Wolf Omega: Lykanos Chronicles 2

“Have you reason to suspect that Father Piero didn’t write to your family as he promised?” Sempronio asked at the close of the day’s lessons when I proposed writing a letter to them.

“It’s not that, sir. I only wish them to know by my own hand that it’s true. They have no way to know that I’ve learned to read or write.”

“Do you feel they would ever believe such a thing? No,” he held up his hand, “answer this instead: do you mean for your family to know of your new station? Not of your emerged lycan nature, of course. But that you are now living as a high-born lady of wealth in a castle?”

“Not at all, sir. I only want them to know that I am well. I can tell them I work for a benevolent master who has taken it upon himself to educate his servants.”

“That’s all?” Sempronio asked suspiciously. “That’s where you would have it end? In time, will they not expect to see you again? What will you tell them when they ask to visit you in town on your day off? Will you dress in a servant’s robes and regale them with stories about your life here?”

I gave no response to his barrage. I didn’t think any of them would burden the expense to travel here.

“How long with that satisfy them, do you suppose? Will they not expect you to marry again soon? Won’t they wish you to send money to aid your mother or nieces and nephews, if any have been born? How much more complex will your ruse need to become to sustain it over time?”

I was unprepared for his questions, never having thought through a succession of consequences.

“I only want for them not to worry about me,” I said plainly. “We intended that I would return to them shortly. Even if they received Father Piero’s letter, mine would be an ultimate confirmation that I was okay. They would not expect more.”

“You don’t believe that a mother doesn’t expect to hear from her daughter, do you? Regardless of the distance that separated you, was she not accustomed to hearing from you by letter?”

I knew that Sempronio was right, but I was unprepared for the weight of the truth.

“Understand, if you wish to send them money, I will gladly do so for you. But you must come to terms with your situation. They can never know of what has truly happened to you, and each door of truth you open to them will reveal yet another. It is unavoidable.”

Sempronio stopped to let me think about his words, only continuing when I looked back into his eyes.

“I will not force the matter; you have my word. But allow me to propose a different course.”

I nodded warily for him to proceed.

“I shall write to you mother and sister, instead,” he continued gently. “I will inform them of your untimely death because of an accident on my estate. I will describe your excellent service to my house and forward sentiments of condolence from my staff. I will forward your family money disguised as your earned wages, along with a greater sum meant as an apology for the accident. People are superstitious by nature, and they will not question such a gesture from a high don. They will know that money is likely meaningless to a man of my station. You may select belongings to send with the letter. Perhaps a small portrait of your likeness to comfort them in their grief?”

The idea horrified me. No matter the logic behind his words, Sempronio’s description of my death was chilling.

“Before you decide, I would urge you to allow yourself time to process it all. Think of them first, my child. No matter your choice, know this much: you will survive every one of them—your sister, your nieces and nephews, and their grandchildren—all their lineage who may come to know your name. If, for now, you propose they should think of you as a successful servant living far from home, regardless of how that temporary guise will unfold, I will not stop you. I will even arrange for indirect means to enrich their lives if it would comfort you. But their story will each end in the same way.

“Think of what would be best for them-- how they should arrive at their end-- rather than how it might serve your sensibilities.”

I didn’t respond to him, and with a slight nod to his door, Sempronio gestured that I was dismissed from the day’s lessons. I gathered my books and parchment and left as quietly as I could.

Outside his office, I stopped to stare out of the enormous plate windows that lined the corridor, taking in the view of Como in the distance. The late afternoon sun was an hour from setting over the mountains, and it lit the city roofs in a beautiful orange glow that I wished Savia and my mother could now see.

I knew the master was correct, that his suggestion was best. I could never share this sight with anyone. The distance that separated us now could only be breached if I were to betray my promise to Sempronio. I decided to accept his offer and let him pronounce my death to my family.

Tears fell from my eyes as the finality of it all overcame me. That life was truly done for me, and I shivered at its passing, even if it had already ended the moment I left with Duccio.

“It can’t be all that bad,” a man’s voice whispered to me.

