Eric Flint - The Shadow of the Lion

But what about Kat? His heart felt like it would break.

Dell'este honor.

He'd followed the dictates of his heart before. The result had been disaster.

Dell'este honor demanded payback. And he might be in love with Kat… yet he still had no idea if she was in love with him.

More than anything, at that moment, Marco wanted to talk to Kat. Desperately. But he had no idea how to reach her before their appointment on Thursday. He didn't know where she lived?even her last name.

Everything hurt.

He was almost gasping like a fish out of water, now. His mind, reeling, tried to find a point of solidity somewhere. The only one which came was?

Honor. Family honor.

Marco had a feeling that if he saw Kat again, family honor might just crumble. But honor demanded that he did see her. Didn't it?

"Milord?three things," he said carefully, choosing his words and somehow managing not to stammer. "The first is?I need to think about this. There's someone?never mind. I'd like to get out of the House for a while."

His mind slipped into a medical track, seeking comfort in the familiar. "For your mother… I'll suggest a few things that I know of to Doctor Rigannio. But while he's trying them, it might be a good idea anyway if Milady Rosanna wouldn't be in a position to see me."

Petro nodded. "Certainly. I didn't expect an immediate answer. But please keep in mind… Marriage can't wait too long, Marco. Angelina's three months pregnant already. Closer to four months, I suspect. As for the other, a place away from my mother could be arranged?but not back with Aldanto. Did you have anything in mind?"

"Well?my friend, Rafael de Tomaso, was talking about there being a suite of rooms at a boarding house not far from Zianetti's. He was kind of wishing he knew somebody he could trust to split it with him. I think he was hinting at me. He's Father Bellini's prot?g?, in art."

Petro nodded again. "A good choice. I think we can arrange that. What else?"

This was daring, but? "Caesare Aldanto isn't where Milady got her drugs. There isn't much he hasn't done, but that's not one of them." He coughed a little, shamed, but offered the confession to balance the secrets he'd stumbled on. "A while back, I think I found out where the introit of lotos shipments was. This was about two months ago. This… problem with your mother has been going on for some time longer than that hasn't it? And Caesare Aldanto didn't know about the lotos sales then. So… I can't prove it, not yet, but?it wasn't him."

"So?" Petro's voice was neutral.

"Before I say anything to Milady Angelina, I want to be able to prove to her that it wasn't Caesare. I want everything clean between us."

Dell'este honor.

He sighed. "I want her making her choices without any lies. I messed her up with lies before; I don't want to do it again. If she knows the truth?she might make different choices. And that's her right."

Petro folded his arms across his chest; the sky behind him deepened to blue and the first stars sprinkled across it. "I can respect that," he said, a certain warmth coming into his voice. "I can respect that and I can understand that. Of course as the head of family, I can tell you that Aldanto will never be acceptable to Dorma. And you know that I serve as one of the Signori di Notte. Since Lord Calenti's death we know the damned lotos trade has started up again. Even if it was not my mother, I'd want to know. Because it is… I want to know badly. Very well?you seek your proofs and I'll see about getting you moved out of Dorma so that you can have your time to think. But please. The wedding has to be soon."

"Thank you, milord," Marco replied quietly and turned to go.

"Marco?"

He stopped and turned back.

He could just see Petro's smile in the blue dusk.

"You are part of our secrets. Therefore, you are part of us. Whatever decision you make regarding a marriage to my sister?welcome to Casa Dorma, Marco."

Marco was in a daze after he left Casa Dorma. Now that he was no longer in the presence of Petro Dorma, the Head of the House, matters of family responsibility and honor seemed less overwhelming. His personal hopes and desires loomed far larger.

I have to talk to someone!

But who? He considered Benito, but ruled him out almost immediately. His younger brother's advice on this matter would be useless, or even worse.

Rafael, perhaps. Marco needed to speak to him anyway, on the subject of the lodgings.

But, as he made his way through the narrow streets, dark now that evening had fallen, Rafael's advice on the matter seemed less and less attractive. Marco couldn't help but remember that the last time he'd taken Rafael's advice on a matter of the heart, the results had been… mixed, to say the least. For all of Rafael's self-confidence and ease, the truth was that he was still too young himself to really understand what would be the right course.

Thoughts of Rafael, however, triggered thoughts of Chiano. Or Dottore Luciano Marina, as he was now. Chiano will have good advice.

Marco didn't know where Chiano lived. But he was sure that Rafael did. The student would be reluctant to tell him, since Marco was not another Strega. But that he would, Marco had no doubt. He would just have to be persuasive.

At the moment, Marco was certain he could persuade a stone to talk. Compared to everything else, persuasion seemed the easiest task in the world.

This has all been too easy.

Luciano Marina had worked his way back into his old life so smoothly that he was worried. Granted, he had not attempted to reach most of his former adherents among the Strega. Granted also, he had not practiced any magic without so many protections that the air was thick with them, literally. Still.

He had made some contacts… carefully, and a very few. Claudia and Valentina, a pair of Strega entertainers whose eyes and ears were always open and who had, in their turn, contacts everywhere. Itzaak ben Joseph, a Kabbalistic mage and goldsmith, whose clients ranged from the Casa Vecchie to a very recent arrival at Casa Louise, who?as Luciano alone knew, thanks to Itzaak?had up to that moment been a popular "entertainer" at the House of the Red Cat. Sister Evangelina and Father Mascoli of the Order of Saint Hypatia, who had always been friendly to the Strega. Father Palladio, who taught anatomy to the students of medicine at the Accademia. He would very much have liked to have more trusted contacts among his fellow Strega. Sadly, though they were well intentioned they were often lamentably loose tongued.

That was probably why poor Despini had been found floating. He had, said old rumor, been alerted to something very evil coming to Venice; he had certainly made the attempt to fill in the gap in Strega leadership that Luciano's own disappearance had left.

But the first rumor?that Despini had learned of something very evil with its eye on the pearl that was Venice… Very evil. As evil as that which Marina had seen in his vision? If so, that evil had a name, and it was a thing that Luciano was not prepared to confront. Not yet.

The Lion was stirring, true, and no longer in slumber. But neither was it awake yet?and waking it was a major and very dangerous ceremony, which also required the presence of… certain persons. Without the Lion, Luciano could do very little against the black evil that threatened Venice.

He shivered. He hated even to think the name of that evil, for fear of attracting its attention.

He had not moved back into his former set of rooms in the complex of buildings that loosely comprised the Accademia. For one thing, they were already occupied by someone else; for another, moving back into them would be like issuing a challenge. Instead, Luciano Marina?using his true name, since he saw no reason not to, being as he was assumed to be dead?had taken this little furnished room. Comfortable enough, with the advantage of having a back door even the landlord didn't know about, a door that had been paneled over until Luciano divined its presence and surreptitiously restored it. It let out into a private courtyard, but if Luciano had to escape some night, he wasn't going to be too particular about whose sensibilities he offended at the time. This sort of arrangement of doors and windows being paneled over happened all the time, when men of wealth fell on hard times and had to sell or lease their former manors, which then were carved up into individual dwellings. It had even happened to Casa Vecchie families. Even Casa Longi.