Cursed Bones

Chapter 4: I get kidnapped

The rest of dinner, which is in fact just breadsticks and water, comes to a close and we go our separate ways. Cassie offers to put us up in her condo rather than drive the two and a half hours back out to the island. We get take out, and sit on beanbags under string lights while we tell her a bit more about what's transpired. Cassie doesn't know the actual truth but she knows I do stuff that she'd rather not know about.
"Rush has been gone about a week. Not answering his phone," I say, by way of explanation, "We don't know where he's gone. And it's not like him he was planning on coming tonight."
"Well have you filed a missing person's report? I mean, if none of you can get a hold of him—?" Cassie asks.
"It's not like that," Anna says, "We know he had enemies, it's better off if police aren't involved."
"But we're trying to find him," I say, holding up my hand with the ring on it, "He left this with a mutual friend. Last person to reliably see him before he disappeared."
"Just a ring—? What, for you?" She asks.
"I mean for whichever of us came about asking," I say, "I don't know. We don't even know where he'd been staying since he moved out of my apartment."
"That's awful. Poor Rush—I mean I know you he aren't a thing but even so," Cassie says.
"No, I don't wish him ill, that's awful," I say.
Cassie examines the ring on my hand, "Did he own this?"
"That ah, is the question," I say, "I'm trying to figure out where he got it. Maybe that will give us a clue to who he was living with, or seeing."
"Worth a try. Well, anything I can do let me know," Cassie says.
"It's best you stay out of it, honestly," I say.
"Yes, we don't want you caught up in anyone Rush might have been mixed up with," Anna says.
"All right. Well, be careful," Anna says.
"We will," I promise.
The next day Anna and I get up early and head to the first jewelry store. It and the one my dad recommended bomb out, they haven't seen Rush, nor would they do that odd of an engraving. We get lucky, however, on the third. It's not a fine jewelry shop, the man does restoration, it's clearly owner operated with a cat in the window and cases of old rings with foggy glass.
"I remember this," the bespectacled man says, looking at the ring, "It was hard to do those characters, but the man insisted."
"When was this?" I ask.
"About five months ago perhaps? It was just after new year," the man says, handing me back the ring, "I can find the receipt if you like?"
"Yes, that might help," I say, "He was my roommate. He's missing this is about our only clue. We don't know why he got the ring."
"He said the message was for a lover, I don't know if that helps," the man says, going to a filing cabinet.
"So he was cheating on me," I sigh.
"Was he?" Anna asks, weakly.
"That's all it could mean. So maybe he has just run away," I say, feeling a flash of guilt, "I mean if he wants to be gone—?"
"Then why leave the ring? And wasn't that when you were still together?" Anna asks.
"Yes. When he was disappearing for weeks on end," I scoff.
"Here you are," the man brings back a carbon copy, paper receipt.
The date is mid January. When I didn't know where he was. He'd just left I recall I'd gotten back from a jump to yet another cryptic post it note. It's a standard payment, but he paid by cash, but I'd never seen him use a credit card or debit card, though I know he carried them. But he paid this in cash, to hide it from me. Which tracks because I didn't even know where he'd gone.
Except that it's not in his name.
Rush Marley is nowhere to be found. It says Sadiki Habib.
"That's Egyptian isn't it?" I ask, "Is that his real name?"
"I don't know—I'm googling it it's Egyptian," she says.
"Those are hieroglyphics," I say, pointing at a few characters on the bottom.
"He sketched those there, it transferred to my copy. When I asked what they were he laughed and said his filing system amused him," the man says shrugging.
"What are they?" I ask, frowning. I recognize a few but I'm not up on hieroglyphics.
"Ah—'if I am lost seek— Khafre? That's Khafre. That's the sign for his pyramid," Anna says.
"You're right—it was intermediate period I don't think you've ever jumped there," I say, frowning, switching to Latin for this conversation.