I startled to see Maximo, who had somehow arrived at my side without my noticing. Alone in the beaming light, it was the first time I’d seen his handsome blond figure close enough or well enough to study. Maximo looked about twenty years old, though I understood that wasn’t his actual age. He was tall and robust, with muscular arms that were unmistakable even under his cream velvet doublet. Most striking was his sensuous face, with its full lips, delicate brow, and mischievous, brilliant blue eyes.

Despite his beauty, finding Maximo’s figure beside me provided an unwelcome shock. No matter how comfortable I had become in Castello Palatino or with its inhabitants, who welcomed me as family, I was still very much in shock by the events that had brought me here. Before I could recognize him, my body reacted with the instinctive fear of being so close to a man. It was a cruel scar on my mind that I feared could never heal as my body had.

Just as humiliating was that I could not hide my reaction from Maximo, whose mind saw my fear of him more unmistakably than his blue eyes ever could.

“Forgive me,” he said, taking a step backward.

I saw my distress mirrored in his face, and the expression made me want to hide forever.

“No,” I flustered. “I’m... I was lost in thought. You startled me, is all.”

He knew there was more to it, but instead of questioning it he smiled instead, which I was grateful.

“Are they going to let you try again?” Maximo asked. “Pompeia said they didn’t discipline you too harshly.”

“They are more interested in helping me understand what happened rather than prescribing penance, to my relief.”

“That’s wise,” he agreed. “The finest discipline comes as we study what drives our behavior.”

“A philosopher,” I could not repress a smirk. “Shall I guess your age? You’re kind to tolerate a child’s weeping.”

“Certainly, very kind,” he furrowed his eyebrows to return the smirk. “Is your wet nurse coming to prepare you for your nap?”

“I can only hope,” I smiled.

“May I walk you to the nursery?” he asked and held out his hand to gesture the way back to my room.

I nodded and took his invitation.

“So, what is their conclusion? Why did you go hunting in the middle of our mission?”

“It seems it’s in my nature to disobey,” I answered. “Does that shock you?”

“Not at all. I could tell from the moment you arrived that you’d be trouble,” Maximo jested. “It surprised me when they took you in. Perhaps they’ve grown so bored with the rest of us they were on the lookout for a troublemaker.”

“My lucky day.”

“Maybe you’ll do me the favor of teaching me the fine art of insubordination. I could join you in your adventures.”

“That would just cheapen them, I’m afraid. Better to stay unique in my troublemaking, don’t you agree?”

“Well, you’ve got me there,” he smiled. “I guess I’ll need to find another way to stand out if I’m ever to be promoted.”

“Is that your dream, then? To be promoted?” I asked.

“My dream? No, I’ve learned to dream bigger.”

“You have my full attention,” I said.

“I dream of the long and wondrous life ahead of me. I dream of seeing the world as Duccio has seen it—even as the master has seen it—though I don’t pretend to believe I have the constitution for such a life as his.”

“No?” I asked. “I don’t think I’ll see the millennia either. I try to conceive of it, and the more I try, the more incomprehensible it seems. Sempronio told me he’s seen everything a hundred times, and what he lives for now is what’s new—anything new, even if he must create it himself.”

“He told me the same thing once; that I was ‘the new,’ and I kept his mind anchored to the present,” Maximo confided. “I think that’s the actual reason he’s become our teacher instead of our leader. Not because he has so much knowledge to share, but that we are the only reason left for him to think about all that he knows. We help him see it through fresh eyes, which helps him understand his wisdom better so he can create something new from it.”

Maximo’s statement absorbed me, and I saw Sempronio in a way that would never have occurred to me.

“Is that why you’ve sought me out,” I asked. “Am I ‘the new’ for you, as well?”

Maximo laughed at my question, and his face lit up beautifully because of it.

“Hardly,” he said. “And from Sempronio’s point of view, I might as well have laid beside you in the same crib.”

“Really?” I asked. “Well, if that’s true, then you might as well join in my insubordination. You’ll probably get whipped for my nonsense, whatever you do.”

“Only if you’re sure,” he smiled.

We reached the door to my suite, and he stopped to bow.

“I’ll take my leave of you,” he said and turned to walk away after I nodded my gratitude.

Once he was a ways off, Maximo stopped and looked back to find me staring at him.

“And to answer your earlier question,” he called to me, “I am thirty-two.”