Lackey, Mercedes & Flint, Eric & Freer, Dave - [Heirs of Alexandria 01] (100 page)

"Petro Dorma. But he has no love for the Holy Roman Empire."

Manfred shrugged his surcoat on. "I know him. He's a good enough seeming fellow. Doesn't let his feelings show, even if he does dislike us."

"He doesn't reveal too much at all. I'm certain that he's one of the Council of Ten. He is also a
Signor di Notte
. Since Lord Calenti died, he has been acting as the one in charge of them. He also heads the new militia. He has them under the command of your old friend, Caesare Aldanto."

"Oh. Well. These are for you, by the way." He handed her a bundle of parchment heavy with seals.

"What are they?"

Manfred smiled grimly. "Erik's idea. Signed and sealed warrants for the execution of Bishop Sachs and the Knight-proctors. Erik calls it insurance. And this one is from me. It's a safe conduct to an audience with Charles Fredrik."

Francesca was silent. Then she said in a rather small voice. "I have recently become fully aware of just what deep water I have waded into. You know, I did consider betraying you for a while. Not very seriously, I admit. But..."

"And my prowess as a lover convinced you otherwise?" said Manfred, hopefully.

She kissed him. "No. Well, not much. Two other reasons. The first, of course, being Erik. I am quite unwilling to bring the wrath of that clan down on my head. I'm sure he has cousins and brothers as ferocious as himself."

Manfred nodded. "My cousin had his older brother for a mentor. He says Olaf is half troll. And I think he was only half joking." He cocked his head. "And the other reason?"

Whatever qualms Francesca might have been feeling seemed to disappear instantly. The grin she gave Manfred was not coquettish in the least�just, very cheerful. "I find that I rather enjoy deep waters."

It was his last night in town...

Benito headed towards the old apartment in Cannaregio. Maybe�if she hadn't gone to Kat�if he played his cards right�Maria might take the fact that he was going off to war as a reason to repeat their night together. He found himself desperately hoping she would, and�almost as desperately�telling himself he was solely motivated by a manly search for pleasure.

He was unusually deep in thought, walking down the narrow
calle
. His previous life had been a humble place, but a happy one. The world had been pretty straightforward then. Now... for all that it was much more wealthy and luxurious, life was much more complicated. Take this business with Caesare... he was starting to put things into place that he really didn't like, and didn't want to believe about his hero.

He was at the foot of the narrow stairway when he looked up and saw that the door to the apartment was open. Moonlight made it look like a black pit. Benito raced up the stairs, his mind full of fear. And, as he stepped into the darkness, someone grabbed him. Someone with big meaty hands. "Knew you'd come back, bitch! You killed my cousins!"

Benito stamped down hard�as Caesare had taught him to�and struck back with an elbow with all the strength of his roof-climbing honed muscles. Straight into the pit of the stomach, by the gasp and release.

Benito had realized a while back that he was never going to be as tall as his brother. But lately he'd been getting broader. And the one thing about roof-climbing was that his grip was as strong as one of those Barbary apes.

Which was a good thing, he thought, as he caught his attacker's descending arm. Whoever this was, he was as strong as one of those apes' bigger cousins. Benito snatched at his
main gauche
, cross-drawing it with his free hand. He drew it in a short vicious arc. The heavy pommel hit something, hard. The arm he was trying to hold went limp. He hit the sagging head twice more, with all the force at his disposal. As the body slumped against him, he caught his attacker by the hair, and pounded the base of his skull as hard as he could with the pommel. Then he stepped back and drew his rapier, slipping the
main gauche
into its sheath, and felt for the oil lamp.

It wasn't there. But he knew this place like the back of his hand. There were candles and a striker in the cupboard....

A minute later he was looking at the carnage that had once been their apartment. His heart leapt like a fountain when he did
not
see what he had expected to see: Maria's body.

Then he realized what he
was
seeing. Two dead Matteoni brothers, with a third one�the one who had attacked him, whom he suspected had come on the scene later�slumped against the wall, staring at him with fogged eyes and a swaying head.

