Adamo Caiazzo rose sharply when he heard the knock at his door. "Surely this is the aid my patrons promised to send!" he said in Italian. He smoothed his bald head, whiskered chin, and flared ears, to appear presentable to the caller. Moments before opening the door he realized he should don a pair of trousers, and shortly thereafter opened the door of his bachelor's apartment to find a large man with a childish face carrying a box.
The man struggled to reach a hand to his cap, which he tipped, revealing a shaved head. "Buongiorno, signore. I am Sabino. Your patrons offer you aid, as promised."
Adamo glanced past the towering figure, at the afternoon sky. "It isn't morning." Sabino seemed to not understand, and continued staring at the elderly scientist. "No matter. Please, enter. My patrons are well?"
"Well, signore. The signora found herself a touch when I departed."
"A touch what?"
Sabino continued to stare, perhaps unable to understand Adamo's confusion. Sabino placed the box on the table in the main room, allowing Adamo to dig through it. "Funds, excellent. The signora's wonderful treats, most excellent. He dug deeper. Materials for my work, most excellent yet. Hmm." He searched the contents of the box carefully. "Surely this is wonderful! Stay a moment, I shall write a message for you to bring them when you return." Adamo went to his desk and found a clean sheet. "Miei cari amici, il tuo servo-" he began writing.
"The signore misunderstands. I am to be aid as well." Sabino offered a note for the scientist to take. The old man took the note and opened it.
"Il nostro amico Adamo Caiazzo, preghiamo il successo scientifico continuo. Presentiamo qui un aiuto sotto forma di fondi, cibo e forniture mediche. Aggiuntivo, vi presentiamo il giovane Sabino. Lui lavora sodo ed è un buon studente, se ancora un tocco di dim. Egli sarà di aiuto. Distinti, il padrone e la padrona," Adamo read. "But I'm in no need of a helper!" He took another look at the note. "And this grammar is atrocious!"
"The maestro says you are not to deny my help," Sabino said. "They want to see results. They believe I will be some help to you, so I will help."
Adamo's bottom lip nearly covered the top. He looked Sabino up and down, noting his size and muscles. He nodded to himself. "Do you know very much about the science of medicine?" He asked. Sabino shook his head. "The maestro says you are a good learner. Let's hope so, for both our sakes! Do you understand what I mean to examine?"
"The maestro says the body, to learn it and help it exist at greater lengths. He then went on to say I shouldn't tell you this next part, and that I should get you to test a number of poisons on living test subjects, to see how well and quickly they kill the subject."
Adamo stared with an open mouth at Sabino. He closed it and ran his tongue over his smooth gums. He tried to stroke his beard thoughtfully and missed entirely, his hand somewhere to the left of his chin. "I see," he said, suddenly understanding the fact his life was a less-precious commodity than he had first imagined. He also realized it was very lucky for him Sabino was a less than full-minded man. He wondered if he could use the fact to his advantage.
"Dear Sabino," he said, coming alongside the large man. He attempted to put his arm around his shoulders, and Sabino crouched after he failed. "Thank you. I am a man of medicine. I want to help people – to cure their wounds, to heal their sicknesses, to help what ails them. Surely you understand poisons do none of those things?" Sabino nodded, staring into a corner of the apartment. "Surely you understand I wish to neither anger my patrons, nor cause harm to innocent people!" Sabino nodded again. "Do you see my conundrum?"
"I can show you where to find the poisons, signore."
The poor man doesn't understand I can't do what our master asks, but surely I must be able to find a way to teach him such. "Yes, of course, you must take us there. You, er, haven't been asked to give my patrons constant updates?"
"No, signore. Do you want me to?"
"No no, no matter. No matter at all. But it's important to let them know we are making progress. I will send them messages; leave it all to me. Here now, let me make up another bed for you. We must make sure to get our rest. Surely you know a proper amount of sleep is required for a strong body and sharp mind!" Adamo puffed out his thin chest at Sabino, who surely could have broken him in two had he the inclination. "And then we will enjoy the signora's delicious treats, and I will begin to show you my work tonight. Does that sound acceptable?"
"Yes, signore."
"Wonderful! Why don't you tell me about yourself while I find the sheets."
When Sabino said nothing Adamo turned, finding the man standing confused by the table. "Is something the matter?"
"No, signore. I am not asked about myself very often."
"Tell me about your family."
"I have a mother and a father, and a sister."
"A wonderful start," Adamo said as he found a large white sheet. "And how did you come to work with the maestro and signora?"
"They are my mother and father."
"Eh?!" Adamo said, letting the sheet fall to a pile at his feet. "You are their son?" His bottom lip again eclipsed the top. Quickly things had become more complicated. "Then surely they trust you greatly, to . . . trust me with . . . helping you . . . help me!" He nodded to himself. "It's a pleasure to have you with me."
"And I with you, signore."
"There we are," Adamo said. It was a small mattress, barely big enough even for him; Sabino would look like a hunting hound curled on a mat in front of the fireplace. "A spot of dinner?"
"As you can see here, the meniscus and ligaments bind the knee with the upper and lower leg," Adamo said, tracing the designs with his finger. "They are a critical weak spot in the leg's construction. Keeping them healthy will allow a man painless motion longer into his life." He paused. "As well, attacking an enemy there will hobble him in a moment. Surely, they are a critical component to a daily life."
Sabino nodded, gazing at the many designs littering Adamo's apartment. "Do you know how to protect them?"
"They are strong in many ways, but weak from certain angles," the scientist said, laying aside his design of the knee. He looked out the window. The city's high towers etched long shadows across the cluttered streets. "There is much to show you . . . but we had another task before the night's end, did we not?"
"Yes, signore. We must get the poisons you are not to know I am here to make you test."
"Er, quite. Where shall we go about procuring them? Somewhere unsavory, I assume."
"Good evening, signore," Adamo said to an unremarkable man within an unremarkable apothecary. It was one of many such shops where any commoner could ballo in and shop. Adamo, flanked by Sabino towering over him, cleared his throat. "I am in need of a great number of items from you. Surely you will provide them?" He handed the apothecary the list. "I am a man of medicine, you see, and, er, am on a quest to find life-sustaining chemicals that will-" He came to realize the apothecary was no longer listening, and instead was rooting through a cabinet on the other side of the shop.
Adamo glanced up at Sabino, who was looking ahead without waver.
After a short span of time, the apothecary returned with a wildly-varied bundle of ground herbs, crushed minerals, and diverse animal selections. The apothecary, dressed in a drab brown robe, jaw lined in thick hairs, watched as Adamo fetched the proper amount of payment. Without being asked, Sabino picked up the heavy bundle with no more effort than a man may flick a tiresome fly from his knee. Shortly they were once more in the streets on their way to Adamo's apartment. Adamo resolved to try again to explain his ethical quandary to the large man walking with him.
"Er, Sabino . . ." he began. He coughed. "Are you knowledgeable in how to go about concocting the poisons I am not supposed to know about?"
"I have been given detailed instructions, signore."
"Ah, er, wonderful. Surely you will allow me to look over them? I would be remiss to not apply my expertise to their betterment."
"Of course, signore."
"Wonderful, wonderful. You know what the poisons are meant to do?"
"Kill, signore."
Adamo nodded. Though he doubted the man's tendency for violence, Adamo was nonetheless relieved Sabino held the apothecary's bundle. "And, you know what it is I do? Surely you know my title?"
"The maestro says scientist, doctor, and clever man, signore."
"Surely all true things, my young friend. Do you know of something called the Hippocratic oath? I will expound: it means, as a doctor, I first do no harm." He tapped his index fingers together as he walked, watching the ends press together. "It goes against my oath to do harm, vis a vis killing, to another person. Do you understand?"
"The signore does not wish to test the poisons."
"Yes, in reduced form," Adamo said. They were nearing the apartment. "However, your parents are my patrons, so I am bound to do as they say, though I do not wish to. Further, er, and I hope you take no offense for none is meant, I find my own life could be in danger should I refuse their orders."
"I understand, signore."
"Surely I can trust you to not betray my feelings to your parents, Sabino?"
"You can trust me, signore. I will not send them messages, and allow you to, as you requested earlier."
"Ah, yes, surely. Do you know if they have a timetable established?"
"No, signore."
Adamo smiled. They entered the apartment. It was dark, and the smell of the nearby lake filled it. "That's a relief."
The interior of the apartment was lit by a solitary candle. Sabino slept, curled like a fetus, on his small mattress. Adamo watched him for a few minutes, then turned back to the sheets of paper the large young man had brought with him. Written on them were almost a dozen perhaps-potent poisons capable of killing. He studied them with a grim mouth. He felt very dropped into his current situation. It's a miracle Sabino had inadvertently revealed his true reason for assisting him, else Adamo might not have been able to take the guilt.
The poisons were meant to be fast- or slow-acting, tasteless and odorless, meant to be hidden and disguised as a natural death, or flashy and an obvious assassination. There were many to try, but developing them will take time. He would have a number of days to figure out a way to sabotage them, or determine which may be safely used on living subjects. For instance, the one comprised of carmeled onion, powdered hog tusk, and liquified hornet paste, while not exactly healthy, will almost certainly fail to kill. Still, Adamo took his quill and scribbled target must likely ingest – add sweetness to cover bitter taste along the margin.
There. Diluting the formula further to ensure a weaker potion than even it could be. The others, those perhaps truly dangerous, would take greater worry to neutralize them. Still, he nodded to himself and tucked himself away into his own bed while Sabino snored. The large mattress and sheets swallowed him up.