"We haven't. It was robbed by 1818 but the sarcophagus had already been looted, might not even be white people's fault," I say. Pyramids have been looted, because you know they're filled with gold, for literally thousands of years. Wait, you ask. Finlay, so is it so bad the white colonizers came and took the treasures to display if they were being stolen anyway. Yes! Yes it was! Just because it was previously robbed doesn't mean it's yours. That's like if your car is stolen and I walk into your house and say 'hey you looks like you're gettin robbed a lot, I'm gonna take your laptop let's face it someone would take it anyway' would that be okay? Would you like that? I think not. Two wrongs don't make a right.
"So what does this mean?" She sighs.
"And which one is his real name?" I ask. Admittedly Rush looks middle eastern or maybe North African, he's got medium dark skin depending on how much sun he gets, and so what curly black hair, but his eyes are light hazel almost green. Like all of us he speaks about six languages, which tells us nothing. And he's never told us about his past or let us meet his family.
"Does it help?" The man asks, nicely, clearly a bit confused since we just switched to Latin mid conversation.
"Yes. Yes most definitely thank you," I say, "Can I ah—have a copy of this?"
"Of course," he takes it to go make a copy.
Anna and I tensely wait to talk till we're back outside.
"Okay what does this mean then?" I ask.
"Well, he knew he was going to go missing," she says.
"Agreed. And he intended to for us to find this receipt," I say.
"Agreed, so someone was after him—we're going to assume Elgin's men," she says.
"Or someone else? This isn't his name, or Rush isn't his name," I point out, "I'm googling it. If this is really who he is then intended us to find that clue as well."
"So we agree the ring was in some way a clue, and his disappearance is connected to the pyramid," she says.
"Yeah but in what century? We need to ask Riker if he ever jumped back there," I say, frantically googling the name. Nothing. Nothing matching him.
"The address on the receipt is yours. So he was okay with you finding it," she says.
"And hieroglyphics are meant for you to read, so he knew he might go missing, fuck Rush you could have just told us rather than behaving like a character in a Christie novel," I sigh.
"I think I've got a hit on the name," she says.
"What?" I ask.
"Well, the first name means 'trustworthy' and the last name means 'beloved'," Anna says.
"So—?"
"I think he's saying he's not cheating on you. He's saying he wants us to trust him," she sighs.
"Yeah? Well he can stop sneaking around and buying rings for other people," I say, putting the ring back on.
"Oh my god I think I need to talk to you at this point. And what I'm going to say you'll argue with and we'll tell five other people they'll agree with me," she says.
"What are you talking about? Also we need to go back to Skagit Valley, Riker has to know what Khafre's pyramid means, if it was a jump, or if I need to buy a plane ticket to Cairo," I say, about to get in the car.
"No—just wait a second, Finlay, I think he bought the ring for you. Like it has 'Minerva's Army' in greek engraved on it he definitely intended it for you," Anna sighs.
"As a clue? Why is he buying a ring in secret to lead me on some sort of weird quest?" I ask, completely confused, "And why write the note on the receipt? And use a different name? This makes no sense who did he think was after him?"
"Probably Elgins' Men who are complete asses," Anna says, so tiredly.
"One's standing behind me isn't it?" I ask.
"Yeah," she says.
I hear the click of a gun.
"Jesus Christ you people," I sigh, "Is it Warwick? It's Warwick isn't it?"
"Hello, again Finlay," Warwick growls, "It's not a shame I won't be seeing you again.
"Evander Warwick, you are the bane of my existence and you've probably actually been cursed by Minerva by now isn't getting in punch ups in the Parthenon enough fun for you?" I sigh.
"No, in fact, and because we've known each other so long I'm going to save you the time. Your mysterious boyfriend is long gone. It's his fault, not ours. We were going to be lenient and just let him live out his life in another time," Evander says.
"That's creepy and not lenient at all," Anna says, as another Elgin's Man restrains her.
"What did you do with Rush?" I ask.
"Oh he did it himself. Now, since it seems he left you to fill his shoes, you're going to have to be eliminated," Warwick says.
I try to elbow him and take the gun, but he smacks me over the head with it. The last thing I see is the pavement moments before it smacks my face.
I wake up with a ringing in my head. I can feel grass beneath my face. And I hear birds overhead. I blink, there's sand and dirt in my eyes. And grit.
