I debated whether to point out the obvious. I decided to risk it. “No offense—I’m sure you deserve your rep—but there’s got to be other champions the Consul could choose. She’s been around two thousand years; she has to know people.”
“True.” Louis-César didn’t look insulted, to my relief. “She had other names in mind if I declined.”
“Then what’s the problem, other than for you personally?”
“The problem, dulceat?,” Mircea said, “is that Rasputin has also never lost a duel. There were other names on the Consul’s list, but none that we are confident can manage victory no matter the trickery used against him. Louis-César has fought more duels than the rest of the Consul’s choices combined. He must be our champion, for our champion must win.”
“And that has to do with me how?” I was getting a very bad feeling.
“We need to ensure that he does not alter time again, dulceat??. We need you to go back and stop him from interfering with the birth of our champion.”
“How would she do that?” Tomas asked before I could. “How can she guard him from a curse?”
Louis-César was looking at Tomas as if he’d lost his mind. “What curse?”
“Is that not how you were made?”
“You know perfectly well it was not!”
Billy Joe streamed in the window, a dove gray cloud. “Did I miss anything?”
“You are completely out of your mind,” I informed them. Too bad for their plans, but I wasn’t about to die for the Consul, or for anybody else if I could help it. “Do you get the implications here? I took Tomas back with me. Okay, it was by mistake, but if they’ve been doing this as long as you say, they’ve almost certainly figured out how to do it, too.” Someone had brought the gypsy into this century, and it hadn’t been me. “I could be facing Rasputin himself, and I’m not a duelist!”
“I missed something, didn’t I?” Billy Joe drifted around, but I ignored him.
“You took Tomas with you when you were inhabiting his body. The sybil can’t do that; Pritkin told us as much, dulceata.”
“Pritkin’s an idiot,” I reminded Mircea. “We don’t know that’s why Tomas was able to hitch a ride. Maybe all I have to do is touch someone. Maybe she can do it, too.”
Billy drifted in front of my vision, making the whole room look like I was seeing it through a glittery gray scarf. “We need to talk, Cass. You won’t believe what I found out at Dante’s!” I cocked an eyebrow at him but didn’t dare say anything. I didn’t want to alert anyone to his presence. I had a feeling I would need him before long.
Tomas was looking at me. “I am the Consul’s second choice. I can deal with Rasputin.” I brightened. Anything that would get me out of facing the mad monk in that house of horrors sounded promising.
Unfortunately, Mircea did not look convinced. “Forgive me, my friend; I do not doubt your prowess, but I have seen Rasputin fight. You have not. And where my life is concerned, I prefer a sure thing.”
Billy drifted a few feet away and put his hands on his hips. “All right. I’ll talk; you listen. I got a glimpse into the head of that witch you helped before she ran off with the pixie. The condensed version is that Tony and the Black Circle have been selling witches to the Fey, and guess where they’ve been getting them? I mean, the white knights would have noticed if a bunch of magic users suddenly went missing, right?” I glared at him. It was like being caught in the dentist’s chair with a chatty hygienist. It wasn’t as if I could answer.
“I can defeat him.” Tomas sounded certain, but Louis-César made an odd sort of sound, almost like a cat sneezing. I suppose it was French.
“You could not defeat me a century ago. You are not much stronger now.”
“You were lucky! It would not happen if we dueled again!”
Louis-César looked annoyed. “I do not have to duel you. I own you.”
I blinked in confusion. Had I missed something, trying to follow two conversations at once? Masters and servants usually had more of a bond than these two showed. Hell, even though Tony might try to kill Mircea, he wouldn’t talk to him like that. “I thought someone named Alejandro was your master?” I asked Tomas.
“He was. One of his servants made me, but Alejandro killed him shortly thereafter and took me for himself. He was carving out an empire within the Spanish lands in the New World and he needed a warrior to help him. We succeeded, and he eventually organized a new Senate, but his tactics never changed. He acts to this day as if every question is a challenge, every plea for leniency a threat. I challenged him as soon as I grew strong enough, and I would have succeeded in ending his reign of terror, if not for outside interference.”
I looked at Louis-César in surprise. “You fought him?”
The Frenchman nodded distractedly. “Tomas challenged for leadership of the Latin American Senate. Its Consul asked me to stand as his champion and I agreed. Tomas lost.” He said the latter with a slight shrug, as if it almost went without saying. It seemed to me that maybe Louis-César needed to lose once in a while. Carrying around that much of an ego had to be tiring. But then, if he lost he’d probably end up dead, and in this case, so would we. All things considered, maybe a little arrogance wasn’t so bad. And at least the lack of a bond was explained. Servants won through force had to be kept that way; it was never as close a relationship as through blood.
Something occurred to me. “You challenged? But you’d have to be a first-level master to do that.” I’d known Tomas was powerful, but this was a shock. That Louis-César could hold a first-level master in thrall was a hell of a statement about his strength. I hadn’t even known it was possible.
“Tomas is more than five hundred years old, mademoiselle. His mother was a high-ranking Incan noblewoman before the European invasion,” Louis-César said carelessly. “She was forced by one of Pizarro’s men, and Tomas was the result. He grew up in a time when a smallpox epidemic had killed many Incan nobles, leaving a vacuum of power. He organized some of the scattered tribes into a force to resist the Spanish advance, and thereby came to Alejandro’s notice. Although a bastard, he—” Tomas gave a growl, and Louis-César glanced at him. “I use the term technically, Tomas. If you recall, I, too, am a bastard.”
“That I am not likely to forget.”