The Abbot had gone pale as a sheet of parchment, even after drinking blood an hour before.
“What’s wrong?” Ricardo said.
“Describe him to me.”
“Not quite thirty, I’d guess. Pale skin, young-looking, but hard. Handsome. Black hair. Not tall. Arrogant.”
“And his name,” the Abbot said, leaning forward, pleading with desperation. “What was this man’s name? Did he tell you?” His eyes were wide. Afraid. He had been a vampire for thousands of years, and now he was afraid.
“Let me think a moment, let me remember—” He had not thought of any of this in so long. And now . . . what was wrong? His spine had gone cold. Even colder.
“Ricardo, please! What did he call himself?”
“I’m thinking . . .” Ricardo’s eyes widened. He had it.
“I’m not Dux Bellorum,” the man said. “I am Carlos de Luz. And you, Ricardo el Conquistador, are a very interesting man.”
The name did not reassure the Abbot at all. He gripped the arms of his chair, as if to stop his hands from shaking.
“Lightman,” he said. “You saw him. You actually spoke to him.”
“Lightman? De Luz—I suppose so. Who is he?”
“Tell the rest of the story. Please. I must hear everything. Don’t leave anything out.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but how am I to know what’s important and what isn’t? How am I supposed to tell the story when you seem so astonished? Why does this old memory terrify you so much?”
“Ricardo!” The Abbot rubbed his face and forced himself to sit back. “Please.”
“All right,” Ricardo said cautiously and continued.
“What do you want?” Ricardo asked tiredly. He had been prepared to face an army here. To negotiate with either Elinor or this Dux Bellorum character. He was unprepared for . . . whatever this was.
The man looked around, smiling thinly. “A crossroad. I don’t always manage these conversations right on a crossroad. But they always seem to go a little better when I do.”
Ricardo hadn’t noticed, but yes, this was where the main road to the plaza crossed the road to the west and Taos Pueblo. A proper crossroad indeed. “It will be dawn in an hour or so,” Ricardo said. “I don’t have much time, so whatever conversation you wish to have, make it quick.”
“Yes. Of course. I’d like you to come work for me, Ricardo.”
“I don’t work for anyone, I haven’t in a very long time.”
“Yes. But I need generals for my war.”
Generals. Dux Bellorum. The man Elinor was so wary of was just another soldier. This man held the strings. Did she know that?
“I am not interested in war. I had enough of that a long time ago.”
“Even if my war will win you the world?” said de Luz. He seemed serious. His body stood easy, but his face was like stone.
Ricardo laughed. “You seem young, so let me tell you what I have learned: They all say that. Those who make war always promise the world. I don’t want it.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To be left alone, señor, truly. Why does no one understand this?”
Grinning, he shook his head. “That’s not what you want. At least not all of it. Let’s try again. What do you want?”
“To not have my patience tried.” He started to turn away.