by Susan Wright
"Lexander!" I called out, my voice quavering.
He turned, and it was indeed Lexander. For a moment, he didn’t recognize me. He had never imagined finding me in Veneto. "Marja?"
Through my tears and my laughter, we rushed together. Lexander’s arms went around me, wiping everything from my mind.
"Marja, how can this be?" he breathed in pure delight.
I opened myself to him in my elation, as I did with the spirits, and I could sense his feelings—euphoria, confusion, passion, and something else . . . a slow-rising anger.
I could hardly speak. My fingers dug in, trying to hold on to him.
He glanced over at the imposing mansion. "Come, we must be away from here."
I stopped him from retreating back up the lane, and led him down the steps to our cellar. Bene was sitting on the cot, rubbing his eyes as if he had just awoken to find me gone.
"Bene, this is Lexander." I gave him a glance. "He was my master."
Bene’s eyes widened, partly in fear. "The one who freed you?"
Lexander was looking around in frank disgust. The dirt floor was stained from decades of use, and the wet stench was overpowering. "What are you doing here, Marja?"
"I couldn’t stay in Danelaw. I came to help the slaves." I gestured. "I rescued Bene from Montplaire."
Lexander closed the distance between us, seizing my shoulders. "You went to Montplaire? Tell me, Marja, what did you do?"
"Less than I intended," I admitted. "The ship from Stanbulin arrived and I tried to convince the other slaves to flee with me. Bene was the only one who did."
"What about Canille?" Lexander demanded.
Through his fervent grip and the last tendrils of our connection, I suddenly understood. I should have known; Canille was once Lexander’s consort. She was very much like him, and she had probably recognized his training in me. That was why she had watched me so curiously.
"Was Canille your consort when you lived in Veneto?" I asked.
"Yes." He released me. "When I saw that she was mistress of Montplaire . . . I could not bring myself to destroy it."
"You passed by," I said tightly. "But I got Bene out. I was too late to save the slaves you abandoned in Chivasso."
"Chivasso? You were there, too? What are you thinking, Marja? You nearly died getting out of Becksbury!"
Lexander glared at me, then at Bene, who was unusually silent. Bene had not expected an angry master to descend on us. Lexander advanced on him. "Tell me what happened in Montplaire! How did you get here? Be truthful or I will know you lie."
Bene scrambled out of the cot we shared and backed into the corner despite the slick walls.
"Don’t scare Bene!" I demanded. "We didn’t do anything to Montplaire. We ran away and walked here."
He stared at me. "You couldn’t have."
"We traveled with the peregrini over the summits. The sanctuaries gave us food and a place to sleep."
"But you abhor Kristna." His expression darkened. "Marja, you cannot deny this is pure folly!"
"Ask Bene," I retorted. "Would you rather be a slave?"
"No," Bene retorted, blinking a few times at his own vehemence.
Lexander refused to look at Bene. "I won’t let you get involved in this, Marja. It’s far too dangerous."
"I don’t take orders from you!"
We glared at each other. Then Lexander gestured curtly to Bene. "You, boy. Come with me."
Bene pressed his hands against his chest. I protested, "What do you want with Bene?"
"I won’t harm you," Lexander told Bene impatiently. "I only want to talk." He shot me a glance. "Away from her."
He had never been so dismissive of me. I sat down on the bed and crossed my arms. I should have known it would be this way, with us split asunder. "Bene, you don’t have to go with him. But if you do, he won’t hurt you."
Bene hesitated, then stepped forward, as if he felt compelled to obey. I wondered if he would bolt the moment he reached the top of the steps. I almost hoped he would.
Lexander refused to look back as they left. I hurried to the door and up the steps to see where they went. They walked down the lane, receding at a measured pace. Lexander’s hand was on Bene’s shoulder as he spoke to him.
I sat down on the steps to wait for their return.
