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At the Primal Pattern

About fifteen minutes later, Latticework time, La Conta Trumped Il Diavolo through to the Cave beside the Primal Pattern.

The place was a disaster area. Rotting, hacked corpses lay everywhere. There was fresh blood among the decay. La Conta looked irritated.

Sanvanista, blank-faced as usual, was restraining Rinaldo near the mouth of the cave.

Il Diavolo winked at her in a leering fashion.

La Conta said quietly to I.D. as they settled into their surroundings, "The Maestro was gone when I arrived. I cannot contact him either by Trump or by our mental connection. I also cannot raise Richard by either means."

"Well, that's peachy," drawled the Devil. "What do you think it means?"

Jahannam ran a hand through his longish hair. "Whoever caused the disturbance managed to take the Maestro with him. Which worries me immensely. I would have thought that of the three of us, he'd be the most difficult to secure."

"Maybe," Old Nick fingered his unshaven chin. "Of course, that's assuming he didn't go willingly wherever he went. I'm not going to worry about that man for another few hours at least. Did whoever was here do anything to the Pattern - or anything actually important, or is this one big-ass distraction?"

"We can't go near it," La Conta said flatly. "Sanvanista can't either, so it's nothing to do with being a ghost. Rinaldo can, but that does us no good."

"A protection?" Il Diavolo raised his eyebrows. "That's a good one. Let's see if it's Quincunx-wide, shall we?"

He cautiously began to approach the Pattern.

At a distance of perhaps two feet, he found he was simply unable to come closer. The air grew thicker and thicker until it was like a wall.

"Huh," said the Devil. "This is good stuff, fearless leader." Once again, he paused, feeling for residue... "Maybe have to go back to the basics."

La Conta looked disgusted. "I'm going after the Maestro. Whatever he's chasing has to have done this, and it's screwing with my plans. I take a personal exception to people who screw with my plans." His tone got silken at that last.

"I'll see if I can find out who's stirring who shouldn't be," I.D. said, hand reaching into his jacket pocket to close on his trump deck. "Is there anything else you want me to do? Gonna have Sandy watch the kid?"

La Conta shook his head. His eyes were glittering coldly. "She'll return him to the Keep. I've updated the defenses- I still wish to know how the damned Blood Guard got inside. If I didn't know better..." He trailed off dangerously, his gaze fixed at an indistinct point so that it was clear the accusation was not aimed at Il Diavolo.

"... Just do what you're best at. I'll be in touch."

Old Scratch saluted lazily. If La Conta's obvious bad mood worried him, he didn't show it.

He ambled over to Sanvanista and Rinaldo.

The boy still seemed semi-conscious. The girl just looked at him. It was, as always, hard to tell if she was thinking anything at all.

Il Diavolo considered the boy for a moment, then said to Sanvanista: "I think you'd better take him to my place in the Latticework. Someone may be playing insider games and the castle may be compromised."

He bent forward and kissed her cold lips, then vanished....

.... reappearing in a penthouse apartment in a nice little sea-side shadow he cultivated for relaxation purposes when he could slip away from the Quincunx and jobs for a while.

He dug out his trump deck.

So L.C. thought they had a doubleagent. It wasn't the Devil and it wasn't La Conta. It probably wasn't possible that it be Sanvanista. That left (worst case) the Maestro and (a bit better) Richard.

Both were missing.

He dug out Richard's trump.

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