Since the Matteoni still alive clearly wasn't going to be moving soon�that was Giovanni, one of the Matteoni brothers' cousins�Benito took the time to examine the two dead ones. Luce and... Stephano, he thought. Luce had half his chest blown away. That was the work of a pistol at close range, and the only person Benito could think of who might have been at the apartment with a pistol was Kat. Whose body wasn't here either. His heart soared still further.

The other body, probably Stephano's, couldn't really be recognized at all. He looked more like a slab of meat in a butcher shop than a man. His shirt was blood-soaked from a stab wound and his head�

Benito averted his eyes, almost gagging. The man's features were completely obscured by drying blood. Brains were sagging out of the horrible head wounds. Someone�and he was pretty sure he knew just exactly what spit-fire woman could have done it, especially after he recognized the cleaver still jammed in the corpse's shoulder�had hacked his skull into shreds.

Matteoni. Caesare's errand boys.

As he finally accepted the truth about his idol, Benito felt a wave of sheer fury wash over him. The rage of a man who has been betrayed as well as wronged. He stalked towards the half-recumbent terror of the dockyards.

"Where is she?" He spoke in a voice that he scarcely recognized as his own. It was very, very cold. A voice which announced, as certainly as the tides:
I will kill you, very slowly, if I don't get answers.

The man looked up at Benito with half-glazed eyes. What he apparently saw was not just a fifteen-year-old boy. Maybe the Ferrara-steel rapier had something to do with it. The Matteoni cowered back against the blood-spattered wall. "They got away. She�they�killed Luce and Stephano. I�I wasn't here. I was watching for Schiopettieri over on the next street. But when I saw her running away with that
Case Vecchie
bitch... I thought she'd come back, sooner or later."

Case Vecchie... who but Kat?

"Who sent you?" Benito demanded. He already knew the answer. But he had to hear it. In his heart of hearts, somewhere, he still hoped to hear it was someone else. But it was a faint hope, almost nonexistent.
How else could they have known where to find Maria?
He'd told Caesare himself, because�he'd thought it honorable and best.

"Aldanto... Caesare Aldanto. Said to make it look like a rape." It was said in a whisper, but it was loud enough to rock the foundations of Benito's whole world.

Three minutes later, with the surviving Matteoni lashed to the bed�and looking very surprised to find himself still alive at all�the place stripped of any weapon and the solid door firmly locked, Benito was jog-trotting in search of a gondola.

Maria's was still moored at the canalside. That was ominous. The gondola was her life.

Again, Benito felt despair seeping back in. And, again, that sudden wave of sheer rage. He had to restrain himself from stalking back into the apartment and cutting Giovanni's throat. But�

He wasn't
quite
up to cold-blooded murder, and there was nothing else to do with the man. He'd considered taking the Matteoni to the Schiopettieri and militia back on the campo. But Caesare had too much influence there. If Benito lived through this mess, then he'd take Giovanni Matteoni to Petro Dorma personally. But first he was going to the
Casa
Montescue to check that Maria was all right. And Kat, of course.

Then he was going to have to deal with Caesare. He hadn't made up his mind how he was going to do it, but it had to be done. It had him in something of a turmoil, but that wasn't going to stop him.

Soon enough, Benito found a gondolier to take him to
Casa
Montescue. He spent the entire trip locked away in the black thoughts in his mind. He was still trying to decide on the best course, when the gondolier cleared his throat, suggesting that now he'd brought the young signor here, payment and alighting would be much appreciated.

"How much?" asked Benito, feeling for his purse.

The gondolier told him.

Benito laughed savagely. "
Va'funculo!
What do you think I am? One of these poncy
Case Vecchie
idiots?"

The gondolier nodded, too dumbfounded to speak.

Benito had to acknowledge the justice of the man's assumption. "Here. That's the right sort of fare. And this," he held out a larger coin, far more than the fellow had asked for, "is for reminding me."

He alighted, and went to knock at the front door of the
Casa
Montescue.

An old man, worry written into his wrinkles greeted him. "
Si?
"

"Benito Valdosta. Here to see Milord Montescue. He must see me. About his daughter."

The old man ushered him in�and led him to a bedroom. Pacing the floor was Lodovico Montescue. His face lit up when he saw Benito.

"Ah! Young Valdosta. I didn't think they would find you so quickly. She seems to me to be getting worse."

