by Karen Brooks
Tallow knew that the Maleovellis were keen to exploit her talents, use her skills to improve their own situation. Why, everything she brushed against screamed of their neediness, their desire for soldi, for power and control – especially of her. A wicked grin spread across her face as she remembered Giaconda’s gloves. For some reason, the Maleovellis believed if they did not directly touch her, or she them, she could not extract and therefore read them. What they didn’t understand was that she’d never needed direct contact with their flesh; everything in their casa carried remnants of them. She was able to glean the degree of debt they were in from merely holding the quill she’d been given to sign the colleganza. From that she sensed the vendor’s surprise when the Maleovellis had paid with coin and Salzi’s relief that this time he didn’t have to ask for a chit. In holding a vino glass, a dinner knife, stroking a table, never mind Giaconda’s dress, Tallow was able to assemble impressions of her new family. What she’d gathered so far was not alarming. In fact, it was all too familiar – greed, desire and secrets. Just like so many of the popolani in the Candlemakers Quartiere. For all the book learning of Jacopo, all the research he’d done on Estrattore, she was still an unknown quantity. But the Maleovellis would bring them back – that was the condition of their agreement. The return of the Estrattore. Only for that could she do what she knew would be asked of her. No price was too high. She glanced at the harlequin.
Well, perhaps one. But she could not change that. Not now.
She came away from the window and wearily climbed into her bed. The fire was a mound of glowing embers in the hearth, radiating warmth and reassurance. She snuffed out the candle and, easing herself under the covers, focused on the fireplace. The coals glowed and the flames crackled, a familiar lullaby that eased her into an exhausted, but content sleep.
DANTE FOLLOWED DEBORA AND ALESSANDRO as they led Katina’s horse between the trees, away from where he’d first regained consciousness. He was trying to take stock of events and come to terms with what Katina had done, the ire she’d incurred. Who were these Elders? Why were they so angry? Why were Katina’s partners so distraught? There were so many questions to ask, but who should he approach for answers? Debora and Alessandro were so … overwrought.
He studied them from behind. Their heads were close together and he heard the low mutter of conversation, but not the words. They were still reeling from what Katina had done. They were too polite to show it, but he knew they were shocked that Katina had Bonded him. Now his welfare had also been entrusted to them. Why were they so upset? Was it the Obbligare Doppio or was it that they saw him as a rival for Katina’s affections? He’d heard things about the Bond Riders, that the … relationships between them were very different and a lot more liberal than those in Serenissima. Rumours were that they didn’t marry, that they didn’t even necessarily have one partner, but a few. Sometimes, even those of the same sex. It didn’t bother him the way it used to. He’d fallen in love with Tallow when he still thought she was a boy. Were Alessandro and Debora Katina’s partners in that way? Was it sexual? If so, that would mean she and Debora … An image leapt into his head and heat suffused his body. He studied Alessandro with renewed respect. Maybe being a Rider wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He tried to ball his hand into a fist, but the wound was too raw. He glanced at the cut across his palm – the mark of a Bond Rider – a mark of separation and belonging that would forever denote his difference and new allegiance. His soul had been sundered until such time it could be returned. Only how could that happen now there were no Estrattore? Except Tallow. Tallow changed everything. For him, and the Bond Riders and, if what he felt deep inside was to be acknowledged, for the future of Serenissima as well. But it was because of her that the adventures denied to him as a chandler were now available. He knew he should probably feel infuriated, if not betrayed by what Katina had done. But instead, he felt gratitude.
The prospect of what lay ahead made him excited in a way he’d never been before. What made him rejoice the most was that, at the heart of it all, was Tallow. While he didn’t really understand what a Bond meant, let alone the nature of the Obbligare Doppio, he could already feel it transforming him. Awareness of his body, of his weariness and the injuries he’d sustained but which Tallow’s power cured were like a bad dream. His previous life, only a matter of hours old, felt like a childhood memory, only harder to grasp. Nothing seemed real anymore, except what he could see in front of him. Here. Now. Debora, Alessandro, the fog, the horse, the trees, the grass and marshes – and Tallow. Unlike his fading memories, every step he took, every intake of breath, only sharpened his remembrance of her, his desire to find her, to be with her. It was acute. Was that what a pledge did? Bond you to your promise so it became a part of your very being? Or was that just his previously suppressed feelings for Tallow finding expression?
