The Exiled Blade: Act Three of the Assassini (19 page)

She saw no problem with Giulietta being in love with two people at once. Men did that all the time. She’d loved Marco, and loved Lord Atilo. The Regent had been a mistake. Her going to his bed a simple attempt to protect her son. Looking up, the duchess realised her niece was still waiting for her to speak. “Your uncle and Tycho met in a forest near the Red Cathedral.”

“
You knew?
” Giulietta looked as if she’d been slapped.

“Look at strange objects from all sides before deciding what they are.”

“That was one of my uncle’s sayings.” She meant Marco the Just.

“Exactly. Tycho might have his reasons.”

“Oh, he’s got his reasons all right. He leaves without telling me and then I discover he’s changed sides.
I’m never going to get Leo back
.”

“Listen to me . . .” Alexa’s voice was so sharp Giulietta stiffened and Alexa sighed.
This is impossible . . . I’ve made her too like me
, Alexa realised. Saying goodbye to Marco had been simple. A kiss, a
sorry
, he’d know she’d loved him. In the red-haired girl standing in front of her, Alexa saw herself. Her hair was the wrong colour, her skin too olive, her eyes had those strange Western folds. She was scrawny where Alexa had been lithe, her hips sharp against her nightgown, but staring from those pale eyes . . . She’d proved, to her own satisfaction, it was who brought the child up, not who the parents were, that mattered.

“I have always loved you,” Alexa said.

Giulietta looked stunned.

“As much as if you were my own daughter. If I could have made you my daughter I would have done. Marco wouldn’t allow it.” She smiled sourly. “He said it would turn the Arsenalotti and the Nicoletti against you. They would say it was because I wanted to train you in poisons and witchcraft.”

Wide eyes watched Alexa.

Oh, you’ll remember this night.
For the wrong reasons at first, and later, if Alexa was lucky, for the right ones. That would make a difference in the years to come. She needed the girl to be a good Regent, to continue doing the things Alexa had always done; smoothing the way to treaties and removing obstacles when necessary. So many threads for Alexa to tie off, so little time left for tying.

“You were a difficult child.”

Giulietta smiled.

“That you’re proud of it is just one of the reasons you remind me of me.” Yes, she thought that would surprise Giulietta. “I’ve tried to teach you what you need to know.”

“Tycho asked if you’d trained me.”

“In what?”

Giulietta coloured. “I thought he meant
the arts of love
. They say . . .”

“Of course they do.” Alexa was meant to have kept the late duke enslaved and in her power with unspeakable skills. As if a man like Marco couldn’t simply fall in love with his wife once the wedding and bedding were done. Marco could recognise good advice, even when it came from a woman and a foreigner. “What
did
he mean?”

“Shielding my thoughts, I think.”

“Of course I taught you,” Alexa said. “How could you survive in this cesspit if you couldn’t shield your thoughts? How could anyone survive? Some lessons you don’t learn by sitting at a desk with books in front of you. In fact, most lessons that matter you don’t learn like that.” Leaning forward, Alexa kissed her niece on both cheeks and then on the forehead. “Sleep well, my dear.”

“And you,” Giulietta said.

“I intend to . . .”

The corridor outside was empty of guards so Alexa guessed the sergeant was still trying to wake the lieutenant or the lieutenant wake the captain. Either way, no one saw her climb the stairs to where Tycho’s page waited by her study door. “What’s your name again?”

“Pietro, my lady.”

“Stay there.” Vanishing inside, Alexa returned with a lizard the height of a small cat, although longer. The boy’s eyes widened as the creature turned its baleful orange gaze on him and ruffled its neck frill in irritation. A second later, it spread leathery wings and Pietro gasped. “He’s just showing off,” said Alexa, as she put the dragonet into the boy’s arms. “You’ll find he does that a lot. Now, touch your forehead to his.”

The boy shook his head.

“
Pietro
. . .”

He flushed, torn between two fears.

“It’s how they make friends,” she said, which was close to the truth in that it wasn’t exactly a lie, more a massive simplification. “Do it now.”

The boy put his head to the dragon’s and flinched.

