Tallow (21 page)

WITH THE PATIENCE OF LONG
years of practice, Baroque Scarpoli waited for one of the Maleovellis to react to his account of the events on the Circolo Canal. From what he could ascertain about their unusual relationship, it would be Giaconda who would respond, rather than her father. She stood near the window, erect and thoughtful, while Ezzelino sat in a high-backed chair near the empty hearth, his eyes never leaving his daughter's face.

Without moving, Baroque surveyed the room. He'd never been invited into a nobile's casa before, at least not onto the grand main floor – the piano nobile, as they called it. The Maleovellis might have been impoverished, but their casa, located on the verge of Nobiles' Rise, still spoke of ancient wealth and manners.

In earlier days, the Maleovellis had been one of the most powerful and influential nobile families in Serenissima. According to
The Golden Book,
the register of Nobiles eligible to claim the Dogeship, generations of them had sat at the Doge's right hand as valued members of the Council of Ten. But that was over four hundred years ago and, whereas once the Maleovellis had been close to the Dogeship, now they were almost as distant as the candlemaker they so eagerly sought.

It was not in Baroque's nature to be curious about his targets. Long ago, he'd learnt that even an inkling of interest affected his style. He became uncertain, hesitant – unattractive qualities in a spy. So he'd learnt to close himself off; work on the information given and nothing else. It meant that when he slid his knife between a healthy set of ribs, threw someone off a bridge or passed on information that he knew would alter lives forever, he did it with as much regard as he would have for lacing his boots.

But this young boy from the Candlemakers Quartiere did pique his curiosity. Why did these insolvent nobiles want information about him? At first he'd thought he might be an illegitimate heir. But why would the Maleovellis care about that? God knew, Serenissima was full of the nobiles' little bastards. Why did they want him? The boy seemed unremarkable at best, feeble at worst, with those strange glasses and timid ways.

Baroque couldn't understand what the robust young chandler saw in the child either. But it was evident the older boy cared. Watching them together, Baroque was reminded of the way he used to look out for his own younger brother.

Baroque sighed, then caught himself. He would not become melancholy. Not over this. Not over a boy who in some strange way reminded him of what he once had been and what he no longer had.

'Well, my dear,' said Ezzelino finally. 'You've heard Baroque's story. What do you think?' The old man picked up a pouch from the small table beside him and began to fill a tiny ceramic pipe with the contents.

Giaconda arched a fine black brow at Baroque. 'I think you're losing your touch.'

Baroque coughed, using the action of covering his mouth to lower his eyes. How dare this upstart female denigrate him or his years of experience? He collected himself.

'It could be, Signora.' He lingered on the word, leaving Giaconda in no doubt about the intended insult; what precisely he was insulting was open to question. 'Each generation has a tendency to show the last their weaknesses, even while ignoring their strengths.'

Ezzelino chuckled. 'Bravo. He has you there, Gia.'

Giaconda bowed her head. When she raised it again, there was fire in her eyes. 'Let's see if I understand,' she said. 'After all this time, all you've managed to do is locate the general whereabouts of the boy, but not his
precise
location?'

'That's right,' replied Baroque. 'Perhaps you're unaware, Signora, that there are over fifty candlemakers and suppliers in the quartiere alone. Which one he's apprenticed to, I don't know exactly. No-one would talk – they were surprisingly reticent or ignorant. If I didn't know better, I'd say they're protecting this apprentice or his master. Whichever it is, this boy has an almost unnatural ability to remain unnoticed. He leaves no impression.'

Baroque saw Giaconda and her father exchange a quick glance. 'But I did manage to follow this boy and the chandler to the edge of the quartiere. After that, as I told you, I lost him and his friend. They tricked me.'

Giaconda smiled, but her mind worked fast. She turned and gazed out the window. Below, a narrow canal wound its silvery path around the casas, seeking its way into the Circolo.

'But you do know the general area ...'

'Yes, Signora. After a sort.'

'How good are you at disguises?'

Baroque tried not to let his surprise show. 'I used to be thought very good.'

'Papa,' said Giaconda and, sweeping past Baroque, sank to the floor at her father's knees. She plucked the pipe out of his fingers and took his hands in her own. 'I have an idea.' She raised her large green eyes to her father's and put on her most beguiling smile.

'And what is that, Gia?' Her father returned the smile.

