He closed the chest, laying the coins out in even rows. He reached over and took a handful from the secondbox. Over and over, he compared coins, holding them close to his eye on the back of his hand. Finally hemade a soft snort.

"All struck with the same burin. There is an extra prong on the crown." He looked up. "Did you rob thesedirect from a minter's bench?""Not I," Philip said.

"Who?""We escorted a fellow of Germany through the pass," Philip said innocently, as if they had been hired for thetask. "This was the payment."

"Luck indeed," Allegreto said with a dry smile. "I'd expect an armed company to convey such as this, and no

deal with the likes of Philip Welles, begging your indulgence.""Aye." The outlaw did not take offense. "You would think so, eh?" He nodded slowly. "And yet he was a youngman, with only two pack mules and a servant, and the coins hid among bags of onions." Philip shrugged."Saint Mary, we wished the man no harm, and he went upon his way." He grinned. "Back home, I believe, ashis traveling funds were a little low. Too liberal with their purses at every tavern, these young bucks, eh?"

Allegreto smiled dryly. "Take care how you spend these coins, my friend," he said. "The alloy is bad, as youknow well enough. Now if you like good Venetian silver that will pass anywhere without a question-my offerstands. Make it fifteen hundred marks."

Philip seemed to ponder, as the firelight warmed his grizzled face and gleamed on the coins. He shook his

head. "I am tired," he said slowly. "Tired of this life."Allegreto said nothing. Beside Philip, he appeared timelessly youthful, as if age could never touch him."It is not enough," Philip said. "We're thirty here. Three of us share half, and divide the rest by each man.

Even with another fifteen hundred marks, after we split fair among us ... not enough." He sighed heavily. Helooked down at his open, callused palms. "I'm weary, boy. Weary of the rain in my bedroll and the weaponalways in my hand."

"Tell me what you want, then."

The outlaw looked into the darkness. "Eh. A warm house in town. A plump merchant's daughter to soften thefeatherbed. And peace.""You would be fatigued to tears in six months of such a life," Allegreto said."Nay, not I.""What will you do? Eat and sleep and rut and grow fat. You're not so old. Leave that for when your mind grows dim and you can't think of a fraud to earn your breakfast."The corner of Philip's mouth turned up. "A fraud!""Aye, a fraud. As your black heart desires, I well know. Set aside the Venetian marks, then." Allegreto nodded toward the chests. "What is it you devise to plunder?"

The twist of the outlaw's mouth turned into a grin. "You are ever one step ahead of me, lad. You tell me,then.""I don't know enough yet. There is an engraver's burin escaped from the mint. Where is it? Who has it? How often is this watered coin leaving Monteverde?"

"It was not leaving. The boy was headed in from the north. Claimed his father is the chief officer of the mineshere, if you can credit it. Name of Jan Zoufal, or something like, he said. Seems to be a foreigner."Allegreto turned his hand suddenly, flipping the coins and catching them in his palm. "It's extortion you have in mind, then?" he asked.

"Nay, I don't doubt the honorable Jan Zoufal would send me packing if I tried that. Who would believe anoutlaw like me against Franco Pietro's head man?"Allegreto looked at him a long time. His glance moved to Elayne, touching her like a leisurely brand. Even through her weariness, she felt it. He smiled at her and turned to Philip. "Still... there is promise in this," hesaid at length. "Much promise. I believe we can make an arrangement."

Philip grinned widely, kicking the chest at his feet. "I knew you would see it. Well met!"Sudden shouts came from the darkness beyond the camp. The bandit instantly leaped to his feet, duckingoutside. Allegreto followed. Elayne rose as she saw a big white pup run into the clearing, gambolingalongside a knot of men who emerged into firelight from the trees. They held a stumbling figure erect as theymarched him forward.

She recognized Dario in the same moment as he looked up toward Allegreto. The youth's broad face held a

wild expression; he seemed to find his feet and then fell on his knees when he saw his master.Allegreto strode forward. Nimue ran to Elayne, leaping on her skirts with big muddy paws, but Elayne couldonly grab the puppy and hug her close, staring in alarm at Dado's bowed shoulders and look of agony.

