Votive

by Karen Brooks

  ‘I cannot say exactly until I meet this friend that Elder Maggiore has told me will help us.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘All I know is that it’s an Estrattore, someone who, like Elder Maggiore, believes in the prophecy. Someone who has maintained the old faith.’

  ‘Like you have,’ said Dante softly.

  ‘Sì, like me,’ Katina agreed. ‘Together, we will help prepare Tallow to learn the truth …’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Before Katina could answer, a noise in the distance made them both swing round. An icy wind swept through the clearing. Argento’s head shot up and she whinnied, pulling on her reins, her ears flat to her skull. Birrichino raised his head and became skittish, walking sideways, kicking his heels, his tail flicking.

  ‘What was that?’ whispered Dante, suddenly grateful for the long leather coat. ‘Could it be this Estrattore you’re supposed to meet?’

  ‘Hush,’ whispered Katina, cocking her head to one side.

  A faint wail reached their ears, a plaintive song of desperation and terrible hunger. Dante felt his hair stand on end. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Morte Whisperers.’ Katina was pale, her eyes wide with terror. Birrichino reared, bringing his hooves down hard, jolting Katina. Only her firm grip on the reins, pulling his bit hard against his mouth and digging her knees into his side prevented him from dashing away.

  ‘What are they?’ Dante tried to soothe Argento and see through the haze, catch the owners of the dreadful sound.

  ‘Creatures you never want to meet. We’ve no time to waste. Breach now, Dante,’ cried Katina, urging Birrichino into a canter. ‘Give the command,’ she shouted over her shoulder. ‘Go Dante, find Tallow!’

  Wheeling Argento around, Dante bellowed the words that had been drummed into his head, fear making his voice crack. Katina rode beside him, Dante understood she was determined to see him through the Limen and safe before she fled. As their horses reached full gallop, the wall slowly tore apart a few hundred feet ahead, the grey mist widening, letting the world of time and space enter.

  As they rode closer, Dante felt something pass through him, something so cold it made him arch his back in pain. His mouth froze in a rictus, his hands grew numb and the reins fell from his fingers. He began to slide.

  Katina lunged towards him and pushed him upright, preventing him from falling. Birrichino and Argento rode neck and neck, their hooves thrumming as they raced towards the opening. Dante scrambled for the reins, twisting them around his wrists, and regained control. He signalled to Katina and reached for his sword.

  Katina’s dagger was drawn and she lashed out at not one, but half a dozen of the wraith-like monsters that emerged out of the Limen wall, leaping over Dante and pouncing on Katina, grasping, pulling her into their skeletal-like embrace.

  Dante watched in horror as they tried to wrest her from Birrichino and stop her riding away. With long insubstantial fingers, another wrapped itself around her and tried to prise open her mouth. Birrichino reared, his hooves flailing. Dante yelled and bore down upon them.

  Katina screamed. The sound was cut off as her mouth was filled while hands groped at her chest, tore at her heart. Dante slashed at the creatures, dismayed as his sword passed through them. Their shrill song rose to a crescendo, piercing his ears, filling his head with terrible pictures, causing his nerves to shriek.

  Katina’s dagger flew out of her hand. Her pleading eyes met Dante’s.

  Dante did the only thing left to him. He grabbed her reins and, with one mighty surge, rode Argento through the gap in the wall, pulling Birrichino after him.

  They leapt into the air and, as they hit the ground of Vista Mare, the creatures dissolved. Dante rode as fast as he could away from the barrier, looking over his shoulder, terrified in case the vaporous fiends returned. Trees tore at his shirt, whipped Argento’s flesh, but still Dante rode on.

  It took him a minute to realise the sounds he heard were not pursuit, but Katina’s faint cries. Quickly, he drew the horses to a halt and watched as Katina, her face white, her eyes glazed and her body shrunken, slid off the saddle and crumpled to the ground.

  ‘DID ANYONE SEE YOU?’ asked Elder Nicolotti, holding aloft the candle, its flickering light striking the rough-hewn walls of the passage.

  ‘No, Signor, not a soul. We were very careful.’ Stefano emerged from the shadows followed closely by Santo. They bowed before the older man and raised his outstretched hand to their lips.

