moved so swiftly it was as if something propelled him or thrust him upwards.
We spun round or so it must have been, and when I opened my eyes we stood in a familiar room. Long golden curtains settled around us. It was warm here. In the shadows I saw the glinting outline of a golden swan.
It was Bianca's room, her private sanctuary, her very own room.
"Master!" I said in fear and revulsion, that we should come like this, into her chamber, without so much as a word.
From the closed doors a tiny seam of light laid itself out upon her parqueted floor and its thick Persian carpet. It laid itself upon the deep-carved feathers of her swan bed.
Then came her footsteps hastily, emerging from an airy cloud of voices, so that she might investigate alone the noise she heard.
The cold wind swept into the room from the open window as she opened her doors. Against the draught she slammed them shut, such a fearless creature, and she reached out with unerring accuracy and raised the wick of her nearby lamp. The flame rose and I saw her staring at my Master, though she had seen me as well, for sure.
She was herself, as I had left her a world of hours ago, in gold velvet and silk tissue, her braid coiled about the back of her head to weigh down her voluminous tresses which fell in their rippled splendor over her shoulders and down her back.
Her small face was quick with questioning and alarm.
"Marius," she said. "How now, my Lord, do you come here like this, into my private room? How now, you come by the window, and with Amadeo? What is this, jealousy of me?"
"No, only I would have a confession," my Master said. His very voice trembled. He held me tight by my hand as if I were a mere child as he approached her, his long finger flying out to accuse her . . . "Tell him, my darling angel, tell him what lies behind your fabulous face."
"I don't know what you mean, Marius. But you anger me. And I order you out of my house. Amadeo, what do you say to this abuse?"
"I don't know, Bianca," I murmured. I was totally in fear. Never had I heard my Master's voice tremble, and never had I heard anyone address him so familiarly by name.
"Get out of my house, Marius. Go now. I speak to the honorable man in you."
"Ah, and how then did your friend Marcellus go, the Florentine, the one you were told to lure here with your clever words, the one whose drink you laced with enough poison to kill twenty men?"
My damsel's face grew brittle but never really hard. She seemed a porcelain princess as she appraised my angry, trembling Master.
"What is this to you, my Lord?" she asked. "Have you become the Grand Council or the Council of Ten? Take me up before the courts on charges, if you will, you stealthy sorcerer! Prove your words."
There was a great high-strung dignity to her. She craned her neck and raised her chin.
"Murderess," my Master said. "I see it now within the solitary cell of your mind, a dozen confessions, a dozen cruel and importunate acts, a dozen crimes-."
"No, you cannot judge me! A magician you might be, but you are no angel, Marius. Not you with your boys."
He dragged her forward, and once again I saw his mouth open. I saw his deadly teeth.
"No, Master, no!" I ripped loose of his slack neglected hand and flew at him with my fists, crashing my body between hers and his and pounding on him with all my might. "You can't do it, Master. I don't care what she's done. You seek these reasons for what. Call her importunate? Her! And what is it with you?"
She fell backwards against her bed and struggled up onto it, her legs bent. She drew back into the shadows.
"You are the Fiend from Hell himself," she whispered. "You are a monster, and I have seen it. Amadeo, he'll never let me live."
"Let her live, my Lord, or I die with her!" I said. "She's no more than a lesson here, and I will not see her die."
My Master was wretched. He was dazed. He pushed me away from him, steadying me so that I didn't fall. He moved towards the bed, but not in pursuit of her. He sat down beside her. She recoiled ever deeper against the headboard, her hand