A Fall of Water
Page 67
Giovanni could think of a dozen objections to that plan immediately, but there was one question his brain couldn’t file away. He turned back to Ziri. “How did my father get this book? I thought Saba had taken it, so how did it come to be in Andros’s possession?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I had met your father a few times while I was spending time with Kato. They weren’t close, you know. Kato regretted turning Andros, though he never said so directly. He thought Andros was too greedy for power and knowledge. Your father was a voracious book collector, but not out of any altruistic reasons. He was greedy for knowledge, but he stored it away like he was stealing secrets. And he had become obsessed with creating the perfect vampire. A foolish quest—what interest is there in perfection? The next time I saw him was during the Renaissance.” He smiled at Giovanni. “You probably don’t remember, Jacopo. You were quite young, but I met him in Rome during the Giovanni Pico debates. I was there to meet with your uncle, but I remember you, as well.”
Carwyn bolted up. “What? That was your uncle? I always thought that was you!”
Beatrice said, “I figured that out when I was human, Carwyn. What makes you so slow?”
He sat back with a sulky look on his face. “I just don’t choose to be nosey, unlike some people.”
“Both of you, stop,” Giovanni said. “So you were watching the debates in Rome and you met Andros there? I remember him being there. He was trailing after my uncle at the time, though I didn’t understand why until later.”
Ziri nodded. “Yes, I met him there. He had acquired the majority of your father’s books after his ‘death’ and had some questions. He knew Kato and I were friends, so he was cautious. But I could tell from his questions that he had somehow laid his hands on Geber’s research. He was too curious. He would not let the subject go. It was at that point that I knew I would have to kill him and get the books back. I left Rome and went to seek Saba. I needed to know what she did.”
The air had left Giovanni’s lungs. “So… you would have killed Andros? And taken the book?”
Ziri’s eyes drifted to the fire. “By the time I returned from Africa, years had passed. I had met with Saba and we were both in agreement. Though she claimed to have no idea where Andros acquired the book, she did not tell me what she had done with it. She did tell me where I could find Arosh and Kato if I felt like I needed their permission to kill Andros. I did not go. From talking with her, I knew Andros could not live. This knowledge had to remain a secret.” He looked up and met Giovanni’s gaze. “Imagine my surprise when I returned to Italy to find that a young immortal had done the job for me.”
Carwyn sighed. “So it’s true?”
Giovanni turned to his friend. “My father was not who people thought he was. He was—”
“Hold, Gio.” Carwyn held up his hands. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I know it’s not something you would have done lightly.”
Giovanni turned back to Ziri. “How did you know? How did you know that it wasn’t an accident? A robbery, as we claimed?”
Ziri smiled. “Because I recognized you, my friend. I recognized the boy who had grown into a man and then been transformed into one of us. I remembered the bright child and I heard about your uncle’s death. I could guess what had happened. Andros had finally made himself the perfect child. And that child was so perfect, he knew that his sire needed to be burned from the earth. So I say, well done, Giovanni Vecchio.”
Guilt still burned in Giovanni’s chest and anger toward the placid immortal who seemed so detached, but Beatrice rubbed his thigh comfortingly. “And the book?” she asked. “Geber’s research?”
“The fires,” Giovanni murmured in understanding. “You thought as I did.”
“Everyone knew that the library of Niccolo Andros had been scattered. Some books burned in Savonarola's fires. Others lost or destroyed… I had no reason to think that Andros had shared the information with anyone. Whom did he trust besides himself?”
Giovanni’s mouth was a grim line. “No one.”
“No one.” Ziri nodded. “And until Stephen found the books, I doubt Lorenzo knew what he had, either. They were artifacts to him. But when Stephen found them, Lorenzo took a closer look. And, as your father learned, he found something quite unique.”
Now, it was Beatrice who spoke. “You never told me how you found my father.”
“Tywyll the water vampire is an old, old friend. I have used him for information many times in my travels. He is old as Arosh or Kato or any of us, though he’s always preferred the solitude of his British rivers and his dirty pubs. When Stephen came to him to exchange gold for safe passage, he recognized what your father had. He did not know the whole of it, but he must have remembered our work in Kufa. I had told him about the time I’d spent there, though I never told him why. He put the pieces together and contacted me. I told him… enough. He wasn’t very curious, but he wanted me to help Stephen.”