The land suddenly dipped away and Debora and Alessandro halted at the top of a precipice. Dante joined them and looked at the sight that opened before him.
Nestled in a valley ringed by skeletal trees and with a stream running noisily through it were a scattering of stagnant ponds that seemed a feature of the Limen. Vapour hovered over the area, thinning in patches to reveal what might pass for a town. Pitched in a semi-circular pattern around a huge cave mouth that was cut into the cliff opposite were a series of dun-coloured, canvas tents, some large, some quite small.
Dante was disappointed. This was not what he expected.
‘Welcome to Settlement,’ said Debora softly, half-turning and giving Dante a small smile. ‘The home of the Bond Riders.’ She stepped onto the track and beckoned him to follow. ‘It’s your home now too.’
He didn’t respond.
‘Come on then,’ said Alessandro, and started to descend.
A steep path zigzagged its way down to level ground. Dante was careful to watch where he was walking: one wrong step and he was unlikely to survive the sheer tumble to the bottom, Bond Rider or not.
The lower they went, the more the mist cleared and sounds drifted towards them. Dante saw that the tents were actually quite complex. Some had flat tops, while most rose to elegant points, falling away to varying heights. Others were lavishly decorated, offering splashes of vibrancy in the dismal surrounds. It was only once they reached the floor of the valley that Dante saw green grass growing beside the brook that chuckled quietly over boulders. There were even a few pale flowers, their heads dropping so low, it was as if they were worshipping the water. Groups of people sat outside the tents chatting; others groomed horses, some of which roamed freely, while most were tethered in the trees that ringed the campsite. Smoke rose from fires, mingling with the mist, thickening it in parts. As they walked through Settlement, the talking ceased and, one by one, all eyes alighted on him. Tent flaps parted as men and women stood at the entrance to their homes, arms folded, either whispering behind their hands or studying the newcomer in cold silence.
Dante felt their curiousity, their fear, but also a simmering scorn and distrust. The smile that he’d prepared to greet them fled, and instead he simply gave gruff nods. One or two returned them before looking away. He swallowed. This was not going to be easy.
‘Friendly bunch,’ he murmured. ‘They know how to make a person feel welcome.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Debora. ‘It’s been a long time since we’ve had a new Rider. They’ll get used to you.’
‘But not to what Katina has done,’ said Alessandro sharply. ‘It’s not you so much, Dante. It’s what you represent – the worst perfidy a Bond Rider can imagine.’
They walked for a while without speaking, accompanied only by the sound of horses snickering nearby and low voices.
‘You like your tents,’ Dante said softly as they passed yet another that had the Papermakers insignia drawn on it – an elaborate scroll with a felled tree across the centre.
Alessandro shrugged. ‘Sì, they’re convenient if we have to move suddenly.’
‘You do
that often?’ asked Dante.
Alessandro thought for a moment. ‘Not in my lifetime.’ He looked at Debora.
‘Nor mine. It’s a precaution,’ said Debora quickly. ‘In case it’s ever required. That way, we can move swiftly and take our lives with us.’
Dante absorbed this information, noting the age of the canvas, the way the colour had faded, the damage the eternal damp had wrought on the sturdy fabric, how the trees and weeds grew over and around them. He wondered if these tents had ever relocated.
A gap appeared and he saw a wide path leading straight to the huge cave mouth he’d observed from the top of the pass. Outside were guards standing to attention.
‘What’s down there?’ he asked quietly, nodding in the direction of the mountain.
‘That’s the Elders’ Palazzo,’ answered Alessandro.
‘Palazzo? What? Like the Doge’s?’
‘In a way,’ said Debora. ‘We don’t actually have a Doge, though the Elders do have a leader. Like all our leaders, he’s of the Doge’s bloodline. He’s a Dandolo. The Elders are taken from the same families as those who have seats on the Council of Ten back in Serenissima.’ She flashed Dante a quick smile. ‘You’ve heard the expression “Com’era, dov’era”?’