"I've begun to address the formulas you gave me," Adamo said to Sabino as they ate their breakfast the next morning. "I suppose we should start as soon as possible, to appease the maestro and signora." He gazed at his dry toast. "We must find subjects. I . . . don't believe we will find many if they know we mean to test poison. We must be discreet if we are to complete our task and not be caught."
He stood and wandered into his workspace, followed by Sabino. "Our first step, of course, is to create the poison. Will you fetch the chemicals?"
"Of course, signore."
Adamo watched the man dig through the things purchased the night before. Would the poison's failure be seen as a refusal, on his part, to kill? Would his patrons punish their son for Adamo's actions? Careful steps must be taken, Adamo knew. Sabino turned to him with the components, and Adamo placed a smile across his face. "Thank you, dear friend. Let us begin."
The first poison was simple to create. Mash hornets into a paste, caramelize an onion, add powdered hog tusk, and, per the updated instructions, sprinkle a pinch of sugar on top. Adamo began cooking the onions, filling the apartment with a sweet smell, while Sabino noisily crushed hornets. After an hour, the concoction had been prepared, and the two of them put their heads together to try and devise a way to poison someone without being discovered. The poison they had made was quite small amount, with a great deal of caramelized onions left, so Adamo decided to take to the streets.
"There are ten servings," Adamo explained to Sabino. "We hand out samples to people – who would turn do free food? – but one of the servings has the poison. I hand out the samples, and you follow the one with the poisoned food inconspicuously. You know what that means?"
"No, signore."
"It means you don't let them know you're following them."
"Yes, signore."
"The fourth serving I give out will have the poison. You may have to watch carefully."
"Yes, signore."
"Go and stand on the other side of the street."
Sabino left, and Adamo began thrusting wrapped packages of the onions into people's hands. Some refused, but Adamo kept forcing under the guise of a friendly old man bestowing a treat. He felt a sour taste in his mouth as he handed off the fourth package and tried to ignore it. Soon the packages were gone and he tottered inside. The poison could never be deadly; there was simply no way for the items to produce anything able to kill. Sabino had disappeared, and Adamo waited with caught breath until he returned. "Well?"
"The man with the fourth package did not die," Sabino said. "He did not seem impaired in the slightest."
"Shame," Adamo said, even as he celebrated mentally. "Ah well. On to the next. Surely I will get this one to work."
The next seemed to be a true poison. Adamo sat studying it while Sabino sat on his bed, saying nothing. Adamo pretended to tsk and check things off, muttering falsehoods like "that will counteract the venom" or "too much of that and it will be tasted," when what he was truly doing was finding ways to limit the poison's deadliness. He discovered which pieces were important to making the poison kill and writing in ways to counteract it.
He and Sabino got to work making the new and improved version of the second poison, mixing a number of the items to create what Adamo hoped was a neutralized creation. This second poison was a clear liquid, and so Adamo decided they would be able to slip it into a drink as the easiest way to test. They exited the apartment once more, thinking of a way to do so.
They happened upon a man sitting on a bench, a flagon of wine by his foot. While the man was occupied watching a group of finely-dressed women wander by, Adamo stretched out his hand and dropped a serving of the poison into the man's wine. Back in the shadows, Sabino quietly asked if he should follow the man once more.
"No, I will follow him this time," Adamo said as the man stood from the bench and started walking. He wobbled from one side the street to the other, clearly drunk, walking with a bold swagger. Adamo trailed him carefully, though some part of him knew the man would never take notice of him. The man drank from his flagon frequently, and after a while dropped it, empty. He continued on until he reached a building. Pounding on the door, he demanded to be let inside. Adamo watched him enter and greet friends with loud shouts and laughter. He waited outside for an hour, wondering if the joyful talk would ever switch to fearful cries; they never did.
Adamo found his way back to his own apartment through the sudden twilight. It had gotten darker and colder while he was waiting, and his joints were stiff. He found Sabino waiting in the dark apartment.
"It didn't work," Adamo said as he lit candles. "The poison failed to affect him as far as I can tell."
"Unfortunate," Sabino said. "Will we begin working on the third poison?"
"Tomorrow," Adamo said. "I wish to do a bit of my own work for now. I'm just about done diagramming the hips, and I believe I'm close to discovering something that has escaped the notice of even da Vinci." Adamo nodded. "Surely, I will be remembered for more than just poisons!" He glanced at Sabino, who said nothing. "You may rest if you wish, or you may look about the city. I will give you some funds."
"Thank you, signore, I would like to see the city. You will write a message to the maestro with our progress?"
Adamo panicked silently. "Yes, of course."
"I will return before midnight. Goodbye," Sabino said, and left Adamo alone in his apartment, bottom lip covering the top.
"Should I accidentally forget to write a letter?" Adamo asked himself, and the furtive words could never be too quiet. "I'm just a scatter-brained scientist . . . surely he wouldn't find it strange that I became distracted with my other work." Adamo found his way to his desk, bearing the designs he had made of the legs. "He seems a very simple man, but not negligent in his duties. He will inquire, and if I tell him I didn't write one, he will. And lying to him . . ." Adamo sighed, rustling the papers before him. "If he discovers I purposefully lied, he may become upset.
"So I will write it!" He said, louder. "Surely a man of my intelligence will be able to write something that not only assures the maestro and signora I am working well, but also something that lets them know their son's badly-hidden purpose is being filled. Yes, surely."
For the next half-hour he gazed at the blank, mocking sheet of paper in front of him. "Begin simply," he told himself. "Open with a traditional greeting."
He wrote, stopping to read and re-read his words. He erased and adjusted, taking care in his sentences, to appear nothing more than grateful. He debated whether or not to reveal he knew of their relation to Sabino, and decided it could have certainly been revealed during normal conversation. He told his patrons about his ground-breaking work on the human hip. He thanked them profusely for the funds and other aid. He mentioned, off-hand, Sabino had introduced a number of interesting chemicals, but, sadly, none of them had an affect on the human body as far as he could see. He told them he looked forward to working further with Sabino.
He scanned over the completed letter, quill hovering above it. He realized there was little else he could do if he was, indeed, sending a letter. He folded it and sealed it, leaving it near the door to be sent the next day. He worked on his anatomical drawings until Sabino returned.
"I did little more than walk through the city," the big man said to him as they readied for sleep. "I have always lived with my parents until now. I enjoyed seeing more of the world. With the funds you allowed me I purchased for myself a cannoli, which I enjoyed." At this, Sabino returned the remaining money. "Thank you for letting me go."
"Surely, why would I not?" Adamo said, pleased at the man's slight smile. "It isn't like I had anything for you to do here."
"You wrote a message for the maestro and signora?"
"I did." Adamo nodded in its direction, trying not to let the fear he felt get into the motion. "I'll send it tomorrow."
Sabino yawned. "I will sleep now, if that's all right."
Adamo raised an eyebrow. "As if I could stop you! Surely, sleep! I will join you shortly, after I finish a few things. I believe I will take a look at the next poison to test, as well." Sabino nodded, and a few minutes later snores floated from his cramped bed.
Adamo completed part of his hip sketch, put it away, and turned to the list of poisons yet left to test.
The third was a truly potent poison; he could tell just from scanning the ingredients. It was a lengthier mixture – it might take all morning just to create it. It also appeared as if there was potential for toxic fumes to be released during the production. The end result would be a caustic substance able to kill without fail, causing increasing pain and weakness over a matter of weeks.
He took his time imagining how the components would fit together. It was a complicated puzzle flowing through a segment of time and volumes – he wondered if adding more of one component, or less of another, would make the poison weak enough, but he couldn't see any way for it to work. He spent hours pouring over books and texts he owned, working far into the early morning trying to keep himself from killing.
Finally – when the sun's colorful halo was beginning to rise over the city, and his eyes burned after each blink – he discovered the proper way to neutralize the poison. It would require a small amount of another chemical, but it result in a completely useless mixture, he was sure of it.
He wrote down his notes and furiously clambered into bed, hoping to find a few hours of sleep before being forced to wake.
He felt he had barely closed his eyes when he found Sabino leaning over him. He jumped, and realized the apartment was flooded with light. "Signore, you've slept too long. It's almost noon."
"Did I?" Adamo muttered. "Surely, I must have stayed awake too long. I'm no young man anymore," he said. "I need my rest more than ever, I suppose."
"We should begin on the third poison," Sabino said as Adamo stood, feeling dizziness almost overcome him. "I see you made a number of small notes. Will we have to procure this new ingredient?"
"Er, no, no. I have a small supply here that should be enough." Adamo pointed at the cabinets, bursting to full with a number of different items. "Why don't you start looking while I get myself awake." Sabino went to cabinets and opened their creaky doors; Adamo looked over the notes he had written the night before, while tired and weak. They still made sense, at least to his sleepy mind. He nodded to himself, found breakfast, and got changed into his clothes. When he looked up, Sabino held two bottles.
"I am unsure which one is correct," the man said. "They both have the same name."
"Oh, of course, it's that one." Adamo pointed at one of them. "I must have mislabeled them. I will need your help with this poison; it is a complicated recipe."
"Of course signore."
"We will have to go to the roof to create it . . . it could release clouds of toxic gas."
"As you say, signore."
"Surely, we must be careful. I would hate for one of us to be injured."
They hauled everything they needed to the flat roof of the apartment: a large cast-iron cauldron, stirring materials, and all their ingredients. Adamo went over the steps they would follow, feeling the sun pulse down on his neck. Sabino looked miserable in the heat; the large man quickly began to sweat. They began working, building a fire under the cauldron and letting the water within boil.
As it heated up, Adamo watched it quietly. Before Sabino's intrusion into his life, he would have been nearly babbling to himself about drawings, tests, and other very scientific things. He would have been enjoying the short amount of time he was spending in the sunshine. He would have been inching closer to the edge of the building, working up the courage to look over to the ground a short distance below. Now he just sat and watched the fire crackle, sweltering in the heat.