“His name’s
dracul
, which means little dragon in my mother’s language. He’s yours,” she added. “Tell Duke Marco I said that. He’s yours to keep.” She ushered the page along the corridor and told him to sit with the dragonet in the window seat overlooking the Molo. “If anybody asks you have orders from me to sit there. In a while dracul will grow restless and want to fly. You will wait for his return.”

“Will he want to fly every night?”

She smiled at his mixture of wonder and worry. “Only tonight,” she promised. “He has one last job for me. After that he belongs only to you.” She patted the boy’s shoulder, scratched dracul under his chin and left them there. How old was he? Nine, ten . . .? She doubted the boy was eleven. With those born into poverty it was hard to tell. Old enough to be a reliable witness, though. And she’d made him invaluable; she hoped Lord Tycho appreciated the gesture. Pietro would become the duke’s eyes for as long as the dragonet lived, and they lived for a very long time. He would be the perfect spy.

It was time, or as close as made no difference.

Afraid?
Of course she was. Who wouldn’t be? Alexa poured rainwater from a silver jug into her jade bowl with as much care and solemnity as if conducting a final tea ceremony, and she was proud of how little her fingers shook and how steadily she poured. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on what she wanted to see, pinned the figure in her mind and waited. It was a while before she heard the scratch of a knife at her window.

“Come in,” she said. “It’s unlocked.”

“My lady . . .” Tycho swept a low bow.

So little had changed, he thought, looking round Alexa’s study. She sat – where he’d expected to find her, if he found her awake – at her desk, with that bowl in front of her. He watched her sweep her fingers across the water inside and smile. Having dried her fingers, she covered the bowl with a cloth and settled back, studying Tycho carefully. She said, “You’re thinner. I wouldn’t have thought that possible. Have you been eating?”

He stared at her.

“You could feed now.”

“My lady . . .”

“Call me Alexa. If you can’t call me Alexa now . . . Not that it’s my name. But I’ve learnt to answer to it like some exotic pet.”

It was as if she knew why he was here, Tycho realised. He would need something of hers, drenched in blood. Her dress would be distinctive enough. If he talked fast and moved faster, he’d have a week and maybe more to make his peace with Alonzo, trick his way into the Red Cathedral and steal back Lady Giulietta’s child before the news that Alexa still lived reached him.

“It won’t work.”

“My lady . . .”

“I know what you’re thinking. It shows in your eyes. Sometimes you forget to shield your thoughts. Usually when you’re upset or worried. Like now.”

“I need a favour.”

“No. You need to kill me.”

“That’s not why . . .”

“Why you’re here? It should be. You’re the Blade. Your job is to keep the city safe. You think anything less than my death will convince Alonzo? He has spies in this court. We need to do this properly.”

“A blood-splattered dress . . .”

“Will not be enough. Do you want Leo to die?” She smiled sourly. “You think that’s unfair? When have I ever had the luxury of being fair? The Millioni became my family when I married Marco and I will protect them, even from themselves. This city
needs
Leo. Do you know why?”

Tycho shook his head.

“Because every throne needs an heir. There is nothing more dangerous to thrones than no heir to sit in them. It scares the loyal and tempts traitors.” Alexa sucked her teeth. “I’ve known it make traitors of the loyal. My son will not produce an heir so Giulietta’s son must do instead. Find me Prince Leo di Millioni and bring him back. It’s harder for traitors to kill two princes than one.”

“Have you considered restoring the Republic?”

“That’s what Giulietta wants? Of course she does, she’s young and romantic, she thinks herself a rebel. She’ll grow out of it. People rule or are ruled, those are the choices.”

“I don’t want to rule. Simply not be ruled.”

“Tycho . . . You’re not normal.”

He took a chair without asking and examined the woman opposite. She was as beautiful as the last time he saw her without her veil, with an ageless face and flawless skin. Her eyes were deep brown and bright, but there was a tiredness to her smile and she held his gaze with effort.

Tycho stared at Alexa and realisation dawned.

She smiled at his surprise, and for a second he saw, amongst the tiredness and the lines that sickness had etched on her face, pleasure at a plan coming together as intended. “Yes,” she said. “I pushed Alonzo to this point.”

“Why, my lady?”

“I’m dying . . . We’re all dying, obviously, I’m just doing it rather faster than I was, and you’re doing it a little more slowly than everybody else. I have a year if I want to draw things out. Six months if I let it take me. Two years ago you came to kill me. Now finish the job. Did anyone see you?”

