The Warring States (The Wave Trilogy) (48 page)

‘The current,’ Sofia said. She could feel it in her bones.

Ezra was shaking his fists at the black clouds that had eclipsed the insipid sun. ‘You may not harm her. You can only point the way!’ His voice was small against the howling wind.

Norcino’s cackle echoed in his cell. ‘You broke the Law first by helping her flee. No prohibitions bind us now.’

‘Who the hell’s he talking to?’ Levi asked. ‘Old man, you need to get us out of here!’

‘I’m sorry, Levi,’ Ezra said with terrible regret. ‘We cannot outrun this.’

Isabella plunged her hand into the font and pushed against the current, but it wriggled between her fingers.

Suddenly the boat shifted as whatever had been dragging them released its grip, and they were carried forward by the
wind. The spiralling motions of the sea slowed and then the maelstrom collapsed into a dozen smaller counter-twisting currents. The skiff wandered drunkenly between them.

Ezra’s smile was manic. ‘Thank you, little sister!’

‘What—?’ Norcino began as he felt the water stop turning. ‘What amateur work is this?’ Giggling, he plunged his hand back into the bucket.

Isabella screamed as the blind man grabbed her hand and pulled her down towards the water. Her feet left the ground, her arm sank in up to the shoulder and she struggled to keep her head from following it by grasping the side of the font.

Bobbing wildly, leaving the shattered maelstrom behind, the skiff climbed wave after wave, high as hills. While Sofia struggled to take down the sail, Levi bailed furiously. ‘You’ve
got
to be kidding me!’ He could not believe Ezra’s response to their calamity.

The Ebionite was reading:
‘The Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind—’

Levi saw Ezra’s eyes widen as a great waterspout rose from the heaving water. ‘Well, that’s not good.’

The spout danced on the waves like a great arm connecting sky and sea, pulling them together. When the spout came closer to the skiff, Ezra raised his voice: ‘
Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?’

The spout retreated.

Isabella felt two arms around her waist, pulling her back. She opened her eye under water and saw the pale hand grabbing her wrist. The air in her lungs escaped in a gasp. Then, feeling darkness edge into her, she steeled herself. She released the rim of the font, grabbed the hand holding hers, pulled it towards her mouth and bit down hard on the thumb.

‘Whooaahahaa!’ Norcino howled and ripped his bleeding hand out of the shit bucket.

Carmella roared with effort, and all at once Isabella’s body came free. They fell on the baptistery floor together. Isabella spat out the shrivelled yellow thumb – like something belonging to a corpse – and lay there, half-drowned in a puddle of blood and water. Carmella reached out and took Isabella’s hand and began singing the Virgin’s song. Isabella, her eyes rolled back in her head, joined in weakly.

‘Look!’ Sofia cried.

The waterspout wobbled wildly, and the base turned a violent red. In seconds the polluting colour had reached the sky. It hit the cloud with the explosive rush and crack of a forest fire. Spears of lighting fell as Heaven purged itself in a bloody monsoon.

Norcino howled and kicked the bucket against the door, mumbling in the forgotten tongue of Babel.

The water shot up from the font in a great pillar and struck the baptistery’s golden roof so hard that the mosaic shattered. Water and gold rained down on the two girls.

And Ezra’s eyes returned to normal. He looked suddenly older. ‘I’m sorry, Sofia. He found us. Wind failed. Pray water does not.’

Like a great flag buckling, the sea’s whole surface writhed under the electrical scourge, and wave after wave struck the boat, coming from all directions.

Sofia screamed as the sea enveloped them.

Water screamed louder.

O God, the waters saw thee; they were afraid: the depths also were troubled …

Psalms 77:16

The first assembly on the bridge since Piers Becket’s wedding inevitably evoked old memories and new tensions. Yuri allowed few of his men to attend. Giant though he was, he lacked Levi’s standing with the condottieri – they’d been restive since the
real
podesta left. A small podium had been set up beside the towering mass of the shrouded statue. A somewhat enervated Sister Isabella opened proceedings with a prayer, then Fabbro rose. Standing together, Pedro and Maddalena watched Fabbro climb the podium. He looked older since his wife’s death. When he reached the top he looked about in mild distress and after a moment climbed down. ‘It is pointless making lofty speeches in front of friends.’

Maddalena rolled her eyes to Pedro at this obvious bit of theatre, but it generated few smiles amongst the still sullen crowd. Pedro was already eager for the ceremony to end. Since his return, he found Signoria business increasingly distasteful. The orphanage – a dyke to prevent the flood of unwanted bastards from drowning Rasenna – had become more pressing than the cloaca, and he willingly lost himself in the practicalities of the work.

Fabbro carried on as if he had received an ovation: ‘Friends, I see you standing there like so many separate towers and I realise what our problem is.’ He held up a golden coin. ‘Money. It makes people crazy. In hard times, poor families stick together, but as soon as they get a little money, the quarrelling starts. Quarrels aren’t the worst of it, either. There’s no one so
prone to bad taste, bad investment and bad behaviour as new money. Well, friends, I have a confession:
I’m
new money. We’re
all
new money. Rasenna has never been so wealthy. Mistakes are natural – but if we make mistakes, let’s make them together. If we stumble, let’s stumble together. A tower divided must fall. If we are to succeed, it can only be together, as one tower. The Signoria speaks for
you
, minor guilds as much as major. Our interests are one. We must put the same trust in our government that we do in our walls and flags. We must be a tower in which no part can further its interests at the expense of the others. In a world where a cold northern wind is blowing, it is all we have. In Concord, in Ariminum, these institutions are failing, each tower, each class, each person against one another. Let not Rasenna go that way! Let there be harmony. From today, let there be one tower.’