I grew very hungry as the morning passed, but I remained on the steps. When Lexander and Bene returned, something was different. I could tell as they approached that Bene wasn’t frightened anymore. He had a bounce in his step, and was excited and happy. Lexander also looked more at ease, and he held a bag slung over his shoulder.
They brushed past me to go down into the cellar. Lexander pulled some flat bread and a jug from the bag and placed them on the table. "Perhaps you haven’t eaten," he said curtly.
Bene knew we had given our last coins to the lady upstairs to pay for the cellar for another handful of days. We had planned on going out early to earn our meal.
Bene was trying not to grin, but he wasn’t succeeding.
Lexander’s golden eyes were unreadable. "I’ll come by in a few days to check on you."
My hands were shaking. "Where are you going?"
"Into Castropiero. I’m taking Bene with me."
"No, Lexander!" I exclaimed. "These slaves are kept locked up all the time unless they’re being used." I went to Bene, clutching his arm. "What are you doing?"
Bene glanced at Lexander, who nodded. "Lexander is going to pose as an assessor from Stanbulin, here to inspect the masters’ training methods. I’ll be his body servant."
My heart sank when I realized that Bene had already cleaved to Lexander. I had refused him for too long. Now he was determined to please Lexander.
And Lexander was manipulating him exactly as a slave master should. He was once more in complete control. "Bene is the right age and status to be my servant. That way he’ll be safe from the masters in the house, while I’ll have the benefit of his eyes in the lower halls."
I didn’t care that Bene could hear. "You’ll ruin everything I’ve tried to do with him, Lexander, if you use him this way."
Lexander gestured. "Bene?"
Bene replied obediently, "I want to do it, Marja."
"Surely you can’t argue with that," Lexander said flatly. He threw some coins onto the table. "This should be enough for you to live without selling your body. It won’t be safe without Bene to stand guard for you."
It sounded as if Bene had told him everything.
Lexander turned to look at me one last time as they left. He meant to chastise me without a word, showing by his pained expression how much I had disappointed him.
When he was gone, I fell facedown on the bed, too empty to even cry. Once I would have sworn that nothing could come between us. How very wrong I had been.
18
I spent the next day sitting at the end of the alleyway with my feet in the channel, communing with the sea spirits. They showed me fleets of ships that massed and fought far to the south, near the end of the Ditalia peninsula. Some of the sailors who were killed were from Veneto, and their death cries rang through the water with astonishing clarity. Venetians were people of the sea and were attuned to it like no other.
The olfs who dared to enter Castropiero told me some of what happened there. Tomaz lolled in his chair, barking orders at the servants designed to impress their visitor from Stanbulin. In their upper chamber, Renata put the slaves through their poses while Lexander paced among them, judging their ability. According to one olf, he encouraged a lovely girl with dusky skin and black eyes to please him with her mouth, and though he offered suggestions to improve her technique, on the whole he thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Late that afternoon, Lexander departed the house in a narrow boat propelled by a servant. He was facing away as he helped Renata sit down. Now he was dressed in high Veneto fashion with a short cape over his shoulder and tight leggings that revealed his strong thighs and the curve of his buttocks. My rebellious hear
t leaped at the sight of him.
After a long wait, the boat returned with its passengers. Lexander was leaning close to the mistress, listening to her. Renata gestured, her nervous hands moving too abruptly to be graceful. Their attitude was so intimate that I instinctively drew back.
The sun was very low, glinting off the water and the windows of the pleasure house. Soon the night would come and patrons would arrive for the entertainment. Lexander would doubtless partake of the slaves to maintain his role as an assessor.
Lexander courteously helped Renata from the boat onto the ledge of the doorway. Her movements made the boat tilt, and she laughed uneasily. She was trying to be alluring with her sidelong looks and shy smiles. Surely Lexander saw through her artifice. But he responded by holding her hand longer than was necessary, and gazing appreciatively at her.