I roll over, groaning. The sun shines brightly in my eyes.
"Anna?" I cough.
"I'm right here. You all right?" She asks, helping me to sit up.
"Where are we?" I ask.
"Italy. Not in the 21st century," she says, "That's about all I could gather. It's been about an hour I've been waiting for you to come around."
"What, weren't you knocked over the head," I ask, rubbing the back of my head.
"No. Your personality was cited as the reason, and something to do with Warwick and an aqueduct."
"Fuck that was funny," I laugh, sitting up fully, "They sent us back?"
"Yes. To get rid of us permanently, I assume. We were taken to the compound then tossed in the machine. It's a frequency they had, I assume one they expect will get us killed," Anna says.
"Yeah—considering we're wearing modern clothes," I say, looking down at my shirt, "Except I basically dress like an Italian peasant."
"Yes, you do," Anna says, amused.
"All right. What makes you say Italy?" I ask.
"Flora and fauna—also some people passed on the road down there how's your Italian?" She asks.
"Not as good as I'd like," I sigh, "All right. We've got no cuffs. And no way of getting back home. And Riker has no idea where we are."
"Correct. However if they had the frequency to this time—,"
"That means they come here," I say, "They probably took a known frequency, scrambled the location."
"Right because if we're halfway across Italy from their target—then we'd never find them. Complicated way to kill us," I say, frowning.
"No bodies in the 21st century, and it clears their conscience. We're not dead. Technically," she says, standing up.
"Here," I take off my jacket and give it to her, "Better than that, yeah? And my shirt works. Enough."
"All right. Step one, steal clothes," she says.
"Step two, find out what year we're in. Riker's been prepping me to jump to Italy so I have case notes on the subject," I say, taking my phone out of my pocket, "Damn, no signal."
She looks at me.
"What too soon?" I laugh.
"Fin."
"Right moving on. I've got a fifty percent charge, and some case notes on different eras," I say.
"All right, let's go find out where we are, and what year we're in, subtly," she says.
"Oh I'm gonna go with I hit my head and don't believe you," I say, pointing to my bloodied hair, "We argue rapidly people will just correct us and go on."
"That's not going to work."
It works.
We don't get the clothes. But we do run into some people on the road. Me rapidly claiming I think I might be Jesus Christ and her arguing with me does get us some information. Like 'Rome is that way' and the Pope is Alexander VI (I scream), and the year is 1502. That's fucking bad.
"Stop crying, how bad is this?" Anna asks, as we walk away down the road. She doesn't do Italy she only knows some Italian for emergencies.
"Ah Pope Alexander VI, imagine Jaba the Hut, and then aim lower. You know you're epically corrupt when the church splits because of you, basically Martin Luther left because of this man's—existence. He had multiple mistresses and many children. Orgies, poisonings, and murder don't even begin to cover it. He makes our old friends the Plantagenets and the Ceasers look like an episode of Love Boat," I say.
"Okay, okay, that is admittedly bad. But, we're not trying to get an audience with the pope," she says.
"All right I'll make sense. The good news is: I know exactly how to get home because I know who the dumbfucks are robbing in this time period. The bad news is: we are not gonna be able to get there because the Borgia family motto is 'stab first ask later' because they have so many people killed they just assume any new acquaintance is an assassin," I sigh, "The Medici's are also operating but think of them as the original mafia. They have rules and things like actual principals. They're not going to trust us but they wouldn't kill us on sight. The reason Riker's never sent me back here is we don't know how to do that and not get me immediately killed by these guys."
"Fantastic," Anna sighs.
"Yeah. Pretty much," I say.
"Who are they robbing then? If we can just get close, we —tackle the Elgin's men and steal their devices and return home? That's our best plan?" She says.
"Yes except it's probably not going to work. Who they are robbing? Leonardo Da Vinci," I say.
"Right. But we've got no research to believe he's unreasonable? Surely if we pretend to be students at wherever he's painting or whatever we can hang about," she says.
