Spira Mirabilis (10 page)

These collaborators, the traitor towers, were the Tartaruchi’s first target, but tonight’s mission was not one of revenge but rescue: the Strozzi family had been proscribed not for any crime, but simply because they were rich.

‘Uggeri’s not back?’

‘Not yet, Reverend Mother,’ said Sister Carmella coldly. ‘We ought to be out there with him.’ The Sisterhood visited the
sottosuolo
often; they were cooks and nurses as well as company for tired and dirty tunnellers.

‘Uggeri doesn’t want you,’ said Pedro. After the Night of Black Towers, the baptistery and its orphanage – by mutual consent of the warring parties – had been left untouched: better to keep the nuns ostensibly neutral and in reserve, in case things got really bad. On that much at least, Pedro and Uggeri agreed.

‘Oh, doesn’t he? Where is he, then?’

‘I’m here.’ Uggeri and his bandieratori looked as bedraggled as the family they shepherded into the cavern.

‘You’re wounded,’ said Carmella, leaping up.

‘It’s nothing. See to Alfredo’s leg. They got him good.’

‘Where are the others?’ said Pedro. Two dozen men had left; barely a score had returned.

‘Where do you think?’ Uggeri growled.

Uggeri always placed himself on the dangerous edge of every mission so he was fighting for his life night after night, as if daring Death to do his worst. More often than not, it was Sister Carmella who bandaged his wounds and listened to his complaints about Pedro’s timidity. She had grown up in the tower next to Hog Galati’s rundown pile, and as Hog habitually left his family hungry while he lost at cards, Carmella had often been
sent across to offer a meal to his two boys. Hog and his eldest son had died in the uprising, leaving Uggeri an orphan – that was another thing they had in common.

‘Don’t act like a hero, Uggeri,’ said Isabella. ‘You went looking for a fight and because of that, four men are dead.’

‘He’s bleeding and you’re blaming him?’ said Carmella incredulously. ‘At least he’s doing something besides praying.’

‘Stay out of this, Carmella,’ said Uggeri, staring hard at Isabella. ‘Listen here, little Sister, we’ve all been waiting for months for a miracle from Maestro Vanzetti, but he’s been too busy visiting cities he obviously deems better bets. Until he comes up with something we have to fight, and that means flags will tear.’

‘I’m not going to take responsibility if you can’t control yourself,’ shouted Pedro.

By the time the shouting died down, Carmella had stormed off and the three Strozzi children were crying. Uggeri was unapologetic, but Carmella soon regretted her angry words and came back to apologise to Isabella. She couldn’t find her anywhere.

*

Geta burst into the chamber. ‘
Amore
?’

The room was empty and he was more than a little drunk. ‘Ah, you want me to look for you?’ He left the two glasses and bottle on the table and looked behind the door, then into a wardrobe, then behind the dressing screen. Then he sat down. He could see several other possibilities, but his enthusiasm for the game was gone.

He poured himself some wine and announced, ‘I surrender.’

He raised the glass to his lips then slowly –
slowly
– placed it back down and repeated, ‘I said I surrender.’ The cold edge of the blade touched his skin, soft as a breeze. ‘Maddalena warned me to expect a social call at some point. Sister Isabella, isn’t it? No need to ask how you got in; I’ve heard what a preternaturally wonderful water-stylist you are. The Apprentices call it an art, but
I call it unfair. I can’t abide unfairness. That’s why I made certain we’d be on a fair footing when we met. Despite appearances, I have a knife to your neck too. He’s a loyal fellow, is Sempronio – not too bright, but good with a blade – and his sole duty is to burn the orphanage should I get what’s coming to me.’

The hand that held the knife trembled.

‘If you’re quick you might save one or two – are you prepared to sacrifice the rest? It’s a nasty way to die, is fire. Maddalena told me how you lost your family.’ Geta felt the knife removed. ‘I was so very sorry to hear it.’

Isabella whispered, ‘I didn’t “lose” them. They were assassinated.’

‘Dead’s dead. By the time I finish my drink. I hope sincerely – not for my sake, you understand, but for those little dears – to find myself alone. I trust you understand me?’

There was no answer. Geta swallowed the wine in one gulp then turned, pulling his sword free. The window was empty, but for a flag flapping above it. ‘Yes, I think you do.’

The door opened suddenly and Geta swung round, his sword knocking the glass he’d just emptied onto the floor.

