Dave Duncan - The Alchemists pursuit

"I regret," the Maestro said testily, "that as yet I can offer answers to none of those questions, madonna. But I am trained in the metaphysical, and so is Alfeo, although still to a limited extent. We are both convinced that the recent murders are connected to the death of Gentile Michiel, but we can produce no evidence except our intuition, which would not be accepted by a court."

Violetta smiled. "I have no legal training, but I may be able to offer a little assistance." Her eyes were bluer, her voice drier, and I recognized the political Aspasia. "I have been making inquiries among some of my fellow workers, both at the wedding yesterday and here in Venice. We compiled a list of those who belonged to what we called the Honeycat club, those in on the joke, as Alfeo puts it. As well as Alessa herself, my informants agreed that they included Lucia da Bergamo, Caterina Lotto, Marina Bortholuzzi, and probably Ruosa da Corone. We know of another six so far, although there must be many more. Our inquiries shall continue."

The Maestro sighed. "He was a busy lad."

"There are ten thousand prostitutes in Venice," Aspasia said. "But Honeycat could afford the cream, the cortigiane oneste. He was a skilled musician himself and wrote promising poetry. He demanded sex, certainly, and a lot of sex, but he expected much more. As Alessa puts it, nobody slept with Honeycat."

"How many hundred in total?"

"Several dozens," Aspasia said coldly. "But he did have favorites. We are spreading the word, and for the warning we have to thank you and Alfeo."

"I hope we can provide more than just that," the Maestro said, now sounding quite snappish. He would naturally feel upstaged by a client who started her own investigation. "Yours is an excellent idea, madonna, but you did not go far enough. We need to know how messer Honeycat, if he has returned to the city after eight years, is finding his victims so easily. We know that Caterina Lotto had changed her place of residence at least once, but how many of the others had?"

He may have meant the question rhetorically, but Violetta answered. "Two. Lucia was still living in the same house as she had in his day. And Alessa is. We are also warning against any man who asks questions about specific courtesans and where they live now. Alessa or I will be notified right away."

Nostradamus grunted. "Alfeo?"

"Master?"

"Does the tax office in the palace keep a register of courtesans?"

"I expect so, master. It keeps records of everything else."

"Doctor," Violetta said, "you are taking a risk by even investigating this, are you not? The Ten have forbidden you to meddle."

He shrugged his narrow shoulders. "The Republic reserves the right to investigate crime, but it is every citizen's duty to prevent one, which is what I am seeking to do. I have not taken much risk so far, but I am afraid that the next step may be dangerous. And it could be much more costly than my normal investigations."

Violetta's eyes glinted gold. "You want another expense advance? How much?"

"I am not sure. Alfeo will try to learn that tonight."

"And what for?"

The Maestro chuckled. "To elect a doge. Alfeo told us how to do that at dinner on Friday, remember?"

"I fail to see the relevance," she said coldly.

So did I.

"You are happier that way, madonna," he said smugly. "And now if you will excuse us, my apprentice and I have work to do. I know this is the Lord's day, but even my learned friend Isaia Modestus will break his Sabbath to save a life, and that is what we are attempting to do."

Toward sunset I set Archangelo Angeli on the balcony to watch the Rio San Remo, then went and gobbled an early supper in the kitchen. Giorgio was there, doing the same, having been warned that I would need him. Mama Angeli, who can smell trouble like a tigress scenting meat, knew right away that I was unhappy about what I was about to do that evening. She started asking questions that I would not have answered even if we were alone. As it was, her children were wandering in and out all the time. I told her that the Maestro was sending me to elect a doge. The youngsters laughed, but she was not amused. I was saved from her interrogation when Archangelo rushed in to say that he had seen two nobles going past in a gondola and a senator walking along the fondamenta on the far side. So the Great Council had adjourned. I nodded to Giorgio and we both rose.

We went downstairs, carrying his oar and the gondola cushions, and only when he pushed off from the loggia did I tell him I wanted to call on Carlo Celsi. He looked relieved, for there was nothing subversive about visiting a senior and respected patrician. It was the subject of our discussion that would be dangerous for me. By then the Maestro had explained his warped humor.

Twelve elect twenty-five, reduced by lot to nine; the nine elect forty-five, reduced to eleven… So on and so on. Why all that rigmarole to elect a doge? Alessa had said it was to prevent the Great Council dividing into factions. Violetta had suggested almost the opposite, that it was to keep the inner circle in power and the fringes out. The truth, as the Maestro saw it with his cynical eye, was closer to her view than Alessa's, but he went further. It was much cheaper to bribe five or six nobles than hundreds, he said. Once a few "sound" men had won control of one of those tiny committees, their friends would hold a majority in all subsequent committees through to the final forty-one that made the actual choice. In other words, a doge was elected by bribery and that was what I was going to attempt that night.

My noble parentage and legitimate birth entitle me to take my seat in the Great Council when I reach the age of twenty-five. Many youngsters are admitted sooner, through various loopholes, but at twenty-five all I shall need to do is grow a beard, buy a gown, and turn up at the broglio. There I shall wait for some nobile homo to invite me in and introduce me to his companions, which should be no problem because so many of them already know me. That assumes that I behave myself until then and have enough money to buy the clothes. Manual labor would disqualify me; a serious scandal or conviction for a major crime like graft would. Graft is rife in the Great Council, but it is kept secret. I am especially vulnerable to a charge of corruption because I have no powerful family to back me and my apprenticeship to Nostradamus falls into a shady area on the edge of the permissible. Many narrow-minded patricians might welcome an excuse to strike my name from the Golden Book.

Nostradamus must know that, but he hadn't mentioned it when he told me what he wanted me to do. I might have refused but hadn't-I had failed Marina Bortholuzzi and couldn't bear the thought of more women being stabbed or strangled because I was too proud to get my hands dirty. I had spent the afternoon writing out two copies of the proposed contract with donna Alina Orio and then memorizing a long list of questions the Maestro wanted me to ask in the Palazzo Michiel if I got the chance. Now he was attempting more clairvoyance and I was going to dabble in the truly black art of subornation.

As always, Vittore greeted me with the cryptic smile that implied he had been expecting me. Celsi himself was standing at his desk, scribbling busily as he recorded the Council's decisions. He had not yet removed his patrician robes and bonnet; his tippet lay on a chair. He beamed gap-toothed.

"Alfeo! How wonderful to see you! How timely!"

"You are busy, clarissimo. I should wait upon you another day." I wanted an excuse to run all the way home and hide.

"Not at all, not at all. Wine, Vittore, wine, for my lovely friend. Sit, boy, and tell me all about your narrow escape last night."

"What narrow escape? Me?"

"Oh, it was all over the broglio this afternoon! Another woman murdered and there had been a scuffle. The killer escaped without anyone getting a glimpse of his face, but a young man was injured and ran away. 'That sounds just like my beloved Alfeo Zeno,' I thought to myself when I heard it. After all, you were the one who told us of Nostradamus's prediction…"