This poison. He thought to himself. How I wish to dump it over the side of the building and be done with it. How I wish to send Sabino away, despite the fact he is only doing what was bid of him. Surely, he or I would be punished for it.
"Signore, I believe the water is ready," Sabino said, interrupting Adamo's thoughts.
"Of course." Adamo began adding ingredients He decided something. "You know Sabino, I hope this poison doesn't work."
"Why is that, signore?"
"Because I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want any of these poisons to work. I don't want to be responsible for providing someone – even someone like your parents – another means to kill. Aren't there enough?" He began stirring. Sabino didn't respond. "But I'm afraid of what will happen to me if I refuse, or what might happen to you if you return to your parents and tell them of my decision."
Sabino began sobbing into his hands, startling Adamo and making him drop the ladle into the hot water. He glanced down and saw it settling under the boiling surface, then looked up at Sabino, still crying. "Sabino! Was it something I said?"
Sabino composed himself, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes. "It is the signora, signore. She is very ill. She has been poisoned."
"Poisoned?" Adamo looked at the bubbling cauldron in alarm. "Who could do such a thing?"
"We do not know!" Sabino said. Adamo detected a shift in his words. "The maestro is hard at work figuring out who has done it. You were one of the suspects, but I believe you are not guilty!"
"Of course I'm not guilty!" Adamo said. He placed his hands against his chest. "I could never do something so heinous and cruel! What is the purpose of all this?"
"Signore!" Sabino gripped Adamo's front. Adamo could see into his red eyes. "My mother is dying . . . because of that poison!" The man cried out, pointing a finger at the cauldron bubbling next to them.
Adamo ripped himself away and shouted, kicking the cauldron over with his foot, bruising and burning his toe in the process, but the cauldron tipped over and let the foul liquid flow across the flat rooftop, shimming in the sun. "My father asked me to come here and investigate you," Sabino said. "He wanted to know if you could be responsible. Before I left, I came up with the story of staying to help you, and my father approved it."
"Why the secrecy?" Adamo said. "There are too many layers to the story!"
"You had to think you were not to know of the poisons," Sabino said. He put out the fire with his big foot. "If you were the killer, you would neutralize this poison but perhaps not the others. If you allowed this poison to kill, you were not the killer but could not help. You said you couldn't allow someone to die at your hands; I believe you are not the killer. Further, I believe you can help. You discovered a way to neutralize the poison."
"The signora . . . she still lives?" Adamo asked.
"I hope."
Adamo puffed out his chest. "I will not let this sort of thing stand! Surely, Sabino, I will work with you and find a way to help the signora!" He stood for a moment. "You wrote the letter you gave me?"
"Yes. I guessed you would need something from your patrons to assure you." Sabino looked down. "My letters are not as good as theirs. I also wanted you to think I wasn't to be suspected of trickery, which is why I acted as if I did not understand. I'm sorry for the deception."
"No matter, my young friend." Adamo patted his arm. "It's all water under the bridge now. But come, we must focus! The signora needs our help! What is our first step?"
"You know the secret to neutralizing the poison; I will tell them!" said Sabino.
"Sabino, it doesn't work that way!" Adamo pointed at the liquid. "I know the way to keep the poison you gave me from being created, but to provide an antidote is much more difficult! There will be much more study involved – I will need to know much more about the signora!"
"Then I think the best next action for us to take is to visit your patrons," Sabino said, and Adamo heard the hope in his voice.
They spent the rest of the day gathering everything they could possible need for the trip. It would be a three day's journey by horse-drawn carriage, so Adamo went wild packing supplies he could need into boxes. He stacked endless chemicals, powders, dried herbs, crushed minerals, animal parts, textbooks, charts, and anything else he could lay his hands on. Sabino quickly packaged everything, working wordlessly. Adamo had a new respect for the man's silence – likely his thoughts dwelt on his ailing mother.
They hired a carriage heading in the right direction and loaded everything aboard, settling in for the uncomfortable ride. They slept the night, and the next morning stopped for breakfast along the road. The Mediterranean countryside blossomed in the morning, but Sabino pointed out rainclouds nearing them. The rain started a few hours later.
Adamo listened to the water hit the wood paneling of the carriage and looked over at Sabino. The man was sitting quietly. "Are you worried about your mother?"
Sabino glanced at Adamo, and then nodded. "I understand. The thought of losing one's parents is very distressing. You and I will find a way to help her." Adamo twiddled his thumbs. "You know, despite the fact they are my patrons, I know very little about your parents. Why don't you . . . tell me about them?"
Sabino raised an eyebrow. "Father is tall, like me. He is much smarter than I, though he says I will become smarter in time. He cares for me very much. He says he and I are very alike."
"Fathers and sons often are."
"Mother is very kind. When I was young, if father would get angry with me, mother would hold me while I cried." Sabino let the rain punctuate his silence. "I love them both very much."
Adamo imagined his own parents briefly; it had been many years since he had seen them.
"Do you think we will really be able to cure her?"
I must stop lying to the boy. "Sabino, she is infected by a terrible poison. I want to tell you of course, we will make her all better and she will live for many years to come, but I may be lying. But surely, I promise," he put his hand on Sabino's shoulder, "I will do everything I can."
Sabino smiled and turned back to the shuttered window. Adamo let his thoughts wander. He recalled something. "You know, I just realized we forgot to send the letter to your parents about our progress. It matters little, I suppose, we would arrive just a day behind it after all."
They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Adamo wished he could do more to assuage Sabino's fears, but he knew there was little he could say. He spent the time reading on the elements used to create the poison running rampant inside his mother, familiarizing himself on everything he could. He began to mark down notes on possible ways to create antidotes. It would rely on how long his mother had been poisoned. Adamo began to realize there was a possibility not only Sabino's mother was already dead, but she was still alive and Adamo would have no way to help her.
Two days later they arrived at Sabino's home, and Adamo gazed in wonder at the scope of it. White pillars supported the front overhang, casting out for a hundred feet in either direction. A fountain sparkled in front. Clear glass windows were in every window. Statues of lords and ladies presented themselves as Sabino and Adamo made their way to the entrance. "Sabino!" Adamo said, gazing around him at the splendor. "I had no idea your parents were of such high class!"
Sabino pushed open the large double doors and they strode inside, feet clattering on marble. Before they could get very far, a man appeared as if from nowhere, dressed as a servant.
"Halt! Who disturbs . . . master Sabino!" the man said, surprised. "We did not expect you back so soon!" The man eye's drifted to Adamo. "Who might this be?"
"This is Adamo Caiazzo, the scientist and doctor my parents support," Sabino said. "Adamo, this is Purcell, the governor of the estate."
Purcell pointed a long finger at Adamo. "Is this the cad that has laid the signora into her sickbed?" He brought his hand back into a fist. "Lout! Brute!"
"Purcell, no! I vouch for Adamo; he is certainly not the one who poisoned my mother! He may be able to help her!"
Purcell straightened. "I will take you to her at once!"
"I need to unload my materials," Adamo said.
"It shall be taken care of, signore." Purcell snapped his fingers twice at a man by the door, and turned. "After me.
He led them to a door and pushed it open for them. Adamo's eyes laid on a heartbreaking scene, and he almost dared not enter. Within was a large four-post bed, covered with fine white linens, bearing a single woman at the center. She was pale and motionless, save the vibrant blue of the veins next to her skin. She had short flaxen hair, and her chest rose the barest amount at each breath. Sitting beside her, looking up with surprise, was an old man Adamo recognized as Sabino's father, face pulled down with the suffering.
Sabino entered and greeted his father; Adamo snuck in behind him and waited for an introduction.
"Father, this is Adamo Caiazzo."
Sabino's father looked at Sabino from his seat. "You brought him here?!"
"Adamo is not the poisoner, father!" Sabino said. "He would never hurt mother!"
"It's true, maestro," Adamo spoke up. "When your son told me of my duty to test the poisons – ignoring his true purpose – I was struck. I wished not to do it. I am here to apply my skills to help the signora!"
Sabino's father looked at his son. "Do you trust him?"
"I do, father."
The man looked from his son to the scientist. He lingered on Adamo, and Adamo refused to back down. He stuck out his chest and put his hands on his hips. "Then I trust him as well. I am Edgardo. My wife . . . is Iolanda."
"It's an honor to finally meet you," Adamo said, shaking the man's hand. "Has there been any change in your wife's condition?"
Edgardo returned to the chair by the woman's bed. "She has gotten worse. It seemed almost as if she was recovering the night before, but then today I awoke to find her suffering even more. She is asleep now; her waking hours are getting fewer and fewer."
"I will get to work at once," Adamo said. "Sabino, help me fetch my items, will you?"
Once they had left the room, Adamo whirled on the man. "The poisoner is here, and has access to your mother. The poison in your mother slowly eats away at the victim's strength, it does not suddenly and drastically worsen. An additional dose has been given, perhaps this morning."
Sabino frowned. "What are you saying?"
Adamo hesitated. "I . . . thought I was being quite clear. Surely, Sabino, the person trying to kill your mother is within your own home!"
Sabino rocked backwards, face full of doubt and fear, mouth open. His eyes turned and scanned the hallway around them. There was no one else around. "Who could it be?"
"You would know better than I," Adamo said. "We'll leave this for later. I'd recommend not telling your father; he may try to find who it is on his own. I don't doubt you father's judgment but he may not know the things we do. Quickly now, to my supplies!"
"Purcell!" Sabino bellowed, spinning, nearly knocking Adamo down. Purcell appeared, panting. "Take us to Adamo's things at once!"
