Read Online The Exiled Blade: Act Three of the Assassini by Jon Courtenay Grimwood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jon Courtenay Grimwood
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the dead infant was a stranger’s child but he still tasted its blood, knowing how vile it would be. Once again he spat, gagged and wiped his mouth. Then pulled up the grave sheet and stood while Marco recited a prayer. “Someone’s d-daughter. Someone’s s-son,” Marco finished, when his prayer was done. “You must tell Giulietta and my mother. Leave me being here out of it.”
“Highness?”
“I am my father’s ghost. Far less visible than my uncle’s ambition or my mother’s guilt . . . Like you, I am here and not here. Like you, I live for the shadows.” With that, he was gone. A swirl of black cloak, a toss of his head and Marco, duke of Venice and prince of Serenissima, blew out his candle and disappeared into the dark twist of stairs beyond. Tycho suspected he was being mocked.
11
The guard on Alexa’s door was unwilling to knock, uncertain if he was allowed to let Tycho do so and afraid of making the wrong decision. No doubt he had a wife, children, and a house that was falling down and in need of repair. Pretty much every man in Venice did. Tycho sighed. “State business.”
The words were enough to make the soldier step back.
The duchess was famously unforgiving about being disturbed without satisfactory reason. A servant of Alexa’s came to the door, realised it was Tycho who wanted entry and vanished again. A few seconds later the door opened for a second time and the servant slid through it, hastily dressed in a thick cloak.
“The duchess is waiting inside . . .”
Tycho should know the girl’s name. He should know the name of all Alexa’s staff, but since she called them
you –
and they looked interchangeable, being soft-faced and wide-eyed and scared of him – Tycho hadn’t bothered. He knew them by sight. If he was honest, he knew them by smell and the waves of interest and doubt they left in the air as he walked past them.
“Come in then.”
Tycho shut the door behind him.
“This had better be good,” Alexa said. On her table were maps of the Mediterranean, a jade bowl of water, and what Tycho realised was the duchess’s own notebook. A quill pen stood in an inkpot next to it.
“Did your husband have bastards?”
Alexa slapped him. She had to cross the room to do it.
“Is that a yes?”
“Tell me why you ask.”
“Because the dead nurse in the crypt is Millioni.”
The duchess froze. For a second she might have been ice. Raising both hands, she lifted her veil, and then removed it altogether. “Are you certain?”
“Positive,” Tycho said.
He waited for her next question. After a moment, he realised she was still waiting for him to answer the last one. “The nurse was killed so I would think Leo was dead. I can . . .” Wondering how to word it, he realised Alexa probably already knew. “I can recognise Giulietta’s blood by . . .” He almost said taste and changed it to smell.
“That night. It was the dead woman’s blood you smelt?”
“Yes, my lady.” Tycho nodded.
“And the infant?”
“The right age and colouring.”
“That was enough to fool you?” She sounded disappointed. Tycho hesitated. Was the
krieghund
scar his secret to tell? Lady Giulietta was convinced her aunt would kill the child if she realised what it represented. That her uncle would do the same. She’d told both it was a splinter wound from the Mamluk battle.
“He has Leo’s scar.”
“Clever,” said Alexa. “You smell the blood and see the scar . . . I should have looked at the child myself.” She sucked her teeth. “My fault for growing soft in my old age. I wouldn’t let Giulietta look either. You realise,” she added, “if Alonzo realises Leo is
krieghund
he’ll kill him anyway?”
“
My lady?
”
“I’m not a fool. Prince Frederick’s war pack changed sides to come to your aid on Giudecca. You had my orders to kill him but you let him live. He wanted to see my niece before he left Venice. He especially wanted to see her child. Oh, don’t be jealous
“Highness?”
“I am my father’s ghost. Far less visible than my uncle’s ambition or my mother’s guilt . . . Like you, I am here and not here. Like you, I live for the shadows.” With that, he was gone. A swirl of black cloak, a toss of his head and Marco, duke of Venice and prince of Serenissima, blew out his candle and disappeared into the dark twist of stairs beyond. Tycho suspected he was being mocked.
11
The guard on Alexa’s door was unwilling to knock, uncertain if he was allowed to let Tycho do so and afraid of making the wrong decision. No doubt he had a wife, children, and a house that was falling down and in need of repair. Pretty much every man in Venice did. Tycho sighed. “State business.”
The words were enough to make the soldier step back.
The duchess was famously unforgiving about being disturbed without satisfactory reason. A servant of Alexa’s came to the door, realised it was Tycho who wanted entry and vanished again. A few seconds later the door opened for a second time and the servant slid through it, hastily dressed in a thick cloak.
“The duchess is waiting inside . . .”
Tycho should know the girl’s name. He should know the name of all Alexa’s staff, but since she called them
you –
and they looked interchangeable, being soft-faced and wide-eyed and scared of him – Tycho hadn’t bothered. He knew them by sight. If he was honest, he knew them by smell and the waves of interest and doubt they left in the air as he walked past them.
“Come in then.”
Tycho shut the door behind him.
“This had better be good,” Alexa said. On her table were maps of the Mediterranean, a jade bowl of water, and what Tycho realised was the duchess’s own notebook. A quill pen stood in an inkpot next to it.
“Did your husband have bastards?”
Alexa slapped him. She had to cross the room to do it.
“Is that a yes?”
“Tell me why you ask.”
“Because the dead nurse in the crypt is Millioni.”
The duchess froze. For a second she might have been ice. Raising both hands, she lifted her veil, and then removed it altogether. “Are you certain?”
“Positive,” Tycho said.
He waited for her next question. After a moment, he realised she was still waiting for him to answer the last one. “The nurse was killed so I would think Leo was dead. I can . . .” Wondering how to word it, he realised Alexa probably already knew. “I can recognise Giulietta’s blood by . . .” He almost said taste and changed it to smell.
“That night. It was the dead woman’s blood you smelt?”
“Yes, my lady.” Tycho nodded.
“And the infant?”
“The right age and colouring.”
“That was enough to fool you?” She sounded disappointed. Tycho hesitated. Was the
krieghund
scar his secret to tell? Lady Giulietta was convinced her aunt would kill the child if she realised what it represented. That her uncle would do the same. She’d told both it was a splinter wound from the Mamluk battle.
“He has Leo’s scar.”
“Clever,” said Alexa. “You smell the blood and see the scar . . . I should have looked at the child myself.” She sucked her teeth. “My fault for growing soft in my old age. I wouldn’t let Giulietta look either. You realise,” she added, “if Alonzo realises Leo is
krieghund
he’ll kill him anyway?”
“
My lady?
”
“I’m not a fool. Prince Frederick’s war pack changed sides to come to your aid on Giudecca. You had my orders to kill him but you let him live. He wanted to see my niece before he left Venice. He especially wanted to see her child. Oh, don’t be jealous
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