Votive (29 page)

Signor Tedeschi released the grip on his clothes and held out his hand. He rested the pouch in his palm. He weighed it thoughtfully before a smile wiped away his frown. ‘Ah, you’re right, Signorina. Miracles can happen – all they need is a little faith.’

Giaconda freed the purse. The coins clinked together as they hit his hand. ‘Or a lot.’ She nodded curtly to the Signor. ‘Till tomorrow then, Signor Tedeschi.’

‘Ci vediamo, Signorina Maleovelli.’ With a grand flourish, the old man held open the door, bending in half as he did.

We sailed past him and back into the draughty ramo.

‘Give Signor Tedeschi those measurements, Hafeza,’ ordered Giaconda. Hafeza obeyed, passing a folded piece of paper to the tailor, who bowed again.

‘Let’s go,’ said Giaconda, turning and leading us back the way we had come. It wasn’t long before we were once again caught in the current of people.

We were just about to cross back over the huge bridge that separated the Opera Quartiere and the marketplace when something caught my eye. Pressed momentarily against a building as a group of soldiers marched past, I saw a square of paper pasted to the outside of a shop. A corner had lifted and it was fluttering in the wind. In the centre was a crude picture of a young boy with unruly black hair, a small chin
and cross brows. His expression was pure evil. I would not have given it another glance except for the eyes. They were the only thing of colour on the paper. Silver blazed from the poster, drawing the eye, drawing my eyes.

Bile rose in my throat and I didn’t need to understand what was written below to know who this was meant to be – it was me – as the Cardinale chose to represent me to the popolani; to those he now promised to reward with many a lifetime’s worth of riches should they report or catch me.

My head began to spin, my heart to hammer. Coldness gripped my chest.

Without thinking, I snatched it off the wall and crumpled it into a ball. Only then did I notice that this was not the only one. Pasted onto every surface available was the same image over and over. Crowds had gathered to watch the young boys, urchins, with satchels on their backs, pages in their hands, pasting the offending picture up wherever they could.

What started as a faint whisper soon became a roar.

‘Estrattore, milliones! Estrattore!’

Giaconda turned at the noise and her face paled as she too saw the poster, read what it said.

‘Come, we will leave now. Slowly, with dignity. Do not attract unnecessary attention.’

This time, she grabbed my arm. I did not have the desire or ability to draw from her. I could barely stand. Faces blurred, smiles transformed into leers as all lips formed the word, ‘Estrattore.’ Every set of eyes that lighted on my face saw through my disguise – accusation and retribution was everywhere.

I barely remember reaching the gondola, but when I did, I retreated into the felze. I sat there in the darkness, the window shut, the curtains drawn, clutching my mask
to my face, breathing deeply, trying to control the fear that threatened to break me.

I felt the gondola shift and heard the splash of the oar. Then I heard Salzi begin to sing and Giaconda to converse as if there were not a care in Vista Mare.

The snow that had been threatening all day finally began to fall and the women joined me, brushing their capes before they entered. Cramped, it was also warm. Giaconda shot me a warning look. I knew what it meant. We would talk about what had happened when we were in the privacy of the portego.

I knew what I wanted to say – how could they even think of introducing me now? Now that not only the Cardinale, but all of Serenissima was searching for me.

But it was what the poster promised to do with me when I was caught that made my heart plummet and my body grow numb.

At the bottom of the poster, by decree of the Cardinale, was my destiny. When I was found, there was to be an execution. Not of the kind poor Renzo suffered. No. I was not to die quickly. I was to suffer the traditional death of an Estrattore.

In front of all Serenissima, upon a pyre to be especially built by the Circolo Canal, I was to suffer the fate of the worst kind of heretic.

In a twist of cruel irony, the apprentice candlemaker was to be put to the flame.

D
ANTE FOLLOWED
K
ATINA THROUGH
the marshes, trusting the horses to stay on firm ground. He watched her back swaying, in tune with Birrichino’s rhythms, Argento’s making him rock side to side as well. The saddlebags tied across Birrichino’s rump were bulging, packed as they were with most of Katina’s possessions. Those attached to Argento also carried some of her gear; Dante hadn’t been there long enough to accumulate much so was happy to concede what room there was in his packs to her.