'What if we were to get Baroque here to pretend to be a shopkeeper, newly migrated from,' she screwed up her face, 'Vyzantia. He is looking to set up business in the Dorsoduro Sestiere and is making inquiries.'

Baroque cleared his throat. 'But, Signora, I have already tried this type of ploy. The locals do not divulge much to strangers – they are very reticent, very suspicious of outsiders – even those from other quartieri, let alone foreign cities.'

'Exactly. That is why you must become a familiar face. You must make yourself known to them, build trust. Become an insider.'

'But the only way I can do that is by living there. It could take years,' protested Baroque.

'Perhaps.'

'How do you propose Baroque do this, my dear?' asked her father. 'He needs coin for this. All we have to offer him is thin air.'

'No, not all.' Raising her hands to her neck, Giaconda lifted her ebony hair and undid the clasp of the necklace that lay against her throat. 'We have this.'

She held the sapphire and diamond choker towards the candlelight. The flames reflected in the cut stones a hundred times, a thousand times. Baroque's eyes widened. Why, it was worth a small fortune.

'No,' said Ezzelino, his face visibly paling. 'Not your mother's necklace.'

'Why not, Papa? You said yourself, it is my guarantee should all else fail. But now we have a different sort of guarantee, don't we?' She stared at him meaningfully.

'But what if we're wrong?'

She dropped to her knees and drew her father's hands to her breasts. 'We're not wrong, Papa. I know it.' She pressed his hands against the white flesh that spilled over her lace neckline. 'Just as I know that soon, for you and me, heirlooms like these,' she shook the necklace, 'will be mere trinkets.'

'Trinkets,' echoed Ezzelino.

Baroque's eyes narrowed. What were these two up to, that they were prepared to forego a small fortune to make sure the boy was found? Who was he? Or, he thought as he watched father and daughter losing themselves in visions of a very different future,
what
was he?

As Giaconda began to outline her plans for Baroque, he knew that one way or the other, he would soon find out.

'HOW ARE YOU FEELING?'

Katina spun at the sound of the voice, causing her drink to spill down her shirt. She groaned at the size of the spreading stain and quickly tried to daub it with a handkerchief. Familiar hands rushed to her aid, but Katina playfully slapped them away. 'You do realise, Debora, I have to meet with the Elders shortly and you've just made me ruin the only clean shirt I have.'

'Sorry,' Debora replied. They sat on the crest of the hill and gazed at the activity in the campsite below. Groups of Bond Riders were just emerging from their tents. Some began to stoke their fires, others to tend their horses. Over by a running stream, some were bathing. The perpetual grey mist that haunted the Limen made it impossible to tell exactly what time it was but, conditioned by the routines of their former lives, they all acted as if it were morning and they were preparing for a long day.

Katina watched her life companions in silence for a moment. Even though they'd been apart for months, Katina knew that Debora would sense her apprehension of the forthcoming meeting. Of the report she would present to the Council of Elders about her time away – of her time with Tallow.

She reached for Debora's hand and clutched it tightly.

'I know I've said it before, but it's good to have you back,' Debora said softly.

Katina knew Debora wasn't only referring to her return from Vista Mare. 'You can't say it often enough as far as I'm concerned. Glad to be back – I didn't think I was going to make it.'

'Neither did we.'

They sat in silence, pondering what might have been, while the noises of activity slowly increased and snippets of conversation gently wafted up the slope. Katina inhaled deeply. It had seemed so long since she had witnessed the rituals of the Bond Riders.

She had no idea of how long it had taken her to recover but, even here in the Limen, where time as it was understood back in Vista Mare had no meaning, it seemed an age. Once she was allowed out of the infirmary, she'd worked hard to suppress the tremble in her limbs, the ache in her spine and the memories that her recovery had revived. While she knew she'd all but regained her former strength, her reflection in the water as she'd bathed told her a different story. The ravages of her sojourn would remain permanently etched on her face. Whereas once she could have passed for thirty years of age back in her old world, now she would be lucky to be thought less than fifty. She peered into her cup and didn't like what she saw. She threw the remains of her drink onto the grey grass.

Debora clucked in concern. 'That tea was medicinal, Katina. It was specially prepared for you.'

Noting Debora's frown, Katina gave a half-smile. 'I'm fine, really.'

Debora ran a finger from the top of Katina's right eye to the corner of her mouth. 'Don't pretend with me. I know you. How long have we been together?'

'A long time. Since I entered the Limen.'

'I remember the first moment I saw you and Filippo. You looked so sad. So lost and confused.'