  ‘Bene, bene,’ said Elder Nicolotti, accepting their benediction before stepping back and appraising them. They’d dressed hastily, despite instructions. Santo wore his sword instead of carrying it. Elder Nicolotti decided to ignore the serious breach of protocol. Only guards were allowed to bear arms in the palazzo. ‘She has gone?’ He did not have to say to whom he referred.

  Santo and Stefano nodded.

  ‘And the chandler?’

  ‘Sì,’ said Stefano. ‘They left Settlement a while ago, heading for the Limen.’

  ‘Bene.’ Elder Nicolotti doused the candle, plunging them into darkness. ‘Then walk with me,’ he ordered, and turned down one of the narrow corridors that riddled the Elders’ palazzo.

  Sure-footed, he knew his way. The Bond Riders behind him stumbled and fell. They tried to be quiet, but Santo’s sword scraped the walls, Stefano’s shoulder thudded into a rocky outcrop, forcing a muted groan. Elder Nicolotti grinned as they struggled to keep up. One did not always need a weapon to exert power.

  The corridor widened into a small cave. Grey light from the opening spewed in, revealing a bench and some unlit sconces. Elder Nicolotti placed the candle he carried in an empty one and spun round.

  ‘The time has come for you both to fulfil the pledges you made. You to Casa Nicolotti and you to your partner’s house, Casa Maggiore.’ His eyes alighted on first Stefano and then Santo. Both Riders lowered their heads. ‘You understand what it is you’re to do?’ He directed the first question to Santo. ‘You will enter Vista Mare and follow them. Watch them. Report their every move to Stefano, who will remain in the Limen and relay any information back to me. You’ll use the Pledge Stone of Casa di Nicolotti to communicate. I will give Stefano any further instructions that you, Santo, will follow. No digressing, no elaboration, no unnecessary killing. The timing for this must be right. Do you understand? I want to know who they see, where they go and, above all, I want to know when they find the Estrattore. Am I clear?’

  ‘Very clear, Elder Nicolotti,’ said Santo, bowing his head again.

  Elder Nicolotti considered the Rider carefully. He was still young and, though physically imposing, not very smart. He would have preferred to use Stefano for this mission, but the man had only a few crossings left. The adoration Santo felt for Stefano had proved very useful before and it might do so again, but without the disastrous consequences of their last task. That they’d lost the Estrattore had rocked his plans and shaken the confidence of his peers. It could not happen again. This was their last chance, his last chance.

  Elder Nicolotti could read Santo’s insecurity and his desperation to prove his worth. It accompanied him like a bad smell. It was inscribed on his face and in the apprehensive looks he cast at Stefano. How Stefano could bear to have this … this peasant snapping at his heels all the time was beyond him. But then, shame was a great burden that Stefano had carried for years; it had coloured all his relationships, all his actions. It turned real triumphs into perceived failures. For Stefano, Santo was not only someone with whom he could share the guilt and even attribute his failure to, but he was like one of the Church’s hair-shirts – a living punishment – that Stefano chose to wear.

  The hatred Santo Pelleta bore for Katina Maggiore, Stefano’s one-time lover, was a wonderful convenience. It suited Nicolotti’s purposes well. Little did Katina’s relative know when he forced this candlemaker to pledge over a broken colleganza all those years ago that it would bind Santo to a plot to free the Bond Riders – and
that it would create an opportunity for Casa Nicolotti to rise to power beyond Serenissima and even Vista Mare.

  Elder Nicolotti’s eyes narrowed as he studied the two men. ‘Then say your goodbyes now. Do not fail me. Remember who you’re pledged to, Santo Pelleta. You too, Stefano Maggiore. This is no time for error. No time for failure – only success. The time to fulfil your Bonds and free the Bond Riders from their curse once and for all, and give us a future worth living for has arrived.’ His voice deepened and rose, ringing with passion, bouncing off the stone walls and echoing around the chamber.

  ‘Now go and do that for which we have all waited many lifetimes.’ As Stefano and Santo fell to their knees, Elder Nicolotti touched the tops of their heads, his palms hot, his energy vibrating through their bodies. Releasing them, he spun on his heels and, without another word, disappeared into the tunnels.

