“I’m sorry, my lord. I know of no such finding. I will speak with our contacts as soon as possible and discover what is known.”
“A sad state of affairs when you don’t know what’s going on with the police, Pierre.”
“The matter will be rectified immediately and our police informant will be dealt with.” Pierre bowed low and withdrew to his seat.
“What of my lieutenant? Lorenzo, did you know about the bodies?”
Lorenzo stood, adopting a chastened posture. “No, my prince.”
The Prince huffed in frustration.
“Am I to dissolve the council in view of these failures?”
The council members shifted uneasily in their chairs.
He turned his attention to the head of security. “Ibarra, what has been done to locate the feral Pierre saw?”
The Basque stood, his expression tight.
“We increased the number of patrols. We’ve also organized searches of the city and the catacombs. The feral has not been found, which leads me to believe that the one we disposed of is the one Pierre saw.”
“A convenient conclusion. What of our borders?”
“I’ve spoken with all those on duty last night and there were no sightings of ferals nor was there evidence of any breach. The feral must have been hiding within the city. Perhaps the bodies of which you spoke belonged to him.”
“Perhaps.” The Prince’s expression shifted and he glared. “As a Consilium, you’ve all grown lax.”
He turned his attention back to Ibarra.
“Our borders were breached by the Venetians, under your predecessor. His ashes are now fertilizing an obliging field. Now the border has been breached by at least one feral, and your patrols knew nothing of it.”
Ibarra curled his hands into fists. “With respect, that’s a hasty conclusion, my lord. We don’t know the feral came through the border. With a full investigation, I can—”
“You can do nothing,” the Prince snapped. “You’re relieved of your duty and of your position on the Consilium.”
The other council members began murmuring and looking at one another.
“Silence,” he hissed. “Our survival requires security. Because of Ibarra’s failure, our city is threatened. Niccolò will assume control of the borders and the patrols, along with his other duties as head of intelligence, effective immediately.”
At this, the Florentine stood and the Prince addressed him.
“I want the patrols increased, I want their schedule varied, and I want daily reports. See to it I am not disappointed.”
Niccolò bowed. “Yes, Prince.”
The ruler continued barking out instructions.
“Maximilian, redouble your efforts at training the younglings. Aoibhe, see that more human beings are transformed so as to expand our numbers.
“And I expect a full investigation of those bodies, Pierre.” The Prince jerked his chin in his direction.
“You would replace me because of one feral?” Ibarra took a step closer to the Prince. “It’s possible it’s been in the city for decades. It’s possible it’s one of our own gone mad.”
“So you recognized it?” the Prince mocked.
Ibarra didn’t answer, his face a mask of fury.
“It wasn’t one of ours,” Aoibhe answered quickly. “It was an older feral. I can’t imagine it was in the city long. We’d have had more than several bodies piling up.”
Ibarra cursed Aoibhe in Basque, using extremely derogatory terms.
“Enough!” the Prince growled. “Ibarra of the Euskaldunak, you are hereby banished from the city of Florence.
“Aoibhe and Niccolò, escort Ibarra from the council chambers and remain with him until sunset. Take a detachment of guards with you and escort him to the border. If he resists, kill him.”
The Prince dismissed them with a wave of his hand and turned toward Lorenzo.
“See that the banishment is publicized among the citizens and that it is strictly adhered to.”
Niccolò and Aoibhe exchanged a look and moved to flank Ibarra.
“There was no breach.” Ibarra spoke through his teeth. “I would have heard of it. It would have been reported.”
The Prince didn’t bother looking in his direction. “If you return, you will be executed.”
Ibarra cursed. “Our borders are sound. Our patrols our vigilant; I trained them myself. If the feral came from outside, someone must have helped it enter the city.”
“That’s preposterous,” said Aoibhe. “Who would do such a thing?”
Ibarra gave her a hard look. “The Venetian informer. We were never able to discover who sold the schematics of our old security systems. He must still be in the city, trying to wreak havoc. How else was the feral able to slip past our patrols?”
“An expedient excuse,” Lorenzo commented. “Can you produce evidence of this?”
“No, but I will.”
The Prince lifted his hand and all grew silent.
“Ibarra, you’ve had two years to find the traitor. You investigated everyone who knew of the weakness in our security systems and yet you were unable to discover which of them betrayed us. I have no confidence in your ability to discover the traitor now. You have failed in your duties and are lucky to be leaving the principality with your head. Get out of my sight.”
The Prince nodded at Niccolò and Aoibhe, who began escorting Ibarra to the door.
Ibarra cursed as he was led away, shouting his displeasure at the Prince and the Consilium.
When he was halfway down the aisle, he flew to the nearest wall and tore a sword from its hooks. Brandishing it with both hands, he sprinted toward the throne.
In an instant, the Prince was on his feet.
“Take one more step and it will be your last.”
Ibarra ignored the old one’s warning and ran toward him, lifting the sword.
Lorenzo retrieved a matching sword from a nearby suit of armor and tossed it toward the Prince.
He caught it and tore the robe from his shoulders, lifting the sword high just as Ibarra lashed at his head.
The clash of metal against metal echoed in the hall as the two supernatural beings did battle.
The Prince had the advantage as he stood above Ibarra on the platform. But he advanced down the stairs, striking blow after blow.
Ibarra was strong, but clearly no match for the Prince. Again and again he lunged, looking for an opening, while the Prince easily deflected every thrust.
At once Ibarra swung at the Prince’s legs and the Prince jumped, somersaulting over his back. Before Ibarra knew what was happening, the Prince slashed at his head, the sword whistling as it sliced through the air.
Ibarra’s head took flight from his shoulders and rolled across the floor. It came to rest at Aoibhe’s feet.
She sighed as she looked down into her recent lover’s eyes.
The Prince lifted his bloody sword, so that all could see it, and drove it deep into the stone at his feet.
“Let this be a sign to traitors.”
He returned to the platform and retrieved his robe, wiping his hands with it before tossing it away in contempt.
“Lorenzo, take the traitor’s head and display it on a spike next to the sword. Parade the citizens in to look at it. Maximilian, you and Pierre take the body outside the city and burn it.”
The Prince made eye contact with each of the remaining council members.
“The next one who betrays me will not receive so swift a death.”