‘I heard voices,’ said Maddalena. She entered and carefully circled the broken glass.

Geta sheathed his sword and sat back down. He reached for the second glass and filled it. ‘Don’t worry,
amore
. There’re no whores hiding under my bed. I had a visitor, but she was a little too young, even for me.’

‘I told you she’d come.’

‘And I told her I had an arsonist on call – the dear child actually believed me. You certainly know the weaknesses of your
paesani
.’

‘And my podesta’s.’ She kissed his neck and slid her hand down his shirt to tangle her fingers in his chest hair.

Geta returned her caresses, and his hand slid from her waist to her belly – and there stopped. ‘Ah,’ he said, removing his hand.
Though their wedding had been only only a few months ago, Maddalena’s bump had grown large. He drained his glass. ‘Forgive me,
amore
, but you know I can’t see you in this condition.’

Maddalena stood up and said indignantly, ‘You’re drinking to much.’

He poured another. ‘Helps me sleep. Hard to rest easy wondering who might pop through that window next.’

‘You’re scared of Uggeri?’

She was aiming to wound, so he answered with an equanimity that he knew would annoy her. ‘On the contrary. That contest I would welcome – it’ll settle things once and for all. When I win, we can finally rule in peace – if it pleases the First Apprentice, that is.’

‘For the last time, I forbid you to give up Rasenna without a fight!’

‘For the last time, this town doesn’t have any fight left. You can be imperious as you like with the natives but when the legions come knocking, believe me, servility is our best defence.’

‘You’re a coward.’

‘Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe. All General Spinther wants from Rasenna is quietude on his way south. He needs someone who can guarantee that and I’m willing to bet he’ll leave me in charge. We’re old friends.’

‘You’re gambling with the life of your unborn son,’ Maddalena hissed and stomped back to the doorway.

‘
Amore
, we’ve discussed this,’ he cried. ‘It’s a good bet.’ But she was gone, slamming the door behind her. ‘That woman,’ he said philosophically and wondered how to sneak out the whore under the bed without his wife noticing. His flag was sufficiently soiled already.

The winds that scattered the dunes fell silent at dusk and uncanny black-bellied clouds crept silently from the west until the emerging stars were shrouded. The first drop fell before midnight and sands that had not seen rain for a generation were deluged. Sleepers awoke to the sound of the bone-dry rooftops of Akka being battered, and the percussive waves of thunder drowned the celebratory clackers and rejoicing. Streets became rushing streams.

It ceased, as abruptly as it had begun, and the sand absorbed the puddles so thoroughly that it might have been a dream. Befuddled harbour gulls drifted over the city as white-cloaked angels of death bearing torches marched through the streets. The Lazars hammered on doors; any not immediately opened were broken down. They searched every Ebionite home; they ransacked boats moored in the harbour; they overturned merchant caravans about to embark across the Sands. Sentinels lined the walls as usual, but tonight the enemy they sought was within.

The sinister flocks invaded every district bar one.

A single Lazar silently prowled the Butchers’ Quarter, bearing a bundle instead of a torch. Puddles remained between the cobbles to reflect the moonlight. Not all the detritus of the day’s work had been washed away, and the smell of bad meat and old clots started to penetrate his mask. He stopped at a stall that fronted one of the abattoirs and listened; through the thick wooden door he could hear huffing oxen and hectoring goats. The lock looked
intact in the darkness and he nearly passed on.
Nearly
. When he touched the lock gently, it fell in two.

Drawing his axe, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

‘Bleat and I’ll leave you hanging on a hook with the lambs.’

The blade pressed deep in his neck, expertly placed beside the carotid. He was trembling from the blood pounding to his brain. ‘It’s me,’ he whispered.

Sofia pulled the knife away. In the shafts of white light piercing the roof, her face was pale, though glistening with sweat. Her hair hung down in damp straggles.

Fulk searched the darkness behind her and saw – there between the stalls of beasts patiently awaiting slaughter – the little manger. How he knew the child within was smiling, he could not have explained. He knew little of childbirth except that it was a deadly business that required an officiating midwife. ‘Are you all right?’

‘All right?’ she said sardonically. ‘Hell, I’m blessed amongst women.’ But it was true: she had been dreading the litany of horrors new mothers suffered – cracked skin, weak back, swollen legs – but she felt nothing. Her body was hers again. Seeing his confusion, she explained, ‘My pain comes later.’

‘Can you walk?’