"Matteo!" Allegreto demanded, standing over him.

Dario shook his head. He pressed his fists to his forehead, then bent over his knees down into the mud."Escaped, my lord."The bandits gathered mutely around. A silence spread over the entire camp. Even the women stopped their work, everyone held frozen, without sound but for the muted pop of the campfire and Dario's half-sobs of breath.

"What passed?" Allegreto's face had gone to a mask, his dark eyes to ice.Dario sat up, his square jaw marked by slashes of mud. He spoke to Allegreto's boots. "At the cross trail tod'Avina, in the night. We took shelter at a farmhouse. The babe was weeping and I thought to warm him. Wehad time; we were well in time to pause and rest. The woman was kind. We ate." He bent his head and locked his hands together until they shook. "My dread lord-I fell asleep-without securing him."

Allegreto stepped forward and grabbed the youth's hair. He yanked Dario's head back and down. "Youtracked him?"Dario swallowed in his bared throat. "I tried. I tried. I lost him at the edge of the town. He's gone into it, I think.

I left word with the cat to hunt him, and came here."For a long moment Allegreto looked down at him. Time stretched to taut infinity, as Dario winced and panted."Are you confessed?" Allegreto asked softly.The young man's face grew still. He wet his lips and clutched his hands together to his mouth like a man in desperate prayer, making a soundless whisper against his fingers.

Elayne let go of Nimue. The puppy dropped to the ground and bounded toward the remains of the banditfeast.She saw Allegreto's hand reach for his dagger. He had a look of inhumanity beyond any comprehension.

Dario ceased his prayer and crossed himself, exhaling, his face and body relaxing into peace as if he fellasleep with his head forced back and his clasped hands resting on his knees. For one instant she sawAllegreto's face too change; his eyes drifted shut like a man about to lose consciousness-then he openedthem, his fingers closing on the dagger as he drew it with a swift move.

"Do not!"Elayne heard her own voice ring like a bell through the clearing in the trees. She stepped forward.Allegreto stilled, his knife poised to slash over the boy's throat, the blade gleaming in the firelight. She could see Dario's pulse pounding under his skin, but he made no move, no resistance."Let him go," she said.No one spoke. Campfire smoke drifted slowly across the sodden ground in tendrils and rose into the trees.

From the edge of her vision, she saw that the bandits stared at her, but she did not take her eyes from

Allegreto.He was like a statue with Dario kneeling before him. Not one flicker of emotion or expression crossed hisface. When he raised his eyes, he seemed to look at nothing, unblinking.

Suddenly he shoved Dario's head forward, withdrawing the knife. The youth fell down with his face and hishands on the ground, sobbing openly."Princess," Allegreto said. He made a cold bow to her and sheathed the dagger. He turned and walked away.

"Who is she?" Philip asked.No one had spoken to Elayne in the night, after Allegreto had gone out of the camp. But now in the chillmorning he was returned, and the bandits stood in a circle around the blackened fire-pit, gazing at her withwary awe, with the same expressions she had seen on their unshaven faces as they had watched Dario crawlto her and kiss her mud-sodden hem.

"The one who can grant all your pardons when she takes her place in Monteverde," Allegreto said. "Or have

your hands cut off and hung about your necks for thieves, while your bodies dangle at the city gates."Philip walked to her and went down on one knee, baring his head, his mail chinking as he hit the ground.With a sound of creaking and muffled thuds, all his men did the same. "Princess," he said. "God and YourGrace forgive me! I did not know."

Such reverence disconcerted her. She looked down at his grizzled hair. "I thank you for your welcome here,"she said. "There is nothing to forgive."He remained on his knee, and Elayne realized that he was waiting.

"Rise," she said in French. "Everyone."Allegreto had not knelt. He stood looking across the banked fire at her. She did not think that he waspleased. "Philip," he said, "we must speak in private."