"No he's not unreasonable. But. In 1502 Leonardo is employed by none other than Cesare de Borgia. The Pope's oldest surviving son because Cesare killed his older brother. The fact that Cesare has a personal strangler in his employ doesn't begin to cover how feral this man is. He lives his life like he's in a Tarantino film, once someone spoke ill of his sister and he cut out the man's tongue and nailed it to his hand. He bull fights every afternoon, for fun, sometimes killing seven bulls a day. At this point he's already killed his sisters boyfriend and second husband, first only survived by escaping town," I say.
"Is this why you named your cat Cesare?"
"This is why I named my cat Cesare, yeah," I nod.
"Shit."
"If we approach his camp he's going to just shoot us for fun. And that's where Leonardo is," I say.
"Well then Elgin's men can't get close," she says.
"No but like, Cesere murdering them doesn't do us any good. I'm gonna assume he has and considered it a normal Tuesday, and that's why they sent us here they figured he'd kill us," I say.
"Okay, what do your case notes say?" Anna asks.
"Ah—Cesere likes to be flirted with, but beware, stabby—," I look up.
She stares at me.
"What?"
"That was your plan?"
"Well Riker didn't let me do it. Also they have a cure for syphillis now I checked, like penicillin, will do it," I say.
"You—checked for this reason didn't you?"
"Yeah. He's definitely got it by now," I say, "So you know. I don't know if Cesere was bisexual, but he had a lot of affairs and given his sex drive I don't see him discriminating by gender. Also like many of his sexual exploits were recorded and I got grossed out. So."
"Your—best plan to survive this time period is to prostitute yourself to a Borgia?" She asks.
"Just the one Borgia fun fact, if you sleep with any of the others Cesere kills you. He's like the dysentary of the Oregon Trails game that is 1500s Italy," I say.
"I need a Rush in this conversation," she says, walking on.
"In all seriousness, our best bet is to pretend we're French messengers bringing some trivial made up message from Cesere's wife, Charlotte. She's french stayed there for reasons to do with who Cesere is as a person, they've a daughter he's never met. Point being if we act like we're there to deliver the message that the little girl is much recovered from a fever—,"
"Then he's going to just think 'whatever' and not kill us," she says.
"Meaning we can maybe go and find Leonardo, who is probably safe enough of a person. Like start talking about science with him we can stay long enough till Elgin's men show up to rob from him," I say, shrugging.
"It sounds reasonable enough. That's about all we've got," she says.
"Issue, I'm pretty sure Cesere spent most of this year on campaign. But I don't know where and I've not memorized his exact movements. I'm trying, for his lifetime, in order to avoid ever meeting him. However, he's probably off committing, like, war crimes at the moment," I say, "And Leonardo is going to be with him. He is this whole year. Presumably that's why the Elgin's are so frustrated. Cesare is unintentionally being a nice guard dog for historical relics."
"All right, who's your safe person in Rome then? Did you have one?" She asks.
"Safe is a relative term in Borgia Italy. However. Fiammetta da Michelis, she's a 'honest courtesan' in Rome, known to be a close companion of Cesare in his defense he doesn't deserve, it's not clear how sexual this was or if she was partially his spy. Whatever the relationship they'll exchange letters to his death, and till her death she's fond of his memory," I say, "So, if anyone knows where Cesere is, it's her. And if anyone can grant us safe passage into Cesere's company. It's her. A letter from her he might just make us take one back, which isn't bad."
"Does she run a brothel?"
"No, think Inara in Firefly. She's a sex worker, but for the rich and famous, that is Popes and cardinals pay her and she has her own house and such. And she's more of an escort, think Pretty Woman, like she'll go with you to parties and such it's not just about sex, though she has her own house as well. I mean it's safer for her, she has her own place to stay and can refuse the crazies to enter. To be fair Cesare was as crazy as they come so that was probably pretty good protection for a while," I say, "They've known each other maybe ten years at this point? Something like that. It's an open relationship and despite all the Borgia nastiness Cesare is kind of just a classic lady's man, he treats them all right as far as history is aware and he takes care of his illegitimate kids. So...win for feminism?"
"Let's call it a draw. All right, I agree, if Fiammetta is a bit accessible so far as she's open for business, then we get in with the story we're taking a message to Cesare, find out where he is," she says, "Is she going to tell us?"
