The Wind Dancer (18 page)

"Jacinthe?"

"One of the conditions of Andros's release was that he take not only the Wind Dancer but
a woman from Troy. Paradignes didn't want the Greeks to have her either."

"Was the woman Paradignes' wife?"

"He had no wife."

Sanchia's eyes widened. "Helen... " she whispered.

"There was no mention of a woman called Helen, only Jacinthe." Marco smiled faintly.
"But I find it significant that the word
Jacinthe
means 'the beautiful one.' "

"And they both left Troy that night with the Wind Dancer. Where did they go?"

"South. Toward Egypt. The legend says the two of them stood on a hill some distance
away from the city and watched it burn."

"So that was the night the Trojans brought in the Greeks' wooden horse?"

Marco chuckled and shook his head. "That's Homer's tale again. There was no great
wooden horse. There was only the Wind Dancer."

Only the Wind Dancer. A statue so beautiful that a man would betray his home and his
people to possess it. A work of art so exquisite it would inspire tales that would endure
for over a thousand years. "Do you believe what you've been told is true?"

"Sometimes. Is it not more reasonable that the gates of Troy would fall because of
bribery and betrayal than such a stupid ploy as a wooden horse?"

"I suppose it is," Sanchia said slowly. "Where do you suppose the Greeks got the Wind
Dancer?"

"Before he died Traynor said the Greeks told him two shepherds found it in the hills
above Mycenae during a great storm and brought it to Agamemnon. They claimed it
appeared in a flash of lightning."

"Nonsense."

"Legend. And not nearly as unreasonable as some of the other legends connected with the
Wind Dancer through the centuries."

Sanchia was tempted to ask him to tell her those other legends, but suddenly she knew
she didn't want to know more about the statue. The Wind Dancer was now looming in her
imagination with an odd sentience, taking on a dimension and life of its own. She could
almost see the golden statue shimmering in the darkness of the storehouse, waiting
patiently for Lion to come for it, uncaring what danger he ran to free it from its prison.

Foolishness. She had never even seen the statue. Her nerves were merely on edge and
crying out from the terror and strain she had undergone this evening.

She forced a smile as she turned away from him. "A fantastic tale, but certainly an
entertaining one. You're a far better storyteller than Pico Fallone, who entertains in the
piazza in Florence." She glanced back over her shoulder. "But, of course, I don't believe
any part of it."

A gentle smile lent fresh beauty to Marco's fine features. "Of course not. You're clearly a
very sensible woman. Why would you believe such a preposterous legend? I only told
you the story because you asked."

"I was merely curious." Sanchia quickly opened the door and stepped inside. "But
naturally I realize none of it actually happened."

"It's going to take longer than thirty minutes to make our way through the maze to the
storehouse, find the Wind Dancer, and then travel back to the maze entrance again." Lion
scowled down at the map. "There's no question that the watch will discover we've entered
the maze and have guards waiting for us at both ends."

Marco bent closer. "
Jesu
, you're right. We'll have to stop every few turns and study the
map." He made a face. "What a puzzle. That labyrinth looks like a passage through hell."

"Then Damari must feel completely at ease there," Lion said.

"I could go with you and wait in the shrubbery across from the maze to dispose of the
watch," Lorenzo offered.

Lion weighed the suggestion. "I don't like having no one to watch the horses, and it
would probably give us only another five or ten minutes before someone else was sent to
see why the watch hadn't returned. I doubt if that would be long enough."

Lorenzo shrugged. "What other choice do we have?"

She wouldn't answer, Sanchia thought, looking down at her hands clenched tightly
together in her lap. They weren't talking to her. She could sit on the stool by the fire and
not say a word. Lion had told her she need do no more to reclaim the Wind Dancer. She
would be foolish to go back to the palazzo when Lion said she did not have to help them.

"No choice," Lion said.

She would remain silent. Lion had said she need not endanger herself again.

But she had promised him loyalty as well as obedience. Was it loyal not to speak now?

"Then you and Marco go inside the maze and I stay outside and take care of the watch,"
Lorenzo said. "Marco can carry the lantern and you can try to read the map."

