This Rough Magic

Marco nodded. 'Nonetheless, I would like to appeal on the basis of his youth and the fact he grew up without the guidance of good parents, as an orphan, and that in the fight to save Venice last fall he fought and led with great courage. Many here can testify to that. Perhaps some part of this—ah, incident—is due to a nature that requires an outlet, and there has been nothing of the sort to purge him of his excess of spirits.'

There was a murmur of approval. The Justice, however, was shaking his head. Marco hurried on. 'I do not appeal for the sentence to be reduced. I just ask that the option of imprisonment be removed. Your Honor, many of Venice's wildest young blades have gone out to the outposts of our empire and served well, and faithfully, and returned as upright and respectable citizens. I do not think Benito would be improved by a year in the dungeons. I think he might learn if sent elsewhere.'

Benito felt his mouth dropping open, and snapped it closed.

The Justice nodded, the look he bestowed on Marco the very image of benevolence. 'I find this a reasonable plea, Marco Valdosta.'

He turned back to Benito, and God On High was back. 'Very well, Benito Valdosta, the option of imprisonment is withdrawn. You are exiled from Venice for five years. You will remain in custody until a passage is arranged for you out of the city.'

Marco stepped forward. He tapped a pouch, which jingled. 'Your honor, I have here monies to pay the reparations and the fines for Benito Valdosta.

The Justice pointed. 'The clerk will see to it.'

And Benito, his leg irons clanking, was led out. Marco did not even look at him.

On the whole, that was probably not a bad thing.

* * *

He did come down to the cell, later. 'Petro would have added twenty lashes to the sentence,' he said grimly, the first words out of his mouth. Not: Are you all right, or: We were worried about you.

Benito shrugged. 'I'm sorry, Brother. The evening started in fun. It just got out of hand.'

'Several people, including Prince Manfred, have said that you were simply looking for trouble,' said Marco, who could have passed, at this moment, for one of the chief Justice's prize pupils. He was doing a very good imitation of God on High, himself. 'Petro's had some of his spies keeping an eye on you. You pitched one of them into the Rio San Felice. You're lucky that was not another charge you faced, by the way.'

But then, suddenly, the whole stern image collapsed, as his brother added, plaintively, 'Petro says you've been so much better the last while. And then this.'

Benito shrugged his shoulders sulkily. He wasn't going to justify himself to Marco. He wasn't sure he could justify himself to himself. And he sure as hell wasn't going to let Marco know just how wretched he'd felt when he'd seen Maria with the baby in her arms, and she wouldn't even look at him.

Marco sighed. 'I haven't even had a chance to tell you yet, but Kat and I stood as godparents to Maria's daughter.'

Benito felt truly as if the wind had been kicked out of him. But he had to know—he was as starved for some word, any word, as a swampy was for a decent meal. 'Is she all right? I mean with having the baby and all.' In a very small voice: 'She wouldn't even speak to me, Marco.'

Marco looked at his younger brother with a compassion that hurt almost as much as Maria's silence. 'So that was what it was all about, was it?'

Benito said nothing. What could he say? He couldn't deny it, but he sure as hell wasn't going to admit it.

Marco shook his head. 'She's fine. Seems happy enough, Benito. The baby is fine, too.' But then, he smiled, that purely Marco smile, with a touch of mischief. 'She's got something unusual though. She has an undine as one of her godmothers.'

That caught Benito off guard. 'What?' he said, not sure he'd heard right.

'Umberto's sister was supposed to be one of the godmothers, only she didn't approve of Umberto's marriage. You know she always kept house for him. I suppose she must have thought that no one was good enough for him, but she absolutely hates Maria. So, at the last minute, she didn't show up. The Lion in me . . . I think the Lion must have guessed she might do something like that. I asked if the water-people would add their blessing, and the priest said he'd see about it. Well, I think the Lion sent an undine to take her place.'

So that was the reason for the mischief. Benito could hardly believe it. Marco, doing something just for the reason of giving someone who deserved it their comeuppance!

'All things considered, since they're going to be around water all their lives, you could hardly ask for a more useful godmother,' Marco pointed out with just a touch of glee. 'That little girl will never drown.'

Benito tried to imagine the scene, and failed. 'I wish I could have been there.'

Marco looked at him hard, and raised an eyebrow. 'And who would that have pleased or helped, Benito? Nobody would ask you to be a godfather.'

Benito shrugged. 'I just feel . . . Oh, I don't know. I just feel I owe her some help.' He sighed. 'She saw me that night, you know.'

'So I have heard,' said Marco dryly. 'She told Kat.' He paused, as if he was considering something, then evidently made up his mind about it.

'They're shipping out for Corfu in a couple of hours. You'll have your chance to help her, if you can manage to stay out of trouble long enough to do anything useful. You're going there too. It's a small place. You'll probably see her every day.'

Benito's mouth fell open in horror. And worst of all, the horror was so mixed with a thrill of delight that he couldn't tell where one started and the other ended.