The Vessel of Ra

Chapter 7: The Birthright

Carlo held his father's hand, looking up as he talked to the man behind the marble counter. He almost remembered the name of the man behind the counter, but time had taken it away from him.

Carlo knew he wasn't a child. He was somewhere else and he wanted to wake up. Something was wrong, and he knew he had to avoid the wrong thing. The dangerous thing.

It was more pleasant to stay here, his little fist in his father's strong hand. Already the apothecary was showing signs of wear, cracked and worn tiles on the floor, thin lines in the plaster, but Carlo loved the faded reds and blues—like a giant chessboard with green swaths snaking every which way. The shop smelled acrid with plants and medicines, a lingering odor of soap. It would have made him happy to stay and help his father and his grandfather. He longed to run across the floor and play.

Carlo tried to slip his hand out of his father's, but his father squeezed tighter.

"One second," said his father. "Wait one second."

Carlo had a startling, distracting thought. "You're dead."

His father looked down. It was a long way up to his father's hair. "I am," he said, ignoring the other man. "You remember where you are?"

Carlo didn't want to leave his father. He seldom remembered Arturo Borgia with any clarity, yet he was living in his mind right now, perfect as he must have been. He looked like an angel, blond and glowing, his face as regal as the sculptures of the city. "No," said Carlo. "I'm staying."

"You can't stay," said his father. He didn't crouch down to Carlo's level. "You are in danger. You must act."

"They won't tell me how you died."

"You could die the same way," said his father. "Don't trust everything your grandfather suggests. Whatever he does, he does for himself."

"I know."

"Your mother knows."

"She hates demons," said Carlo.

"Yes," Arturo whispered into Carlo's ear, "she has good reason."

"Tell me how you died."

His father returned to talking to the clerk and would not be interrupted, although Carlo pulled on his arm. "Please! Please let me stay!" The store slipped away from Carlo, like he was looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope.

***

Something tickled his face, and Carlo brushed it away. A hand shook him. Carlo sneezed and opened his eyes. He did not expect to wake up in a suite in some pension. He was on a red sofa, his head propped on a tasseled pillow, which tickled his cheek.

Lucy's sister sat close to him on a loveseat, her hands folded in her lap. Behind her, the goat man's face shifted to something more human.

Carlo started upright. A headache stabbed him, and he sank back to the couch.

"I apologize for the way you were brought here. You are safe. Khun will not harm you unless I tell him to. I thought for all concerned, this would be a conversation to best have in private."

"Khun?"

"He is my companion. My demon. We Binders have demons."

"I know about Binder Trials," said Carlo. "Why am I here? How did you... did you control me?"

She gestured to a silver tray on an ornate white cart. "Tea? Coffee? You Venetians prefer coffee to tea, I think."

Carlo shook his head. "This is hardly a social call, so let's not pretend." He sat up. Pain bloomed behind his eyes. "You did control me?"