"I'm sure at this point she thinks Cesare can take care of himself. Also his location isn't strictly a secret at this point, he is likely on campaign, ergo, there's no real reason not to tell us we're just out of our depth and lost, and sadly can't pay her for her time," I say.
"If we're asking her I vote we change the story of why we're finding him," Anna says.
"Why?"
"Well she might not be overly motivated to help us deliver information about his child with another woman. We're assuming given both people's—lives there was low jealousy however—,"
"However she might be less inclined to care. Agreed, no let's make it closer to the truth. We have information someone—let's go with Medici's to be accurate—is trying to rob him so we're trying to warn him, fair enough" I ask.
"Yeah, they're at odds as you said anyway. And it's intriguing enough she'll give us good information. And gives us the option to hang around. Is he going to notice if we do that or do we need a better story?" Anna asks.
"Ah—no. This isn't a Edward III/Black Prince Army where they know everyone by name and everyone is relatively loyal so you get adopted into their found family. Nor is it a Henry V/later Hundred Years' War army where they're really mean and also suspicious. No, Cesare is a character, stays up all night, sleeps all day. Likely had some sort of manic-depressive, bipolar disorder going on by his bursts of hyper energy followed by refusing to leave his room. But. No I don't think they'll be that organized if we've been invited in and accepted, and we both know how to handle a crossbow so, we're fine," I say.
"Okay," Anna sighs.
"We're getting home," I say, firmly, "Even if this doesn't work it's trial and error till Riker figures out where we are."
"He doesn't know we're gone," Anna says.
"I mean—not yet. He'll realize soon I text him memes every other hour the peace alone will alert him to a tragedy," I say.
Anna laughs.
All roads do in fact lead to Rome. And thankfully we weren't actually that far outside the city. I have never been to Rome. However I have played, a lot of Assassin's Creed Brotherhood and have access to google. Per Riker's requirements I'm to memorize the map of any city he sends me to but I didn't get that far because after I brought into casually conversation the siphillus thing he decided I wasn't safe to be out and we never did the jump.
Also thankfully, Fiamatta's house is still standing in the 21st century, so I know what it looks like. No, I don't know what street it's on. But through my mediocre Italian, we make our way to the right side of town. On the way we stop to steal some clothes. We feel a bit bad, but not bad enough to get arrested. After two minutes of deliberation we steal men's clothes for Anna too. Any street cred we might buy with Fiamatta with her as a woman, isn't worth the inherent danger that comes from walking around as a woman in basically any part of the world. Sure I'm here to be an escort, but I'm a pasty scrawny guy who looks like he can't survive a fight.
Hiding in an alley we change, putting on our period garb over our 21st century clothes, because we're loath to lose those. Besides which fact we have our wallets and pocket contents still on us, to include cell phones and, for the very first time, I've jumped with a weapon. My pocket knife. I got to keep it. It's periodish looking, I mean not really but it's not going to be noticed, because my pocket knife is in a leather sheath.
Fiamatta is, as I described to Anna, a professional cortesan. She makes good money doing this, and it's not particularly shameful. Also, it's a bit naive to assume that she didn't do her fare share of spying for Cesare, along with likely being a sexual partner. That said, Cesare will have relationships with women his whole life, nobles and peasants alike, from a woman he requested to share a cell with, to a lady in waiting to his sister. And that's not necessarily negative. He's cited as having at least eleven illegitimate children, but I've never tracked down all of them let alone their mothers. At least two survive and remain in the spotlight, one going to live with his sister after his death. and while he's alive apparently he'd visit the kids, so presumably he's also visiting the mother. He was careful to keep most of his ladies out of the spotlight, using code names in account books so we don't know who or where they are. That said, I will point out, he clearly had no issue fathering children, only living with his wife a few weeks and fathering a child in that time, and having the illegitimate children (eleven though I've never found with whom)...ergo many of the women he's linked to? He clearly wasn't having that much sex with them or they were being very very careful about birth control, which did exist however rudimentary. Also he had syphillis, and many of these women, Fiamatta included, never were recorded as having symptoms. So to a certain extent, he gets what I call the John of Gaunt exception. Ladies' man? Yes. But potentially more of a flirt and a braggart, than an actual sex addict, because the women he's paired with don't have the babies to show for it. Someone as politically minded as Cesare might be using the ladies as connections, though I'm sure he wasn't opposed to the odd affair.