Katina had barely said a word since they left Settlement. At first, he’d chattered aimlessly to fill the space, to try to assuage her grief at leaving. But gradually he’d quietened, and respected her silence. Her separation from her lovers had been … difficult. Poor Debora and Alessandro. In the end, there had been nothing more to say or do. They’d just stood together, their faces cast in misery, watching him and Katina load the horses and then ride away. He’d turned at the last moment, just before the mist swallowed them, the camp, and the other Riders who’d finally emerged – not to say farewell, but to ensure they’d really left. His time at Settlement had been brief; it hadn’t been what he’d call welcoming, but he’d still felt that it was somewhere he wasn’t ready to leave. Now the security of the Bond Riders’ home had been ripped away. On the bright side,
farewelling Settlement also brought him closer to what he had to do – find Tallow. Excitement surged through his veins at the thought; a thrill that was quickly replaced by guilt as he observed the slump of Katina’s shoulders.

For him, it was yet another beginning; for Katina, leaving Settlement signalled an end – of her status with the Bond Riders, of her time with Debora and Alessandro and, potentially, her long life. He couldn’t imagine how that must feel – knowing that, in all likelihood, you were going to die soon. Perhaps that was why Elder Maggiore had come to their tent just before they left to speak with Katina alone. Perhaps he was preparing her for the worst. They’d spoken for a long time, hidden away from prying eyes and ears. Curious about their conversation, Dante had learnt enough about Katina to understand she’d tell him when she was ready.

Over the last couple of weeks, knowledge of their departure had tainted everything – his lessons in horsemanship, fighting and tracking. It had coloured their rests in the tent, which seemed to become more frequent. Even the passionate love-making of the Bond Riders had turned into little more than long embraces, surrounded by quiet. Dante would hear them, sliding across the enormous shared bed to hold each other, occasionally whispering. Thoughts of the future were like a spurned lover who would not leave. They hung thick in the air, an unspoken intrusion.

In an effort to distract them both, Katina had focused her energy on training him. If he’d thought Debora and Alessandro tough masters, they were nothing compared to Katina and her demands. She worked both him and Argento until he was one with the sweating, feisty mare. She made him practise his sword technique until he bested Alessandro every time. Katina fought him with her daggers, making him bleed, cutting him without care for the consequences
until he learnt to block and counter-attack. She insisted that Debora teach him how to lift a purse without the owner being aware, that he learn how to read lips, understand the meaning behind simple hand gestures and mannerisms and how to disguise himself so he appeared neither a Bond Rider nor chandler, so he could blend with the popolani in Serenissima again.

At first he didn’t understand why he had to learn all these things; they might be useful for the brief time he was in Serenissima, but he belonged in the Limen now – what use would they be to him here? Especially since few Riders engaged in such exercises. When he expressed this to Katina, she turned on him.

‘You think a
real
Bond Rider belongs in the Limen alone? No! Our existence here was only ever meant to be a means to an end. It gave us time to prepare our minds and bodies so we could fulfil our Bonds, carry out our oaths. You’ve already sensed how easy it is to lose sight of that, that the Limen hastens forgetfulness of what we once were. What you will learn is that while some may try to forget their Bonds – it’s impossible. They sit here,’ she said, thumping her breastbone, ‘like an undigested meal, an everlasting ache, a constant reminder of what we pledged. Only some of us work hard to ignore it and even –’ her eyes scanned Settlement, piercing the drifting clouds of vapour, noting the Riders attending to their tack, braiding each others’ hair, engaged in quiet conversation ‘– delude themselves into believing they can.’ Her lip curled in disgust. ‘Well, training keeps us focused, reminds us of what we came here to do – as well as what we sacrificed for the privilege.’ She held her dagger level with his face. ‘And don’t you forget that, Dante.’ She pointed into the fog-bound distance. ‘Our real purpose is beyond the Limen – back in Serenissima.’ She stared at him with steely eyes – her look forbidding the
questions she knew he longed to ask, denying him a reply.