The bandit turned a little, not quite facing away from Elayne. "Aye," he said gruffly. "I think it a wise idea."He sent his men to the perimeters of the camp and escorted Elayne into the shelter of pine-boughs. He insisted that she be seated on the tree-stump throne. She did not know if it was because he had discovered her title and hoped for pardon, or that she had averted Dario's execution in cold blood in his camp, but he made it evident that he looked to her now as the higher power.

Dario himself hung uncertainly at the far side of the clearing, near where Nim was tied. Allegreto ignored him as if he did not exist. Elayne thought of calling him, of sending him to fetch Margaret's babe that had been left with the woman at the farmhouse, but she thought better of it. The blind coldness had not left Allegreto's eyes. The baby was likely as safe in a house as in this camp among women who drank more ale than the men. Better that they all feign Dario was invisible until his dark master decided otherwise.

"Pardon my bewilderment, donna-but you are Prince Ligurio's granddaughter?" Philip asked bluntly, standing under the shelter with the dry green pine needles brushing his balding head. He looked from Elayne to Allegreto and back to Elayne again.

She nodded.

"I see it well enough, now I look," the old bandit said. "Though you were but an infant when we took you to Tuscany. You have your father's eyes, Princess, and your grandfather's certain way with a command, God assoil them both."

"You took me to Tuscany?" she asked in astonishment.

"I was one in the escort," Philip said. "It was before-" He made an apologetic gesture, his palm stretching open in his fingerless glove. "It was in better days for my company." He drew a heavy breath. "He was a great man, Prince Ligurio. I admired him."

"Aye. He was," Allegreto said quietly. His mouth made the faintest hint of a curve. "He would have checked me last night."

Elayne looked up at them both. She had never thought deeply on her grandfather, only known that Lady Melanthe had been his wife, and he had been much older, and he had died.

"You knew him?" she asked Allegreto.

He shrugged, looking down at the rough-cut chips that scattered the ground. "Whatever of me is not my father's, Prince Ligurio taught me."

"It was the undoing of this state, when Ligurio passed," Philip said. "It was the ruin of this place, to fall into vendetta." The bandit leaned against a tree trunk, flicking needles from his sleeve. "And you and your father were no small part of that, my boy, let the Devil blacken both your names. You mean to try to overthrow Franco Pietro now again, do you? That's why Monteverde bleeds money to those French condottiere on the road to Venice, instead of fortifying against Milan, and Franco misplaced his betrothed. I should have guessed."

"If you'd rather Monteverde bled to you, old fox," Allegreto said, "I'm here to hire you to my side."

Philip shook his head. "You cannot win."

"I can," Allegreto said.

"You cannot. I see now who it was that escaped you- Franco's son, eh? Slay the father and you must slay him, too. And it all begins again. Give us at least the poor peace we've had these five years, to build something back."

"What is it to you?" Allegreto spat on his hand and jerked it toward the clearing. "You're naught but foreign condottiere yourself, or a bandit when you have no better prospect."

"This is not my land, aye. But I've lived here twenty years, and I'll find my grave here. Kill Franco, and you will have civil war."

"Not this time." Allegreto glanced toward Elayne. "We are man and wife."

"Navona and Monteverde! There are those who will not suffer that union, and well you know it." Philip crossed his thick arms.

"The people will rally to Ligurio's blood."

"If she survives it."

"Then help me make certain that she does. Or betray us to the Riata if you want his peace."

"You know I would not." The bandit laid his head back on the tree trunk with a heavy sigh. "But God and all the saints have at you, Navona. Give it up. Why not be satisfied with a little skimming of silver, and no more?"

Allegreto set his boot on one of the chests. "You won't skim more of this silver, watered or not. It's been sent in from Milan, to mix with our coin and shake the faith in Monteverde's currency."

"You say!" Philip stood straight.

"That's all it can be. Else why would it be coming in, instead of leaving? Why has Zoufal not come after you for it? Run your finger over the chests, you'll feel where the Visconti's viper has been painted out. Zoufal has some pact with Milan to mingle it with the good coin."

Philip made a rude noise, then glanced at Elayne contritely. "Your pardon, donna."

"Franco mistakes his men too often," Allegreto said.

"But no doubt Jan Zoufal would vacate a snug warm house in town, if you would care to take his place as master of the mint."

