Don't you know how long it's been? Don't even bother. Away with you.

Recap: In Milan, Ezio is haunted by predictions from the Apple of Eden. Pedro and Lauro got themselves into deep poop while snooping in a Spanish smuggler den, where they discovered evidence of killed Assassins, and a mysterious box. Pedro was taken captive while Lauro escaped.

~15~ On the Hunt

"A black box, you say?"

Ezio nodded, sketching said box on a scrap of parchment. Charcoal dusted his fingers.

"Small, no wider than my hand. With markings on every face." He drew them out from memory as best he could. He'd only caught a glimpse of it, from the Apple's vision. Then he slid the parchment closer to Arabelle. The bureau leader picked it up, holding it nearer to the candle.

Lauro's impatience was tangible. Ezio stuffed his own down, kept his façade neutral. Should he panic, Lauro would panic, and they would both do something rash. If Pedro was alive, he would be alive for sometime yet. If he was dead, then there was nothing they could do anyway.

The time the leader of the Milanese Brotherhood spent studying the drawing confirmed Ezio's hunch – she knew exactly what it was, but was silenced by disbelief.

"You saw this where, again?" she asked.

Ezio looked to Lauro, who cleared his throat.

"In a cellar, mentor. With a hoard of other valuables. It was in a chest filled with...the robes of killed Assassins."

Arabelle's face darkened. "How many?"

"I don't know. Four, maybe five. I was looking through it all when I found the box, and then the smugglers came. Pedro..." He swallowed. "Pedro and I hid, but we were discovered and fled under the cover of smoke. They must have got him just before we reached the stairs."

"And what happened to the box?"

A muscle in Lauro's jaw jumped, as though he took offence she didn't inquire more about Pedro's fate. "Left there."

"I see." She studied the drawing again, then turned to Ezio. "I know this. It had been under my care once. It was stolen three years ago, and no trace of it has been heard or seen since."

Ezio pointed to the markings. "These are Precursor characters. I'm sure you know what I mean about that."

She nodded. "A bit. You are likely the one with the deepest knowledge in the Brotherhood, if not all of Italy. I have also heard of this Apple of Eden. It gives visions, and can harness a man's will to its bearer, am I correct?"

He didn't answer that. "What is in the box?"

"I don't know."

"...You never opened it?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Don't you think I tried? There was a seam, and hinges, but no matter how hard we tried, we could not open it. We even considered blasting it with a cannon at one point. At least there would have been nothing left to protect."

"I bet I could find a way to open it," said Ezio, finger and thumb on his chin. The Apple felt warm against his side.

"You will have to get it back first."

"What about Pedro?" Lauro blurted.

"Where the box is, Pedro will surely be." Ezio turned back to Arabelle. "I'll need your best scout. Someone who knows the land."

"If you wish, I can muster ten—"

"No. A dart is harder to spot than a spear."

She nodded. "Make yourself ready. I'll send Dante to meet you at the cellar. Oh, and Ezio. Don't let him rile you too much. He has not seen much excitement lately, and needs to let off a bit of energy."

"I asked for a man, not a hound."

"Well this man is a hound. You need him. You'll see."

Lauro didn't like him the moment he laid eyes on him. Arabelle called him a hound, but Dante looked more like a rat, with a long nose and narrow eyes, and one of his canines had split in half, leaving a sharp point. But it wasn't his appearance that rubbed Lauro the wrong way. It was how he treated Ezio, and ignored Lauro altogether.

"Just follow my lead, and don't touch anything," was all Dante said when he joined the two Roman Assassins in the alleyway, at the door to the smuggler's hoard. He didn't even give the grand master the gesture of respect – a clasped right fist over the heart. That would have been acceptable if he wasn't of the brotherhood. This blatant disregard was outrageous.

It was possible he didn't know who he was working with. Still, Lauro wanted to smack him upside the head.

"Lead on," was all Ezio said.

What sounded dangerously close to a snort of derision went unpunished as Dante turned to the door. It was locked. A lock pick slipped out of his sleeve and he got to work.