Instead, he nodded solemnly. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ he said, and with a smile raised his daggers. With a growl of approval, Katina launched herself at him. She’d drawn no blood that time or in any fight since.

The sound of hooves on stone brought Dante back to the present. The marshes had ended; the horses began to climb a shale embankment, slipping on the loose, flat rocks.

‘How much further?’ asked Dante, urging Argento forward with his knees. They seemed to be riding forever.

Katina called over her shoulder. ‘Not much. We’re almost there.’ Without warning, she kicked Birrichino into a canter and reached the top of the rise. Dante quickly followed.

As they topped a second low-lying hill, the mist parted and there, rising into the firmament, was the Limen.

Dante had never really seen it before, and for a moment it took his breath away. As they rode closer, he tried to work out its composition. It was as if the mist that surrounded them had gathered into one place, been infused with silver light and formed an enormous wall – one without beginning or end. It was simply there. Rather than being solid, it was constantly shifting, which gave it the appearance of both fragility and fluidity. Dante knew it was neither. It was a barrier like no other: it divided worlds, people, lives – in time and space.

Katina cantered alongside it for a while before drawing Birrichino to a halt by a group of boulders arranged in a linear fashion that had been daubed with white paint. They’d passed a couple of groupings like that on their journey – markers, Dante thought, but for what, he couldn’t be sure. He pulled up alongside Katina, stretching down to pat Argento’s neck. His eyes were still fixed on the Limen. The horses, he noted, were unfazed; they stood still, heads held high, steam rolling from their nostrils.

‘It’s … huge,’ he said, trying to gauge how far the Limen extended, at a loss for appropriate words.

‘Oh, it’s a great deal more than that,’ said Katina. She shot him a small smile. ‘But I understand what you’re saying. It’s hard to comprehend, isn’t it?’

Dante nodded and turned to her. ‘Is that how you know where to cross?’ He pointed to the row of marked stones.

‘Sì. This tells me that we’re close to the Pledge Stone of Casa di Maggiore.’

‘Why are we crossing here?’

‘Because …’ Katina hesitated. ‘Because it’s easier for you.’

‘Me?’ Dante gave an uncertain laugh. ‘You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be all right. Anyway, I’ve got you to lead the way.’

Katina met his eyes for the first time since they left Settlement. ‘No, Dante. I’m afraid you don’t.’

A chill clutched his body. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I … I’m not coming with you. I’m staying here.’

‘But … the trial. The Elders said …’

‘I know what the Elders said.’ Katina raised her voice to stop his questions. ‘I know my sentence was to leave the Limen, but things have changed, Dante. There’s a great deal you don’t know – that
I
still don’t know, but which we both have to find out. That we need to know in order to fulfil our Obbligare Doppio. There’s also much I have to tell you.’ She seemed to retreat in on herself.

Dante waited. Sensing his impatience, Argento began to get restless. ‘Should I dismount?’ he asked finally.

‘No, no. That’s not necessary.’ Katina took a deep breath and, in a soft steady voice, told him everything Elder Maggiore had imparted to her when he visited her in the cell.

‘Tallow is to
destroy
the pledge stones?’ he exclaimed,
when Katina arrived at that point in her retelling. Argento was startled by his master’s tone, and Dante had to pull hard on the reins to get her back under control. ‘Why? Why would the Estrattore want her to do that? I don’t understand.’

Katina shrugged. ‘Revenge? To prove to Serenissima that the Doge made a mistake in allowing Roma and the Great Patriarch to dictate beliefs and exile, let alone kill the Estrattore? To demonstrate their power; to annihilate the Bond Riders? I don’t know.’

Dante thought for a moment, his brow furrowed. ‘We didn’t openly discuss Estrattore while I was growing up, but we did tell stories about them around the fireplace, the table – Nonno Renzo and Zia Gaia used to whisper tales to me when they’d tuck me into bed as well. They may have just been stories, but I thought the Estrattore were different. You know, beyond something like revenge.’ He paused. ‘I thought they were more thoughtful and gentle; more like …’ He searched for the right words. ‘Tallow.’

‘They were,’ said Katina, her face softening in memory. ‘The stories you were told are probably closer to what used to be the truth than you know.’