'We'd literally had our life ripped out from under us and been handed another. And not by choice.'

Surprised by the bitterness in Katina's tone, Debora touched her gently. 'Of course not, the gods know. I didn't mean it that way. I only ...'

'I know, I know. I'm sorry.' Katina swiped a hand across her forehead. 'I've had a lot of time to think. To remember. And after spending so much time trying to forget. If it hadn't been for you and later, Alessandro, I don't know what Filippo and I would have done. You made us so welcome. You were like an older brother and sister to us. You gave us back the family we'd lost. Helped us to understand what it was we'd become.'

Debora nodded. 'Making a Bond is hard enough for adults. I'd never seen anyone as young as you and Filippo pledged before. We thought it was a mistake, that somehow you'd blundered into the Limen and survived. But then we saw your wounds and knew there'd been no error.'

They both looked at Katina's right palm. A deep white line intersected the other, finer marks of her flesh, puckering at the edges. Katina curled her fingers around it protectively. 'The reason I'm still here all this time later.'

Her mind travelled back to that night at the Pledge Stone; the night Constantina fulfilled her promise to their mother. Terrified, cold and grief-stricken, they'd arrived in the dark, desolate clearing. Even the light of the moon, a silver lire in the sky, had hardly touched the Stone. It sat there, a great hulking monolith giving no indication of what it was capable of doing, of how it was about to change their lives forever.

Constantina had wasted no time with explanations. Shaking – with cold or trepidation, Katina was not certain – she'd found a sharp rock and, telling them to prepare themselves for a moment's pain, she'd drawn it swiftly across their palms, first Filippo and then Katina. Both had cried out but before they could complain, she'd taken their hands and pressed them firmly against the rock.

'Repeat after me,' she'd ordered. 'I do pledge my soul to the Estrattore, to seeing them returned to their rightful place in Serenissima, no matter how long it takes. Say it!'

With quivering voices, Katina and Filippo had said the words.

After that, Katina recalled very little. A strong feeling of malaise had overtaken the throbbing in her palm as if she were caught between sleep and wakefulness. Her body began to sink into the rock and her breathing became shallow. Her legs folded under her, and yet whatever force kept her attached to the Stone through her palm, her flowing blood, held her upright.

She could no longer see anyone; not Filippo nor Constantina. The air thickened and her world became grey.

When she returned to awareness, she was in the Limen, among those she now called her family and lovers. Her old life had seemed nothing but a dream and her mother and father like characters out of a story. Just like Constantina.

One day the Estrattore was beside them, the next, she was gone. No-one spoke of it and she'd been too afraid to ask and later, forced herself to stop caring. Katina had gradually learned to stop taking it personally. Everyone left the Limen at some time and many never returned. One day it would happen to her as well.

'You're still beautiful, you know.' Debora's stroking fingers and her gentle tone flung Katina back into the present.

Katina gave a small laugh. 'I am glad you think so,' she said, all the time wondering if someone else, in another world, might still think so too.

'You know why the Elders want to see you, don't you?'

'I imagine they're going to send me back.'

'That's what I think. But, Katina, your Bond, as important as it is and as much as you can't refuse, has clearly taken its toll. I'm not saying you shouldn't return; I don't have that right. But Alessandro and I have been talking –'

'Of course.'

Debora ignored the interruption. 'And while we know you must return, we want you to ask for more time – time to heal.'

'You both worry too much. I'm fine!' Katina began uprooting the grass at her feet and scattering it about.

'I'm not talking about your physical self.'

'I know,' said Katina, raising her hand to touch her cheeks and then around her eyes. 'But only I know what has been exacted from me. Only
I
know how much time I need. You have to believe me when I say I'm all right. I'm ready to return if I'm asked. I need your support in this, not your anxiety; not your judgement.'

Hurt flashed across Debora's face and she opened her mouth to protest, but Katina cut her short. 'There's no point going over it again.' She reached over and cupped Debora's chin. 'I know you and Alessandro don't want me to return – but Debora, I'm a Bond Rider. Like you and Alessandro, I made a pledge and even if I didn't understand what it was I was swearing to do, I don't have a choice. I never have – neither have you. The moment we gave our blood to the Stones, we became prisoners of fate. Nothing can change that. Only the Elders can guide us towards our destiny and that of our people. Only they can help us fulfil our Bonds. I can't very well say to the Elders "I'm not ready to go back," can I?'