"Of course sirs!" Purcell took them to a room with a bed, a desk, and all of Adamo's luggage. "Everything you brought with you is here! Anything else you need I will be able to procure at once!"
"Thank you, Purcell," Sabino said. "We'll take it from here."
Adamo looked at the piled supplies. "Gather everything we might need."
They scooped things into their arms and made their way to Iolanda's bedside. Edgardo still sat at her side. "You have funded my research for years," Adamo said to the man as they set up. "Now it is my turn to help you. Surely, signore, I will do everything I can to help the signora. You can place you faith in me."
"I do." Edgardo rose. "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help."
"For now, giving us our space will help us the most," Adamo said. "You must have much to do. Please, let us apply ourselves."
Edgardo frowned, but Sabino raised his voice. "Father, Adamo is correct. I am scared and you are scared as well, but interfering with our work may hurt mother even more."
Shoulders drooping, Edgardo sighed and left the room. Adamo turned down the heavy covers over Iolanda, and felt the woman's pulse. "Very weak, and slow. The poison is doing its damage. My notes."
Sabino placed the sheets of paper into Adamo's open hand. "When did symptoms first begin to appear?" He asked.
"Several days before I made the journey to you, so . . ." Adamo watched Sabino mouth numbers silently, staring at the ceiling. "Twelve days. It has been twelve days since she was poisoned."
"Surely, our time runs short. Let me see . . ."
Adamo threw himself into the work. Fueled by the dismayed face of his friend Sabino as it watched his mother, Adamo working long into the night. The candlesticks used to illuminated the large room, big enough to hold his entire cluttered apartment, cast dancing shadows upon the walls as he shifted papers and studied texts.
Sabino stayed by his side the entire night, tending to his mother, letting her sip water and sponging the sweat from her brow. He fetched items for Adamo but mostly watched his mother as the candles burned low. For hours the only sound was Adamo's quill scratching paper.
Hours later, having finally drifted into an unsound sleep, Sabino was awoken when Adamo stood suddenly, gripping a sheet of parchment with both hands. The old man's hair stood on ends, and his Adam’s apple bobbled. "My young friend I may have it. I may I may. Surely I may."
"What do we do?"
"Do you remember what I added to the poison on the rooftop to turn it into a pointless potion? It involves the same chemical. It is the critical part of an antidote that I must focus on getting perfect. To battle a danger more danger must be involved – too much of an antidote is poison to one as weak as your mother. Careful work must be done to assure her survival. But the structure is there; we will build on it."
"What shall I do?"
"Stay by my side, and fetch chemicals for me. I may have to tend the mixture minute-by-minute. Let me work now."
Silence regained itself as Adamo bent over the paper, studying the components of the poison ravaging Iolanda and writing furiously, trying to find the perfect mixture to heal the woman. Sabino watched, eyelids heavy, as Adamo worked.
The sun rose, punching through the weak clouds. Sabino slept with his head on the bed, and Adamo worked. Like a feather dropping, he heard a voice: "Who are you?"
He looked up, surprised. The woman's eyes were open, gazing at him from under heavy lids. He blinked. "I am Adamo Caiazzo, signora, you are my patrona. I am here to help you."
"Purcell," the woman breathed, eyes once more closed. "He is doing it."
"Purcell? But-"
"I am tired, Adamo." Iolanda turned her head slightly and saw her son. "Sabino. He went to you, and brought you back."
With a slow, tremendous effort, she lifted her hand and placed it over her son's. The sun washed the mother and child in bright colors, and Adamo wished for his paints, to allow others to see the scene striking him with enough potency to drain the felling from his fingers. "He does not have many friends," she said. "The children were afraid of him. Are you his friend, Adamo?"
Adamo shook himself from the grasp of the woman's low voice. "Yes, signora. I am honored to be Sabino's friend." He realized she was again asleep, exhausted from just the minute she spent awake. Her hand still held her son's.
Adamo's eyes burned and he looked away to refresh them. He returned to the parchment. He knew he was close to perfecting the formula. Placing his quill's point against it, he heard a loud growling. He had neglected to eat. It was a common occurrence while working, but he needed fuel. He put his things down and waddled to the door. A servant was padding past, and Adamo requested food be brought to them. The servant nodded without a word and left.
Minutes later Adamo bid a knocker enter, and was disturbed to see Purcell open the door, bearing a tray of breakfast.
"How goes?" The man asked, noting Sabino's slumber and the work Adamo had written.
"Progress is being made," Adamo said, unwilling to tell the man anything more. "Thank you for the food. Is the maestro asleep?"
"Yes, heavily. It's my thought the maestro has caught ill with worry," the man said, though Adamo noted his body language portrayed no sadness or dismay at such a fact. "I will see to him." He left, and though Adamo wanted to force him to a different task and have Sabino go in his place, the antidote's construction was a greater worry. Sabino must stay.
"Sabino. Sabino, wake up!" He said, and slowly the man's eyes opened. He rubbed his face and froze, finding his hand in his mother's. "She woke briefly." Adamo paused. "She told me it is Purcell that has poisoned her."
A tired frown bent Sabino's face, and he rose, towering over the bed. "Sit," Adamo told him, pointing with the end of his quill at the chair. "The man will do nothing if he fears he will be discovered, and I need you to help me now. Do you understand?"
Sabino directed a burning gaze at the door but sat again. "How is the antidote?"
"Nearly done, I believe. I ask you begin gathering items I am sure we will need." Adamo glanced at the woman hardly strong enough to speak. "I fear our time is running out."
Sabino took the list from him and exited quickly. Adamo tried to focus but his mind flared light and heat. The last thing he had to decide could very well be pointless – an amount of a final ingredient – but Adamo slaved over it, finally choosing one of the options a minute before Sabino returned with many of the things from the list.
The man's face was a heavy frown when he entered, and Adamo quickly realized it was because Purcell followed at his heels. "The maestro is awake but feels sickly. I fear he has been poisoned as well."
"Is that so?" Adamo said, not looking up. "Surely, we must catch the beast responsible. Sabino, please begin mixing per these instructions." He handed Sabino the sheet, and the man started preparing the ingredients with rigid motions, betraying his anger.
"Is there anything I should do to help?" Purcell asked, standing by the entrance. He appeared nothing more than the helpful servant. "I may not have the scientific training you do, but I can mix chemicals."
"Surely, you can," Adamo said, trying not to lash out at the man. They must be careful. "But Sabino is my assistant and he will assist me. Surely, if I need more help I will call for you."
The man bowed and exited. To go and poison someone else, Adamo thought. He glanced at the empty tray from breakfast. Our own lives now rely on the antidote working. Best not let Sabino know so his mind stays clear.
"What do we do?" Sabino asked.
"I have a plan," Adamo answered. He went to the ingredients and arranged them in the room, thinking ahead. "For now, we focus on the antidote. Your father has likely been given a dose of the same poison. Surely, this antidote will save his life as well."
They bent their heads together in the small cauldron Sabino was using to mix the ingredients Slowly it began to take form, filling the room with a stink. Sabino opened the windows and they continued for an hour, following Adamo's careful instructions.
Just as the antidote was nearing completion, they heard the door open, and Purcell entered.
"Ah, Purcell," Adamo said, heart pounding. "Just in time. Would you hand me the final ingredient? It's one of those two bottles there." He turned to Sabino and said quietly: "Do you remember the facts about the knee I told you your first night at my apartment?" Sabino frowned as Purcell brought the two bottles, the same two Sabino could not discern as Adamo was crafting the poison back at his apartment. "Let's see . . . it's that one," Adamo said, pointing.
Purcell grinned, finally revealing a truly evil look. He spun and dashed the bottle against the wall, scattering shards of glass and the liquid inside. He turned back with a triumphant expression.
Stepping forward, Sabino took the remaining bottle from his hand, and kicked Purcell in the side of the knee, sending him to the ground with his leg bent sideways, the side of his foot colliding with the codpiece he wore. Purcell let out an agonized scream, unable to take his eyes away from the destroyed joint, once his knee.
"Thank you, Sabino," Adamo said, taking the bottle from Sabino and dumping it into the mixture. "A bit of misdirection," the scientist said to the screaming man, lying on the floor. He stirred carefully. "There. I think it's finished. Your mother, Sabino, quickly."
Sabino feverishly roused his mother enough for her to swallow a mouthful of the potion. "Us next," the scientist said, as Purcell vomited on the floor, "and then your father."
"What do we do with Purcell?"
"Once your parents are recovered, I'll tend to his injury. I'm sure he would hate to miss his courtroom appearance."
"Stay," Edgardo said the next day. He had recovered fully from the effects of the poison; Sabino and Adamo had barely felt it. Sabino's mother was healthier but still weak, sleeping peacefully in her bed. "You have done more for us than we deserve. I will not allow you to return to . . . what was it, Sabino? A 'tiny, cluttered, dank apartment'?"
Adamo shot Sabino a look; they sat in Edgardo's book-filled study. Sabino shrugged. "You will want for nothing," Edgardo continued. "Get on with your work here."
"I will need time to decide," Adamo said after a moment's thought. "At the very least, until we see Purcell properly punished."
"I agree," Edgardo said. "I'm sure my wife would be upset not to get to speak with you again – during her short waking hours she told me you spoke briefly."
"Yes . . . briefly. It was her that warned me of Purcell."
Edgardo stood. "Speaking of, I must get on with finding a new governor – someone properly vetted, this time. If you'll excuse me."
Adamo and Sabino exited the room. The villa was ablaze with activity since the events the morning before. A call was made for dinner, and Sabino stopped Adamo on the steps.