Something wasn't sitting right with Lauro. He looked up and down the alleyway. Why wasn't this door guarded anymore? And what was that smell?

"Ha! Twenty seconds. Top that," Dante crowed, reaching for the latch.

"Wait." Ezio had to grab the rat's arm, clearly not trusting him to obey. He sniffed. "What is that?"

"I smell it too," Lauro said, before Dante had a chance. "It's like...rotten eggs. Mentor, I don't think we should go down there."

"Afraid of the dark?" Dante sneered.

"He's right," said Ezio. "Those men know Lauro saw their hoard. They would have taken what they could and fled. No doubt they left a little surprise for the next person who went down there."

"That's ridiculous—" Dante blenched, pinned by one of Ezio's stares. Lauro had difficulty remaining impassive as the grand master reminded the rat who was really in charge here.

"There will be another way underground," Ezio said softly. "Many cities have tunnels. You will show us, and we'll pick up the trail from there." He released Dante's arm, and the man nodded, scaling up the nearest building and leading the others on a path only he could see.

Dots speckled a velvety cobalt sky as the trio climbed down into a private courtyard. The gardens were dead, vines remaining the only greenery, climbing up the walls and obscuring windows. The Assassins' robes were blue in the gloom.

"Here." Dante knelt, pushing aside dead shrubbery to expose a manhole cover. With Lauro's help he heaved it away, and descended a ladder into semi-darkness. There was no need to light torches, for some were already there. It was one long stretch of hallway, lined with brick. Milan was an ancient city; this was a siege tunnel.

"Which way?" Lauro whispered.

Dante turned right. South. Lauro opened his mouth to demand he explain his choice but Ezio clapped a hand on his shoulder. He clicked his jaw shut and assigned himself the rearguard, staying several steps behind in order to better hear anyone coming up behind them. He noted the doors and tunnels they passed, keeping a tally in his head.

The passage turned once, otherwise remaining straight as an arrow. The torches were thirty feet apart, and even though he watched Dante and Ezio stride through the dark stretches unflinchingly, Lauro felt like he was going to trip or fall into a hole.

"We're going too far."

"Shh!" Dante hissed.

Lauro scowled, trotting until he was right beside Ezio. He grabbed the next torch he came to and knelt. The dust was undisturbed except for three sets of prints.

"Mentor, look. See? The only tracks here are ours."

"That's because no one came that way."

Lauro looked up. Dante was standing at a junction, arms crossed, lips tugged up. His robes were too clean, Lauro decided. Like he spent more time washing and polishing than he did running around helping people. Behind him was a door. Possibly the one the smugglers used to get into the cellar. Dante pointed to the floor.

"Almost no dirt down that way. I'd say there was a lot of heavy traffic down here, wouldn't you?"

Lauro scowled, face hot. It even stank like sewage, the same smell he caught in the cellar before. He straightened and didn't meet Ezio's eye. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

"You have a lot to learn, pup," said Dante as the pair joined him. He said it too cheerfully, as if he were more than happy to point out the other man's mistake in front of the grand master. "Just keep watching me, you'll catch on."

Lauro thought it best to remain silent. Ezio said he was one of the best trackers in the Roman brotherhood... Well, Pedro said, that Mariella said, that Ezio said that Lauro was the best tracker. Or maybe it was second best.

He lowered his head and walked on.

Just don't do anything foolish again.

"Are we sure this is them?" he whispered to Ezio. "There could be more than one smuggler gang, more than one hoard."

"It's them," Ezio hissed back. "I can smell Pedro."

"He's alive?"

"Yes."

A thousand pounds lifted from Lauro's shoulders. Ezio's gift was surely God's blessing. Or it would have been, had He been real.

"Are you two fondling each other back there? Keep up!"

Lauro leered at Dante's back, a growl in his throat. He blinked when Ezio chuckled at him.

The siege tunnel brought them well beyond Milan's boundaries, to a ravine crowned with pine. Here, no efforts were made by the smugglers to cover their tracks. Either haste or overconfidence had betrayed them.

"We won't catch up to them on foot," said Lauro, looking down at the hoof prints. "They already have hours on us."