Debora lowered her eyes. 'No, I guess not.'

Katina released Debora's face gently. 'Well, mi amo, stop asking me to.'

A horse whinnied nearby and they watched as two Bond Riders made preparations to leave the camp.

'Anyway,' continued Katina. 'If you really want me to get better, you're going to have to stop sneaking up on me to see how I'm feeling. It's not good for my nerves.'

Debora laughed. Katina had forgotten how sweet the sound was. She looked at her friend's white, even teeth and dark, windswept hair. She wanted to take her in her arms, and tell her just how much she'd missed her, to crush her mouth against hers. Then their eyes met and she could resist no longer.

It was some time before they drew apart. Finally, Katina sighed and pushed the hair out of Debora's eyes. She raised their conjoined hands to her breast. 'This is harder than I thought, Debora. Please, you'll have to bear with me. There were ...' Thoughts of Tallow and Pillar flashed through her mind. 'Distractions there I didn't expect.'

Debora ran a long finger over Katina's kiss-swollen lips. 'I've missed you – Alessandro's missed you too. He couldn't stand seeing you so broken, so unwell. He volunteered for a mission, without either of us, his partners. No-one could believe it, but such was his turmoil. All being well, he'll be back in two rests.' She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the back of Katina's hand, taking in the prominent veins, the papery skin. Debora stared out over the camp. 'Katina, if you go now, I'm afraid you won't come back.'

'I know. Me too.'

They sat for a while neither speaking nor moving.

'Katina,' asked Debora finally. 'What's she like, this Estrattore?'

'Does it matter?'

'I guess not. I'm just curious about this person who's destined to be our saviour.'
Who you still think about to the exclusion of all else.

Katina nodded. She had been curious too. But how could she explain that Tallow was nothing like she expected; that, against her will, she'd begun to care, not just for the girl, but for her pathetic guardian, Santo's forsaken son, as well.

Katina tried to think of how to describe Tallow. How to describe someone who, despite the cruelty that life has meted out, carries within them a great capacity for hope? A person who still gazes upon the very world that shuns her with anticipation and wonder? Words were inadequate. They were also unfair. They captured, contained, limited. Tallow had already endured more of that than most.

Katina knew Debora was waiting for her to answer. But this was not the time or place to reveal that, while she'd been forced to Bond to the idea of Tallow more than three hundred years ago without the slightest awareness of what the commitment entailed, and despite all the losses she'd endured in the name of faith, a legend and a possible future, she no longer had any regrets.

She took a deep breath, considering her words. 'Regardless of what happened, we were right to take her from the Estrattore.' Before Debora could ask any more questions, she jumped to her feet and with a heavy heart walked away.

Debora remained where she was, watching her for a moment, then she picked up Katina's abandoned cup. Twisting it in her hand a few times, she mulled over what her partner had said. Anger, jealousy and an unquenchable sadness rose within her. She tightened her grip on the delicate object before raising her arm. With all the force she could muster, she hurled it at a nearby rock. It shattered on contact, its porcelain shards lying raw and open on the ground. Looking at the broken remains, Debora wondered why she didn't feel any better.

'YOU TOOK A GRAVE RISK
becoming so involved, Katina Maggiore,' said Elder Pisano from behind the stone table. 'It seems to us that it's not only the child who became dependent upon you.' There were murmurs of agreement from among the other seven Elders.

Standing before them in the centre of the cavern, Katina bowed her head and waited patiently for their decision. A cool breeze whistled though the opening behind her, ruffling the Elders' gowns. Through a haze of exhaustion she studied the Council, a pale imitation in name and authority of her lawgivers back in Serenissima. The flickering grey light from the sconces cast the Elders' shadows over the sandy floor, and transformed the rock formations into sinister reliefs.

Once they, too, had been Bond Riders, pledged to a cause or person. But unlike those they commanded, the Elders no longer had partners. It horrified and fascinated her all at once: the idea that anyone who had fulfilled their Bond would choose to return, alone, to this pale excuse for an existence. Intimate relationships were the only thing that made the half-life of the Limen bearable.

The Council had once filled all of the seats in the cavern. But without the guardianship of the Estrattore, their numbers had slowly dwindled. While the Limen gave Bond Riders longevity, it didn't give them immortality. Protected from time, they were not safe from the deadly creatures that dwelled within its mists and forests. Nor were they spared from illness. If they were unprepared, either of these could snatch away a Bond Rider's life without warning.