"You'll stay, won't you?" He asked the old man. "I would like it if you did."
Recalling the rest of his short conversation with Iolanda, Adamo smiled. "I may yet, my friend. Surely I may."
The man struggled to reach a hand to his cap, which he tipped, revealing a shaved head. "Buongiorno, signore. I am Sabino. Your patrons offer you aid, as promised."
Adamo glanced past the towering figure, at the afternoon sky. "It isn't morning." Sabino seemed to not understand, and continued staring at the elderly scientist. "No matter. Please, enter. My patrons are well?"
"Well, signore. The signora found herself a touch when I departed."
"A touch what?"
Sabino continued to stare, perhaps unable to understand Adamo's confusion. Sabino placed the box on the table in the main room, allowing Adamo to dig through it. "Funds, excellent. The signora's wonderful treats, most excellent. He dug deeper. Materials for my work, most excellent yet. Hmm." He searched the contents of the box carefully. "Surely this is wonderful! Stay a moment, I shall write a message for you to bring them when you return." Adamo went to his desk and found a clean sheet. "Miei cari amici, il tuo servo-" he began writing.
"The signore misunderstands. I am to be aid as well." Sabino offered a note for the scientist to take. The old man took the note and opened it.
"Il nostro amico Adamo Caiazzo, preghiamo il successo scientifico continuo. Presentiamo qui un aiuto sotto forma di fondi, cibo e forniture mediche. Aggiuntivo, vi presentiamo il giovane Sabino. Lui lavora sodo ed è un buon studente, se ancora un tocco di dim. Egli sarà di aiuto. Distinti, il padrone e la padrona," Adamo read. "But I'm in no need of a helper!" He took another look at the note. "And this grammar is atrocious!"
"The maestro says you are not to deny my help," Sabino said. "They want to see results. They believe I will be some help to you, so I will help."
Adamo's bottom lip nearly covered the top. He looked Sabino up and down, noting his size and muscles. He nodded to himself. "Do you know very much about the science of medicine?" He asked. Sabino shook his head. "The maestro says you are a good learner. Let's hope so, for both our sakes! Do you understand what I mean to examine?"
"The maestro says the body, to learn it and help it exist at greater lengths. He then went on to say I shouldn't tell you this next part, and that I should get you to test a number of poisons on living test subjects, to see how well and quickly they kill the subject."
Adamo stared with an open mouth at Sabino. He closed it and ran his tongue over his smooth gums. He tried to stroke his beard thoughtfully and missed entirely, his hand somewhere to the left of his chin. "I see," he said, suddenly understanding the fact his life was a less-precious commodity than he had first imagined. He also realized it was very lucky for him Sabino was a less than full-minded man. He wondered if he could use the fact to his advantage.
"Dear Sabino," he said, coming alongside the large man. He attempted to put his arm around his shoulders, and Sabino crouched after he failed. "Thank you. I am a man of medicine. I want to help people – to cure their wounds, to heal their sicknesses, to help what ails them. Surely you understand poisons do none of those things?" Sabino nodded, staring into a corner of the apartment. "Surely you understand I wish to neither anger my patrons, nor cause harm to innocent people!" Sabino nodded again. "Do you see my conundrum?"
"I can show you where to find the poisons, signore."
The poor man doesn't understand I can't do what our master asks, but surely I must be able to find a way to teach him such. "Yes, of course, you must take us there. You, er, haven't been asked to give my patrons constant updates?"
"No, signore. Do you want me to?"
"No no, no matter. No matter at all. But it's important to let them know we are making progress. I will send them messages; leave it all to me. Here now, let me make up another bed for you. We must make sure to get our rest. Surely you know a proper amount of sleep is required for a strong body and sharp mind!" Adamo puffed out his thin chest at Sabino, who surely could have broken him in two had he the inclination. "And then we will enjoy the signora's delicious treats, and I will begin to show you my work tonight. Does that sound acceptable?"
"Yes, signore."
"Wonderful! Why don't you tell me about yourself while I find the sheets."
When Sabino said nothing Adamo turned, finding the man standing confused by the table. "Is something the matter?"
"No, signore. I am not asked about myself very often."
"Tell me about your family."
"I have a mother and a father, and a sister."
"A wonderful start," Adamo said as he found a large white sheet. "And how did you come to work with the maestro and signora?"
"They are my mother and father."
"Eh?!" Adamo said, letting the sheet fall to a pile at his feet. "You are their son?" His bottom lip again eclipsed the top. Quickly things had become more complicated. "Then surely they trust you greatly, to . . . trust me with . . . helping you . . . help me!" He nodded to himself. "It's a pleasure to have you with me."
"And I with you, signore."
"There we are," Adamo said. It was a small mattress, barely big enough even for him; Sabino would look like a hunting hound curled on a mat in front of the fireplace. "A spot of dinner?"
"As you can see here, the meniscus and ligaments bind the knee with the upper and lower leg," Adamo said, tracing the designs with his finger. "They are a critical weak spot in the leg's construction. Keeping them healthy will allow a man painless motion longer into his life." He paused. "As well, attacking an enemy there will hobble him in a moment. Surely, they are a critical component to a daily life."
Sabino nodded, gazing at the many designs littering Adamo's apartment. "Do you know how to protect them?"
"They are strong in many ways, but weak from certain angles," the scientist said, laying aside his design of the knee. He looked out the window. The city's high towers etched long shadows across the cluttered streets. "There is much to show you . . . but we had another task before the night's end, did we not?"
"Yes, signore. We must get the poisons you are not to know I am here to make you test."
"Er, quite. Where shall we go about procuring them? Somewhere unsavory, I assume."
"Good evening, signore," Adamo said to an unremarkable man within an unremarkable apothecary. It was one of many such shops where any commoner could ballo in and shop. Adamo, flanked by Sabino towering over him, cleared his throat. "I am in need of a great number of items from you. Surely you will provide them?" He handed the apothecary the list. "I am a man of medicine, you see, and, er, am on a quest to find life-sustaining chemicals that will-" He came to realize the apothecary was no longer listening, and instead was rooting through a cabinet on the other side of the shop.
Adamo glanced up at Sabino, who was looking ahead without waver.
After a short span of time, the apothecary returned with a wildly-varied bundle of ground herbs, crushed minerals, and diverse animal selections. The apothecary, dressed in a drab brown robe, jaw lined in thick hairs, watched as Adamo fetched the proper amount of payment. Without being asked, Sabino picked up the heavy bundle with no more effort than a man may flick a tiresome fly from his knee. Shortly they were once more in the streets on their way to Adamo's apartment. Adamo resolved to try again to explain his ethical quandary to the large man walking with him.
"Er, Sabino . . ." he began. He coughed. "Are you knowledgeable in how to go about concocting the poisons I am not supposed to know about?"
"I have been given detailed instructions, signore."
"Ah, er, wonderful. Surely you will allow me to look over them? I would be remiss to not apply my expertise to their betterment."
"Of course, signore."
"Wonderful, wonderful. You know what the poisons are meant to do?"
"Kill, signore."
Adamo nodded. Though he doubted the man's tendency for violence, Adamo was nonetheless relieved Sabino held the apothecary's bundle. "And, you know what it is I do? Surely you know my title?"
"The maestro says scientist, doctor, and clever man, signore."
"Surely all true things, my young friend. Do you know of something called the Hippocratic oath? I will expound: it means, as a doctor, I first do no harm." He tapped his index fingers together as he walked, watching the ends press together. "It goes against my oath to do harm, vis a vis killing, to another person. Do you understand?"
"The signore does not wish to test the poisons."
"Yes, in reduced form," Adamo said. They were nearing the apartment. "However, your parents are my patrons, so I am bound to do as they say, though I do not wish to. Further, er, and I hope you take no offense for none is meant, I find my own life could be in danger should I refuse their orders."
"I understand, signore."
"Surely I can trust you to not betray my feelings to your parents, Sabino?"
"You can trust me, signore. I will not send them messages, and allow you to, as you requested earlier."
"Ah, yes, surely. Do you know if they have a timetable established?"
"No, signore."
Adamo smiled. They entered the apartment. It was dark, and the smell of the nearby lake filled it. "That's a relief."
The interior of the apartment was lit by a solitary candle. Sabino slept, curled like a fetus, on his small mattress. Adamo watched him for a few minutes, then turned back to the sheets of paper the large young man had brought with him. Written on them were almost a dozen perhaps-potent poisons capable of killing. He studied them with a grim mouth. He felt very dropped into his current situation. It's a miracle Sabino had inadvertently revealed his true reason for assisting him, else Adamo might not have been able to take the guilt.
The poisons were meant to be fast- or slow-acting, tasteless and odorless, meant to be hidden and disguised as a natural death, or flashy and an obvious assassination. There were many to try, but developing them will take time. He would have a number of days to figure out a way to sabotage them, or determine which may be safely used on living subjects. For instance, the one comprised of carmeled onion, powdered hog tusk, and liquified hornet paste, while not exactly healthy, will almost certainly fail to kill. Still, Adamo took his quill and scribbled target must likely ingest – add sweetness to cover bitter taste along the margin.
There. Diluting the formula further to ensure a weaker potion than even it could be. The others, those perhaps truly dangerous, would take greater worry to neutralize them. Still, he nodded to himself and tucked himself away into his own bed while Sabino snored. The large mattress and sheets swallowed him up.
"I've begun to address the formulas you gave me," Adamo said to Sabino as they ate their breakfast the next morning. "I suppose we should start as soon as possible, to appease the maestro and signora." He gazed at his dry toast. "We must find subjects. I . . . don't believe we will find many if they know we mean to test poison. We must be discreet if we are to complete our task and not be caught."
