Communion Blood by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Read Free Book Online Page A

much to discuss. I thought it would be advisable to do that where I am certain the servants spy for me, not for those who pay for whispers.”
    Rothofen made a leg again, saying in Spanish, which he spoke marginally better than Italian, “You are a wise man, Cardinal Calaveria y Vacamonte. I bow to your superior understanding.” When he donned his hat again, his chestnut-brown wig shifted a little, giving him a rakish air.
    Cardinal Calaveria y Vacamonte liked flattery as much as any man of high position, but only when it sounded convincingly sincere; this had not persuaded him. He made a moue of distaste at Rothofen’s inept technique. “Let us say I have lived in Roma long enough to know how the city works.”
    The laughter with which Rothofen greeted this was as overdone as his Compliments had been. “Very true, Eminenza.”
    “Shall we sit down?” the Cardinal suggested, nodding in the direction of the table. “I will send word to my sister to join us, and then the waiters will serve us.” The offer was sham—he had no intention of allowing Leocadia to speak to this man—but his strategy for the evening required it. He clapped for a waiter to hold a chair for his guest. “And summon my sister.”
    The waiter bowed as his superior held out the chair for the Cardinal. As soon as the two men were settled and wine poured for them, the younger waiter hurried away on his errand.
    “She can be headstrong,” said Cardinal Calaveria y Vacamonte as he lifted his goblet.
    “What woman cannot?” Rothofen asked, chuckling. “Vain, willful

creatures, all. Yet where would the sons of Adam be without them?”
    “The sooner in Heaven, Senor, the sooner in Heaven,” said Cardinal Calaveria y Vacamonte piously. As he drank, he watched his guest over the rim of his goblet.
    “Ah. Ah, yes,” said Rothofen, laughing immoderately once more. “I can see why you, Eminenza, have a reputation for wit.” He drank thirstily, using his drinking to make a covert adjustment to his wig. “Fine vintage. Excellent savor.”
    “There is none better in Spain,” said Cardinal Calaveria y Vacamonte proudly.
    “I should think not,” said Rothofen, “for surely a man in your position should have nothing less than the best to be had.”
    This fulsome praise was beginning to wear on the Cardinal. “The world, as we know, does not always reward merit fittingly.”
    “True, Eminenza, sadly true,” said Rothofen, and had another large sip of wine. As he put his goblet down, the waiter at the sideboard refilled it from the fine decanter of Venetian glass. “This invitation was an honor I did not anticipate,” he said suddenly but with caution.
    “I have a few matters to discuss. I thought this would be an appropriate setting.” Those familiar with the Cardinal would have known that the news was not good, but Rothofen did not have the close acquaintance he claimed, and so he smiled as the Cardinal went on. “There is some concern about Hubert Walmund’s ... health?”
    Rothofen’s smile vanished. “We’ve discussed the matter, Eminenza,” he reminded the Cardinal cautiously.
    “Yes, we have. Unfortunately something of his condition has become known to my sister. She is reluctant to pledge herself to one who is so... so clearly afflicted.” He paused delicately. “I told you of my own reservations in this regard, and you answered my inquiries most frankly.”
    “As well I should,” Rothofen could not resist saying. “I have done all that I can in order to ensure a good marriage contract between your sister and the Archbishop’s brother. Anything that will hasten the happy day I must make it my obligation to accomplish.” He drank again, a bit less than before.
    “I am aware of that,” said Cardinal Calaveria y Vacamonte soothingly. “But when a girl is pretty, she thinks she can dictate to the whole world.”
    “So she does.” Rothofen wagged his finger sagely. “They are not easily instructed, pretty