Ziri turned to Beatrice. “I will not lie to you. My initial intention was to find your father, kill him, and destroy the book. But I became interested in his mind. In his research. I thought… why not another? Perhaps another could succeed where we had failed? Perhaps this search had not been in vain. So, instead of killing him, I watched him. I protected him.” Ziri leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His face was carefully blank. “I suppose, in the end, I was still curious.”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I had met your father a few times while I was spending time with Kato. They weren’t close, you know. Kato regretted turning Andros, though he never said so directly. He thought Andros was too greedy for power and knowledge. Your father was a voracious book collector, but not out of any altruistic reasons. He was greedy for knowledge, but he stored it away like he was stealing secrets. And he had become obsessed with creating the perfect vampire. A foolish quest—what interest is there in perfection? The next time I saw him was during the Renaissance.” He smiled at Giovanni. “You probably don’t remember, Jacopo. You were quite young, but I met him in Rome during the Giovanni Pico debates. I was there to meet with your uncle, but I remember you, as well.”
Carwyn bolted up. “What? That was your uncle? I always thought that was you!”
Beatrice said, “I figured that out when I was human, Carwyn. What makes you so slow?”
He sat back with a sulky look on his face. “I just don’t choose to be nosey, unlike some people.”
“Both of you, stop,” Giovanni said. “So you were watching the debates in Rome and you met Andros there? I remember him being there. He was trailing after my uncle at the time, though I didn’t understand why until later.”
Ziri nodded. “Yes, I met him there. He had acquired the majority of your father’s books after his ‘death’ and had some questions. He knew Kato and I were friends, so he was cautious. But I could tell from his questions that he had somehow laid his hands on Geber’s research. He was too curious. He would not let the subject go. It was at that point that I knew I would have to kill him and get the books back. I left Rome and went to seek Saba. I needed to know what she did.”
The air had left Giovanni’s lungs. “So… you would have killed Andros? And taken the book?”
Ziri’s eyes drifted to the fire. “By the time I returned from Africa, years had passed. I had met with Saba and we were both in agreement. Though she claimed to have no idea where Andros acquired the book, she did not tell me what she had done with it. She did tell me where I could find Arosh and Kato if I felt like I needed their permission to kill Andros. I did not go. From talking with her, I knew Andros could not live. This knowledge had to remain a secret.” He looked up and met Giovanni’s gaze. “Imagine my surprise when I returned to Italy to find that a young immortal had done the job for me.”
Carwyn sighed. “So it’s true?”
Giovanni turned to his friend. “My father was not who people thought he was. He was—”
“Hold, Gio.” Carwyn held up his hands. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I know it’s not something you would have done lightly.”
Giovanni turned back to Ziri. “How did you know? How did you know that it wasn’t an accident? A robbery, as we claimed?”
Ziri smiled. “Because I recognized you, my friend. I recognized the boy who had grown into a man and then been transformed into one of us. I remembered the bright child and I heard about your uncle’s death. I could guess what had happened. Andros had finally made himself the perfect child. And that child was so perfect, he knew that his sire needed to be burned from the earth. So I say, well done, Giovanni Vecchio.”
Guilt still burned in Giovanni’s chest and anger toward the placid immortal who seemed so detached, but Beatrice rubbed his thigh comfortingly. “And the book?” she asked. “Geber’s research?”
“The fires,” Giovanni murmured in understanding. “You thought as I did.”
“Everyone knew that the library of Niccolo Andros had been scattered. Some books burned in Savonarola's fires. Others lost or destroyed… I had no reason to think that Andros had shared the information with anyone. Whom did he trust besides himself?”
Giovanni’s mouth was a grim line. “No one.”
“No one.” Ziri nodded. “And until Stephen found the books, I doubt Lorenzo knew what he had, either. They were artifacts to him. But when Stephen found them, Lorenzo took a closer look. And, as your father learned, he found something quite unique.”
Now, it was Beatrice who spoke. “You never told me how you found my father.”
“Tywyll the water vampire is an old, old friend. I have used him for information many times in my travels. He is old as Arosh or Kato or any of us, though he’s always preferred the solitude of his British rivers and his dirty pubs. When Stephen came to him to exchange gold for safe passage, he recognized what your father had. He did not know the whole of it, but he must have remembered our work in Kufa. I had told him about the time I’d spent there, though I never told him why. He put the pieces together and contacted me. I told him… enough. He wasn’t very curious, but he wanted me to help Stephen.”
Ziri turned to Beatrice. “I will not lie to you. My initial intention was to find your father, kill him, and destroy the book. But I became interested in his mind. In his research. I thought… why not another? Perhaps another could succeed where we had failed? Perhaps this search had not been in vain. So, instead of killing him, I watched him. I protected him.” Ziri leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His face was carefully blank. “I suppose, in the end, I was still curious.”
