enissimo was not a man that felt uncomfortable, not even when fighting Demons or meeting with kings. Yet, as the door to the twin-bladed helicopter closed and the Russian taiga fell away, he looked decidedly less like himself and more like a man about to face a firing squad.
That firing squad was Ned, and it was a one-man squad, Ned having asked the others to board one of the other transports and let him and the Ringmaster travel alone. George had looked utterly crestfallen, but Lucy gave Ned a knowing nod and boarded their Chinook in silence. Ned had gone so far as to ask his mouse to travel with Lucy, which the Debussy Mark Twelve was only too happy to do, having not seen her in months. Ned even ordered Gorrn to stay in his shadow and away from earshot.
“Bene, Lucy could have been killed!” Ned shouted.
Benissimo did not speak.
“We all could have been killed.”
The Ringmaster pursed his lips very slightly and thumbed at his top hat.
“Do you ever think about anything except your mission? Anything except your holy crusade against your brother?”
Benissimo stopped thumbing his hat and his moustache visibly sagged. For a minute Ned thought he’d gone too far, when the Ringmaster finally answered. “No.”
“I knew it. You don’t care about—”
“APOLLO’S FLAMING CHARIOT, PUP, WILL YOU LET ME SPEAK?!”
Bene was on his feet, his whip lashing at the seat like an angry snake, and Ned thought he was about to hit him. The man looked heartbroken or crazed, or somewhere in between. His great chest heaved and he exhaled before taking his seat again.
“I don’t care about anything else, Ned, because I do care about you, about Lucy, what’s left of the troupe, about every living thing, man or beast that my brother has harmed or intends to harm. You are and have always been my responsibility. Now, I said I’d explain and I will, but what I am about to tell you remains between us, Ned. Not even Kitty ever heard these words pass from my lips, though I think she had a sense of it.”
Ned quietened down. He’d never heard Benissimo talk like this before. Every word looked pained, as though just forming the letters in his mouth was a torture he couldn’t bear.
“To know why this is so personal, I need to tell you about my brother and I, how we came to be what we are.”
“Bene, I know. I know it’s the Darkening King that cursed you. Barba already told me.”
The Ringmaster raised a hand and Ned stopped.
After a long pause, he finally spoke. “I have always known that the curse came from a Demon, but it wasn’t until Jonny Magik told us about the Darkening King that I suspected. You see, my brother and I are old, Ned … very, very old.”
Ned gulped. “How old?”
“I was born in Venice. The year was 1572.”
“1572!”
Benissimo frowned. “Ned, this is hard enough. At that time the doge ruled the city, but behind him were its wealthy merchants. My father was one of them. The world was in his hands – he had a great estate, ships that sailed across the Mediterranean trade routes carrying silks and glass and coffers filled with gold. But it wasn’t enough.”
Benissimo rubbed at his scalp, as though trying to massage out the words.
“A strange thing happens when a man feels success – he wants to bask in its splendour, to revel in it. My father wanted to do so forever, to count his coins till the end of time. A woman came into his life who told him of a way he could. My father thought she was a wise gypsy. I knew even then she was a witch, and no Farseer like Kitty or Lucy but one embroiled in the dark arts. She told him that life eternal could be granted if he were to make a sacrifice, but only if it were great enough to break his heart.”
“You?” gasped Ned.
“Please, pup! She told him that to live forever he would have to take the life of the thing he loved most … my mother.”
Ned felt the bitter taste of horror in his mouth, but managed this time to hold his tongue.
“He spent weeks labouring over his decision, torn between love and his lust for power and immortality. I found out his intentions and was rushing to stop him, but my brother intervened and we fell to blows. I still carry the scar and he the wounded leg. Barba loved our mother, but like my father thought that power was more important; that, however dear, the price was worth paying. They could not have foreseen how wrong they were – when he took my mother’s life the gift of immortality was granted, but not to my father. The witch had tricked him and the curse of eternal life fell to us instead.”
Ned had never heard anything more ghastly in his life and if it had been any other man he would have reached across and hugged him.
“Bene, I’m so sorry.”
“You still need to know why it’s personal, pup. For a Demon to cross the Veil and walk on the other side takes an act of true wickedness, true evil. It took me time to see what Barba already knew. To make the Darkening King cross would take, and has taken, a dozen lifetimes. The Demon who told me about the Heart Stone told me many things, things that only their kind could possibly know. That witch didn’t understand what she’d set in motion, but somehow the Darkening King had guided her hand and tongue from within its prison in the earth’s core. Barba has walked the world spreading war and murder for hundreds of years – and for hundreds more, I have fought him. Those battles, those lives lost, have fed the beast, enough to enable him to cross over when At-lan fired.”
“Bene, are you saying it was all part of his plan?!”
“One of many, no doubt, but our lifeblood is his own. I know that now. After our battle in Annapurna, I thought my brother was dead, I thought the curse was lifted, but now I understand. It can never be lifted, and as long as we live, so will he.”
Benissimo’s moustache was trembling now and he looked to the floor.
“The Darkening King is my responsibility, just as my brother is. The three of us are linked, our lives and fates intertwined. So in answer to your question: yes, it’s personal, and yes, it’s all I care about – ending our cursed lives so that yours and the rest of the world’s may go on.”