"I've arranged for that." Ezio turned to Dante. "I want you to go to the nearest hamlet and light the signal beacon. Flash it three times towards Milan. Four horses will be brought to you there from the city. Return here and follow us."

"And what will you be doing?" said Dante petulantly.

Ezio's eyes narrowed. "Following the tracks."

"I know the land, where they might go. Why doesn't he fetch the horses?"

This time Ezio didn't indulge him with an answer. He just stared at him until he bobbed his head and scurried off.

"I'll bet I'd be faster at it than him," Lauro muttered.

"Like he said, he knows the land. He'll know where the nearest hamlet is and the best route to get there. Now. Shall we?"

The Assassins were ghosts of the city. Neither skill nor robes blended with the forest and they took a big risk running along the trail, one on either side to make sure no rider had deviated from the path. If the Templars had left anyone behind, they could easily ride to sound the alarm. But Ezio worked his special sense overtime, even though it made his head pound, and he saw no one but the warm glow of Lauro running nearby.

The trees ended. The fat moon illuminated miles of farmland, the road splitting it in half. Ezio slowed to a stop, Lauro following suit.

"We should wait for Dante here."

Lauro nodded, and they both set to pacing, keeping vigilant while giving their bodies a rest. It was to Ezio's chagrin that his companion recovered much quicker, not having been breathing as hard by the time they stopped.

"...Mentor...why haven't you yelled at me yet?"

Ezio turned to him. With his hood up, it was impossible to see his face. But then, Ezio had the same advantage. He leaned against a tree and crossed his arms.

"Because you know where you went wrong."

Lauro kicked a rock, head low. "We didn't expect... We thought we could—"

"Thinking you could do something and knowing you could do something are two different things, brother."

The young man bowed his head even lower.

"But then, the only way of knowing is by thinking you can and trying it."

A pause. He looked up.

"There are some things you cannot control," said Ezio. "The smugglers' arrival, for one. True, you must be ready for everything at every moment, but you kept your wits and made it out alive."

"But I'm the one who insisted we investigate alone. And now Pedro..." Hurt toned his words. "I let him down."

"Did you abandon him?"

"No!"

"Did you get him caught?"

"No, mentor! I—"

"Any child can make mistakes," said Ezio, pushing off from the tree, uncrossing his arms. "It takes a man to set things right."

Lauro fell silent. An owl hooted nearby. Then, the soft thuds of hooves, moving at a trot.

"Take cover." Ezio melted into the trees on one side of the road and Lauro the other. They flattened themselves to the ground and stilled.

Dante came riding around the bend, leading the three horses belonging to the southern Assassins, who stood and stepped back onto the road. Lauro reached for Nipper's reins, and Dante scowled at him.

"Your horse bit me!" he exclaimed, throwing the reins of the buckskin at Lauro. The disciple smiled, patting Nipper fondly on the neck.

"Yes, he's very good at that." He accepted Fool, Pedro's horse, as well, and stepped away.

Ezio took the reins of Achilles, keeping his head away as the old bay tried to nuzzle him in greeting.

None of that now. We're on the job.

"Well? Any sign of them?" asked Dante.

"No. And I doubt they would have made camp in the middle of all this open ground." Ezio nodded to the dark masses beyond the croplands. "They would have pushed for those hills before nightfall."

"I don't like this," said Lauro. He looked west, then pointed. "The forest curves towards those hills. We can use it as cover—"

"That adds miles to the journey," Dante snapped. "We can't go galloping through the forest, full moon or no. I say we go straight through."

"If they see us, they'll kill Pedro," Lauro shot back.

"Your shag-boy is not our priority. Arabelle told me it's some box—"

"Lauro." Ezio could sense the anger rising in the small man. But just saying his name made him relax his fists. Ezio turned to Dante.

"Pedro is our brother. We will not endanger his life just to spare ourselves a bit of travel. We go around."

Dante bowed mockingly in the saddle, but Ezio was already turning away. He was going to have to find a way to earn the man's respect; taking it would be false, hollow, and fragile. Without his respect, he wouldn't have Dante's trust. And without trust, failure was assured.