Point being?
Fiamatta is shrewd and most definitely someone to be feared. She can't instantly kill us, probably, but she's got access to Cesare and worse, his personal strangler (because that's a job description?) Miguel de Corella. Miguel is a childhood friend of Cesare and has been by his side his whole life, so it would be naive to assume that he isn't acquainted with Fiamatta, and moreover, that he wouldn't do her a favor if she asked it. Women sadly tend to get sidelined in the history books, and usually are chalked up as sluts, seductresses, or victims, with no observation that they were also spies, soldiers, and poisoners. It's naive to assume Lucrezia wasn't complicit or in fact the masterminds behind her husband's death, it's equally naive to assume Fiamatta wasn't using her connections to feed to Cesare "her Valentino" she would later call him. (He was Duke of Valentino).
That's a really fast run down of a small portion of Borgia history I recommended not googling unless you want to join me in finding a way to Clorox your eyeballs and brain. Yeah it's that bad.
Fiamatta's house, if you ever find yourself in Italy, is a nice two story white building. Just a pleasant, compared to castles and the like little, corner house with a Juliet-balcony. Considering Cesare will come here at all hours of the night, slipping in and out under the cover of dark, I almost like the idea of her leaning on the balcony, waiting for the dark shadow down below. Fresh off dark deeds that he's eager to tell her of. She has all the gossip of Rome before the sun's even come up, and tomorrow when the afternoon comes she'll have to act surprised about who wound up floating in the river, strangled.
What? It's kind of romantic. Don't look at me like that.
"This it?" Anna confirms.
"This it," I breath out, mentally preparing my best Italian for this.
Knocking on the door actually works. A nervous servant admits us, when we say we've come with a message regarding the Duke of Valentino. I don't except Fiamatta to meet us herself, well I want her to but I expect to have to lie and beg to get an audience with the grand lady. Doesn't work like that. Apparently the Duke of Valentino is the magic word. We give false Italian names, I'm Francisco, and go on. We didn't have set identities but I make something up.
We're admitted to a fine parlor. Velvet cushions, and ladies in low cut satin dresses. I recognize Fiamatta from her portrait, plump cheeks, ivory skin, a long nose, and dark brown eyes and hair. Overall a thick, oval face, the delicate lips are distinct but she's a beauty by how she holds herself. And she's clever. Her dark eyes flick over our rumpled clothes which are pretty clearly being worn over another set of clothes.
Anna stays a step behind me, I'm the one fluent in Italian and I know these people. Here I do the talking. I don't usually get to do the talking when someone else with a brain and self control is available so besides the circumstances I'm quite excited.
"You bring a message from the Duke of Valentino?" She asks, prepared for it to be a lie. She probably knows the messengers Cesare would send her.
"No, your ladyship that isn't quite what I meant. I am trying to get the Duke a message. I worked at Pisa and he was a student there. He was always good to the household," I say. It's my best in my limited Italian but it's long enough ago to do the trick. She likely knew him at that time but that doesn't mean she knew all of his servants. "I heard word from my current master that—there is a plot to rob the Duke. I wished to warn him of it. And it is said that you know him so perhaps you could tell me where he is?"
"Who is your master?" She asks, leaning back a little, clearly enjoying this.
"I couldn't say. You understand," I say, tightly. She'll guess.
"Medici?" She asks.
I bite my lip.
"I'm right aren't I?" She asks.
I tip my head.
"What would they rob him? Cesare is on campaign, he's not got that much treasure with him?" She says, playing with her fingers, artlessly careless. Yet so cunning.
"He has a man in his employ who—once held a position with my master," I say.
She frowns a little, "Who?"
"A painter, named Leonardo, he's a painter from Florence. I've heard talk they want him back. I don't want it to happen at hazard to the Duke. He was a good man," I hate going that far see she knows he's not a good man. We just like him like this.
