Dave Duncan - The Alchemists pursuit

Fulgentio shrugged, and muttered, "That's all. Sorry."

As he turned away, the Maestro said, "Wait!"

"Doctor?"

"I would take it as a great favor, lustrissimo, if you would deliver a very brief note to the distinguished person who gave you that warning."

Fulgentio smiled sadly but warily. "I will gladly try, of course. But I may not succeed and I doubt very much that it will do any good."

"Understood," the Maestro muttered. "Alfeo?"

I strode across to the desk and readied my pen and inkwell in record time, choosing a sheet of our finest rag paper.

"Two lines should do it," he said. "I give my sacred word that I have no interest in previous crimes and my only intent is to prevent future murders. Sign it for me."

I pursed lips in a silent whistle of astonishment. If the old miser was sincere in abandoning the Gentile murder contract, then he was voluntarily giving up a significant fee for the first time in my experience. I went off to the kitchen for a lighted candle. When I returned, I affixed his signet, then handed the letter to Fulgentio.

"And tell them that goes for me, too, with brass buttons," I said.

He gave me a look that said I was walking on a razor's edge. He bowed to the Maestro and headed for the door. As I let him out of the apartment he said, "For God's sake, make him be careful!" and then trotted off down the stairs.

I went back to the Maestro, who looked as if his fuse had burned down to the touchhole and he was ready to explode.

"Any instructions for today, master?"

"Aargh!"

Not promising. "That warning came from the doge himself, I think."

"I don't."

"Oh! Master, have you any idea why the Ten don't want you to investigate this affair?"

He repeated, "Aargh!" even louder.

"You are keeping secrets from me." I was hurt. I knew everything he did; what had he seen that I hadn't?

"Some things are too dangerous to know. Just because you are my apprentice, you are not required to break the law. The instructions I gave you a few minutes ago still stand, but if you refuse to obey them, then I am helpless."

"I'll get my sword," I said, and departed.

Violetta had only recently gone to bed. Even little Milana's normally unshakable good cheer faltered when I gave her the message I brought.

"It's not an hour since her patron left, clarissimo."

She only calls me that when I am being completely unreasonable. I apologized, assured her it wasn't my fault, and insisted that the matter was urgent, all of which I had done already. Then I made a quick and cowardly escape, down to where Giorgio was waiting for me. I settled in the felze. He already knew where we were bound.

He pushed off. "You look worried."

I adjusted my face to a smile. "I'm just annoyed that I can't see what the Maestro has seen."

"Your whole life must be a misery then."

It would be worse if I finished up chained to an oar. "I think this Honeycat case is about to blow open," I said. "But I don't know who's going to come down in pieces."

"That," the gondolier barked, "is a disgusting expression."

"It's a disgusting case," I said.

The doorman at Palazzo Michiel must have known me by then, but the studied lack of recognition in his expression warned of choppy water ahead. I asked to see Jacopo Fauro.

"I regret to report that I have orders not to admit you, clarissimo. I may accept written communications only."

Congratulating myself on my foresight, I produced the scroll I had prepared. It was addressed to Jacopo and said only, Her dearest treasure is going to the chiefs. The doorman took it and closed the door on me. Declining to take a seat alongside the half dozen other men waiting for audience-several of whom were smirking at the sight of a sword-bearing sprout being refused admittance-I strolled across the riva to stare out at the ships and lighters in the basin. A chilly wind made the morning sunlight dance on the water, but spring would come. I could see Giorgio along at the Molo, chatting with some other gondoliers.

I wondered who would receive the note. The Michiel household had more crosscurrents than the lagoon of Venice itself and Jacopo lurked in the center of it all, a spider in a web of lies. At times he was a flunky, at others a fraternal partner. Sometimes he served donna Alina, sometimes he spied on her for her children. He obviously spied on them for her. Bernardo and Domenico told different stories as the fancy took them. Zorzi had been framed for murder, possibly with his own connivance, but certainly helped along by someone. Now one of the two religious in the family had exploded a mine under it by revealing that odious diary. Mixing metaphors is one way of passing the time.

The door swung open and Domenico Michiel appeared in the opening, red faced and pugnaciously prognathous. "Zeno!"

I strolled in his direction and he vanished back into the dimness of the androne to await me. I entered and closed the door. Apart from Domenico himself, the big hall was deserted. The real estate trader and I could have a good, no-holds-barred, uninterrupted rowdy-dowdy.

He shook my note under my nose. "What does this mean?"

"It means that you read other people's correspondence, clarissimo."

"Fauro is a servant. What do you want of him?"

"He told me he was your business partner."

"Tell that to the Turks. What do you want of him?"

"The truth."

"Go to the ninth circle of hell."

I thought his rage seemed contrived, but if he truly did not know what my note meant, he must have shown it to someone who did and that someone had reacted strongly. I confess I was enjoying myself.

"Then the book must go to the chiefs of the Ten."

"What book?"

I quirked an eyebrow skeptically. "Your lady mother knows what book. Or Jacopo does. Briefly, clarissimo, certain evidence that has come into my master's possession shows beyond doubt that someone in this house is connected to a continuing series of murders in this city. The learned doctor wishes to question Jacopo Fauro concerning the matter. If Fauro is unable to allay his suspicions, my master will have no choice but to deliver the documentary evidence to the authorities. Then it is highly likely that Missier Grande will show up here within hours."

"For Jacopo?" Domenico's shock was more convincing than his previous anger. Had he expected another name?

"Perhaps for other people also. I repeat, clarissimo, that the implications appear damning."

"My mother engaged Nostradamus to learn who murdered our father, on the baseless assumption that it wasn't Zorzi. How can Jacopo possibly know anything that will help? He was only a-"

"My master already knows who murdered your father, messer, although he has not yet assembled a legally admissible case." What was one more small lie in that temple of deception? "His first priority is to prevent any more courtesans being murdered."

"You dare to threaten me? You dare accuse my half-brother of being a murderer?"

Why not, when he had one convicted murderer in the family already? "My understanding is that he is a vitally important witness."

"By Heaven, your master has fancy ideas for an upstart foreign leech! If he wants to speak to anyone in this household, let him come himself. We'll see who questions whom." Sweat gleamed on the bridge of his aquiline nose.

I explained about my master's infirmity. For a moment I was afraid that sier Domenico would decide to return with me in Jacopo's stead, which was not what the Maestro wanted at all. Nostradamus could hope to browbeat Jacopo, but not his older, richer, patrician half-brother. It was not yet time for Domenico.

I bowed. "I shall inform my master of your decision, clarissimo. He will have to make his report to the Ten without your assistance."

My bluff worked.