docks, those closest to the Castel. The quays were chockablock with boats and ships of all shapes and sizes. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Half an hour. He'd barely have had time to cast off yet, and the tide was only just rising.

Ezio had the Apple with him. Finding a quiet spot, he crouched down and, without hesitation this time, drew it out. There was nowhere here for it to project its images, but he felt that, if he trusted it, it would find another way of communicating with him. He held it as close to him as he dared and closed his eyes, willing it to respond to his question.

It did not glow, but he could feel it grow warm through his gloves, and it began to pulse. As it did, strange sounds came from it-or they were sounds within his head, he wasn't sure which. Then a woman's voice, oddly familiar though he could not place it, and seemingly far distant, said softly but clearly, "The small caravel with red sails at Pier Six."

Ezio ran down to the quay. It took him a little time, pushing his way through a throng of busy, cursing mariners, to locate Pier Six, and when he did so, the boat that answered the Apple's description was just casting off. It, too, seemed familiar. Its decks were stacked with several sacks and boxes of cargo-boxes large enough to conceal a man, and on deck Ezio recognized, with a shock, the seaman he had left virtually for dead after his abortive rescue of Madonna Solari. The man was limping badly as he approached one of the boxes and, with a mate, shifted its position. Ezio noticed that the box had holes bored along each side near the top. He ducked behind a rowboat, raised on trestles for repainting, to keep out of sight, as the sailor he had lamed turned to look back toward the quay, scanning it, perhaps to check for pursuers.

He watched helplessly for a moment as the caravel pushed out into midstream, raising one of its sails to catch the stiff breeze out there. Even on horseback, he couldn't follow the little ship along the river's bank, since the path was often blocked or interrupted by buildings that came right up to the water. He had to find a boat for himself.

He made his way back to the quay and walked hastily along it. The crew of a shallop had just finished unloading, and the boat itself was still rigged. Ezio approached the men.

"I need to hire your boat," he said urgently.

"We've just put in."

"I'll pay handsomely." Ezio delved into his purse and showed a handful of gold ducats.

"We've got to get the cargo seen to first," said one crew member.

"Where d'you want to go?" asked another.

"Downstream," said Ezio. "And I need to go now."

"See to the cargo," said a newcomer, approaching. "I'll take the signore signore. Jacopo, you come with me. Won't take more than the two of us to sail it."

Ezio turned to thank the newcomer and recognized, with a shock, Claudio, the young thief he'd rescued from the Borgia guards.

Claudio smiled at him. "One way of thanking you, Messere Messere, for saving my life. And keep your money, by the way."

"What are you doing here?"

"I wasn't cut out for thievery," said Claudio. "La Volpe saw that. I've always been a good sailor, so he lent me the money to buy this boat. I'm the master. Do a good trade, between here and Ostia."

"We need to hurry. Cesare Borgia's escaped!"

Claudio turned and barked out an order to his mate. Jacopo sprang aboard and began to prepare the sails. Then he and Ezio embarked, and the rest of the crew cast them off.

The shallop, free of its cargo, felt light in the water. Once they reached midstream, Claudio put on as much sail as he could. Soon, the caravel, more heavily laden, ceased to be a speck in the distance.

"That what we're after?" asked Claudio.

"Yes, please God," replied Ezio.

"Better get your head down," said Claudio. "We're well-known on this stretch, but if they see you, they'll know what's up. I know that craft. Run by an odd bunch. Don't socialize."

"Do you know how many crew?"

"Five, usually. Maybe fewer. But don't worry. I haven't forgotten what La Volpe taught me-still comes in handy, sometimes-and Jacopo here knows how to use a blackjack."

Ezio sank beneath the low gunwale, raising his head from time to time just enough to check the closing distance between them and their objective.

But the caravel was a faster vessel than the shallop, and Ostia was in sight before Claudio could draw alongside. He boldly hailed the caravel.

"You look pretty heavily laden," he called. "What you got on board-gold bullion?"

"None of your business," the master of the caravel snarled back from his place near the wheel. "And back off. You're crowding my water."

"Sorry, mate," said Claudio, as Jacopo brought the shallop right alongside, bumping the caravel's fenders. Then he cried to Ezio, "Now!" "Now!"

Ezio leapt from his hiding place across the narrow gap dividing the two ships. Recognizing him, the lame sailor, with a strangled roar, lunged at him with a bill-hook, but it caught on Ezio's bracer, and Ezio was able to pull him close enough to finish him with a deep thrust of the hidden-blade into his side. But while he was so engaged, he failed to notice another crewman stealing up on him from behind, brandishing a cutlass. He turned in momentary alarm, unable to avoid the descending blade, when a shot rang out and the man arched his back, letting his cutlass fall to the deck before crashing overboard himself.

"Look out!" yelled Jacopo, who was holding the shallop close alongside the caravel as the master of the other boat strove to get clear. A third seaman had emerged from below and was using a crowbar to pry open the upright crate with the holes along its top sides, while a fourth was crouching at his side, covering him with a wheel-lock pistol. No ordinary sailor would have access to such a gun, thought Ezio, remembering the battle with the slave traders. Claudio leapt from the shallop onto the caravel's deck and threw himself on the man with the crowbar, while Ezio darted forward and skewered the wrist of the hand holding the gun with his hidden-blade. It fired harmlessly into the deck and the man retreated, whimpering, holding his wrist, trying to stop the blood pulsing out of the antibrachial vein.

