Dave Duncan - The Alchemists pursuit

"But no Honeycat?"

"No Honeycat. Hercules, Don Juan, Squirrel, Jupiter, but no Honeycat."

We had reached the watergate, and I held her hand as she embarked in the gondola.

"Be careful, Alessa," I said.

I ran back up the forty-eight steps, but found Violetta and the Maestro where I had left them.

"Did you believe her?" he demanded.

"No," I said. "She knows. She may be too frightened to tell us."

"Leave her to me," Violetta said. "Meanwhile, the Maestro and I think we should see what we can discover about Ruosa da Corone. I have a friend in San Girolamo who'll know where she lives. Lived, I mean."

I looked for permission to the Maestro, who nodded disagreeably. "It's all a waste of time. Go if you must, but the Ten will have your Honeycat safely locked up somewhere by now."

I was inclined to agree, but I would not pass up the excuse to go adventuring with my lady. It seemed that the Maestro was not going to rise from his dining room chair until I had removed Violetta, so I did that. Smirking like an adolescent, I offered my arm and escorted her to the stairs.

"My master makes me work so hard!"

She was in a serious mood. "I don't see why you have to do all this asking of questions. The sbirri can do that. Why can't he just peer into his crystal ball?"

"Looking for what? He needs something to hunt for." I did not mention that the Maestro might have to try foreseeing the next victim, but even for that he would still need some sort of a pattern to start from. "You didn't know Ruosa?"

"Only slightly-we met at parties sometimes. She wrote some quite bearable poetry and was a wonderful dancer; in her middle twenties, I'd think."

That meant she had been in her prime as a sex toy when Giovanni Gradenigo had met Caterina Lotto about eight years ago. Venice is unusually tolerant in such matters, but a political career can still be destroyed by a scandal if it is scandalous enough. Three women, all real people, all cruelly destroyed. What baffled me was the motive. Not a sexual crime, so far as I could see. Not robbery. One murder might be explicable, but three in as many weeks suggested a campaign-for what reason?

San Girolamo parish is in the north of the city, in Cannaregio, and Violetta's friend, Franceschina, was yet another courtesan beauty, probably even younger and very nearly as divine. She had a magnificent home, two female servants, and had just finished what would be her first meal of the day. Indeed, she was not even properly dressed yet, just swathed in a misty silk robe that caused me to start running a high fever. She greeted Violetta with chirrups of joy and an embrace that would have been worth a hundred ducats to any man on the Rialto. She smiled politely at me, assuming I was the "doorman" protector, which was what I was beginning to feel like.

"You sit there, love," Violetta said, waving me to the most distant chair in the room. "You don't happen to have a blindfold handy, do you, darling?"

Franceschina tinkled laughter. "No but his eyeballs are going to explode any minute, and then it won't matter. He's very cute. Wherever did you find him, dear? Would you trade him for my current gorilla?"

One of the maids brought in glasses of sickly sweet wine. The women settled together on a silken divan, holding hands and smiling at each other so skillfully that I couldn't tell if they were bosom friends or mortal foes. I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them to adore. More of Medea showed in Violetta's eyes every time she glanced in my direction, but I was entranced. I had never seen two such beauties together before, and the way Franceschina's robe had slid apart to expose her leg was a once-in-a-lifetime experience-not to mention the glow of nipples through silk. Fascinating! She portrayed a silly, brainless child very well and I could put up with a lot of giggles in a good cause, but if she were as shallow as she was pretending, Violetta would never have described her as a friend.

Violetta's explanation of why we had come was very terse, as if she were anxious to finish our business and leave. Even Franceschina could not maintain her bubbly twittering when talking about strangulation, so she switched to high drama. Three murders were terrible, unthinkable, nightmares from the pits of Hades. She was shrill, yet she made me want to sweep her into my arms and comfort her. It was a masterly performance and reminded me that I had never watched Violetta display her skills professionally, because I am her recreation. Franceschina was either just reacting to a man in her house from habit or stoking my fires to annoy Violetta; or both. It was so well done that I didn't care why it was being done. I was getting a free demonstration of a hundred-ducat performance.

With many asides, endearments, and irrelevancies, she said that Ruosa da Corone had done very well for herself-she had retired from the trade, having acquired a husband, one of the rich and important Valier clan. "Of course it was only a church marriage, not a legal one, because his name would be struck from the Golden Book if he officially married a courtesan, and I expect the brothers agreed ages ago which one of them will produce the legal heirs. That's how it's usually done, but it was a true love match, and at least her children… her son, I mean, will be citizen class. Valier set her up in the most gorgeous apartment, with two servants and a very generous allowance and a room in the same building for her mother! So generous! And now this! So tragic!"

"But how did it happen?"

"Well nobody knows, darling! It was exactly a week ago, the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin. She sent the boy off with his nurse and the maid so that he could watch the parade, you know?"

Of course we knew, and I as a boy watched the great processions of Venice innumerable times. There are ten of them a year, and the one she referred to parades every February 2 from San Marco's to San Maria Formosa-which is not very far-to commemorate the valor of the men of that parish back in 943, when they rescued a company of brides kidnapped by a band of pirates. I don't go so often now, but I had watched that particular parade last week to see if I could cheer loud enough to catch Fulgentio's eye as he went by and make him blush. It is one of the full-blown "triumph" parades, and very grand, beginning with eight standard bearers, then six buglers blowing silver trumpets, fifty minor officials in ceremonial robes, then the city band and drummers in red, stunningly loud in the narrow streets. Right on their heels come the equerries in gowns of black velvet (Fulgentio looked very sweet), then some priests, more officials and secretaries in crimson velvet, the chancellors including the grand chancellor, who ranks second to the doge, and the doge himself in the ermine that only he may wear, followed by his umbrella holder, the papal legate, ambassadors, the ducal counselors, the procurators of San Marco, the three chiefs of the Quarantia, the three chiefs of the Council of Ten, the two censors, the Senate in their red robes, and I have left out some of the minor participants.

When the doge arrives at San Maria Formosa, he is presented with two hats and two flagons of malmsey wine.

The parade is a wonderful excuse for a woman to send off her child and servants so she can be alone to receive a lover.

Just in case we were stupid, Franceschina added, "Valier's on the mainland on business and she'd probably felt lonely. When the maid came back, there she was, dead!"

"Had she received any messages that day?"

Franceschina's eyes grew even larger. "But yes, she had! However did you guess that, darling? No one knows what it said, except maybe the…" She dropped her voice to a whisper. "… Ten, you know?"

Rumor, which she happily passed on, said that there had been no signs of robbery or sexual violence. "But the boy's with his grandmother. Why don't you go and see her, dear? She'll be able to tell you much more."