The trio rode within the treeline, moving quick enough to dissuade mosquitoes without endangering the horses. And gradually, their course veered north, towards the darkened hills. To their right was a farmhouse, a mile away. A single window was lit.

Ezio yawned, then tucked his chin into his collar. It must be warm in that farmhouse.

It seemed ages before they reached the hills, but the celestial Pegasus had barely flown the length of his wingspan when Ezio smelled wood smoke. Saying nothing, he signalled to his companions.

Split. Scout.

They separated soundlessly, soon vanishing into the dark. He could watch their progress with his Vision, but it made his eyes flare with pain and his head pound. Gasping, he let it go.

You can do this without relying on your ability, he scolded himself. You swore not to rely on it. Now get moving, old man.

Since his companions split to flank the camp, he rode forward, through the winding dell, towards his target. Only once a glow breached the gloom did he dismount and lead Achilles to a clump of shrubbery where there was plenty of grass to keep him distracted. He didn't tie him in case he needed to summon him with a whistle. Not that that was an entirely reliable fallback.

He held the stallion's face.

"Stay."

The animal shook his mane, eager to set munching at the grass. Ezio left him to it, ghosting between the trees like a wraith. The camp would be at the bottom of the dell, so he would climb above it and survey his quarry.

Slipping past the sentries was child's play. They were sleepy and bored, which meant they were soon to be relieved. He would keep that in mind for when it came time to retreat and regroup with his brothers.

As for the camp, anyone still awake would be fire blind. The flames were low but hopefully their crackling would be enough to mask Ezio's footfalls; as a ghost of the city, he was no wolf of the forest. He couldn't blend with bushes as he could with crowds, or climb trees as he could buildings. This was alien terrain. A prime challenge.

The trick is keeping still, the Fox once told him. Even when you think you've been spotted.

Ezio looked up. The moon was only seen in speckles between the boughs. It would not be enough to illuminate his white robes so long as he remained out of the larger patches of moonlight. There was the glint of his armour and weapons to consider as well.

Gods, I am not prepared for this.

But he could not back down now. He could only pray his companions were noting the pitfalls as well and were doing what they could to avoid them.

The Templars had found a poor place to camp. Slopes to the north and south might block firelight, but an ambush could easily charge down and divide the company, who would be forced to fight uphill or split east and west. Perhaps they were confident. Perhaps they had pushed for too long and were forced to camp here. Perhaps they were baiting the Assassins.

I can't afford a frontal assault. Which means I can't alert them at all. But how to free a man and find the black box without doing just that?

First, he had to figure out where his two objectives were. He had been moving diagonally up the hill until he was fifty feet above the camp, and he stopped at a rocky outcrop, lowering himself to his belly and creeping forward until he could survey the camp better.

Pulsing red patches of embers licked the air with yellow tongues. A few restless spirits huddled around them, speaking in low tones if at all. Lumps scattered about indicated the sleepers, and there were a couple tents for officers. Wagons surrounded the camp like walls, teams of horses picketed nearby. Ezio could hear their tails swishing, their chests rumbling.

Pedro was easy to spot. Tied between two trees, head bowed and motionless, he was exposed to the elements. Armed sentries stood around him like statues. Ezio was relieved; they wouldn't guard a dead man.

As for the precursor box, it would likely be in the leader's tent, made obvious by its larger size and private fire. Ezio spotted it against the hill opposite from his position. The rock wall, bathed in moonlight, would prevent him from sneaking up on it from behind. It was too exposed.

Although he loathed to do it, he took a deep breath and summoned his talent once more. His vision darkened, even the fires, only able to see the auras of the living bodies huddled in the dell. Most glowed a hostile red. Pedro did not. Neither did Lauro, who was a few hundred feet away, on the opposite slope. But where was Dante?

A flare of pain made him recoil, jerking his head to the side as though a bright light had suddenly shone before his eyes. His vision returned to normal even though his skull throbbed. Blood trickled from his nose.