The master, seeing his men routed, pulled a pistol himself and fired it at Ezio, but the caravel lurched in the current at the crucial moment and the shot went wide, though not wide enough, as the ball sliced a nick in Ezio's right ear, which bled heavily. Shaking his head, Ezio leveled his gun at the master and shot him through the forehead.

"Quick!" he said to Claudio. "You take the wheel of this thing and I'll deal with our friend here."

Claudio nodded and ran to bring the caravel under control. Feeling the blood from his ear soak his collar, he twisted his opponent's wrist fiercely to make him lose his grip on the crowbar. Then he brought his knee hard into the man's groin, seized his collar, and half dragged, half kicked him to the gunwale, where he tossed him overboard.

In the silence that followed the fight, furious and confused shouts and imprecations could be heard coming from the crate.

"I will kill you for this. I will twist my sword in your gut and give you more pain than you could ever dream was possible."

"I hope you're comfortable, Cesare," said Ezio. "But if you're not, don't worry. Once we get to Ostia, we'll arrange something a little more civilized for your return trip."

"It's not fair," said Jacopo from the shallop. "I didn't get a chance to use my blackjack once!"

PART II.

Everything is permitted. Nothing is true.-DOGMA SICARII, I, I.

FORTY-NINE.

It was late in the spring of the year of Our Lord 1504. The Pope tore open the letter a courier had just brought him, scanned it, and then banged a meaty fist down on his desk in triumph. The other hand held up the letter, from which heavy seals dangled.

"God bless King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Aragon and Castile!" he cried.

"Good news, Your Holiness?" asked Ezio, seated in a chair across from him.

Julius II smiled darkly. "Yes! Cesare Borgia has been safely delivered into one of their strongest and most remote rocche! rocche!"

"Where?"

"Ah-that's classified information-even to you. I can't take any chances with Cesare."

Ezio bit his lip. Had Julius guessed what he'd do if he knew the location?

Julius continued reassuringly, "Don't look so downcast, dear Ezio. I can tell you this: It's a massive fortress, lost in the plains of central northeastern Spain, and totally impregnable."

Ezio knew that Julius had had his reasons for not having Cesare burned at the stake-thus making a possible martyr of him-and he acknowledged that this was the next best thing. But still Cesare's words haunted him-Chains will never hold me. Ezio felt in his heart that the only thing that would hold Cesare-and securely-was Death. But he smiled his congratulations.

"They've got him in a cell at the top of the central keep, in a tower one hundred forty feet high," Julius continued. "We don't have anything more to worry about, as far as he's concerned." The Pope looked at Ezio keenly. "What I've just told you is also also classified information, by the way, so don't go getting any ideas. In any event, at a word from me, they'll switch the location, just in case anyone goes looking for him, and I get wind of it." classified information, by the way, so don't go getting any ideas. In any event, at a word from me, they'll switch the location, just in case anyone goes looking for him, and I get wind of it."

Ezio let it go and changed tack. "And Lucrezia? Do we have any news from Ferrara?"

"Well, her third marriage seems to be doing her good, though I must admit I was worried at first. The d'Este family are such a bunch of snobs that I thought the old duke would never accept her as a suitable wife for his son. Marrying a Borgia! Talk about marrying beneath you! To them, it'd be a bit like you getting hitched to your scullery maid!" The Pope laughed heartily. "But she's settled down. Not a peep out of her. Taken to exchanging love letters and even poems with her old friend Pietro Bembo-all aboveboard, of course." Here Julius winked broadly. "But basically a good and faithful wife-she even goes to church and embroiders tapestries. And of course there's no question of her coming back to Rome-ever! She'll end her days in Ferrara, and she should be thankful she's got away with her head still on her shoulders. So, all in all, I think it's safe to say that we've got that flock of Catalan perverts out of our hair for good." She'll end her days in Ferrara, and she should be thankful she's got away with her head still on her shoulders. So, all in all, I think it's safe to say that we've got that flock of Catalan perverts out of our hair for good."

Ezio wondered if the Vatican spy ring was as well-informed about the Templars as it was about the Borgia. Cesare had been their leader and continued to be so, even in prison. But he kept his counsel.

He had to admit that the affairs of Italy had seen worse days than these. A strong Pope, who'd had the sense to retain Agostino Chigi as his banker; and the French on the back foot. King Louis hadn't left Italy, but he had at least withdrawn to the north, and seemed content to dig in there. In addition, the French king had ceded Naples to King Ferdinand of Aragon.

"I hope so, Your Holiness."

Julius looked at Ezio keenly. "Listen, Ezio, I'm not a fool, so don't take me for one! Why do you think I brought you in as my counselor? I know there are still Borgia loyalist pockets in the countryside, and even a few diehards left in the city. But I have other other enemies than the Borgia to worry about these days." enemies than the Borgia to worry about these days."

"The Borgia could still pose a threat."