"He's a cunning man, and he's fun. We'll go with that," she says, narrowing her eyes.
"Yes. Let's," I say.
"Who's that? Gift for the duke?" Fiamatta asks, nodding at Anna.
Oh damn it.
Right so Anna does look pretty feminine at the moment. Here's the thing. For a period apparently Cesare had an affair, again don't know how involved that was, but he had a thing with a woman who liked to cross dress. Wielded a sword, wore men's clothes. People were like 'she can't do that' to which Cesare said 'fuck yes she can sexy is what it is' or something of that kind. So again, how dare the psychopath keep winning for feminism? Vannozza didn't raise no misogynist I guess? That's Cesere's mum, she'll outlive him actually. Point being, Fiamatta is well aware Cesere's a romantic, and it's highly likely he'd be sending for or hoping for a current girlfriend to come and see him. Again, I'm going to point out since we don't have record of many of these women having his children, then he probably honestly wasn't sleeping with them. You didn't need to know all that. Whatever.
"Ah, no, my companion. We both wished to warn the Duke," I say, carefully. She's trying to get information and she'd bored, I get it. They don't have Netflix.
"Cesare says Leonardo's quite charming," she says, still playing with her hand, she smiles a bit. Nobody would call him Cesare it's showing how close they are, we all call him the Duke of wherever he's most Duke of at the moment. That's a direct threat. "He says the man sketched him and he didn't think it was good but he's good at sketching cities. But Leonardo sketched me and I thought it was very pretty."
Oh is she La Scapigliata? Or one of his other portraits of unknown women? Could be. She looks like La Scapigliata but she's got rather a thick face, but it's close. I don't know if she ever met Leonardo from my reading but we have zero fixed movements for her and sketchy movements for Leonardo so it's possible he did. We genuinely don't know who some of his portraits are, we don't even know who was in the Mona Lisa till 2005. It was a private commission from a wealthy landowner to paint his wife, but Leonardo never delivered it or was paid for it, for whatever reason (he thought it wasn't done then got distracted, or the guy maybe never paid him). But despite the hype over Leonardo later, he was living the life of a furry artist, just taking commissions. He'll paint the Mona Lisa, world's most famous painting, next year after he's ahem, escaped, Cesare and has no real income.
"Why do you want to help the Duke? You said you knew him at Pisa. Pisa was dull," she says, completely enjoying this. It's an interrogation and god do I know it.
"I thought he was the bravest man I'd ever seen. He could have any girl and did, but he was kind to them," I say. I'm venturing out little is known about that period of his life but I'm going off his general character. We have no reason to believe the ladies weren't enjoying it.
"Oh. You're in love with him," Fiamatta giggles a little, "Don't feel bad so is most everyone."
I blush, which is enough to confirm it. I mean I named my cat after him and I have spent so many hours researching the man I feel like I know him. I also don't want to get anywhere near him, see the war crimes part of his resume.
"I simply wish to warn the Duke," I say, non-comittedly, "We do. Again he was fair to us."
"And you'd rather Borgia protection than Medici?" She asks, raising her eyebrows.
"Something of that kind," I say.
"Well I'm preparing a letter the duke. I'll give him your information," she says, "Who is it you think is going to harm him or kidnap our pet painter?"
"Ah—men—clean shaven. They'll be in a group of ah—three?" I say, all this because like I do want him to stop Elgin's men, like he might as well know. I'm still giong to get his location and go there myself. "They all wear heavy metal collars. The ones I saw did anyway."
"Yes. Those things rather get in the way of the rope," Fiamatta says.
"What?" Anna and I say it together.
Fiamatta giggles. She nods to one of her ladies. "The rope. Dear Miguel." The strangler. He's not dear this man is a hitman. He's awful. Very bad person. Terrifying. Uncomfortable being here in a time he's alive.
"You know, Miguel was complaining his ropes kept getting caught on them. He's so cross," she laughs, "Miguel is my dear friend he's friend's with Cesare they're disgusting together. Like you men are." It's worth noting Miguel never married or had any children. Just followed Cesare around like a puppy. A murder puppy.
