Lackey, Mercedes & Flint, Eric & Freer, Dave - [Heirs of Alexandria 01] (91 page)

"It'll be better once the baby's here," he told Petro earnestly. And then felt a lurch in his stomach, himself.

Lord and Saints. Me and Angelina, married, even if it's only in name. When I want�now�

What he wanted would not satisfy anything or anyone but himself. What he wanted was time�to turn time back. Time for himself, and Kat.

Benito had told him he'd seen her. Marco knew now that she'd written that letter believing that... well, he could understand how she must have felt.

Lord, Kat. If I'd had any choice�

But he hadn't had a choice. And now it was too late. He couldn't back out of this, not now. Not ever.

He still wanted to see her. Talk to her. But Benito had said that while she understood... she didn't want to see him. Not now. Not ever. A clean break was best. He could understand and respect that. Chains of family and honor...

"I can't say I blame you for staying roommates with that friend of yours over at the Accademia," Petro continued, looking up with a wry twist to his mouth. "There are times lately when I wish I could move out of Venice entirely. By the way, those herbs you brought do seem to be helping Mother."

It was an oblique sort of "thank you," but neither of them particularly wanted to openly allude to Rosanna's addiction to black lotos�and that the only thing that could help the addiction was the substitution of the less potent blue lotos. Hopefully, the addict could slowly be weaned off that.

"I'm glad Doctor Rigannio was willing to trust me," Marco replied.

Petro smiled faintly. "He
was
rather dubious at first, but you've convinced him that you know what you're talking about. In fact, he's invented an 'old herb-doctor' to account for the things you brought him, and he's been leaking the information over to the Accademia since the remedy seems effective."

"I'm glad to hear it. That�stuff�it's still a problem," Marco said soberly. "Nothing seems to keep people away from it, once they start. You'd think people'd have learned by now." He shrugged. Petro shook his head.

"People never seem to learn�"

By his face, unguarded for a moment, Marco could read the unspoken words�

Not even Mother.

Petro Dorma sighed. "But we've still got to try to help them." He stood up and went to a nearby window, looking out over the Bacino San Marco. Instead of the usual forest of masts it stood near-empty.

Marco knew a dismissal when he saw one; he stood likewise, edged past Petro to the door, made the right noises, and took his leave.

The justices thanked him for rendering medical assistance to the injured, and dismissed him. It still left Marco shaking inside. Did they realize that he was the child of Lorendana Valdosta, who had planned to give their Venice to Milan? The world changed with one's perspectives. He'd spent years dreading that court... those justices...

And now it was "thank you, Signor Valdosta." Dorma's influence was not small, and the Valdosta name itself seemed to be a good and popular one. Well, except with Filippo Recchia. And that woman at the soiree at Gian Cecchi's palazzo. Signora Katerina Montescue, who had turned away rather than be introduced. Snooty. Even the Brunellis were more friendly. Lucrezia to the extent that he avoided her. What did the most courted and supposedly most beautiful woman in Venice find attractive about him? Or did she pursue all men like this? Maybe the stories weren't exaggerated!

He and Rafael walked back to their rooms, in companionable silence.

Two bedrooms and a sitting room. And even if it isn't Dorma, it's a world away from anything I've ever had before. Yeah, and I'm earning my way. So, tonight I will be nice to Angelina. Still, Benito and I keep paying the rent for that little pit over in Cannaregio. We need some place nobody knows about. And these days, with the allowance we get, we can afford it.

He felt guilty about the money. Benito had paid last month. What spare he had, he'd actually spent on food that he'd given to Tonio for some of the children. The trade was thin. And canal-people were getting thinner. The kids were the first to suffer.

Trade was thin. Maria felt her ribs. So was she. Nothing coming downriver. A trickle of expensive food coming in from Fruili. Nothing but some local fish coming in from the sea. There was just no work available. She rowed along slowly. Other boatmen were sitting idle too. She might as well go home. At least it would be cool.

She pondered over relationships in general, and hers in particular. Lately all she and Caesare seemed to do was fight. It had been different back when they had first gotten together. Even once he'd established a relationship with his protector, Ricardo Brunelli, he been gentle... caring. For a while.