"And hope we don't lose our way among all those damned dashes," Marco said ruefully,
"or we'll find ourselves hacking our way through those hedges with a broadsword."

"Those hedges are almost four feet thick. At any place but the last outer hedge that
borders the perimeter it would take the better part of a day to cut our way through." Lion
grimaced. "Providing we knew in which direction to cut. We'll just have to--"

"I can lead you through the maze."

The three men turned to look at Sanchia.

Sweet Jesus, why had she spoken? she wondered, slowly unclenching her clammy palms
and rubbing them on the skirt of her gown. She stood up. "I can lead you to the
storehouse and back to the entrance in less than thirty minutes."

Marco shook his head. "I know you want to help, Sanchia, but this maze is hellish. No
one can--"

"I can." She came forward and looked down at the map. "I won't have to stop and check
the map every few minutes and I won't lose my way. I'll know exactly where I'm going
every minute."

"Astonishing," Lorenzo said. "And unbelievable."

"No, it's true." She closed her eyes and envisioned the map before her. "When you enter
the maze you turn right, go past two passages and then turn left, go past another three
passages and turn left again, then--"

"Enough," Lion said.

She opened her eyes to see him looking at her with a faint smile on his lips. "It seems
Giovanni wasn't trying to raise your price as I suspected."

She shook her head. "I remember everything. From the time I was a small child I had
only to see something once to keep it forever in mind."

"Surely a mixed blessing, but in this case a fortunate one for us." He paused. "If you
choose to come with us."

"Choose? You do not command me?"

"I told you that you need not go back to the palazzo. I won't break my word."

Lorenzo cupped his hand to his left ear. "Hark, do I hear the glorious peal of trumpets? I
don't think I can bear many more of these appallingly honorable moods to which you
persist in subjecting me, Lion."

"Be quiet, Lorenzo." Lion's gaze did not leave Sanchia's face. "I won't force you to go
back with us."

"But you have need of me."

"Oh yes, we have need of you, Sanchia." He smiled that rare, brilliant smile that always
succeeded in touching some mysterious emotion within her that had never been tapped
before. A smile was a mere expression, she thought, puzzled. It should not have the
power to cause this warm flowering of hope. A smile should not be able to make her do
something so foolish as to go back to the palazzo. She should ignore his smile and tell
him she would never return to the palazzo again.

"I'll go," she whispered. "I'll lead you through the maze."

Sanchia shivered as she gazed through the iron bars of the gates at the maze. When she
had first seen the tall hedges of the labyrinth last night she had thought they resembled
the walls of a fortress, but she had never dreamed she'd actually have to breach them.

"I still don't think we should enter the maze through the south entrance," Marco
whispered. "Why don't we try the north entrance, where there's no officer in charge?"

"No." Lion didn't look at him as he opened the gate. "We go through the south entrance."

"But we should--"

"I want Rodrigo," Lion said savagely. "Give me five minutes and then bring Sanchia." He
faded into the dense shrubbery bordering the gate.

Her body icy now with foreboding in addition to fear, Sanchia wrapped her cloak closer
about her and continued to stare at the maze. Death. Rodrigo Estaban was going to die
within minutes at Lion's hand.

"It's time to go." Marco took her elbow and propelled her gently forward. "Quickly,
Sanchia."

There was no sign of Rodrigo or the other guard at the south entrance of the maze. Lion
came out of the maze and knelt to wipe his sword on the grass before sheathing it. Blood
edged his scabbard. Sanchia couldn't seem to tear her gaze from the wet, dark stain on the
grass.

"I dragged them both just inside," Lion said tersely. "Be careful not to stumble over
them." He turned back into the maze.

Marco lit the lantern as soon as they had joined Lion within the screening confines of the
hedges.

Rodrigo Estaban and his fellow guard lay on their backs, their dead eyes staring
sightlessly up at the black heavens.

Sanchia swallowed to ease the queasiness in her stomach. She wheeled sharply away
from the bodies. "This way." She kept her eyes fastened straight ahead as she moved
swiftly down the first passage and turned right.