Philip wiped his hand over his mouth. He looked toward Elayne again. "What think you of this fellow, Princess? I suppose he's pretty enough for any woman's taste. But you saw him last eve-do you like a man who'll kill as easy as he breathes?"

"She knows what I am." Allegreto pushed off the chest. "And you are no bloodless saint, nor Franco either, when it comes to that."

The bandit fingered his lip thoughtfully, still considering Elayne. She felt herself growing warm under a contemplation that was almost fatherly, half-exasperated, as if Philip Welles had the giving of her hand and Elayne were a blushing maid too much in love to know her own good.

"When I commanded him to stop, he obeyed me," she said in a steady voice.

Philip shook his head slowly. "He did. But he did not want to kill that boy, my lady."

She knew it was so. As well as she knew he would have cut Dario's throat if she had not checked him in the instant before. Allegreto stood still while they spoke, impassive, looking somewhere out beyond the shelter.

"I'll wager he might even have a small idea that he ought to thank you for sparing him from it," the bandit said.

Allegreto turned and met her eyes. Nothing in his face changed. He only held her look for a long moment, his eyes as dark as midnight sky. She remembered his touch in the tower chamber, his hands in her hair, his lips at her throat. I would listen. I would try.

He had listened. Her fallen angel. Pirate, assassin, warrior prince.

"Mary save us," Philip grunted in the silence. "I believe they are in love!"

Allegreto smiled a little, glancing at the bandit. "Nay, I have no heart. My father hacked it of me out long ago, for his convenience." He nodded toward Elayne. "But she is my compass and measure now."

To hear him say it openly made her realize the depth of it, how much he gave up to her. Love was a light word, a plaything in comparison.

"Is it war, then, you want, my lady?" Philip asked. "That is the compass and measure of what he intends."

"No," Allegreto said sharply to her. "Once you take your place, they will yield. Why do you suppose Franco leaped like a hound at the chance to wed you?" He turned on Philip, scowling. "You know what Ligurio's memory means to the people. They revere it more every year that passes under the Riata's hand. Look what savagery it's taken for Franco to hold his place! You think my father ever managed worse? If I had not had Matteo, he would have killed us to the last woman and child who ever whispered the name of Navona."

"Because he is afraid of you," Philip said intractably. "If you would surrender to defeat, and let it go, as Princess Melanthe did, we would have no more of blood revenge."

"Englishman." Allegreto made a hiss of disgust between his teeth. "You do not understand."

"I understand that you and Franco Pietro are as like as one dagger point to another." He rested a heavy hand on the tree, turning his grizzled face toward her. "Do you understand it, Princess? You were betrothed to Riata. Now you gaze at Navona here like a moonstruck maid. Take your pick, they'll both have you for your name, and either one would tear apart all Prince Ligurio built to elevate their own. You were well out of this nest of vipers while they fought over his grave, my lady. God bless you, Princess. I am sorry you had to return, if this is all that will come of it."

Elayne hugged herself. She lifted her face and looked toward the old bandit. In truth she understood him better than she understood Allegreto, but she thought of Zafer and Margaret in Riata hands, of the child that might already be inside her, of Gerolamo waiting in the city and Dario on his face at her feet in gratitude for his very life.

"I don't know what to do," she said. "I don't know how to stop it."

"He's bedded you," Philip said gruffly. It was not even a question.

Elayne lowered her eyes. She bent her head down in a wave of mortification.

"Aye, and sent word of our marriage all over Christendom!" Allegreto took a sudden step toward her. "Look up and show no shame for it! I won't fail in this. I'll make you safe. I'll make Monteverde safe. I told you what I would do even though I burn in Hell."

She raised her head. He stood like dark Lucifer dressed in peasant clothes, daring hellfire in the gloomy light that filtered through the pine boughs. Elayne gazed up at him, helpless to find any way to leave or turn from him now.

The bandit heaved a sigh. "Forsooth, she is besotted! I see that it is futile to reason. Tell me what's your plan then, you black murdering bastard. Perchance we can see at least that she lives through it."