Fabbro’s smile was laced with desperation as he waited for applause to erupt naturally here. A scattering of polite clapping came from the priors. ‘Rasenna, I give you the fourth lion!’ With undefeated enthusiasm he pulled away the sheet – he’d been around flags long enough to get a snap from it. This time the cheer was not forced, and Fabbro beamed like a new father to see the last lion finally in place with his brothers. Its golden pelt was blindingly beautiful.

‘From this day forth, a full watch is kept. Safe at last, my friends: at last the bridge is safe!’

After a round of handshaking, Fabbro searched amongst the crowd for Jacques. The blacksmith stood at the back of the crowd in his apron and long-eared cap. Fabbro wasn’t surprised that the blacksmith had not dressed up for the event, but it was odd that he looked so displeased.

‘A wonderful job, Jacques! Rasenna is grateful. I’m grateful. Your hands have wrought something truly beautiful.’

The blacksmith gave an almost imperceptible headshake. ‘The
bridge was better without it,’ he said abruptly and stalked back to Tartarus with his trailing apprentice. This was more than an artist’s false modesty, and Fabbro was briefly taken aback – but he forgot it as another round of backslapping commenced.

When the party was under way Maddalena whispered to Pedro, ‘Too bad the Contessa had to miss this.’

‘Don’t be unkind,’ Pedro said mildly.

‘You’ve become
so
virtuous since you set out
so
bravely to Ariminum, carrying all our hopes and dreams. A little bird told me Saint Sofia was carrying more than that.’

‘Maddalena, if you know what’s good for you— ’

‘I hardly think you should threaten me, little brother, after you bungled the negotiations so badly. No wonder she was so desperate to go. I’ve heard the whores of Ariminum are so numerous that they have a guild.’

Pedro knew Maddalena was no model of chastity, but instead of calling her a hypocrite he walked away.

‘Well, now I know it’s true!’ Maddalena laughed.

The condottiere on watch that night decided it was best to call his superior.

Piers Becket yawned. ‘What is it? Has the invasion started?’

‘I— it’s— Well, I thought you should see this. ’

He climbed up, and leaned forward to get a better look at the rider below the wall, waiting patiently at the North Gate. The banner he carried belonged to Concord.

‘Reckon he’s mad?’

‘Maybe,’ said Becket, ‘but he’s wearing the uniform of a senior officer.’

Ten minutes later, he and Yuri were escorting the unknown soldier into the city. Yuri insisted that the stranger conceal his banner, ‘For your safety.’

Becket noticed that the Concordian rode alongside, instead
of trailing them. ‘You know these streets, Lord Geta?’

‘I should think so. I studied under Maestro Agnolo Morello.’

‘Really? Can you handle a flag?’

‘Well enough, though I doubt I’ll have occasion to – I can see the rumours are true. Rasenna’s changed for the better. I congratulate you, Podesta.’

Yuri looked at him coolly. ‘Rasenneisi changed by themselfs. No can force these peoples.’

‘I’m well aware of that. I mean, for finding a town to take you in. There’s no demand for condottieri in Etruria any more. I can’t think of a better place to retire.’

‘Don’t be envious,’ said Becket with bitterness. ‘Settled life’s no fun for a soldier.’

‘There’s women and wine, isn’t there?’

‘Plenty. Trouble is, you have to pay for it.’

‘You always do,’ said Geta solemnly.

‘That why you come?’ Yuri demanded. ‘Concordians not so popular here. Perhaps you remember this too?’

‘Rasenna’s grievance is against them who sent the Wave. I’m willing to fight
against
the engineers.’

‘Another sword, just what I need.’

Geta smiled at Yuri’s goading; he knew the look of a soldier out of his depth. The giant was desperate for an excuse to deny him sanctuary. ‘My rank’s higher than yours, Russ, and I didn’t get it by being
just
another sword. You need to think beyond your immediate problems and old grudges. I can help.’

‘Sure. By turning around.’ Yuri snorted and rode ahead, leaving Becket to gossip with the foreigner.

Pedro and Fabbro were discussing the imminent completion of the orphanage when Yuri showed up with the Concordian. Pedro rolled up his plans and left. If Fabbro shared Yuri’s suspicion, he didn’t show it. Yuri followed Pedro out. ‘Is wise to let
them alone?’ he asked. ‘This one has shiny tongue.’

‘Don’t worry, so has Bombelli. He knows what’s in Rasenna’s interests.’ Pedro looked down at his plans. ‘I’m too busy to be a tour guide.’

‘Who’s your guest, Papa?’

Fabbro looked up, wondering where his daughter had popped up from so suddenly. He bowed to the inevitable and introduced them. ‘Maddalena, this is Lord Geta of Concord. I was just explaining our delicate situation, and telling him that he’s welcome to stay, on condition that he keeps a low profile.’