He stood and wandered into his workspace, followed by Sabino. "Our first step, of course, is to create the poison. Will you fetch the chemicals?"
"Of course, signore."
Adamo watched the man dig through the things purchased the night before. Would the poison's failure be seen as a refusal, on his part, to kill? Would his patrons punish their son for Adamo's actions? Careful steps must be taken, Adamo knew. Sabino turned to him with the components, and Adamo placed a smile across his face. "Thank you, dear friend. Let us begin."
The first poison was simple to create. Mash hornets into a paste, caramelize an onion, add powdered hog tusk, and, per the updated instructions, sprinkle a pinch of sugar on top. Adamo began cooking the onions, filling the apartment with a sweet smell, while Sabino noisily crushed hornets. After an hour, the concoction had been prepared, and the two of them put their heads together to try and devise a way to poison someone without being discovered. The poison they had made was quite small amount, with a great deal of caramelized onions left, so Adamo decided to take to the streets.
"There are ten servings," Adamo explained to Sabino. "We hand out samples to people – who would turn do free food? – but one of the servings has the poison. I hand out the samples, and you follow the one with the poisoned food inconspicuously. You know what that means?"
"No, signore."
"It means you don't let them know you're following them."
"Yes, signore."
"The fourth serving I give out will have the poison. You may have to watch carefully."
"Yes, signore."
"Go and stand on the other side of the street."
Sabino left, and Adamo began thrusting wrapped packages of the onions into people's hands. Some refused, but Adamo kept forcing under the guise of a friendly old man bestowing a treat. He felt a sour taste in his mouth as he handed off the fourth package and tried to ignore it. Soon the packages were gone and he tottered inside. The poison could never be deadly; there was simply no way for the items to produce anything able to kill. Sabino had disappeared, and Adamo waited with caught breath until he returned. "Well?"
"The man with the fourth package did not die," Sabino said. "He did not seem impaired in the slightest."
"Shame," Adamo said, even as he celebrated mentally. "Ah well. On to the next. Surely I will get this one to work."
The next seemed to be a true poison. Adamo sat studying it while Sabino sat on his bed, saying nothing. Adamo pretended to tsk and check things off, muttering falsehoods like "that will counteract the venom" or "too much of that and it will be tasted," when what he was truly doing was finding ways to limit the poison's deadliness. He discovered which pieces were important to making the poison kill and writing in ways to counteract it.
He and Sabino got to work making the new and improved version of the second poison, mixing a number of the items to create what Adamo hoped was a neutralized creation. This second poison was a clear liquid, and so Adamo decided they would be able to slip it into a drink as the easiest way to test. They exited the apartment once more, thinking of a way to do so.
They happened upon a man sitting on a bench, a flagon of wine by his foot. While the man was occupied watching a group of finely-dressed women wander by, Adamo stretched out his hand and dropped a serving of the poison into the man's wine. Back in the shadows, Sabino quietly asked if he should follow the man once more.
"No, I will follow him this time," Adamo said as the man stood from the bench and started walking. He wobbled from one side the street to the other, clearly drunk, walking with a bold swagger. Adamo trailed him carefully, though some part of him knew the man would never take notice of him. The man drank from his flagon frequently, and after a while dropped it, empty. He continued on until he reached a building. Pounding on the door, he demanded to be let inside. Adamo watched him enter and greet friends with loud shouts and laughter. He waited outside for an hour, wondering if the joyful talk would ever switch to fearful cries; they never did.
Adamo found his way back to his own apartment through the sudden twilight. It had gotten darker and colder while he was waiting, and his joints were stiff. He found Sabino waiting in the dark apartment.
"It didn't work," Adamo said as he lit candles. "The poison failed to affect him as far as I can tell."
"Unfortunate," Sabino said. "Will we begin working on the third poison?"
"Tomorrow," Adamo said. "I wish to do a bit of my own work for now. I'm just about done diagramming the hips, and I believe I'm close to discovering something that has escaped the notice of even da Vinci." Adamo nodded. "Surely, I will be remembered for more than just poisons!" He glanced at Sabino, who said nothing. "You may rest if you wish, or you may look about the city. I will give you some funds."
"Thank you, signore, I would like to see the city. You will write a message to the maestro with our progress?"
Adamo panicked silently. "Yes, of course."
"I will return before midnight. Goodbye," Sabino said, and left Adamo alone in his apartment, bottom lip covering the top.
"Should I accidentally forget to write a letter?" Adamo asked himself, and the furtive words could never be too quiet. "I'm just a scatter-brained scientist . . . surely he wouldn't find it strange that I became distracted with my other work." Adamo found his way to his desk, bearing the designs he had made of the legs. "He seems a very simple man, but not negligent in his duties. He will inquire, and if I tell him I didn't write one, he will. And lying to him . . ." Adamo sighed, rustling the papers before him. "If he discovers I purposefully lied, he may become upset.
"So I will write it!" He said, louder. "Surely a man of my intelligence will be able to write something that not only assures the maestro and signora I am working well, but also something that lets them know their son's badly-hidden purpose is being filled. Yes, surely."
For the next half-hour he gazed at the blank, mocking sheet of paper in front of him. "Begin simply," he told himself. "Open with a traditional greeting."
He wrote, stopping to read and re-read his words. He erased and adjusted, taking care in his sentences, to appear nothing more than grateful. He debated whether or not to reveal he knew of their relation to Sabino, and decided it could have certainly been revealed during normal conversation. He told his patrons about his ground-breaking work on the human hip. He thanked them profusely for the funds and other aid. He mentioned, off-hand, Sabino had introduced a number of interesting chemicals, but, sadly, none of them had an affect on the human body as far as he could see. He told them he looked forward to working further with Sabino.
He scanned over the completed letter, quill hovering above it. He realized there was little else he could do if he was, indeed, sending a letter. He folded it and sealed it, leaving it near the door to be sent the next day. He worked on his anatomical drawings until Sabino returned.
"I did little more than walk through the city," the big man said to him as they readied for sleep. "I have always lived with my parents until now. I enjoyed seeing more of the world. With the funds you allowed me I purchased for myself a cannoli, which I enjoyed." At this, Sabino returned the remaining money. "Thank you for letting me go."
"Surely, why would I not?" Adamo said, pleased at the man's slight smile. "It isn't like I had anything for you to do here."
"You wrote a message for the maestro and signora?"
"I did." Adamo nodded in its direction, trying not to let the fear he felt get into the motion. "I'll send it tomorrow."
Sabino yawned. "I will sleep now, if that's all right."
Adamo raised an eyebrow. "As if I could stop you! Surely, sleep! I will join you shortly, after I finish a few things. I believe I will take a look at the next poison to test, as well." Sabino nodded, and a few minutes later snores floated from his cramped bed.
Adamo completed part of his hip sketch, put it away, and turned to the list of poisons yet left to test.
The third was a truly potent poison; he could tell just from scanning the ingredients. It was a lengthier mixture – it might take all morning just to create it. It also appeared as if there was potential for toxic fumes to be released during the production. The end result would be a caustic substance able to kill without fail, causing increasing pain and weakness over a matter of weeks.
He took his time imagining how the components would fit together. It was a complicated puzzle flowing through a segment of time and volumes – he wondered if adding more of one component, or less of another, would make the poison weak enough, but he couldn't see any way for it to work. He spent hours pouring over books and texts he owned, working far into the early morning trying to keep himself from killing.
Finally – when the sun's colorful halo was beginning to rise over the city, and his eyes burned after each blink – he discovered the proper way to neutralize the poison. It would require a small amount of another chemical, but it result in a completely useless mixture, he was sure of it.
He wrote down his notes and furiously clambered into bed, hoping to find a few hours of sleep before being forced to wake.
He felt he had barely closed his eyes when he found Sabino leaning over him. He jumped, and realized the apartment was flooded with light. "Signore, you've slept too long. It's almost noon."
"Did I?" Adamo muttered. "Surely, I must have stayed awake too long. I'm no young man anymore," he said. "I need my rest more than ever, I suppose."
"We should begin on the third poison," Sabino said as Adamo stood, feeling dizziness almost overcome him. "I see you made a number of small notes. Will we have to procure this new ingredient?"
"Er, no, no. I have a small supply here that should be enough." Adamo pointed at the cabinets, bursting to full with a number of different items. "Why don't you start looking while I get myself awake." Sabino went to cabinets and opened their creaky doors; Adamo looked over the notes he had written the night before, while tired and weak. They still made sense, at least to his sleepy mind. He nodded to himself, found breakfast, and got changed into his clothes. When he looked up, Sabino held two bottles.
"I am unsure which one is correct," the man said. "They both have the same name."
"Oh, of course, it's that one." Adamo pointed at one of them. "I must have mislabeled them. I will need your help with this poison; it is a complicated recipe."
"Of course signore."
"We will have to go to the roof to create it . . . it could release clouds of toxic gas."
"As you say, signore."
"Surely, we must be careful. I would hate for one of us to be injured."
They hauled everything they needed to the flat roof of the apartment: a large cast-iron cauldron, stirring materials, and all their ingredients. Adamo went over the steps they would follow, feeling the sun pulse down on his neck. Sabino looked miserable in the heat; the large man quickly began to sweat. They began working, building a fire under the cauldron and letting the water within boil.
As it heated up, Adamo watched it quietly. Before Sabino's intrusion into his life, he would have been nearly babbling to himself about drawings, tests, and other very scientific things. He would have been enjoying the short amount of time he was spending in the sunshine. He would have been inching closer to the edge of the building, working up the courage to look over to the ground a short distance below. Now he just sat and watched the fire crackle, sweltering in the heat.
