The Vessel of Ra

Chapter 15: The Efrit

After a short time, Carlo lost sight of the swamps and grasslands of Venice. They moved with speed, the wind pulsing like the sea in his ears. After his stomach settled and his brain decided he wasn't going to fall, he found excitement in being pulled along in Drusus' wake, the liberation of the air fighting off exhaustion. Underneath them rolled the hills and trees of Tuscany. Olive groves zigzagged under them like rustic lace. So much land! How could people live on so much land?

Underlying the flight was a tremor in Drusus' command of the sky. He was straining from the effort of keeping them aloft. The turbulence was a distraction from Carlo's grief for Paolo and Lucy. When they began to plummet and Drusus pulled them up at the penultimate moment, Carlo decided to take definitive action.

"Stop!" Carlo shouted over the wind.

"No," said Drusus.

"Yes. Enough. I want to look at your arm, clean you up a little. We're out of immediate danger." He hoped.

The grass, warmed by the sun, smelled fresh. At this time of year, gray was a constant in Venice. Tuscany was vivid green as far as the eye could see.

Drusus sucked on his teeth as he landed. "You're a doctor now?"

"I'm the next best thing." Carlo's feet hit the firm road and he found solid ground novel, earth, which did not sink into mush. "I have many things with me for healing. If nothing else, we can bandage your eye."

"You're a Borgia. How do I know you won't poison me?" Carlo helped Drusus ease to the ground.

"Make no mistake. If I decide you are too broken, I will put you out of your misery. Then I'll disappear into Greece or somewhere and leave all this behind me. I should escape while I can." Carlo sifted through the ingredients in his cloak pockets. He found a hard, flat package and pulled it out.

"What's in the package?" asked Drusus.

"I don't know." He pulled back the wrapping.

The spearhead. Carlo touched the edge of it, and his finger stung. He breathed in sharply.

"Are you well?" Drusus struggled up.

"Stay put. I've burned myself is all. The blade Nonno used to cut the tie between Lucy and Ra. How did I get it?"

"You had to be the old man's contingency plan for keeping it safe."

Carlo covered it with cloth and put it back in the cloak, not touching the blade. A spell of transferring things to your grandson? Did such an incantation exist?

He located the vial of witch hazel and ripped some lining from the upper part of his cloak, leaving a hole near the collar. As he dabbed at Drusus' eye, the man winced.

"This looks horrible, but there's no danger of losing the eye. The arm?"

Drusus gritted his teeth as Carlo touched it. "Broken."

"It's possible you have dislocated your shoulder." Carlo prodded as gingerly as possible. Drusus squeezed his eyes shut. Carlo felt the bone. "You're right. Broken. Not neatly either. Pulverized. You may not have proper use of this arm again. Let's splint it."

The sticks Carlo came up with were cut from a green tree. More strips from the cloak lining and he was ready to work. "Do you want some laudanum?"

"I think it is best to have our wits about us."

"Masochist. Lay down."

Drusus yelled out once and cut it off with a click of his jaw.

"You know," said Carlo, "I think your efrit isn't paying attention. Massive magical ripples, a demon with the wrong Binder, and here we are on our way through Tuscany. Our slow way through Tuscany."