He'd used his ability too much on the road. And now he was overextending its range. It was like a muscle. Working it was healthy, straining it was not. He smeared the blood away and crept towards the edge of the outcrop again, mapping the camp layout, counting the sleeping lumps and standing sentries. Then he retreated, first to his horse and then to where he and his companions had split up.

Ten minutes brought Lauro's return. They shared findings as they waited for Dante. Waited. And waited.

"If he was caught, we would have heard something," Lauro muttered.

"Indeed."

"...Did you see him with your Vision?"

"No. I saw you, but no sign of Dante. But I could only use it for a couple seconds." The blood had dried and caked inside his nostrils. He resisted the urge to rub it away. "I'm a little tired."

Lauro looked around. The crickets were loud. "I don't think I could track him. In the day, yes, but right now..."

"We cannot wait much longer. Dawn is in a few hours. Let's hide the horses and try to follow Dante's path."

Lauro tried, but without a torch, their progress was slow. So Ezio used his own skills despite his headache, following the scent of Dante's horse rather than the man himself. Not only was the horse's smell stronger, it was also preferable to Dante's odour.

"The Silver Hound," Lauro whispered.

"What?"

"That's what they should call you."

Ezio stared at him. He wouldn't be able to see his mentor's face beneath the hood, which made it all the better. Lauro squirmed and turned away. He wouldn't go spreading that title around.

They found Dante's horse, picketed in a dell running parallel with the one nestling the Templar's camp. It seemed a little too close for comfort.

"Dante," Lauro hissed once. That was all he risked.

Using scent alone wasn't as stressful as using every sense, so Ezio pressed on, locating Dante's trail and setting off.

"He'd piss himself if he knew what you could do," said Lauro softly.

"Perhaps. But he won't because he won't ever know."

"Understood."

"Still." He stiffened, Lauro falling silent nearby. Steps as light as a deer's came towards them. Movement. A flash of blue, a glint of steel.

"Dante."

The figure froze, then scurried towards them. Even when moving quickly, Dante was as quiet as a rat.

"Where have you been?" Lauro demanded hoarsely.

"Scouting the way ahead. I think I know where they're heading, or at least, the path they'll be taking."

"Not here," the grand master hissed. The trio retraced their steps, collected their horses and found a thicket to hunker down in.

"So, as I said, I think I know which route they're going to take," said Dante.

"Don't care where they're going," Lauro grumbled. "They're here now."

"And what do you propose we do? Saunter into the middle of their camp and ask for your handsome prince to be returned to you?" Dante scoffed, turning away from Lauro dismissively. "There's a river about ten miles east of here, with a bridge."

"What makes you so sure they're going to follow the main road when they're smuggling stolen goods?" Lauro snarled.

"Peace, Lauro," said Ezio. He turned back to their rat-faced guide. "He is right, though. How large is this bridge?"

Dante was glaring daggers at Lauro, but at the grand master's cleared throat, turned back to him. "Not huge. But their wagons should fit across."

"All four of them?"

Dante frowned, uncomprehending, and Lauro was more than happy to elaborate, with a hint of the man's own disdain.

"Is it long enough for all four wagons to fit on at once?"

Another scowl from the guide. "Yes. But that doesn't help if we're going to destroy the bridge."

"And deter them from crossing it? What a stupid plan."

"You have a better one, you little pisspot?"

Ezio sighed. "Quiet, you two—"

"Yes. Not destroying a bridge which, by the way, would have taken a long time for someone to make—"

"Gentlemen—"

"Who cares about that? Peasants are used to doing things over and over again—"

"Because of dunderheads like you who think you can go around smashing and destroying everything that can be destroyed—"

"You stupid, ignorant—"

"Enough!" Ezio snapped. The headache had barely begun to subside, and his disciples' argument was setting his teeth on edge. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes to see Lauro looking down and Dante with his chin jutted forwards.

"I have a plan. And I'll need both of you to work together to do it. Can you manage that?" he said in a tone that suggested that declination would be met with the back of his hand.

Lauro looked up, steely eyed, and nodded. Dante did as well, lip barely curled.

"Good. Now listen closely..."