Yes. In those early days, he'd been quite different. Back when they'd been arranging the smuggling chambers he'd been a darling. She sighed. They'd yet to see a profit from that. Her cousins had painstakingly cut the chambers in the keels, had put up the secret
Colleganza
that paid for the cargo... And not one of those galleys had come back. The Garavelli clan were the poorer for it, and...

Well, nobody actually
said
it was her fault.

She sighed again. Most of their conflict came down to money, really. Well�except their quarrels about Kat. Caesare seemed to have a real animus against Kat. He'd told Maria to stay away from her, that she was a
Case Vecchie
bitch. How had he known she was
Case Vecchie
? She hadn't mentioned it.

"How's trade?" Tonio had come up alongside while she was in her brown study.

"Slow, Tonio," she said. "We need to take some kind of action, but the Doge is just sitting on things."

"He can afford to. We can't. I got some more sick kids for young Marco. Fancy him turning out to be a Valdosta. A good
Casa
that, in his grandpa's day."

"He's still seeing kids... Why am I telling you this? You know."

Tonio shrugged. "
Si.
I'll go there this evening. But likely enough he'll say 'they need more food.' And that's what I want to talk about, Maria Garavelli. He's the only
Case Vecchie
we know to talk to. You know him special-well. He's tied in with Dorma. They're a good house; look after their people�and Petro Dorma was the only one who stood up to the Dandelos. Dorma's got influence now, lots of it. You tell him the
popli minuta
want the Doge to stop playing with his toys and sitting on his ass. Boats are only going as far as Ferrara..."

Maria snorted. "You're behind the times, Tonio. Ferrara is being attacked by condottieri from Bologna and Milan. Nothing's going up the Po at all."

"
Merda.
" Tonio spat into the canal. "Why don't we at least go to the help of the Old Fox? The Duke Dell'este was a good friend to Venice, back before we argued about the salt pans. What's a few salt pans? We need trade."

Maria laughed wryly. "We need you on the Council of Ten, Tonio."

The lean Tonio acknowledged a hit. "Yeah. Well. You tell Marco, huh. His grandfather. He should listen."

Maria pushed off. "You tell him, Tonio. You'll see him before me."

Tonio looked uncomfortable. "
Si
. But he's got respect for you, see. You and that fancy man of yours. Tell him."

Maria sighed. "I'll tell him, Tonio. But I don't think there is much he can do."

She rowed on up the canal, heading home. She'd tell Marco when she next saw him. She'd promised, and a canaler's word was always good. But she'd also tell Benito. He came to see her more often.

She smiled for a moment, thinking of Benito. He was quite a boy, although she wouldn't tell him that. Effective. Not like Marco, who might be a saint, but would still be seeing good in people while they slit his throat.

The canal by the water-door was limpid, with not even a ripple around the floating bits of garbage. She tied up quietly. Maybe Caesare would be home and they could spend the afternoon in lovemaking... like they used to do. The idea was attractive. Distracting.

She went in quietly.

And it rapidly became apparent that an afternoon's lovemaking had been on someone else's mind too. The panting and begging said they'd been at it for a while.

Her mind in a furious turmoil, Maria went up the stairs three at a time. Threw the door open. She'd... timed her entry well. Caesare was so preoccupied in thrusting up into his kneeling mount that he didn't even realize Maria was there for a moment.

Maria took in the white body, slightly pendulous breasts, the long elegant neck and perfect face complete with tiny mole above her mouth. The face was flushed and prim mouth wide. It was a double shock. The last time Maria had seen her, she, Maria, had had one of the woman's Spanish combs in her hair. Seeing Kat's sister-in-law here...

Maria�having got this far�suddenly realized she didn't know quite what to do next.

She picked up the ewer and flung it at them, as one might at a pair of dogs.

The water had the same effect.

"My hair!" shrieked Alessandra.

Caesare abruptly parted from her, grabbed for his rapier. "Maria! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember? Or maybe you forget. Like your promise that you were faithful to me? That you loved me?"

