"Not now, of course," Leonardo said. If Cesare chose to kill him now, he would. Leonardo had no illusions in his ability as a fighter. He turned his wrist with interest, looked at the bloodied blade strapped to it. The workmanship was superb. "And besides, if I had put this through your heart, I would have to be prepared to die at the hands of your guards."
It would be best to clean the blade off, afterwards, lest dried blood damage the mechanism. It was a thing of beauty. He realised he had enjoyed making it, that morning, despite his nerves. And, it was good to know that every angle, measurement, and calculation were committed to his excellent memory. He did not need the codex page.
"I do not want to die if I do not need to," he said, and looked Cesare in the eyes. "But, Cesare - if you attempt to touch me again, I will be prepared to do so."
Leonardo flicked his wrist, sending the hidden blade back into its sheath with a click. He smiled. He could see why Ezio liked these things so much. From his workbench, he took a long strip of boiled cloth that he had seen fit to leave there earlier. He looked at Cesare's wound, at the growing patch of blood down his front. "Let me bind that before you lose too much more blood."
Cesare stared at him, too astonished to speak. He seemed shocked that someone should want to refuse him. Leonardo helped the younger man to take off his ruined shirt, then wrapped the cloth bandage tightly to staunch the bleeding.
"The blade is perfectly clean," Leonardo said. "Well, it was, until just then." He chuckled. He was feeling more like himself already. "I doubt the wound will rot, Cesare, but you must follow my directions closely. Unless, of course, you would prefer to explain to your doctor how this happened. How embarrassing that would be!"
He pulled the bandage tight, making Cesare growl in pain.
"Did that hurt, Cesare? My apologies. Since you have stopped by, I might as well take this time to explain to you my conditions of service. It goes without saying that you will, from now on, keep your hands to yourself. But as well, this coming and going to and from my workshop must stop. If you want me to build your war machines, I must work absolutely undisturbed. I will keep my own hours; no-one else's. I eat and sleep when I choose to do so. I will need an assistant - one trained in mathematical calculations and capable of fine work with his hands. Of course, I shall have to choose him myself. And, Cesare, you will stop asking me when your war machines will be ready. They will be ready when I complete them."
He went on, explaining his terms. With Leonardo deftly bandaging his arm, Cesare could do nothing but listen.
***
The next day Leonardo supervised the testing of gunpowder in the construction yard at Monte Circeo. A young labourer, bare-chested with an armload of timber on his shoulder, bumped him.
"Sorry, sir. Did you drop this?" The labourer pressed a scrap of paper into Leonardo's hand and walked quickly away, his lean brown back shining in the sunlight. Leonardo watched him go, then read the paper.
The stairs by the bridge. Midnight. If you do not come to me, I will come to you.
Ezio. He felt a flood of relief - perhaps their friendship was not over. But then again, there was more than one way to interpret the note. What if Ezio meant to take him to task for working for the Borgia?
Well, he would have to find out.
***
Leonardo came early and waited in the dark. He grew increasingly nervous as he waited. What if the note had not been from Ezio at all, but from one of the other Assassins? Someone who thought it better that Leonardo disappeared, instead of working for Cesare?
He saw motion on the wall, and Ezio dropped silently to the stone flags. For a moment, they stared at each other, and Leonardo wondered what Ezio would do.
Re: [6/?]
It would be best to clean the blade off, afterwards, lest dried blood damage the mechanism. It was a thing of beauty. He realised he had enjoyed making it, that morning, despite his nerves. And, it was good to know that every angle, measurement, and calculation were committed to his excellent memory. He did not need the codex page.
"I do not want to die if I do not need to," he said, and looked Cesare in the eyes. "But, Cesare - if you attempt to touch me again, I will be prepared to do so."
Leonardo flicked his wrist, sending the hidden blade back into its sheath with a click. He smiled. He could see why Ezio liked these things so much. From his workbench, he took a long strip of boiled cloth that he had seen fit to leave there earlier. He looked at Cesare's wound, at the growing patch of blood down his front. "Let me bind that before you lose too much more blood."
Cesare stared at him, too astonished to speak. He seemed shocked that someone should want to refuse him. Leonardo helped the younger man to take off his ruined shirt, then wrapped the cloth bandage tightly to staunch the bleeding.
"The blade is perfectly clean," Leonardo said. "Well, it was, until just then." He chuckled. He was feeling more like himself already. "I doubt the wound will rot, Cesare, but you must follow my directions closely. Unless, of course, you would prefer to explain to your doctor how this happened. How embarrassing that would be!"
He pulled the bandage tight, making Cesare growl in pain.
"Did that hurt, Cesare? My apologies. Since you have stopped by, I might as well take this time to explain to you my conditions of service. It goes without saying that you will, from now on, keep your hands to yourself. But as well, this coming and going to and from my workshop must stop. If you want me to build your war machines, I must work absolutely undisturbed. I will keep my own hours; no-one else's. I eat and sleep when I choose to do so. I will need an assistant - one trained in mathematical calculations and capable of fine work with his hands. Of course, I shall have to choose him myself. And, Cesare, you will stop asking me when your war machines will be ready. They will be ready when I complete them."
He went on, explaining his terms. With Leonardo deftly bandaging his arm, Cesare could do nothing but listen.
***
The next day Leonardo supervised the testing of gunpowder in the construction yard at Monte Circeo. A young labourer, bare-chested with an armload of timber on his shoulder, bumped him.
"Sorry, sir. Did you drop this?" The labourer pressed a scrap of paper into Leonardo's hand and walked quickly away, his lean brown back shining in the sunlight. Leonardo watched him go, then read the paper.
The stairs by the bridge. Midnight. If you do not come to me, I will come to you.
Ezio. He felt a flood of relief - perhaps their friendship was not over. But then again, there was more than one way to interpret the note. What if Ezio meant to take him to task for working for the Borgia?
Well, he would have to find out.
***
Leonardo came early and waited in the dark. He grew increasingly nervous as he waited. What if the note had not been from Ezio at all, but from one of the other Assassins? Someone who thought it better that Leonardo disappeared, instead of working for Cesare?
He saw motion on the wall, and Ezio dropped silently to the stone flags. For a moment, they stared at each other, and Leonardo wondered what Ezio would do.