After several minutes of convoluted, twisting turns, Marco asked doubtfully, "Are you
sure you didn't take the wrong path, Sanchia? I think we may be going around in circles."

Sanchia shook her head. "Two more turns and we should reach the storehouse." She had
a sudden terrifying thought. "If the map is right." What if Vittorio had drawn the map
incorrectly? She took the last turn and felt weak with relief. A small, windowless wooden
building lay before them. "There it is!"

"We don't have much time." Lion moved quickly forward and inserted the key in the lock
of the door. "It must have taken us at least ten minutes to make our way here." The door
swung open. "The lantern, Marco."

Sanchia waited outside as Marco and Lion disappeared within the storeroom. Now that
she was alone she was beset with a fear so intense it almost suffocated her. The air
seemed to vibrate with a sense of waiting menace.

Marco emerged from the storehouse a few minutes later. "We found it!" His hazel eyes
were shining in the lantern light. "It was there, Sanchia."

Lion followed him, carrying a medium-sized wooden chest. "Considering the trouble
we've suffered I would have been a little irritated if it wasn't," he said dryly. "Get us out
of here, Sanchia."

She nodded eagerly, her gaze on the mahogany chest. The Wind Dancer was in that plain
wooden container. How strange that such a small object, an object she had never set eyes
upon was important enough to Lion and his family to cause all this effort and fear. But
soon the terror would be over, soon they would all be safe.

She turned and began the complicated trek back to the south entrance. She had been
foolish, she told herself, to let her own cowardly fear give way to an icy sense of doom.
She took a right turn and then a left, her pace increasing. Everything was going well.
Lion had his Wind Dancer. They would be back at the entrance before the watch passed.

She turned right, left, right again. The high walls of greenery were pressing in on her in a
smothering blur. She was almost running now, the pulse in her temple pounding wildly.
"The entrance is right ahead," she called back to Lion and Marco. "One more turn and
we'll--"

Drawn swords glittered in the moonlight!

She skidded to a halt, her eyes widening in horror. "No!" The narrow passage ahead was
crowded with men in armor dressed in the same yellow-and-white livery Rodrigo and his
comrades wore.

Sanchia heard Lion's low voice cursing behind her. "Damari."

"Greetings, Lion." A man at the forefront of the soldiers took a step forward. "What a
pleasure it is to see you at my palazzo under such intriguing circumstances. I don't
suppose you'd be willing to put down the Wind Dancer and surrender to me?"

"No."

"I didn't think so." Damari took another step forward and the light cast by the lantern in
Marco's raised hand fell full on him.

Sanchia was taken aback by the looks of Damari. Barely of medium height with a barrel
chest and overdeveloped torso, his muscular legs were round as tree trunks and far too
short. He seemed almost grotesquely malproportioned to Sanchia. And when her gaze
rose to his tea-colored eyes glittering in the lantern light, she realized his soul was as
misshapen as his body. She saw only malevolence in him.

"I hoped you wouldn't give up too easily," Damari said lightly. "Of course, that is why I
permitted you to come into the maze and retrieve your property instead of cutting you
down as you entered the gates. I knew you'd struggle harder once you had the Wind
Dancer in your hands. It's always more difficult to give up once victory is in our grasp."

Lion's expression was impassive. "A trap. You knew we were coming."

Damari nodded. "What a wonderful surprise when I learned you were going to visit me. I
hadn't even realized you'd returned from France and discovered my acquisition of your
statue until I received a message last night in Pisa that you'd made plans to get it back."

"Then you didn't permit Sanchia to steal the key from Estaban?"

"Oh no. Either your thief is exceptionally skilled or Rodrigo was extraordinarily thick-headed. I wasn't happy with Rodrigo." He shrugged. "And so I assigned him to guard
duty tonight."

"In order that I would kill him?"

"A fitting punishment for his stupidity, don't you think?" His gaze shifted to Sanchia.
"And this must be your clever little thief. Present me to her, Lion."

"Who sent the message?"

"Guido Caprino." The smile lingered on Damari's lips. "He requested one thing only in
return--that I use your little slave in the fashion which will give me the most pleasure."