The woman, now with a sheet around herself, snapped. "Get out, you little dockside
puttana
! He's
my
lover. He's been mine for years! Long before he met
you
."

"Get out, Maria. We can deal with this later." Caesare's voice was dangerously even.

Maria's reply was not. "For you and me, there
is
no later, Caesare Aldanto! We're finished. Finished, you hear me?
FINISHED!
"

Caesare advanced on her. Stark naked except for his sword. "Get out. Get out now."

"Or what!? Or you're going to kill me?" She snarled back. Right now she didn't care.

She'd forgotten how fast and strong he was. He grabbed her arm and spun her round and pulled it up behind her back, his sword arm around her throat. He hauled her painfully, half off her feet, down the stairs, ignoring her struggles and screams. "
Shut up, you bitch
. Or I'll give you something to scream about." He took two fingers off the sword hilt and put them around the chain around her neck. With a sharp, flesh-tearing jerk he snapped it, tinkling the keys to the apartment onto the steps. He pushed her past the steps, thrusting her into the barred gate. He picked up the water-door key.

"You're going to get out of that door, now. And stay out," he said grimly. "Love
you
? A canal girl? I never did, but you were very useful. Now you're not. Get out, stay out and keep quiet. I'm warning you. I never do that twice."

Maria felt something break inside her. A tiny voice that seemed to belong to someone else said, "Unlock the door then."

And as she stepped out into the summer brightness of Venice, she heard Alessandra's mocking laughter echoing down the stairs that used to be hers.

Benito was sick of it. His "transfer" to the
Case Vecchie
world was going to drive him mad. It was all very well for Marco, learning things he was interested in. So far he hadn't even seen a Dorma cousin he was interested in getting into the pants of, let alone spend time in endless social chitchat with. Dorma was treating him like a child.

For crying out loud. He was fifteen now! A mere year and a half younger than Marco�who was already married! On the canals or even on the ships, at sixteen you did a man's work. Only among the soft
Case Vecchie
did they give you another five years to grow up. Yeah sure, the house was at sixes-and-sevens with Angelina showing signs of being ready to pop.

He would take off again tonight. Seeing Maria always cheered him up. In the months since he moved in here, he'd been back to visit more frequently than Marco had.

So he would be absent without leave again tonight from the soiree. They couldn't sing anyway, compared to Valentina and Claudia. He'd slip off to Barducci's instead.

Kat listened to the singing coming out of Barducci's. The place was less crowded than usual. Times were hard in Venice... although right now the
Casa
Montescue were having a run of unprecedented luck. The coaster they used for transfers of gray merchandise coming in from the east hadn't had any cargos of stuff out of Ascalon for a while. But its every-second-day run to Trieste was turning in a real profit, for the first time ever. And the little caique was one of the few ships they still owned outright. Covertly, it was true. And Captain Della Tomasso was as crooked as a dog's hind leg and ran various dubious operations. But right now his legal cargoes, which belonged to the Montescue and were just supposed to break even, were making a small fortune.

For the first time in nearly two months, the caique
Margerita
had met a galliot that had made it through the blockade. Kat had a parcel from Ascalon to collect. Delivery to run. She had it easier than the galliot captain, however. He would turn in a fat profit, true�but he was also having to face an interview with the Council of Ten tonight... and the address to the Grand Council tomorrow. All Venice wanted to know what was happening. It was a hard summer for trade for most people.

Captain Della Tomasso had news that he couldn't pass on to most folk. And for once he was dying to talk. "The Dalmatian pirates, a fleet from Ancona, and Genoan fleet are in the gulf. No sign of the galleys from the Golden Horn or the western fleet."

Three years ago, Papa had parted with the western fleet at Bruges. Even hearing it mentioned brought a pang to Kat. "The city's not safe at night. Keep your crew aboard if you can. There was another magical murder yesterday and the factions are blaming each other. There'll be knife-fights tonight."

Della Tomasso was a bad man, who ran a smelly evil-crewed little ship. Kat met him on dark nights off Guidecca. He never showed the slightest concern for anything except money. She realized he was tense too, with the first inquiry he'd ever made�in two years of collections. "You going to be all right, Kat?"