Dante shrugged. ‘Of course. “As it was, where it was”.’
‘Well, the first Bond Riders took that to heart. They replicated Serenissima in the ways they thought were helpful. Making laws and providing leadership were paramount; they didn’t want a kingship or oligarchy, so they settled for what they knew – a Republic. “As it was in Serenissima so it shall be in the Limen.”’ Debora said it flatly, like a mantra. ‘The Elders live in there. It’s also where our laws are made and offenders who break them are taken.’
‘So, Katina’s in there?’
Debora nodded. ‘For now.’
Before he could ask another question, Debora and Alessandro came to a halt. Debora drew back the flap of a large tent that was striped in a lacklustre red and white like a giant paline.
‘You will stay with us for the time being, while you’re getting accustomed to your new life, and until either a sentence is served or you choose a partner.’ She gestured for him to enter.
With a glance at Alessandro, who was busy taking the saddle off Birrichino, he ducked under the heavy material and entered.
Inside offered a plush contrast to the barrenness of Settlement. A huge, comfortable-looking mattress raised on a wooden platform dominated the tent, taking up almost one complete side. Scattered with an assortment of coloured cushions and a large quilt that was tumbled into feathery knots, it was almost indecent. It looked used. Dante felt the colour rise in his cheeks, as if he’d stumbled upon an indiscretion. A low table and a few comfortable chairs added to this impression. Rugs, cushions and some large timber chests, upon which sat some ornaments and unusual small painted boxes as well as some well-thumbed books, and worn scrolls lined the edges. The items looked very old.
Debora roamed through the interior, lighting candles that, as they spat to life, gave everything a warm glow. ‘This is nice,’ Dante said, trying to break the awkward silence.
Debora smiled. ‘Well, it’s your home for now.’
‘What’s through there?’ he asked, pointing to a canvas wall.
‘Storage,’ said Debora. She didn’t elaborate. ‘Over there –’ she pointed to the other side where another flap hung ‘– is where we wash. But if you want a bath, you have to go to the river – of course, downstream.’ She pointed vaguely outside. ‘Are you thirsty or hungry?’
Dante had to think. Surprisingly, he felt neither. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate or drank. ‘No, not really, though I guess I should be. Where’s your kitchen? I can look after myself.’
Debora flopped into one of the chairs and laughed. ‘We have no kitchens, Dante. Bond Riders don’t eat or drink – not in the Limen. The need deserts us – it’s no longer necessary. Where time has no meaning, neither does anything associated with it, including that kind of nourishment. Our bodies go into a kind of stasis.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Age does not afflict us; not even sleep attends us.’ Her tone was wistful. ‘No, we seek another kind of nourishment, that which we can take from each other.’ Her eyes sidled to the bed.
Dante tried to think of something to say, but his voice stuck in his throat.
‘Though, while your body adjusts, you may feel the urge to consume food and drink; you’ll certainly need to sleep – for a few days at least. We have supplies in the central tent. I can organise something for you if you need anything.’
Dante shook his head. ‘No, grazie. Not yet.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, let me know.’ Debora slid off her boots. ‘There’s also a hot spring in the Elders’ Palazzo. You can’t go there yet, not until you’ve been formally presented and admitted to Settlement.’
‘When will that be?’ asked Dante. He wanted to sit down, but didn’t feel right without an invitation.
Debora shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ To Dante’s chagrin, tears began to well in her eyes. ‘I don’t know anything anymore.’ Her head dropped into her hands and she began to cry.
Dante hesitated only a second before rushing to her side. He put his arm around her and patted her clumsily on the back. ‘It’s all right, it will be all right. Please, Signorina … um … Signora … don’t cry. Katina is a strong lady, I could tell that. She’ll be back before you know it.’
A slight shift in the air alerted him and he raised his head.