  SANTO WAITED UNTIL HE COULD no longer hear footsteps before raising his head and turning to Stefano. ‘I wish we were able to do this together instead of being separated.’ Slightly unsteady, he stood up and brushed the dirt from his breeches. Stefano eased himself to his feet and did the same without speaking. Santo waited till he’d finished and then reached over and pushed the hair off Stefano’s face. ‘Nicolotti’s right. This is your chance to remove the stain from your house and, in the process, get rid of the Estrattore once and for all.’

  Stefano’s eyes narrowed. ‘We had that chance before, remember? Only last time we were together didn’t go so well. This separation is for the best.’

  Santo frowned at Stefano’s tone.

  Stefano jerked his head in the direction that the Elder had taken. ‘Just remember what Nicolotti said. Don’t try to do anything foolish this time – no dramatics. All you need to do is keep an eye on them and report to me.’

  Santo took a step back. ‘I know what I have to do. I don’t need you to tell me too. I’m not stupid.’

  Stefano’s eyes glittered in the shadows. He didn’t respond.

  ‘I know you’d rather be the one returning, that this is a chance for you to complete your Bond – what with Katina so vulnerable and all.’

  ‘You really don’t listen, do you?’ Stefano blew out air in exasperation. ‘Let me spell it out for you. Even if I were going, I couldn’t fulfil my pledge. Katina’s –’ he hissed her name ‘– made sure of that, hasn’t she? Until her Obbligare Doppio is complete, none of us can do a damn thing except hang around and hurt. As for me, I’ve got the added benefit of having to wait for you.’

  ‘Is that so bad?’

  ‘It is when your insides burn every moment that Estrattore lover walks Vista Mare. Remember, we may share a name, but it’s the blood of Katina’s direct line that taints all Maggiore and I will do whatever it takes to clear that as soon as I can.’

  ‘Even support Elder Nicolotti?’

  ‘In that, I have no choice. I’m Bonded. But our purpose is the same … for now. When the time is right, I can both mend the past and shore up the future – for all of us.’

  ‘Sì,’ laughed Santo, relieved that Stefano sounded more like his old self. ‘Nicolotti has great plans for the Bond Riders.’

  ‘And if you play this right, Santo,’ Stefano said, stepping closer to his lover and grabbing the hair on the back of his head, pulling him in, ‘Obbligare Doppio or no, Elder Nicolotti will be in our debt. And that bodes well for our future. So don’t ruin this, all right?’

  Before Santo could protest, Stefano kissed him roughly.

  Drawing away, Stefano untangled his fingers from Santo’s hair. ‘Once she leads you to the Estrattore, there’s nothing to stop you, to stop us. You grab her and you bring her to me. I’ll be ready. I doubt there’ll be a problem. Katina won’t last long as it is.’ His lips became a thin line as he grew introspective.

  Santo smiled. ‘Tallow eluded me once – never again. Not now we have the one thing she can’t resist. Your girlfriend was right about that.’

  ‘Don’t call her that. It’s been a long time since she was that.’

  ‘Not long enough for my liking.’

  ‘No,’ said Stefano with a sigh. ‘You’ll only be happy when she’s dead.’

  ‘Vero.’

  Stefano laughed harshly. ‘Me too.’

  They both shared a look. Stefano was the first to break away.

  ‘Go,’ he said, waving towards the cave mouth. ‘Follow. And make sure you don’t fall back into old habits this time.’ Stefano gave him a none-too-gentle slap on the cheek and shoved him in the direction of the exit.

  A look of fury swept over Santo’s face and he angrily pushed Stefano’s hand away. ‘Its not me that has old habits to worry about, Stefano.’

  Stefano gave a raw laugh. ‘Is that right? Katina’s nothing to me, Santo. I don’t have to prove anything in that regard, whereas you, you have everything. So, prove it to me, Santo. Prove to me that you can do this on your own. For me, for all of us.’

  Santo chewed his lips, swallowing the words he wanted to say but knew he’d later regret. ‘I will. Farewell,’ he said huskily. ‘See you on the other side,’ and without another word, stalked out of the cave.

  ‘The other side,’ said Stefano quietly, his arms folded, his doubts quashed beneath them.

  SIGNOR TEDESCHI FUSSED OVER ME like a moth teasing a candle. I wanted to bat him away as he pinned, poked, and pulled me in all directions. I watched him from behind my mask, standing atop a small box while he knelt, working on the hem of my new gown. His mouth was full of pins, a tape measure was flung over his shoulder, ribbons stuck to his doublet, a piece of chalk almost slipping from a pocket. He did not care about how he looked; his focus was on my dress and me. Just as I took pride in my candlemaking, so this little man took great satisfaction in his craft and, as such, would not be happy with anything less than perfection.