This poison. He thought to himself. How I wish to dump it over the side of the building and be done with it. How I wish to send Sabino away, despite the fact he is only doing what was bid of him. Surely, he or I would be punished for it.
"Signore, I believe the water is ready," Sabino said, interrupting Adamo's thoughts.
"Of course." Adamo began adding ingredients He decided something. "You know Sabino, I hope this poison doesn't work."
"Why is that, signore?"
"Because I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want any of these poisons to work. I don't want to be responsible for providing someone – even someone like your parents – another means to kill. Aren't there enough?" He began stirring. Sabino didn't respond. "But I'm afraid of what will happen to me if I refuse, or what might happen to you if you return to your parents and tell them of my decision."
Sabino began sobbing into his hands, startling Adamo and making him drop the ladle into the hot water. He glanced down and saw it settling under the boiling surface, then looked up at Sabino, still crying. "Sabino! Was it something I said?"
Sabino composed himself, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes. "It is the signora, signore. She is very ill. She has been poisoned."
"Poisoned?" Adamo looked at the bubbling cauldron in alarm. "Who could do such a thing?"
"We do not know!" Sabino said. Adamo detected a shift in his words. "The maestro is hard at work figuring out who has done it. You were one of the suspects, but I believe you are not guilty!"
"Of course I'm not guilty!" Adamo said. He placed his hands against his chest. "I could never do something so heinous and cruel! What is the purpose of all this?"
"Signore!" Sabino gripped Adamo's front. Adamo could see into his red eyes. "My mother is dying . . . because of that poison!" The man cried out, pointing a finger at the cauldron bubbling next to them.
Adamo ripped himself away and shouted, kicking the cauldron over with his foot, bruising and burning his toe in the process, but the cauldron tipped over and let the foul liquid flow across the flat rooftop, shimming in the sun. "My father asked me to come here and investigate you," Sabino said. "He wanted to know if you could be responsible. Before I left, I came up with the story of staying to help you, and my father approved it."
"Why the secrecy?" Adamo said. "There are too many layers to the story!"
"You had to think you were not to know of the poisons," Sabino said. He put out the fire with his big foot. "If you were the killer, you would neutralize this poison but perhaps not the others. If you allowed this poison to kill, you were not the killer but could not help. You said you couldn't allow someone to die at your hands; I believe you are not the killer. Further, I believe you can help. You discovered a way to neutralize the poison."
"The signora . . . she still lives?" Adamo asked.
"I hope."
Adamo puffed out his chest. "I will not let this sort of thing stand! Surely, Sabino, I will work with you and find a way to help the signora!" He stood for a moment. "You wrote the letter you gave me?"
"Yes. I guessed you would need something from your patrons to assure you." Sabino looked down. "My letters are not as good as theirs. I also wanted you to think I wasn't to be suspected of trickery, which is why I acted as if I did not understand. I'm sorry for the deception."
"No matter, my young friend." Adamo patted his arm. "It's all water under the bridge now. But come, we must focus! The signora needs our help! What is our first step?"
"You know the secret to neutralizing the poison; I will tell them!" said Sabino.
"Sabino, it doesn't work that way!" Adamo pointed at the liquid. "I know the way to keep the poison you gave me from being created, but to provide an antidote is much more difficult! There will be much more study involved – I will need to know much more about the signora!"
"Then I think the best next action for us to take is to visit your patrons," Sabino said, and Adamo heard the hope in his voice.
They spent the rest of the day gathering everything they could possible need for the trip. It would be a three day's journey by horse-drawn carriage, so Adamo went wild packing supplies he could need into boxes. He stacked endless chemicals, powders, dried herbs, crushed minerals, animal parts, textbooks, charts, and anything else he could lay his hands on. Sabino quickly packaged everything, working wordlessly. Adamo had a new respect for the man's silence – likely his thoughts dwelt on his ailing mother.
They hired a carriage heading in the right direction and loaded everything aboard, settling in for the uncomfortable ride. They slept the night, and the next morning stopped for breakfast along the road. The Mediterranean countryside blossomed in the morning, but Sabino pointed out rainclouds nearing them. The rain started a few hours later.
Adamo listened to the water hit the wood paneling of the carriage and looked over at Sabino. The man was sitting quietly. "Are you worried about your mother?"
Sabino glanced at Adamo, and then nodded. "I understand. The thought of losing one's parents is very distressing. You and I will find a way to help her." Adamo twiddled his thumbs. "You know, despite the fact they are my patrons, I know very little about your parents. Why don't you . . . tell me about them?"
Sabino raised an eyebrow. "Father is tall, like me. He is much smarter than I, though he says I will become smarter in time. He cares for me very much. He says he and I are very alike."
"Fathers and sons often are."
"Mother is very kind. When I was young, if father would get angry with me, mother would hold me while I cried." Sabino let the rain punctuate his silence. "I love them both very much."
Adamo imagined his own parents briefly; it had been many years since he had seen them.
"Do you think we will really be able to cure her?"
I must stop lying to the boy. "Sabino, she is infected by a terrible poison. I want to tell you of course, we will make her all better and she will live for many years to come, but I may be lying. But surely, I promise," he put his hand on Sabino's shoulder, "I will do everything I can."
Sabino smiled and turned back to the shuttered window. Adamo let his thoughts wander. He recalled something. "You know, I just realized we forgot to send the letter to your parents about our progress. It matters little, I suppose, we would arrive just a day behind it after all."
They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Adamo wished he could do more to assuage Sabino's fears, but he knew there was little he could say. He spent the time reading on the elements used to create the poison running rampant inside his mother, familiarizing himself on everything he could. He began to mark down notes on possible ways to create antidotes. It would rely on how long his mother had been poisoned. Adamo began to realize there was a possibility not only Sabino's mother was already dead, but she was still alive and Adamo would have no way to help her.
Two days later they arrived at Sabino's home, and Adamo gazed in wonder at the scope of it. White pillars supported the front overhang, casting out for a hundred feet in either direction. A fountain sparkled in front. Clear glass windows were in every window. Statues of lords and ladies presented themselves as Sabino and Adamo made their way to the entrance. "Sabino!" Adamo said, gazing around him at the splendor. "I had no idea your parents were of such high class!"
Sabino pushed open the large double doors and they strode inside, feet clattering on marble. Before they could get very far, a man appeared as if from nowhere, dressed as a servant.
"Halt! Who disturbs . . . master Sabino!" the man said, surprised. "We did not expect you back so soon!" The man eye's drifted to Adamo. "Who might this be?"
"This is Adamo Caiazzo, the scientist and doctor my parents support," Sabino said. "Adamo, this is Purcell, the governor of the estate."
Purcell pointed a long finger at Adamo. "Is this the cad that has laid the signora into her sickbed?" He brought his hand back into a fist. "Lout! Brute!"
"Purcell, no! I vouch for Adamo; he is certainly not the one who poisoned my mother! He may be able to help her!"
Purcell straightened. "I will take you to her at once!"
"I need to unload my materials," Adamo said.
"It shall be taken care of, signore." Purcell snapped his fingers twice at a man by the door, and turned. "After me.
He led them to a door and pushed it open for them. Adamo's eyes laid on a heartbreaking scene, and he almost dared not enter. Within was a large four-post bed, covered with fine white linens, bearing a single woman at the center. She was pale and motionless, save the vibrant blue of the veins next to her skin. She had short flaxen hair, and her chest rose the barest amount at each breath. Sitting beside her, looking up with surprise, was an old man Adamo recognized as Sabino's father, face pulled down with the suffering.
Sabino entered and greeted his father; Adamo snuck in behind him and waited for an introduction.
"Father, this is Adamo Caiazzo."
Sabino's father looked at Sabino from his seat. "You brought him here?!"
"Adamo is not the poisoner, father!" Sabino said. "He would never hurt mother!"
"It's true, maestro," Adamo spoke up. "When your son told me of my duty to test the poisons – ignoring his true purpose – I was struck. I wished not to do it. I am here to apply my skills to help the signora!"
Sabino's father looked at his son. "Do you trust him?"
"I do, father."
The man looked from his son to the scientist. He lingered on Adamo, and Adamo refused to back down. He stuck out his chest and put his hands on his hips. "Then I trust him as well. I am Edgardo. My wife . . . is Iolanda."
"It's an honor to finally meet you," Adamo said, shaking the man's hand. "Has there been any change in your wife's condition?"
Edgardo returned to the chair by the woman's bed. "She has gotten worse. It seemed almost as if she was recovering the night before, but then today I awoke to find her suffering even more. She is asleep now; her waking hours are getting fewer and fewer."
"I will get to work at once," Adamo said. "Sabino, help me fetch my items, will you?"
Once they had left the room, Adamo whirled on the man. "The poisoner is here, and has access to your mother. The poison in your mother slowly eats away at the victim's strength, it does not suddenly and drastically worsen. An additional dose has been given, perhaps this morning."
Sabino frowned. "What are you saying?"
Adamo hesitated. "I . . . thought I was being quite clear. Surely, Sabino, the person trying to kill your mother is within your own home!"
Sabino rocked backwards, face full of doubt and fear, mouth open. His eyes turned and scanned the hallway around them. There was no one else around. "Who could it be?"
"You would know better than I," Adamo said. "We'll leave this for later. I'd recommend not telling your father; he may try to find who it is on his own. I don't doubt you father's judgment but he may not know the things we do. Quickly now, to my supplies!"
"Purcell!" Sabino bellowed, spinning, nearly knocking Adamo down. Purcell appeared, panting. "Take us to Adamo's things at once!"
"Of course sirs!" Purcell took them to a room with a bed, a desk, and all of Adamo's luggage. "Everything you brought with you is here! Anything else you need I will be able to procure at once!"