Tycho shook his head.

“You’re sure?”

Of course I am . . .
The streets and frozen canal behind the palace had been silent, the fierce cold of the night had done what Watch captains only achieved in their dreams – cleared the city of whores, revellers and robbers. The palace guard had been so cold they simply stared at their feet.

“Quite sure,” Tycho said.

“You need to look up more.”

Pushing himself out of his chair, Tycho went to the window and let in the cold as he opened the shutters. A patch of darkness swept circles in front of the slender stars, showing darker still when it bisected a sliver of cloud.

“Remember my dragonet?”

He remembered it right enough. The little lizard had been waiting at the house Alexa gave him, starving seemingly. Now he suspected dracul was just greedy. It had taken Tycho a while to realise the dragonet acted as her eyes. Abandoning the dragonet to its high circling, Tycho closed the shutters and turned to find Alexa had removed the cloth from her jade bowl.

“Take this with you.”

“What is it?”

“The most valuable thing in Venice.”

Tycho glanced at the translucent bowl and thought of the
pala d’oro
, San Marco’s gold and jewelled altar screen with its two thousand precious stones and painting of Christ in Majesty. Nothing in Europe was more sacred or precious. So Giulietta said. He came closer. “Stare into it,” Alexa ordered.

And see what? Clear water in limpid stone?

“Close your eyes, think of what you most want to see and open them again.” The duchess’s voice was almost matter of fact enough to make him ignore the enamelled dagger she was taking from a drawer and placing in front of her. “Close them then. Now open them.”

Opening his eyes, Tycho saw Giulietta naked.

He glanced up to discover Alexa was still turning the dagger over in her fingers. “Exquisite,” she said. When Tycho returned his gaze to the bowl, Giulietta had put on a nightgown and a lady-in-waiting Tycho didn’t recognise was tying the ribbons at her neck.

“It shows what you want to see. Occasionally, if you’re lucky, it shows what you need to see. Now, we’ve wasted enough time. You know what comes next . . .” Her hand trembled as she offered him the knife.

“I have daggers of my own.”

“Of course you do. But Marco gave me this when we were married. The city’s finest armourer made it. Can you imagine the outrage . . .?”

Tycho’s mouth opened.

“The duchess killed
with her own knife
. Take the dagger with you and give it to Alonzo, with my blood still on the blade.” She held up her hand to show the wedding ring Marco had placed on her finger. “And take this.”

“My lady.”

“Do it,” Alexa said fiercely. “The cities will talk of nothing else. Even if you arrive before the news, outrage will follow so closely it could be your shadow. Alonzo will embrace you like a brother.” Taking his hand, she folded his fingers round the enamel of the handle and put the point to her breast. Her hand trembled only slightly.

Tycho said, “What do I tell Giulietta?”

“Try the truth. She’s had little enough of that in her life.”

“My lady . . .”

“You’ve seen my niece as naked as the day she was born, if not as innocent. She will forgive you.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then she will have to forget you . . . Those are the options. One final thing, you must drink my blood.” Her eyes narrowed at his reluctance. “You think what I know isn’t worth learning?”

He stabbed then, seeing her eyes widen. Grating across a rib, his blade reached her heart and touched muscle.

“
Murder
,” she screamed.

Hot blood spurted across Tycho’s fingers as his blade came free with a disgusting sucking noise. She dropped and he followed, drinking straight from the wound as her fingers gripped his hair, holding him against her. Feet pounded along the corridor outside.

A guard hammered on the door and kept hammering, Alexa having bolted it earlier. She was unconscious and close to death as Tycho crawled across her and tried to remove the ring from her finger. She must have known he’d need to saw it off. He turned, her finger in his hand, as the door smashed open and a guard howled at him to stop. Behind the man stood Pietro, mouth open and face white with shock. He looked from Alexa to where Tycho crouched and his face crumpled.

“Don’t move,” the guard shouted.

Tycho threw himself backwards through the window, landed clumsily in the garden below and ran for a tree he remembered climbing once before. He jumped from the tree to a wall, a narrow canal flashing below him as he leapt for a roof beyond. An arrow and then another followed . . . They were shooting at shadows for the sake of it. He could hear yells from inside. More shouting in the courtyard beyond.