Francesca's face softened. Her eyes even seemed to acquire--just for an instant--a slight film of moisture. 'Thank you for that, Kat,' she said, very softly. 'Friendship does not come often, to a courtesan. We treasure it all the more for its rarity.'
But her gaiety returned immediately. 'And now--enough of all this gloomy business. Let's look to a brighter future. Information I promised you, information I have. That's really why I asked you to come here. So. Let's trade gossip!'
'Gossip?' Kat asked incredulously.
Francesca laughed. 'When women talk, it's called gossip; when men do it, it's called information. In either case, it's an exchange that could profit one or both of the parties. That was our arrangement, wasn't it?'
'I suppose--' Kat looked dubious now, and Francesca shook her head. 'Believe me, dear, men are far worse at holding their tongues in the presence of a woman than a woman is in the presence of anyone. I may know something that you can turn to profit that I can reveal without breaking confidences. But let's start with you. What's the current news down on the water?'
* * *
When they were done, perhaps two hours later, Francesca was no longer smiling.
'None of this is good, Kat. Although I'm glad you'll be able to turn some of my tidbits of information to profitable use. But something's deeply wrong. Something . . .' She hesitated, groping for words.
'Good times and bad times,' shrugged Kat. 'The world is like that. Certainly Venice.'
Francesca shook her head, quite forcefully. 'This is more than simply 'bad times.' Something--someone--is deliberately making things as bad as possible.'
Kat frowned. 'Why do you think that? And why would anyone want to do it?' Before Francesca could answer, Kat made a little waving motion with her hand, forestalling objections. 'Oh, sure--Duke Visconti wishes Venice all the ill in the world. But even he has nothing to gain by creating turmoil in the city. No matter how desperate Venetians ever got, the last thing they'd accept is Milanese intervention in our affairs.'
The courtesan sitting across from her lifted herself up from the chaise and began pacing about slowly. Kat was struck by how silently she moved.
' 'Intervention,' no. But what if the purpose wasn't intervention? What if it was simply--destruction?'
'And what would be the point of that?' cried Kat. 'If Milan tried to destroy Venice--which they couldn't do anyway--we're an island and our fleet is far more powerful than anything they could muster--' Her words were coming in a rush.
It was Francesca's turn to wave down an objection. 'Not Milan, Kat. Not, at least, as anything but a tool. I was thinking of Lithuania.'
Kat's face went completely blank. She stared at Francesca, for a moment, as if she had suddenly found herself confronted by a raving lunatic.
Seeing the expression, Francesca chuckled. 'I'm quite sane, I assure you. Yes, Kat, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and Poland is very far from Venice. And has no common border with it. No apparent source for mutual conflict.' She shrugged. 'Not even the commercial rivalry which periodically agitates the Hungarians and the Genoese and the Greeks in Constantinople.'
'Exactly. So why in the world--'
'Who is the great rival of Lithuania, Kat?' interrupted Francesca.
'The Holy Roman Empire, of course.'
'Precisely. And what will happen if Venice is destroyed? Who will fill the sudden power vacuum in northern Italy and the Adriatic? Not Milan!'
Kat stared at her. Then, slowly, remembering things her father--and even more, her grandfather--had told her in times past . . . things Dottore Marina had told her also, now that she thought upon it . . . her face began to pale.
Francesca made a most unfeminine grunt. 'Precisely. Grand Duke Jagiellon's reputation for insensate brutality is well-earned, girl. But don't be fooled by it. He is also a consummate manipulator. A man who prefers to let others bleed themselves to death, if at all possible.'
Kat spoke in a whisper. 'If Venice . . . is destroyed, the Holy Roman Emperor will have no choice. If he doesn't come in, the Hungarians surely will. And--and--'