"Thank you, Purcell," Sabino said. "We'll take it from here."
Adamo looked at the piled supplies. "Gather everything we might need."
They scooped things into their arms and made their way to Iolanda's bedside. Edgardo still sat at her side. "You have funded my research for years," Adamo said to the man as they set up. "Now it is my turn to help you. Surely, signore, I will do everything I can to help the signora. You can place you faith in me."
"I do." Edgardo rose. "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help."
"For now, giving us our space will help us the most," Adamo said. "You must have much to do. Please, let us apply ourselves."
Edgardo frowned, but Sabino raised his voice. "Father, Adamo is correct. I am scared and you are scared as well, but interfering with our work may hurt mother even more."
Shoulders drooping, Edgardo sighed and left the room. Adamo turned down the heavy covers over Iolanda, and felt the woman's pulse. "Very weak, and slow. The poison is doing its damage. My notes."
Sabino placed the sheets of paper into Adamo's open hand. "When did symptoms first begin to appear?" He asked.
"Several days before I made the journey to you, so . . ." Adamo watched Sabino mouth numbers silently, staring at the ceiling. "Twelve days. It has been twelve days since she was poisoned."
"Surely, our time runs short. Let me see . . ."
Adamo threw himself into the work. Fueled by the dismayed face of his friend Sabino as it watched his mother, Adamo working long into the night. The candlesticks used to illuminated the large room, big enough to hold his entire cluttered apartment, cast dancing shadows upon the walls as he shifted papers and studied texts.
Sabino stayed by his side the entire night, tending to his mother, letting her sip water and sponging the sweat from her brow. He fetched items for Adamo but mostly watched his mother as the candles burned low. For hours the only sound was Adamo's quill scratching paper.
Hours later, having finally drifted into an unsound sleep, Sabino was awoken when Adamo stood suddenly, gripping a sheet of parchment with both hands. The old man's hair stood on ends, and his Adam’s apple bobbled. "My young friend I may have it. I may I may. Surely I may."
"What do we do?"
"Do you remember what I added to the poison on the rooftop to turn it into a pointless potion? It involves the same chemical. It is the critical part of an antidote that I must focus on getting perfect. To battle a danger more danger must be involved – too much of an antidote is poison to one as weak as your mother. Careful work must be done to assure her survival. But the structure is there; we will build on it."
"What shall I do?"
"Stay by my side, and fetch chemicals for me. I may have to tend the mixture minute-by-minute. Let me work now."
Silence regained itself as Adamo bent over the paper, studying the components of the poison ravaging Iolanda and writing furiously, trying to find the perfect mixture to heal the woman. Sabino watched, eyelids heavy, as Adamo worked.
The sun rose, punching through the weak clouds. Sabino slept with his head on the bed, and Adamo worked. Like a feather dropping, he heard a voice: "Who are you?"
He looked up, surprised. The woman's eyes were open, gazing at him from under heavy lids. He blinked. "I am Adamo Caiazzo, signora, you are my patrona. I am here to help you."
"Purcell," the woman breathed, eyes once more closed. "He is doing it."
"Purcell? But-"
"I am tired, Adamo." Iolanda turned her head slightly and saw her son. "Sabino. He went to you, and brought you back."
With a slow, tremendous effort, she lifted her hand and placed it over her son's. The sun washed the mother and child in bright colors, and Adamo wished for his paints, to allow others to see the scene striking him with enough potency to drain the felling from his fingers. "He does not have many friends," she said. "The children were afraid of him. Are you his friend, Adamo?"
Adamo shook himself from the grasp of the woman's low voice. "Yes, signora. I am honored to be Sabino's friend." He realized she was again asleep, exhausted from just the minute she spent awake. Her hand still held her son's.
Adamo's eyes burned and he looked away to refresh them. He returned to the parchment. He knew he was close to perfecting the formula. Placing his quill's point against it, he heard a loud growling. He had neglected to eat. It was a common occurrence while working, but he needed fuel. He put his things down and waddled to the door. A servant was padding past, and Adamo requested food be brought to them. The servant nodded without a word and left.
Minutes later Adamo bid a knocker enter, and was disturbed to see Purcell open the door, bearing a tray of breakfast.
"How goes?" The man asked, noting Sabino's slumber and the work Adamo had written.
"Progress is being made," Adamo said, unwilling to tell the man anything more. "Thank you for the food. Is the maestro asleep?"
"Yes, heavily. It's my thought the maestro has caught ill with worry," the man said, though Adamo noted his body language portrayed no sadness or dismay at such a fact. "I will see to him." He left, and though Adamo wanted to force him to a different task and have Sabino go in his place, the antidote's construction was a greater worry. Sabino must stay.
"Sabino. Sabino, wake up!" He said, and slowly the man's eyes opened. He rubbed his face and froze, finding his hand in his mother's. "She woke briefly." Adamo paused. "She told me it is Purcell that has poisoned her."
A tired frown bent Sabino's face, and he rose, towering over the bed. "Sit," Adamo told him, pointing with the end of his quill at the chair. "The man will do nothing if he fears he will be discovered, and I need you to help me now. Do you understand?"
Sabino directed a burning gaze at the door but sat again. "How is the antidote?"
"Nearly done, I believe. I ask you begin gathering items I am sure we will need." Adamo glanced at the woman hardly strong enough to speak. "I fear our time is running out."
Sabino took the list from him and exited quickly. Adamo tried to focus but his mind flared light and heat. The last thing he had to decide could very well be pointless – an amount of a final ingredient – but Adamo slaved over it, finally choosing one of the options a minute before Sabino returned with many of the things from the list.
The man's face was a heavy frown when he entered, and Adamo quickly realized it was because Purcell followed at his heels. "The maestro is awake but feels sickly. I fear he has been poisoned as well."
"Is that so?" Adamo said, not looking up. "Surely, we must catch the beast responsible. Sabino, please begin mixing per these instructions." He handed Sabino the sheet, and the man started preparing the ingredients with rigid motions, betraying his anger.
"Is there anything I should do to help?" Purcell asked, standing by the entrance. He appeared nothing more than the helpful servant. "I may not have the scientific training you do, but I can mix chemicals."
"Surely, you can," Adamo said, trying not to lash out at the man. They must be careful. "But Sabino is my assistant and he will assist me. Surely, if I need more help I will call for you."
The man bowed and exited. To go and poison someone else, Adamo thought. He glanced at the empty tray from breakfast. Our own lives now rely on the antidote working. Best not let Sabino know so his mind stays clear.
"What do we do?" Sabino asked.
"I have a plan," Adamo answered. He went to the ingredients and arranged them in the room, thinking ahead. "For now, we focus on the antidote. Your father has likely been given a dose of the same poison. Surely, this antidote will save his life as well."
They bent their heads together in the small cauldron Sabino was using to mix the ingredients Slowly it began to take form, filling the room with a stink. Sabino opened the windows and they continued for an hour, following Adamo's careful instructions.
Just as the antidote was nearing completion, they heard the door open, and Purcell entered.
"Ah, Purcell," Adamo said, heart pounding. "Just in time. Would you hand me the final ingredient? It's one of those two bottles there." He turned to Sabino and said quietly: "Do you remember the facts about the knee I told you your first night at my apartment?" Sabino frowned as Purcell brought the two bottles, the same two Sabino could not discern as Adamo was crafting the poison back at his apartment. "Let's see . . . it's that one," Adamo said, pointing.
Purcell grinned, finally revealing a truly evil look. He spun and dashed the bottle against the wall, scattering shards of glass and the liquid inside. He turned back with a triumphant expression.
Stepping forward, Sabino took the remaining bottle from his hand, and kicked Purcell in the side of the knee, sending him to the ground with his leg bent sideways, the side of his foot colliding with the codpiece he wore. Purcell let out an agonized scream, unable to take his eyes away from the destroyed joint, once his knee.
"Thank you, Sabino," Adamo said, taking the bottle from Sabino and dumping it into the mixture. "A bit of misdirection," the scientist said to the screaming man, lying on the floor. He stirred carefully. "There. I think it's finished. Your mother, Sabino, quickly."
Sabino feverishly roused his mother enough for her to swallow a mouthful of the potion. "Us next," the scientist said, as Purcell vomited on the floor, "and then your father."
"What do we do with Purcell?"
"Once your parents are recovered, I'll tend to his injury. I'm sure he would hate to miss his courtroom appearance."
"Stay," Edgardo said the next day. He had recovered fully from the effects of the poison; Sabino and Adamo had barely felt it. Sabino's mother was healthier but still weak, sleeping peacefully in her bed. "You have done more for us than we deserve. I will not allow you to return to . . . what was it, Sabino? A 'tiny, cluttered, dank apartment'?"
Adamo shot Sabino a look; they sat in Edgardo's book-filled study. Sabino shrugged. "You will want for nothing," Edgardo continued. "Get on with your work here."
"I will need time to decide," Adamo said after a moment's thought. "At the very least, until we see Purcell properly punished."
"I agree," Edgardo said. "I'm sure my wife would be upset not to get to speak with you again – during her short waking hours she told me you spoke briefly."
"Yes . . . briefly. It was her that warned me of Purcell."
Edgardo stood. "Speaking of, I must get on with finding a new governor – someone properly vetted, this time. If you'll excuse me."
Adamo and Sabino exited the room. The villa was ablaze with activity since the events the morning before. A call was made for dinner, and Sabino stopped Adamo on the steps.
"You'll stay, won't you?" He asked the old man. "I would like it if you did."
Recalling the rest of his short conversation with Iolanda, Adamo smiled. "I may yet, my friend. Surely I may."