He pointed to the bed. Benito was relieved. The woman in the bed wasn't Maria. He recognized the head on the pillow, despite the bandage. He'd seen her before. Not infrequently, visiting Caesare when Maria had been away. There was no mistaking that raven hair, the tiny mole above her mouth. He'd taken some observational sex lessons by peeking in at the window... something he'd never have considered doing with Maria and Caesare.

His mouth fell open. "What is
she
doing here?"

Lodovico sighed heavily. "For my sins, she is my granddaughter-in-law. She has been sleeping with your mentor, Caesare Aldanto."

Benito stuttered... He was trying to say
how did you know?
�but all he got out was "H-h-h-how..."

"She told us," said the old man. "The arrogant creature! She also told me I was a fool who had nurtured a viper in his bosom, choosing to believe my once-best friend's son a murderer, rather than to see the rot right here in my own house."

He took a deep breath. "Boy. I must tell you, I have been very wrong. I have blamed the
Casa
Valdosta for our losses, for our problems. I apologize. Fully. What small things I can do to put the past right I will do."

Benito saw that there were tears in Lodovico's eyes. He got the feeling that tears normally didn't come easily to this fierce old man.

"It's all right, milord. Honestly. Kat�your granddaughter�she's paid us back in spades. Saved my life maybe, and saved Maria's for sure. That's worth more than anything to me. Is... is Maria all right? And Kat, of course."

It was the old man's turn to look dumbfounded. "Yes. But�did they not send
you
here?"

Benito shook his head. "No. I... I thought they'd be here. At least I hoped..."

Worry must have colored his voice. Lodovico took him by the shoulder, gently. "They are fine, boy. They've gone to look for you at Dorma. Your brother as well, to attend to her." He pointed at the shallow-bubbly-breathing woman in the bed. "They've gone with a stout boatman and a pistol apiece."

Benito nodded. Caesare was out, organizing the new militia. Maria should be fine, going to Dorma. "My brother went across to collect his things from the Accademia. They'll be sent on to there. I'll go and see if I can find them."

The old man nodded. "Yes. But, before you go, there is something I must say to you. It makes it harder for me that you have not seen them. But... I must tell you that your mentor Caesare Aldanto..."

"I'm going to kill him," interrupted Benito, without heat, but with a grim certitude. "Or send him to face the headsman's axe."

For the first time since Benito had come in, Lodovico Montescue smiled. It was a grim sight. Grimmer than his worried frown. "Spoken like a true Valdosta! Boy�Benito, I should say, for you are clearly a boy no longer�between us we will crush him like an adder beneath a stout boot heel."

The old man seemed almost gay at the thought. "Montescue and Valdosta, together again! Ha! In the old days, nothing caused greater fear�"

He broke off, coughing a little. The cough seemed a compound of suppressed pride and rueful regret. But when he continued, his voice was calm and even. "I suppose that as we were the heart of the opposition to the Montagnards�and we'd given them good cause to fear our blades�it was inevitable that they should have sent their womanizing charmer to target my house's weakest point. I could forgive that, and the insult to my grandson�but not the deaths that she caused in my house."

He sighed. "And I suppose, given my pride, that it was inevitable that I would suspect everyone else. I just hope she doesn't die before she gives her evidence."

"What's wrong with her, milord?" asked Benito.

Lodovico pulled a wry face. "An old family servant�on hearing Alessandra's 'confession'�went for her with a fruit knife. I wouldn't have thought you could stab someone with a fruit knife, but old Madelena managed. She was like a dervish. Alessandra managed to flee to the stairs, but she was already stabbed in the chest, and the shoulder. She fell down the stairs. She hasn't regained consciousness since. Are you a doctor like your brother? Perhaps you should have a look?"

Benito laughed. "No. Marco is the only one. The healer. Me, I'm nothing much but trouble."

At last a genuine smile came to Lodovico's troubled, wrinkled countenance. "Yes. You sound like me, when I was your age. Then Luciano�your Valdosta grandfather�used to come and get me out of it."

"Well, I seem to spend my time getting Marco out of scrapes," said Benito ruefully. "And sometimes I mess that up too. I'd better get along, milord."