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God.”
    Luke nodded.
    “A fine notion. Thank you, Your Grace.” He picked up her cloak. “Rob will be home soon. It is time you returned to the palace. I understand what you require of me now. Rest assured that I will do my utmost.”
    He bowed and doused the candles. Opening the door, he checked that they were unobserved before allowing Queen Anne out.
    * * *
    Luke spent the next day thinking about strategies, reinforcing his knowledge of those spells he might need in this fight and wishing he could speak to Dufay regarding Custodes Tenebris. That evening he sat with Rob in the snug safety of his kitchen. Their encounter with Asmodeus the previous year had only been successful due to a mixture of the will of God, sheer serendipity, and a little timely help from the Elemagus. He could not hope for that this time. Nobody knew when Dufay would return from France.
    Nimrod could be controlling anyone. Only two things were certain. The dupe would be living inside the palace and the sunderer would be aware of Luke’s elevation to Dominus status. His year of study had taught him much about the enemy. Disasters that ordinary mortals put at God’s door were seldom the work of the divine creator. Ruined harvests, sickness, droughts or floods. Luke caught his breath. Had the sweats been called down by the enemy? It would not surprise him. One more thought struck him. Nimrod must be aware that the elemancer had triumphed over Asmodeus. Could it be that this new menace had been put in place to gain revenge on Luke? He would keep that snippet to himself. The notion of the royal family coming under attack as an opportunity to engage him in battle again would not be well received by either the King or his mother.
    “Rob, we have a mighty fight in front of us. I shall need all your wits and strength to aid me.”
    “Very good, Master.”
    Rob sounded unperturbed. Having bound himself to the apothecary, he would not hesitate to hazard his very soul if asked. Luke grinned at him, his affection and trust for the boy evident. Not one to share confidences, he had found the development of his relationship with Rob awkward at times, but, as the lad consistently proved his worth, Luke had fallen into the way of treating him like a younger brother.
    Under the charm of Rob’s natural impudence, some of Luke’s habitual reserve had abated. He now wore more smiles than frowns, leading some of the wenches in Hampton and the surrounding villages to come more frequently to his shop than to the apothecaries who served their own communities.
    It was Rob’s opinion, frequently voiced, that Luke had grown his fashionable beard in the past year to hide behind, but instead it lent his face a softness that enhanced his attraction to the opposite sex. Luke had been unaware of this, until he had caught Rob shaking his head and smirking like an inane donkey when a maid from Hampton left the shop.
    “What?” he had demanded. “What are you grinning at?”
    “You, Master. Did you not see the disappointment on her face?”
    “Her injury was not on her face. Why would I want to look at it?”
    Rob hooted with laughter.
    “I venture that had you looked into her eyes and smiled, she would have swooned where she stood. You should beware, Master, or you will find yourself at the church gate before you know it. It’s not every man has his own house and business and is a pleasure for maids to look at.”
    Luke had shaken his head, but he paid more attention from that moment and had to admit that his assistant was right. He took to keeping Rob in the shop with him and found that the lad had a pretty line of talk that soon had disheartened wenches smiling again.
    Now that he thought about Rob, he could see that the boy was another weapon in his armory against Nimrod.
    “This is serious,” he said. “It could end in our deaths.”
    “There are a hundred ways we could meet our deaths every day of the week,” Rob replied.
    “You speak truth. I will take all