Matthew nodded. “It seems to me this operation was planned well in advance.”

“Of course. Had to be. Months in advance, I’d say.” Julian yawned and stretched. He took off his tricorn, rubbed his red-rimmed eyes and went about reloading his pistol with ammunition from the saddlebag, a leaden ball in each of the four firing chambers. “They didn’t see this man in Adderlane,” Julian said as he worked, “because he never left the ship. Cardinal Black was the face, but this man was the brain.”

The barkeep brought their coffee, again in clay cups. He took a quick glance at the four-barrelled weapon from Hell and scurried out.

Julian poured a dash of mead into his coffee and Matthew did the same. “We’ll need to hire a coach,” said Julian after he’d taken a drink. “It’s a two-day trip from here, but we’ll pay the driver to keep going other than to change horses. I think we can make it in around thirty-six hours.”

Matthew sipped at his coffee-and-mead, winced at the strength of it but knew he was so bone-weary it wasn’t going to impede getting at least a modicum of sleep. Julian was right, though; with time pressing upon him, sleep was the least of his concerns.

“Professor Fell has great confidence in you,” Julian said as he finished reloading the pistol. He left it on the tabletop next to his sword and scabbard. “He wouldn’t have allowed you to leave the village if he didn’t.”

“I promised I’d find Brazio Valeriani for him. I intend to keep that promise.”

“And that’s exactly why the professor allowed you to be here. He wants that man found. Why, I don’t know, but I do know it’s a matter of vital importance to him.”

Matthew decided to go fishing in dark waters. “Why is Fell so interested in demonology?”

“Is he?”

“If he isn’t, his purchase of every copy of The Lesser Key of Solomon is a waste of his time and money, and I doubt the professor wastes much of either.” Matthew saw that Julian’s face was an expressionless mask, meaning the man knew nothing about this or perhaps too much for his own good. “The Lesser Key of Solomon is a compendium of demons, their descriptions and powers,” Matthew explained. “In case you really don’t know.”

Julian said nothing for a time. He drank again, his hand went out to caress the pistol with loving reverence, and then the cold slate-colored gaze returned to regard Matthew’s face. “That scar on your forehead. How did you come by it?”

“I had a little encounter with a bear.”

“Oh, really? You mean a bear cub did that?”

“No, the bear was big enough.”

“You don’t look the type to go out fighting bears.”

“It was thrust upon me,” Matthew said. “I can tell you that it nearly was my finish.”

“But … you survived.” Julian offered a faint half-smile. “Ah. That’s what Professor Fell sees in you, then: the survival instinct. And the ability, evidently, to squeeze out of tight spots.”