As Renata entered the house, Lexander caught sight of me. I had pulled back to crouch in a niche between a rain barrel and the buttress of the neighboring house. In the shadows, he could only see the pale oval of my face.
Without a flicker of acknowledgment, he followed Renata. His light comment about the beauty of the evening carried to my ears. Then they disappeared into Castropiero.
The next morning Lexander returned to my cellar. He entered with a waft of spicy scent. I took a deep breath, realizing it was the smell of the pleasure house.
I stood up and met his eyes. He crossed his arms and gazed down at me. There was an odd constraint between us, as we stood stiffly away from each other. I wanted to touch him, and show him my heart wordlessly so he would understand. But he wouldn’t allow that, not now.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"I used the Kristna followers to destroy a house in Iberia as well as the one you saw in Ditalia. Unlike Becksbury, those bishops had no need to prove themselves to the clerics, but it was not difficult to inflame and disgust the locals. I made sure they’ll never allow a pleasure house to rise there again. I will be more difficult in Veneto, but it can be done."
"But you forget about the slaves."
"They aren’t sent to Stanbulin, which is more than enough. I’ll deal with Saaladet soon . . ."
His tone sent a chill through me. I should have known it from the start. His quest for vengeance would not be satisfied by anything less. He would destroy all of the masters.
He dropped a dozen coins on the table. "You can stop lurking about, Marj a. The servants have noticed you. It’s only a matter of time before it’s brought to Renata’s attention, and she’ll snap you up."
"I know what I’m doing—"
He shot me a dark look. "Don’t think for a moment I’ll let you enter Castropiero. I shall carry you out myself if you try."
Lexander stalked from the room, not bothering to hear my retort.
The weeping walls seemed to close in on me. During those long nights on my journey here, wondering what would happen when we met again, I had never imagined this.
But I wouldn’t let Lexander stop me. The sea spirits had given me the information I needed, and I was determined to set my plan in motion.
All power in Veneto was centered on the sea, so that was how I found myself standing naked on the railing of a bridge. I was attracting quite a large crowd of passersby, all wondering why I was exposing myself. A man tried to grab my leg to pull me back, but I shook him off as I sighted my quarry.
An elaborate vessel was being propelled by a boatman down the channel. It had a low, curving hull with carving on the upturned prow and stern, like a miniature Noroship. But this boat had no sails, only a cushion in the center covered by a canopy edged in gold fringe.
Seated under the canopy was Domen Silvo, the Doj of Veneto. The doj had supreme authority over the city— commanding the defense fleet and militia, conducting foreign affairs, dispensing justice, and supervising the administration of services. According to the doxies on the streets, the doj’s various councilors performed the actual work in consultation with men from the highest-ranking families in the city. But the doj had the final say in everything.
I had heard stories about the grand doj from the first day we had arrived in Veneto. On the death of the previous doj, the people of Veneto had gathered around his palace to mourn and pray to the gods to give them a worthy successor. The name of Domen Silvo was suddenly called from the crowd and had been shouted out by all the spectators, and thus by general acclaim he had become their next ruler.
I was aiming high, I admit it. I could have chosen one of the doj’s councilors, and I almost settled on the admiral of the fleet, since I could rely on the sea spirits for information. But the olfs who went into the admiral’s palace showed me that he kept two lusty wives who much occupied him with piquant pleasure. I would have a difficult time gaining a personal hold in that house.
The doj, on the other hand,was a solitary man.According to gossip, Silvo’s wife was overly concerned with matters of the nursery. The doj had visited Castropiero every few days, which meant he would be amiable to my arts. The worst I had seen him do inside the pleasure house was to clench a slave’s hair as he pulled her head back. His expression had been oddly remote, as if he was unaffected even in the throes of pleasure.
As the boat approached the bridge, the doj reclined back even after he saw me. I stretched up, holding my hands high and arching my back. I waited until the boat had nearly reached me and the doj lifted a brow in appreciation.