Alessandro stood at the entrance, a strange look upon his face. Dante drew his arm away and stood. ‘Mi dispiace. I didn’t know …’
In two strides, Alessandro was beside Debora, pulling her into his arms. ‘Grazie, Dante. It’s all right. Leave us for a while, if you don’t mind. Go and explore your new world.’
Dante chewed his lip. ‘I don’t mind. I think I’ll go and wash. Clean the blood off me.’
‘Drying sheets and soap are in there.’ Alessandro jerked his head towards a chest. ‘Help yourself. While you’re gone, I’ll see if I can find one of my old shirts for you.’
Dante went to the chest and carefully removing the objects on top, opened it. He quickly pulled out a very used but clean drying sheet and rummaged till he found a bar of grey soap. Equipped, he hovered at the tent entrance.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ He looked helplessly at Debora, who was weeping quietly.
Alessandro frowned, then his face altered. ‘No.’ He smiled sadly. ‘You have done enough already.’ Dante bit his lip. ‘I don’t mean it that way,’ Alessandro added hastily. ‘You’re a decent man, Dante. The gods know, we need your kind here. You didn’t deserve this.’
As he left the tent, Dante wondered with a heavy heart what Alessandro meant.
DANTE WANDERED AIMLESSLY AROUND the edges of Settlement for a while, enduring the stares and whispers of the Bond Riders. No-one spoke to him; everyone stopped what they were doing when he approached as if maintaining some great conspiracy. He had to resist the urge to shout. Instead, he kept his head down and ended up walking away from the tents, towards the stream. He quickly disrobed and stood knee-deep in the water, daubing the dark stains off his shirt, scrubbing his body, washing off the dried blood and grit. The water turn red before it bubbled away and was refreshed.
Lowering himself in, he marvelled at how temperate it was, how soothing. If it wasn’t for the fog, and the absence of birdsong and animals foraging, he could have been in the foothills of the Dolomites over summer, rather than in the Limen.
After a while, he got out of the water and dried himself. It was so quiet, peaceful. Dressing slowly, he wondered how long he’d been gone. Without the sun, moon, or the bells of the basilica tolling the hours, he had no idea. There was nothing here to mark time. Flinging the drying sheet over his arm, he returned to the rock face they’d descended earlier. He found a small patch of grass, spread his towel out to dry, and let his thoughts run awry.
A noise above disturbed him and he leapt to his feet. A few pebbles were dislodged from the path and fell, striking him.
‘Watch it!’ he cried out.
‘Mi dispiace!’ said a deep voice.
The owner, a man leading a fine-boned chestnut mare, descended the last section of the trail and joined him.
‘Ah, you must be the new Rider,’ said the man and thrust out his hand. ‘I’m Cristoforo.’
Afraid lest the welcome prove to be a mistake, Dante took the proferred hand and shook it vigorously. ‘Dante Macelleria –’
‘No!’ said Cristoforo, squeezing Dante’s fingers. ‘Do not reveal your last name. That’s the privilege of the Elders alone to use. No allegiances here, no class distinctions, no houses or bloodlines. Only Riders.’ He grinned, to take the sting out of his words.
Dante withdrew his hand and nodded solemnly.
‘You’ve been bathing?’ asked Cristoforo, nodding at his wet hair, the drying sheet spread on the grass. Dante nodded. ‘Come, pick up your belongings and walk with me. I have to take Castana to the corral.’ He indicated his horse. ‘She’s missed her friends.’
‘You’ve been away?’
‘Sì. I think a long time. I certainly feel it.’
Dante studied him out of the corner of his eye. He looked younger than the Elders but older than Alessandro. His brown hair had streaks of grey, as did his beard.
‘Where have you been –’ began Dante, and then stopped. ‘I can’t ask that either, can I?’
Cristoforo threw back his head and laughed heartily. Dante’s heart lightened. ‘Vero. You cannot.’ He slapped Dante on the back. ‘And I will tell you this now, for nothing, Dante who-so-casually-reveals-his-family-name. Neither can you reveal to whom or to what you’re pledged – your Bond. Do not speak of it. Some will try to draw it out of you. But no matter who asks, do not tell. That’s your secret, the only secret you’ll truly be able to keep here. Or so they say.’