  Instead of complaining, I sighed and remained as still as I’d been requested and gazed around the room. For the past few days, Signor Tedeschi had come each morning, preparing the dress I was to wear at my first public function. I still didn’t know what that was, but from the elegance of the gown, and the jewels provided to adorn the sleeves and bodice, I guessed it was a major event. Giaconda had not left us for a second. She sat in a chair and watched proceedings, occasionally offering an opinion or demanding a change when she felt the result was in question.

  Hafeza would dart in and out, bringing cafe and sweet breads – none of which, while the fabric was being fitted, I was allowed to sample.

  I sighed again, drawing a disapproving noise from Signor Tedeschi. ‘Patience, Signorina! I’m almost finished. What should take weeks has taken me a matter of days. If anyone should be sighing, it’s me.’ I glanced at him in surprise. Signor Tedeschi was normally very good-humoured. For the first time, I noticed the sooty shadows under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. I knew from what he’d said to Giaconda that not even the seamstresses he usually employed had been allowed to work on this gown. He’d done every stitch himself.

  I wasn’t sure what the mystery surrounding my dress was about, why it had to be kept so secret. All I knew was that the golden cloth that pushed out my breasts, swam over my arms, accentuating my waist before sweeping the floor in a long train, shone with metallic depths that glimmered in the candlelight, showering Signor Tedeschi and me in a buttery glow. My mind started to wander as I tried to imagine how I would look, how I would be received. Since that day in the market, when we’d seen the posters, my newfound confidence had taken a backward step.

  Giaconda and Signor Maleovelli were dismissive of my fears.

  As soon as we’d arrived home, Giaconda ordered Salzi to fetch her father. We’d gone to his study to await him. He’d entered moments after we’d sat down. Giaconda quickly explained what had occurred, pulling an offending poster from her small purse and unfolding it. I hadn’t seen her take one. I started forward in my seat.

  ‘It looks nothing like you, Tarlo,’ Giaconda snapped, her usual serenity ruffled. ‘Ca
lm down, for God’s sake.’ I forced myself to keep still as Signor Ezzelino studied the poster, his heavy eyes roaming from it to me and back again.

  Then he did what I least expected. He burst out laughing. ‘We couldn’t have hoped for better!’ he said, waving it in the air around him. ‘This is wonderful. Gia is right. This picture of a dirty little scoundrel looks nothing like you. Better still, it declares you’re a boy and offers a reward!’ He passed it back to his daughter, wiping his eyes. ‘Fools! This is a marvellous distraction and the timing is perfect.’

  ‘We continue with our plans, then?’ asked Giaconda, throwing the poster into the grate. We watched as the edges caught and the fire licked the parchment black.

  ‘Sì, bella. We do.’ With one last glance at me, Signor Ezzelino left the room.

  That had been four days ago and I was still no wiser about the Maleovellis’ plans. Anxiety gnawed at me, but also excitement. This was the moment I’d been waiting for, the time when everything I needed to be, everything I’d been learning would be put into practice. My masquerade would begin in earnest.

  ‘Soldi for your thoughts,’ said Giaconda softly.

  I jumped. I hadn’t noticed her leave the chair. She stood in front of me, the top of her head just below my chin.

  ‘I … I was wondering where I was going to wear this.’

  ‘Just where?’ she asked, tipping her head slightly. ‘It needs to be lifted here, Signor Tedeschi. I want them to see her zoccoli.’

  ‘Sì, sì,’ muttered Signor Tedeschi, quickly pinning the fabric pinched between Giaconda’s fingers.

  She returned her attention to me. ‘Don’t you also want to know when?’

  ‘Of course.’ Signor Tedeschi indicated I needed to spin to the right, so I spoke over my shoulder. ‘But I didn’t think there was any point in asking two questions. I am lucky enough to receive an answer to one.’

  Giaconda followed me, so I could see her. She was smiling, her eyes sparkling. ‘Ah, the little one bites at last! Now I am persuaded you’re indeed ready to not only hear where you’re going – but to attend as well.’