Oliver Bowden - Brotherhood

"No."

"Are you sure you're not taking the threat of a Borgia revival too seriously?"

"I think we should take it seriously."

"Look-my army has regained most of the Romagna for the Vatican. There's no army left for the Borgia to fight with."

"Cesare is still alive! With him as a figurehead-"

"I hope you're not questioning my judgment, Ezio! You know my reasons for sparing his life. In any case, where he is now, he's as good as buried alive."

"Micheletto is still at large."

"Pah! Without Cesare, Micheletto is nothing."

"Micheletto knows Spain well."

"He's nothing, I tell you."

"He knows Spain. He was born in Valencia. He's a bastard nephew of Rodrigo!"

The Pope, who, despite his years, was a large and vigorous man still in the prime of life, had been pacing the room during this last exchange. Now he returned to the desk, placed his large hands on it, and leaned threateningly over Ezio. His manner was convincing.

"You are letting your worst fears run away with you," he said. "We don't even know whether Micheletto is still alive or not."

"I think we should find out, once and for all."

The Pope pondered Ezio's point and relaxed slightly, sitting down again. He tapped the heavy signet ring on his left hand with the index finger of his right.

"What do you want to do?" he asked heavily. "Don't expect any resources from me. The budget's over-stretched as it is."

"The first thing is to locate and destroy any last diehards in the city of Rome itself. We may find someone who knows something about Micheletto-his whereabouts or his fate. Then-"

"Then?"

"Then, if he is still alive-"

"You'll destroy him?"

"Yes." But Ezio thought: Unless he turns out to be more useful to me alive.

Julius sat back. "I am impressed by your determination, Ezio. It almost frightens me. And I am glad I am not myself an enemy of the Assassins."

Ezio looked up sharply. "You know about the Brotherhood?"

The Pope made a tent of his fingers. "I always needed to know who the enemies of my enemy were. But your secret is safe with me. As I told you, I am not a fool."

"Your instinct is right. I will guide you and guard you. But I do not belong to you and soon you must let me go. And I have no power over he who controls me. I must obey the will of the Master of the Apple."

Ezio, alone in his secret lodgings, was holding the Apple in his hands as he tried to use it to help him locate his quarry in Rome, when the mysterious voice had come to him again. This time he could not tell if the voice was male or female, and he could not even tell whether it came from the Apple or from somewhere in his own mind.

Your instinct is right. But also: I have no power over he who controls me. Why then had the Apple only shown him hazy images of Micheletto-just enough to tell him that Cesare's henchman was still alive? And it could not-or would not-pinpoint Cesare's location. At least for now.

He suddenly realized something his inner self had always known: that he should not abuse the object's power by overusing it, that he should not become dependent on the Apple. Ezio knew that it was his own will that had blurred the answers he sought. He must not be slothful. He must fend for himself. One day he would have to again, anyway.

He thought of Leonardo. What could that man not do, if he had the Apple? And Leonardo, the best of men, nevertheless invented weapons of destruction as easily as he produced sublime paintings. Might the Apple have the power not only to help mankind, but to corrupt it? In Rodrigo's or Cesare's hands, had either of those two ever been able to master it, it could have become the instrument not of salvation, but destruction!

Power is a potent drug. Ezio did not want to fall victim to it.

He looked at the Apple again. It seemed inert in his hands now. But as he placed it back in its box, he found he could hardly bear to close the lid. What paths could it not open up for him?!

No! He must bury it. He must learn to live by the code without it. But not yet!

He had always sensed in his heart that Micheletto lived. Now he knew it for a fact. And while he lived, he would do his utmost to free his evil master-Cesare!

Ezio had not told Pope Julius his full plan. He intended to seek out Cesare and kill him, or die in the attempt.

It was the only way.

He would use the Apple next only when he had to. He had to keep his own instincts and powers of deduction sharp, against the day when the Apple would no longer be in his possession. He would hunt down the Borgia diehards in Rome without it. Only if he failed-within three days-to unearth them, would he resort to its power again. He still had his friends-the girls of the Rosa in Fiore, La Volpe's thieves, his fellow Assassins-and with their help, how could he fail?

And he knew that the Apple would-in ways he could not fully comprehend-help him, as long as he respected its potential. Perhaps that was its secret. Perhaps no one could ever fully master it-except a member of the race of ancient Adepts who had left the world in trust to humanity, to make or break it, as their will elected.

He closed the lid and locked the box.

Ezio summoned a meeting of the Brotherhood on Tiber Island that night.

"My friends," he started, "I know how hard we have striven, and I believe that victory may be in sight, but there is still work to do."

The others, all except Machiavelli, looked at each other in surprise.

"But Cesare is muzzled!" cried La Volpe. "For good!"

"And we have a new Pope who has always been an enemy of the Borgia," added Claudia.

"And the French are driven back!" put in Bartolomeo. "The countryside is secure. And the Romagna is back in papal hands!"

Ezio held out a hand to quiet them. "We all know that a victory is not a victory until it is absolute."

"And Cesare may indeed be muzzled, but he lives," said Machiavelli quietly. "And Micheletto-"

"Exactly!" Ezio said. "And as long as there are pockets of Borgia diehards, both here and in the Papal States, there is still seed from which a Borgia revival may grow."

"You are too cautious, Ezio! We have won!" cried Bartolomeo.

"Barto, you know as well as I do that a handful of city-states in the Romagna remain loyal to Cesare. They are strongly fortified."

"Then I'll go and sort them out!"

"They will keep. Caterina Sforza's army is not strong enough to attack them from Forli, but I have sent messengers requesting her to keep a close watch on them. I have a more pressing job for you." Oh, God, thought Ezio, why does my heart still skip a beat when I mention her name?

"Which is…?"

"I want you to take a force to Ostia and keep a sharp eye on the port. I want to know about any suspicious ships coming into, and, especially, leaving the harbor. I want you to have messengers on horseback ready to bring news to me here the instant you have anything to report."

Bartolomeo snorted. "Sentry duty! Hardly the sort of work for a man of action like me!"

"You will get as much action as you need when the time is ripe to move against the rebel city-states I've mentioned. In the meantime, they live in hope, waiting for a signal. Let them live in hope; it'll keep them quiet. Our job is to snuff that hope out! Forever! Then, if they don't listen to reason, they still won't put up half the fight they would now."

Machiavelli smiled. "I agree with Ezio," he said.

"Well, all right. If you insist," Bartolomeo replied grumpily.

"Pantasilea will enjoy the sea air, after her ordeal."

Bartolomeo brightened. "I hadn't thought of that!"

"Good." Ezio turned to his sister. "Claudia. I imagine the change of regime hasn't affected business at the Rosa in Fiore too badly, has it?"