With a final plea for the sea spirits to aid me, I leaped off the bridge. I stretched out, diving into the canal right before the doj’s prow. The water hit me like a slap in the face, making my entire body tingle.
I was blinded by the murkiness, but the sea spirits warned me of the hull of the boat above and the silt below. Without their help I would have plowed into the bottom. I turned and surfaced by the side of the boat exactly where the doj was looking down.
I smiled up at him as the water streamed off my face and hair. I drew on the force of my inua, letting it shine through my eyes. There was a commotion on the bridge as people pointed to me, exclaiming over my dive.
"Fine day for a swim," the doj commented. He had the sort of face you pass by on the street, with plain, regular features. His shock of dark hair was tied back, and there was no ostentation in his dress or manner. Yet there was something remarkable in his confidence, as if he conversed with naked women in the water every day.
I treaded closer. "I’ve come to share a secret of the sea with you."
Domen Silvo grimaced, clearly doubtful of my sanity. People were still watching from the bridge, and he shifted irritably at being forced into this public situation. He raised his hand to urge his boatman to push on.
"Two days ago there was a battle at sea," I told him. "The Veneto fleet suffered many losses and now flees back to the city. Ships are pursuing them, harrying any that lag."
Silvo’s voice was deadly. "Who are you?"
I held his gaze. "I am but a servant, a voice for the sea spirits who wish to help the great Doj of Veneto protect his water city."
"I see. What do you expect me to do about this . . . news?"
"I don’t know," I replied honestly. "I merely provide the knowledge you desire."
He was intrigued, and he didn’t tell the boatman to push on. But the doj was a cynical man and would not make the mistake of trusting me easily.
But I was only a naked girl, so what danger could I afford him? I gave him a smile that I hoped conveyed my amusement at his dilemma. I could not show him how much I needed him to respond.
"Come," Silvo ordered. "Get in."
The doj and his boatman shifted their weight so I could pull myself inside. People were still pointing at the boat, having recognized the doj. He gestured to a velvet lap robe, and I gratefully pulled it around my shoulders. The boat was propelled forward under the bridge and down the channel. I was on my way.
The doj took me to his palatial residence. The three levels were fronted by colonnades of arches. Rows of sparkling windows b
acked the balconies that ran the length of the extensive building. The bricks had been laid in delicate patterns of red and white diamonds.
The palace was busy with freemen and slaves performing administrative duties. The doj’s reception chamber was on the uppermost level. The height of the large room was broken by the loft across the back, its dark wooden beams and spindle railing contrasting with the creamy white walls.
Silvo went to a metal casket and unlocked it. He placed a folded parchment inside and turned the key. Then he consulted a few stiff papers that had been placed on a table.
I waited, exhilarated that I had caught his attention. Now I needed to use my wiles to win his confidence. I kept the velvet lap robe tightly around my shoulders, knowing this was not the time to try to seduce him.
"So you claim to know where my perimeter fleet is now," he finally said.
I nodded. "If you have a map, I can show you."
With a sardonic shrug, Silvo removed a scroll from the shelf and unfurled it. I carefully followed the lines, having seen similar maps in Montplaire. But this one confused me at first because it showed only the Veneto Bay, a long finger of water. Then I realized the land along the western edge was the peninsula of Ditalia.
I closed my eyes and tried to reach out to the sea spirits through the sound of lapping water drifting in the window. The images that came of the retreating Veneto fleet were of a hulking mass of land to the west but nothing more distinct.
"I need to touch the water to know exactly where they are," I declared.
The doj shook his head impatiently, but he took me down a private staircase to the interior boat launch. Double gates were opened to allow the boats in and out. I thrust one hand into the water and let the other move over the map that I had brought along. The sea spirits guided me, and I placed my finger in a certain spot about halfway down the bay.
"Little more than a day away," the doj said sharply. "They’re supposed to be—"
He broke off, examining me. He thought I was a charlatan, at best, or perhaps mad. But he asked, "How many of my ships are there?"