One of the ladies comes back with—a basket?
"Here, do you mean collars like these?" She asks, holding up a silver, yep, Elgin's men collar. They wear chokers rather than our cuffs. And theirs can be reset when they want to go to, to prevent time confusion. There's some set dates in there you choose from to jump back. Like this week next week, week after. On the inside there's a panel it's not easy to get to.
And she has dozens of them.
I have to cover my mouth not to laugh. I mean that is fucking funny. Elgin's men are dropping like flies to the Borgia's Strangler?
"He said since I thought it was so funny his little rope didn't work I could have them. They're not even good metal so it's a miserable present," she says.
"Ah—yeah that's them," I say, struggling to remain composure. I mean come on it serves them bloody right. Really love that these absolute sociopaths are collecting them.
"That is them," Anna says, nodding, she looks like she too is struggling not to laugh at this.
"If it's not an imposition my lady, given the Duke already knows about these assassins. Would you be so kind as to lend us each one? If we could return and pretend to be of their ranks, then we might be able to gain more information," I say. We need those cuffs. And she has them right here.
"Now why would you want to risk yourself and do that?" She asks.
"I have no sense of safety and have always wanted to stab someone," I say.
She laughs, "It's a wonder the Duke hasn't recruited you by now."
"Please," I say, cocking my head, "I'll do what I can to prevent them from troubling the duke."
"I'll need something in return," she says.
"Name it," I love side quests. Anna kind of stares at me she knows of my suicidal love of side quests.
"A token. That you must return for. I want you to come back," she says.
I withdraw my pocket knife, holding it in the flat of my hand. It's not period but it's hand forged so it doesn't stand out. "It's my father's knife." No it's not. "He's dead." He'd want me to be saying this trust me. "It was one of the few things I received I'm a younger brother. I'm never parted from it." I lose it every other week.
She takes it delicately, withdrawing it from it's sheath. It's razor sharp.
"I swear I'll return for it. I'm not sure when, but it'll be with blood on my hands," I say.
"Well. I do love a man with blood on his hands," she says, "Go on."
I select the top two collars. No way to distinguishing, but they'll at least get us to the twenty first century.
"Thank you, your ladyship," I say, bowing appropriately.
"I look forward to meeting again," she says, toying with my knife.
We bolt from her house, collars clutched in my hand. I hand one to Anna the moment we get out to the street.
"Well that was easier than expected," Anna says, staring down at it.
"Yeah, and we didn't even have to encounter Cesare, I'll have to go back but Doc has the frequency. About," I say, "I'll come back with some story and bonus actually do my job and hinder Elgin's Men."
"Yeah, we can handle that, also if you stand her up it's not actually the end of the world," she says.
"True," I don't want to though. I mean she was nice and she did help plus if he's not going to kill me I low key do want to meet Cesare. Again we have a treatment for syphillus now.
"All right, this isn't going to be the exact date we disappeared it could be months ago," Anna says, holding up the collar, "We agree we still use it?"
"Yeah, ah I have cash and an emergency credit card. We come back too early we lay low till the proper time so as to prevent any weirdness. Just book a motel," I say.
"Sounds like a plan that's not perfect but—,"
"But better than being stuck back here," I finish.
We find a quiet alley to examine collars. The big question. What times do we jump to?
The collars turn out to be old. The first few settings on them are months ago. Then, one emergency setting, that is three weeks after we disappeared. These look like they came from the same crew, they were on the top of the stack, and they have the same dates in them, blessedly.
I sigh, "Well?"
"I don't want to spend two months sitting a motel. Also that does affect time."
"We get some jet lag but—yeah, three weeks is better than not fuck maybe Rush has shown up," I say.
"Yeah, let's do it. We've got unanswered texts and explaining to do it's better than being in two places at once," she says.
"Agreed," I say, setting it.
"Three?"
"Two?"
"One."
We lock the dials and snap on the collars. Two people can go on one of our cuffs, for emergencies, but only if you basically embrace. With the collars I don't know, that's why I grabbed two.
The collar begins to shake, and I once again feel myself filed with the familiar feeling of every atom in my body being shaken out of place.