‘
Used
to be?’

‘They’ve been gone for a long time, Dante. What happened to them was … evil. You can’t walk away from that unscathed, not really. Then there’s this place.’ She waved her arm around. ‘It changes people. It distorts everything, eventually. In the end, we all fade to grey.’

‘You haven’t,’ said Dante suddenly, twisting towards her.

Katina’s eyes widened and she was about to protest but stopped herself. ‘Grazie. But I had, Dante. Until I was asked to go to Serenissima and train Tallow – I was just like the others. Caught up in my half-life here, ignoring the call of
my Bond, believing that what we did was important, that it had meaning. And now I have you and the Obbligare Doppio to remind me that there is so much more. Others are not so lucky. I can see how the Estrattore might have changed; they feel everything so deeply – joy, sorrow, anger, happiness. You didn’t know them, didn’t know what life was like with them …’

‘What was it like?’ asked Dane softly.

Katina laughed sadly. ‘It was so long ago, Dante, but I remember a world where faith was not something used to instil fear in people, but to encourage love and understanding. Oh,’ she said, holding up her hand, ‘don’t get me wrong, it didn’t always work – in the end, we’re only human after all. We still had troubles, and petty politics and all the things you expect in a rich, bustling country, but we also had a means to control excess – of emotion, of feeling. Of helping those who needed it whether they knew it or not.’

‘That was the Estrattore?

‘Sì. That was how most of them chose to use their gifts.’

‘Tallow did that,’ said Dante. ‘She helped us – she helped everyone during the Morto Assiderato. She saved lives, she brought happiness and hope when there was none.’

Katina’s eyes became glassy. ‘Sì, that’s what most of them did in my time too. There were some – there are always some –’ she half-laughed ruefully ‘– who abused their power, but even then, the others would intervene and quell those who would make … trouble. That’s how I remember them – they tried to bring stability whenever we were at risk of losing it.’

‘Perhaps they will again?’ said Dante hopefully.

‘Perhaps,’ agreed Katina. ‘That’s what we have to try and do – give them the chance, give us all the chance to
change. To restore hope and faith in a world that has so very little.’

There was nothing but the breathing of the horses and the swirl of the Limen. Minutes passed.

‘What must we do? What must
I
do? Tell me.’ Dante reached across and placed his hand over Katina’s where it rested on the pommel. ‘I am glad you’re not coming. That you have chosen to live.’

Katina placed her other hand over his and squeezed it hard. ‘Sì, but now you must go into Serenissima alone, Dante. You must learn what you can, find out where Tallow is and what she’s doing.’ She choked back a laugh. ‘I’ve no doubt she’ll be up to something. It’s in her nature. I only hope that whatever she’s doing, she isn’t hurting herself.’

‘What about you?’

She patted his hand one last time and then let it go. Dante sat back up in the saddle. ‘I’m to wait here for a friend. I have my own task to fulfil.’ Katina pursed her lips.

‘Very well,’ said Dante, blowing out his breath noisily. He knew there was no point questioning her further. ‘I see. Where do I go, then?’

‘To the Tailors Quartiere – the Pledge Stone of Casa di Maggiore is the closest one to that quartiere. Go to the Taverna di Segretezza. It’s run by a Signor Vestire. He’s a good man. They’re discreet there, accustomed to me, to Bond Riders. From there, you’ll be able to use the skills you’ve learnt in here to find Tallow. Use the taverna as a base, listen rather than ask questions, follow any leads, no matter how spurious, and search high and low. Try not to draw attention to yourself, do you understand? Once you find her, observe her. Do not make contact with her.’

Dante stared at her for a moment. ‘But I thought –’ he began.

‘No buts, Dante. This is not negotiable. For Tallow’s sake, you cannot let her know that you are watching. She must not see you. If she did … well. It would influence her in a way in which we no longer have a right. Not at the moment. Trust me, Dante. Please. For all our sakes.’

Arguments and protests contorted Dante’s face as he struggled to accept Katina’s commands, to understand her reasoning.

‘Molto bene,’ he said. ‘For Tallow’s sake, I will stay out of sight.’