Eric Flint - The Shadow of the Lion

She shook her head. "But enough of that! I am really so glad that you accepted my invitation," Francesca continued merrily. "My afternoon is entirely free today, as it happens. I made certain of it." She gestured at the sofa, chaise, and chairs, inviting Kat to take her choice among them.

Kat gingerly took a seat on the sofa, which betrayed her with its softness as it was intended to do, drawing her into a cushioned embrace. Kat resisted for a moment, then, wearing a sheepish smile, allowed the sofa to have its way with her.

Francesca reclined on the chaise, which bore more than a passing resemblance to an ancient Roman dining-couch. Not only was it an attractive pose, it was supremely comfortable. "Help yourself to the fruit next to you, by the way," she offered. "If you don't, it will only spoil?one of my admirers sends it every day, far more than I can eat. Evidently his last inamorata had the appetite of an elephant." As Kat reached for a grape, she continued. "I've already taken some measures to protect you if… your personal situation becomes worse. I spoke to the Madame about having a house gondola. Although she doesn't believe we need one yet?" Francesca emphasized the yet "?she agrees that we could use a very discreet courier for various errands, which could include patrons who for one reason or another would rather not make use of public boats or their own. And she also agrees that I will soon need a private gondolier of my own, in any event. It wouldn't pay a great deal, but…"

Kat let out a sigh. "It would enable me to survive, whatever else." She tried to look on the bright side. "If nothing else, it'd be safer than what I'm doing now. No one's going to pester Case Vecchie in a gondola, or a courtesan going to visit one discreetly."

"That was my thought also, although"?another grin?"I saw no reason to mention your current activities to the Madame. You'd probably want to wear a mask, of course, since I imagine you'd want to keep your identity secret. From other Case Vecchie most of all, since yours is one of the four oldest houses."

She paused for a moment, allowing Kat to absorb the fact that Francesca had learned she was Montescue. But Kat was neither surprised nor worried. She'd realized very soon after meeting Francesca that the courtesan was far too intelligent for Kat to be able to keep her family identity a secret from the woman for very long. And, perhaps oddly given Francesca's self-admitted (say better, self-proclaimed) mercenary nature, Kat was not worried about betrayal. For reasons she could not pinpoint, but didn't doubt at all, she knew Francesca could be trusted completely. In this matter, at least, if no other.

So, she simply returned Francesca's gaze with a level one of her own. And then, slowly, smiled.

Francesca's face softened. Her eyes even seemed to acquire?just for an instant?a slight film of moisture. "Thank you for that, Kat," she said, very softly. "Friendship does not come often, to a courtesan. We treasure it all the more for its rarity."

But her gaiety returned immediately. "And now?enough of all this gloomy business. Let's look to a brighter future. Information I promised you, information I have. That's really why I asked you to come here. So. Let's trade gossip!"

"Gossip?" Kat asked incredulously.

Francesca laughed. "When women talk, it's called gossip; when men do it, it's called information. In either case, it's an exchange that could profit one or both of the parties. That was our arrangement, wasn't it?"

"I suppose?" Kat looked dubious now, and Francesca shook her head. "Believe me, dear, men are far worse at holding their tongues in the presence of a woman than a woman is in the presence of anyone. I may know something that you can turn to profit that I can reveal without breaking confidences. But let's start with you. What's the current news down on the water?"

When they were done, perhaps two hours later, Francesca was no longer smiling.

"None of this is good, Kat. Although I'm glad you'll be able to turn some of my tidbits of information to profitable use. But something's deeply wrong. Something…" She hesitated, groping for words.

"Good times and bad times," shrugged Kat. "The world is like that. Certainly Venice."

Francesca shook her head, quite forcefully. "This is more than simply 'bad times.' Something?someone?is deliberately making things as bad as possible."

Kat frowned. "Why do you think that? And why would anyone want to do it?" Before Francesca could answer, Kat made a little waving motion with her hand, forestalling objections. "Oh, sure?Duke Visconti wishes Venice all the ill in the world. But even he has nothing to gain by creating turmoil in the city. No matter how desperate Venetians ever got, the last thing they'd accept is Milanese intervention in our affairs."

The courtesan sitting across from her lifted herself up from the chaise and began pacing about slowly. Kat was struck by how silently she moved.

" 'Intervention,' no. But what if the purpose wasn't intervention? What if it was simply?destruction?"

"And what would be the point of that?" cried Kat. "If Milan tried to destroy Venice?which they couldn't do anyway?we're an island and our fleet is far more powerful than anything they could muster?" Her words were coming in a rush.

It was Francesca's turn to wave down an objection. "Not Milan, Kat. Not, at least, as anything but a tool. I was thinking of Lithuania."

Kat's face went completely blank. She stared at Francesca, for a moment, as if she had suddenly found herself confronted by a raving lunatic.

Seeing the expression, Francesca chuckled. "I'm quite sane, I assure you. Yes, Kat, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and Poland is very far from Venice. And has no common border with it. No apparent source for mutual conflict." She shrugged. "Not even the commercial rivalry which periodically agitates the Hungarians and the Genoese and the Greeks in Constantinople."

"Exactly. So why in the world?"

"Who is the great rival of Lithuania, Kat?" interrupted Francesca.

"The Holy Roman Empire, of course."

"Precisely. And what will happen if Venice is destroyed? Who will fill the sudden power vacuum in northern Italy and the Adriatic? Not Milan!"

Kat stared at her. Then, slowly, remembering things her father?and even more, her grandfather?had told her in times past… things Dottore Marina had told her also, now that she thought upon it… her face began to pale.

Francesca made a most unfeminine grunt. "Precisely. Grand Duke Jagiellon's reputation for insensate brutality is well-earned, girl. But don't be fooled by it. He is also a consummate manipulator. A man who prefers to let others bleed themselves to death, if at all possible."

Kat spoke in a whisper. "If Venice… is destroyed, the Holy Roman Emperor will have no choice. If he doesn't come in, the Hungarians surely will. And?and?"

"And Charles Fredrik, with Lithuania and the borderlands to deal with already, cannot also afford to see a more powerful Kingdom of Hungary?especially not one with a toehold in Italy. Especially not with a man on the throne like Emeric, who doesn't quite have Jagiellon's reputation?outside of Hungary, that is?but comes in a very close second."

"There'd be war between the Empire and Hungary!"

Francesca nodded. "For a certainty. With?for a certainty?Milan and Rome sucked into the vortex as well. Genoa also, be sure of it?soon enough, the Greeks as well." She resumed her slow, silent pacing. "Ever since he took the throne, one of Charles Fredrik's policies has been to stay out of Italian affairs. He's resisted?harshly, at times?every attempt of the Montagnards to drag him into this morass of endless bickering. 'The Po pisshole,' he's been known to call it."

Despite her own mild reflex of Italian chauvinism, Kat couldn't help but laugh a little at the crude expression. And admit, privately at least, that there was some justice to the barb. It was a fact that Italians?northern Italians, especially?were prone to endless and ultimately futile feuds and vendettas. Had not her own beloved Grandpapa, an otherwise sane and even kindly man, been obsessed for years with his feud against the Valdostas? A house which no longer even existed, except in vague rumors and her grandfather's heated imagination.