Neatly done, I thought. He had used Vasco to rid himself of Danese and now was getting rid of Vasco also. That would be convenient, as long as he did not find Algol taking their place.

“May we inquire exactly what that is?” Soranzo asked narrowly. “Just what are you proposing to do?” Although far from being an outright skeptic like the doge, he was ranking doubter among the three chiefs.

“I propose to unmask Algol,” the Maestro said testily. “Quite apart from menacing the beloved Republic of which I have the honor of being an adopted citizen, he has used demonic powers against me and my apprentice, an intrusion I shall not tolerate. Doubtless he was originally a loyal subject of his ruler, who believed that he was serving a noble cause when he began to dabble in black arts, but the laws of demonology are infrangible, and he has undoubtedly fallen into the power of the Powers he sought to control. I shall identify him and report him to-”

I thought for a moment that he was going to continue, “-Holy Mother Church for exorcism.” That would have been disastrous. The last thing Venice ever wants is the Vatican trying to meddle in its affairs of state. He caught himself in time. “-your honored selves.”

The chiefs had sensed the hesitation and were frowning.

“Just how do you propose to identify this demon-wielder you describe?” Trevisan demanded, perhaps imagining holy water being splattered in all directions in the name of the Council of Ten. That would not do, either.

“No demon-wielder, clarissimo. A damned soul, fallen into the clutches of the Evil One. There is a procedure…I do not contemplate black magic, Your Excellencies, but of invoking certain elementals, spirits that are morally neutral, neither good nor evil. Fire elementals are particularly attuned to demons, understandably, but are not in themselves damned, because fire is one of God’s boons to mankind. Fire can purify or it can destroy. Certain ancient authorities list some obscure procedures to elicit the aid of these spirits. I believe it would be possible to call on them to identify the possessed person or persons.”

Soranzo rolled his eyes. The other two chiefs crossed themselves.

“You can do this?” Trevisan demanded.

I suspected the Maestro could smell another thousand-ducat fee, maybe ten thousand. On the other hand, I did not think he would ever descend to witch hunting.

He sighed. “Alas, no. In my youth I might have essayed the effort, for it is a skill of the young. Now it would kill me. Fortunately my apprentice, sier Alfeo Zeno, here, is extraordinarily well attuned to pyrogenic forces. He has an astonishing natural talent for pyromancy. I believe I can guide him to…Of course the risks are bloodcurdling, so the final decision must be his alone.”

Every eye in the room fixed on me. As I had never heard of my natural talent in pyromancy before, I attempted to look modest and calmly courageous. What in Hades was the old rascal up to this time?

What exactly were these “bloodcurdling” risks?

“Let us get this straight,” Soranzo said. “You realize that you are still bound by your oath to give true witness in this inquiry, and you are stating that your apprentice has the power to identify any demons that may be wandering around the city?”

The Maestro waved a hand dismissively.

“Of course not! There are minor demons everywhere. Would you expect him to stand on the bell tower of San Marco and locate every cooking fire in the city? But if there happened to be a great building ablaze, then he should be able to locate that, surely? A major demon is a furnace of evil and this one has dared to meddle in my affairs. Alfeo is a brave and resourceful lad, and with my guidance…I am merely saying that there are methods he may be able to use to identify a major demon within the city, and I do not know any man with greater skills in this field.”

I made a mental note to demand a substantial raise before it was too late. Meanwhile the chiefs had realized that they were on the point of contracting Maestro Nostradamus to perform magic for them.

“Then we urge you to continue your investigations,” Trevisan said hastily. “The Republic will be generous if you are successful. Remember how confidential this matter is.”

What he meant was, Go away and do it, but don’t tell us.

H aving seen the Maestro securely loaded on Bruno’s great shoulders, and retrieved my rapier from the fante who had confiscated it, I led the way out of the palace by the Frumento gate with no small sense of relief. Dusk was settling over the basin, where a dozen galleys lately returned from distant lands had been unloading cargo all day and now were falling silent. Giorgio was chatting with a dozen other gondoliers on the Molo, and waved when he saw us. In moments we were skimming over the waters of the Grand Canal, homeward bound and rid of both our uninvited guests.

The long day was over, I hoped-I had a date with Violetta. Yet I had not forgotten all the firewood that Bruno had taken into the atelier. Pyromancy? I knew nothing about pyromancy and would happily wait until tomorrow to learn. It was too hot for pyromancy, although sunset was painting blood on great clouds to the east, the first clouds I had seen in weeks. The heat might be going to break at last.

Mama had supper ready, of course. Dismissing mention of it, the Maestro went straight to the atelier. Eating he considers a waste of time. I unlocked the door for him and detoured around him to get ahead and light the lamps, hoping we could have a discussion about those bloodcurdling risks he had mentioned and the decision that I was to be allowed to make.

He hobbled over to the red chair. “Bring me Sun of Suns, then go and eat.”

I was pleasantly surprised. “Thank you, master.”

“You need to keep your strength up.” Since he did not know about my date with Violetta, that last remark was not encouraging.

Restored by two helpings of Mama’s excellent granceole all ricca, I returned to find him as I had left him, nose deep in Abu the Confusing. Without even looking up, he said, “Warn Giorgio that we are not to be disturbed on any account. First you must set the Aegia Salomonis. Let me hear the incantation.”

I sat down, regretting my second helping of spider crabs. “It is still early, master. Not all the Marcianas will be home yet.”

He dismissed my objection with a Pshaw! noise. “Residents returning will not harm the wards as long as they come with peaceful intent. The incantation!”

The Armor of Solomon was easily the longest and most complicated spell he had taught me, and I took a few moments to rehearse my memory. One slip during the actual ritual and I would have to start all over from the beginning. Then I drew a deep breath and repeated the incantation from start to finish.

“Not bad,” he admitted, which is effusive praise from him. “Proceed. Just remember it is your neck you are saving.” He went back to his book.

Inspired by this admonition, I fetched a fresh beeswax candle, our jar of balm of Gilead, and a twig of olive wood. The roof was the obvious place to begin, because that was where the candle was most likely to be blown out, another fault that would require me to start over. As I climbed the attic stair, I heard the youngest Angeli children being put to bed, but I managed to slip out the hatch to the altana without being detected. Absolutely the last thing I needed was a band of chattery witnesses asking what sort of devil worship I was engaged in now, or-even worse-trying to help. The clouds were ominously closer although there was no wind; it was the calm before the storm. I knelt, opened the jar of oil, and glanced around to see if I was being watched. I wasn’t, so I lit the candle and began.

The ritual required me to draw the tree of life on the deck with the olive stick while holding the candle in my left hand and reciting the incantation. The tree of life schema comprises twenty-two paths connecting the sephiroth, the ten attributes of God, and again no errors are allowed, although the balm is so close to invisible that you have to locate each node as you go along pretty much by memory. This is not the sort of exercise you would want to try while calculating solar eclipses or dancing the moresca. I reached the end without a stumble, corked the jar, and set off back down the stairs, still clutching the lighted candle and wondering why I had not enrolled as an archer on a war galley instead of apprenticing to a philosopher.