‘Where’s Levi?’

‘He put up a fight, but they have him.’

‘And Arik?’

‘They … got him too.’

‘How long have I?’

‘A few hours at best. They’re moving from the walls inwards. Stay here and you’ll be discovered by dawn.’

A short sob escaped her as she considered the reality of her situation. ‘I’ll go down flag in hand,’ she promised.

There was a soft answering sob from the manger – just an infant’s cry, nothing more – but Fulk felt some hidden string
within him plucked. The purity of it cleansed this wretched place, made it holy.

‘If you die, your child dies,’ he said unwrapping his bundle. ‘You have to trust me, Contessa.’

She was confused, exhausted, terrified. He grabbed her shoulder as he would one of his brethren. ‘Stay strong, and put this on.’

*

The search parties in the street and the sentinels manning the citadel’s ramparts were looking for something out of the ordinary and so paid no attention to the boyish knight trailing the Grand Master, or the bundle he cradled so tightly in his arms. The citadel’s lower floors would be empty at this hour, so Fulk led her down to the workshop and lifted lids till he found a coffin without an occupant. She had always respected his courage, but when he lifted the coffin down to the slope with a single heave, she realised how physically strong he was too.

He looked at her, waiting.

‘Are you
pazzo
?’

‘I said you’d have to trust me.’

While she climbed in, grumbling, Fulk found a small plank that he deemed suitable and placed it beside her. The baby looked up at him. He was the most beautiful thing Fulk had ever seen. He hastened to brief Sofia before he began to weep. ‘You’ll be underground for a good minute – it’ll be bumpy, but don’t worry; there’s no space to overturn. Then you’ll feel the ground below you go and there’ll be a sudden drop and a big splash. I have to nail this tight because after the drop, you’ll be submerged, all right? There’ll be enough air to bring you up again. As soon as you feel the coffin return to the surface, break the lid open.’

‘I can do that.’

He removed his gloves to hammer in the nails, then leaned in, holding up a scar-mottled index finger. ‘There’s a riptide –
it’ll take you miles out if you let it. It’s too strong to fight, so just start paddling north – that’s the side the moon will be on. Once you’re free of the current, row to shore, but don’t tarry on the beach. There are dogs, and bandits worse than dogs, all looking for cast-ups. I’ll try and keep the search parties away as long as—’ He froze as the baby grabbed his finger.

‘It’s fine,’ she said.

Fulk jerked his hand away. ‘He shouldn’t touch me!’

‘His name’s Iscanno, and he can’t get sick – not that way.’

‘You can’t be sure,’ he said. But he knew she was right. Like any Lazar, he was accustomed to discreet looks of superstition from men, flinching sympathy from women and unconcealed horror from children – but Iscanno smiled at him with the steady eyes of a sage.

‘What’s his grip like?’

‘Strong.’

‘Thank you, Fulk – for tonight, for everything. I won’t forget.’

‘Just don’t forget to start paddling. Get away from Akka as quick as you can. There’s nothing here but death.’

He hammered the lid shut, banged three times for luck and heaved the coffin onto the slope. ‘God’s speed,’ he muttered as it began to slide. It vanished as soon as it hit the water, and he felt a wave of desolation. He was a master of pain, but this new keen note threatened to unman him. He bent to pick up his gloves.

‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

Fulk pulled his gloves on and nodded at Basilius. ‘Too bad I’m not the one you’re looking for. If we don’t find that Etrurian whore, the queen will throw us both in the Sea of Filth – or worse. Come. There’s a nest of places she could be hiding in the Butchers’ Quarter.’

*

Sofia was entombed in the bracing smell of fresh-cut cedar. There was no light, only Iscanno’s warm breath on her neck and a cascade
of noises. Her sense of smell and sound and touch were all she had to rely on as her little vessel sped through the narrow tunnel, carried on rapid waters. She waited for the drop – was that it? That? How long had it been? It felt an age …

Suddenly her heart hit her ribs and she knew she was falling.

whumpf

There was a great blow as they struck the water and her shoulder hit the lid so hard she feared it would burst open. She could still feel Iscanno’s breath against her skin, but now there was cold trickling water too. The coffin slowed as buoyancy reasserted itself, then there was another surge as it shot upwards. She had time to consider a single terrible thought – what if it surfaced face-down? – before new sounds grabbed her attention: a bawling gull, lapping waves, a tolling bell. She pulled her fist back as far as it could go and—