Eric Flint - The Shadow of the Lion

"It isn't that?I mean, they tell us what not to see, if you catch my meaning." Marco bit his lip as he struggled to communicate what he had discovered in a way that Aldanto would understand. "This is something else; it's different. I'd swear on my life it's something that Ventuccio doesn't know is going on. It's something I sort of ran into in the books. I don't think anybody else would notice, because nobody else remembers these things like I do."

Now Caesare looked serious, and very much interested. He quirked one finger at Marco. "Come over here and sit where I can see you?"

Marco obeyed, pulling out the chair next to Aldanto's and plopping into it. Aldanto shoved his food aside and clasped his hands quietly on the table before him. Marco imitated his pose without really thinking about it.

Aldanto took a deep breath. "I've got good cause to know about that memory of yours; I don't know that I've ever seen it play tricks. So what is it that you've uncovered?"

"About twice a month," Marco replied, picking his words with care, "there are three or four fewer tax stamp receipts than there are items on the bill of lading inventory, which is when things go into the warehouse. But there's exactly the same number as on the warehousing inventory, when things go out. There's no discrepancy in the bill of lading and what's been paid for, and no calls for reimbursement from clients, so there's no reason for Ventuccio to go back-checking the books; so far as they figure, they've been paid in full, everything's okay. The way things go is this?the bill of lading gets checked off at the warehouse door when the ship gets unloaded. That's the first time they make a count. Then the Doge's official in charge of duties inspects the goods, stamps each thing when it comes back out again; that's the second time. That way nobody can swipe stuff from the warehouse with the tax stamp on it an' resell it."

"Huh." Aldanto looked very thoughtful. "So?somebody is bringing something in, paying Ventuccio for it, then 'losing' it before it gets duty paid on it."

Marco nodded. "Or before it gets inspected. That's what it looks like to me, milord."

"Do you know who?or even what?"

Marco nodded again. "Spices. Or so it claims to be. About three, four little spice casks at a time."

Aldanto chewed his lip. "Not much is it?" he said after a pause.

Marco's head bobbed. "Enough to make a real difference to somebody, I'd think. Spices aren't cheap. And maybe they just don't want those casks looked at."

Caesare brooded for a bit. "You've been doing your damnedest to act and think like a responsible adult, lately," he said, and Marco flushed painfully, lowering his eyes to his clasped hands. "I'm minded to see if you can take an adult task. It just might be worth what you cost me."

Marco looked up at him in a flare of sudden hope.

Caesare smiled sourly. "You'll be fishing in dangerous waters, Marco, I want you to know that. This might be something one of the younger Ventuccios is running without the knowledge of the Family?it's maybe something worth enough money that at least one of the parties involved is going to be willing to kill to protect it. You're going to have to be very, very cautious, and very, very smart."

"You want me to find out who's involved," Marco stated. "And you figure that I've gotten enough sense beat into me to take the risk and come out on top. If I keep my head."

Caesare nodded, and coughed a little self-consciously. "And you know why. I sell information, and I don't much care who I sell it to, or how many times I sell it. If you take care, you should be all right, but this will probably cost you your job, no matter what?"

Marco shrugged. "It was you got me the job in the first place," he pointed out. "Reckon I can scrounge another one somewhere. Maybe Maria can have a word with Milord Giaccomo; maybe Milord Giaccomo could use a pencil pusher, or knows someone who could?"

"Oh no, boy?" Aldanto got a real, unfeigned smile on his face. "No, you won't have to go hunting up another job; you're going to have enough to worry about, come summer. I had a word with Milady Dorma this afternoon?"

Marco blushed very hotly, knowing quite well that the "word" was likely to have been pillow talk.

"?and it seems she's talked her formidable older brother into giving you full Dorma sponsorship into the Accademia. Think you can handle that assignment, Milord Almost-A-Doctor Valdosta?"

Marco's jaw dropped, and he stared at Aldanto like a brain-sick fool. Never, never in all his wildest dreams, had he thought for a moment that Angelina Dorma would follow through on her half-promise once he'd revealed how he'd deceived her with his poetry, poems she'd thought came from Caesare Aldanto.

"Now I want you to listen to me, Marco Valdosta," Aldanto continued, staring so hard into Marco's eyes that it felt like he was trying to inscribe his words directly onto Marco's brain. "This is good sense, good advice I'm giving you. Put your dreams and idealism in your pocket for a minute and listen to me just as carefully as you can."

"Yes," Marco said, dazed.

"Dorma," Caesare said with force, "is going to expect you to become their House Physician; that's the price you will personally be paying for their gift. You're going to become fairly well-off; you'll have to be, you'll be an associate of the Family. Now I know you want to help out Maria's friends; that's very nice, it's very admirable?but you aren't going to be able to help the poor by being poor yourself. Be smart; take what comes your way and use it. Once in the Family you will be in a position to get that medical help to the canalers. Dorma seems to have a certain sense of noble responsibility." His tone was wry; cynical. "You can play on that if you play their game by their rules. And that's the way to get what you want in this world. So don't blow the chance you've been given; it's been my experience that you don't often get more than one."

Marco got his jaw back in place, swallowed, and nodded. "You're right, Caesare, I know you're right. The world's like that. And you've been?real good to me and Benito. Better than you had any reason to, and I can't say as I've done much to deserve it. I just wish?" He swallowed again. "?I just wish I could do something to give you a shot at what you've always wanted. You wouldn't screw it up."

Aldanto turned his eyes on him. Pulled a wry face and shook his head.

That strange look lasted only a second?then Aldanto was back to his old self.

"One more thing," he continued, pulling his interrupted dinner back towards him, and toying with the bread. "You've been granted two ways to prove you've learned your lessons and to pay me back for the trouble you caused. One?to find out what's going on at Ventuccio. Two?to become my channel into Dorma and the Accademia, to be my eyes and ears and keep me informed. You know what kind of information I'm likely to find interesting. So?"

"Don't blow it," Marco completed for him, still a little bemused by the turn in his fortunes.

Caesare actually chuckled. "Right," he said, resuming his meal.

"Caesare?would it be all right if I wrote to my grandfather and told him about going to the Accademia, do you think?" Marco asked hesitantly, as he shoved his chair away from the table and prepared to leave.

Aldanto considered the possible ramifications for a moment; Marco could almost see the thoughts behind the eyes. "I can't see where it could do any harm," he finally replied. "It might ease his mind about you. Go ahead."

Marco hesitated at the doorway. "Thank you," he said shyly, feeling that he was likely to be glowing with gratitude and happiness.

"For what?" Caesare asked, weary, but amused. "Oh, go on, Marco. If you're not hungry, go and read, or to bed. Get out of here?you keep reminding me of how old and corrupt I am."