Luciano snorted. 'She may once have been. But she's nothing more than a vessel for Chernobog now.'
'But she is a nun!' protested Diego. 'She bears the crucifix!'
Luciano pulled a wry face. 'You will find that it is broken. Or bathed in the blood of unbaptized infants, or desecrated in some other terrible way. Or not even there at all. Chernobog's acolytes are masters of illusion. Masters of corruption.'
Kat leaned forward. 'What I want to know is why Lucrezia Brunelli should want Marco Valdosta dead. And why you, Lopez, stayed at the Casa Brunelli.'
Lopez shrugged. 'I stayed at the Casa Brunelli when I first arrived because the lodgings were offered to me, by a man well known in Venice and in good repute with the Grand Metropolitan. As for Lucrezia . . .'
Lopez seemed to shudder a bit, for just a moment, as if a sudden unpleasant memory had come to him. 'I'm afraid I was perhaps oblivious to the woman's other vices, since I was so preoccupied with avoiding a particular one.' He pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'As to why she might want Marco Valdosta dead, I cannot think of a reason offhand. Except . . . She seems to have an insatiable appetite for men. Perhaps he turned her down too brusquely.' His lips thinned. 'The woman is, ah, quite taken by her own beauty.'
'She's in this up to her elegant neck,' said Kat savagely. 'Deceive yourself if you like, Senor Lopez. I know for a fact she has ordered magical materials from the East. I've delivered them to her. But she's no Strega.'
Lopez rubbed his face. 'The worst I know of her is that she passed on a message from Capuletti that he would meet me at midnight at the San Trovaso Chapel, instead of in the morning. I had tracked this dealing in that vile black lotos to him, somewhat by accident, while dealing with a Signor Tassole. I confronted the bishop about it and the peril to his immortal soul. He denied it, but wrote to me later to say it was true and that my words had troubled him. He said he wanted to fast and pray for the night but had things on his conscience that he wished to confess. It was the letter of a deeply troubled man.'
'I'll bet she was in that up to her neck, too,' snarled Kat. 'She probably dictated the second letter herself, and then killed him.'
Marco and Petro Dorma came in looking for them. Petro seemed to accept Lopez and his companions as perfectly logical people to be there. 'Still no sign of the Schiopettieri,' said Petro, sitting down. 'I've left a message over at Marco's old apartment for them to come here. Bribed several of the locals to wait for them. Still, if they're not here in ten minutes, I must go and rouse the Council of Ten myself. I wonder why they haven't arrived?'
* * *
Marco had been drowning in Kat's eyes, paying almost no attention to the conversation. It took a few moments for Petro's words to drum through.
'I wonder why they haven't arrived?'
That, and Aleri's last word--which he and Petro had agreed did sound as if Aleri might have been starting to say 'Caesare'--finally registered. Marco's immediate reaction had been: that can't be true. But walking across the darkened campo the thought had come to him. . . . What allegiance did Caesare Aldanto owe to Venice? He was for sale to the highest bidder, after all. He'd always seemed good to Marco . . . but the way he had cheated Maria . . .
'Um . . . Would your Schiopettieri messenger have gone to Caesare Aldanto?'
Petro turned on him, pursing his lips. 'It was his name! It was that name that the Chernobog destroyed Aleri rather than let us discover! Oh, Jesus. I've given the city defenses into the hands of a traitor.'
'He's a traitor and a murderer all right,' grated Lodovico.
Petro took a deep breath. 'He could wreak more havoc than all the Montagnard firebombs put together. I can't take the chance, even if I've guessed wrong and he's innocent. What the hell am I going to do?'
Maria stood up. 'What you should have done in the first place, Dorma. Call out the Arsenalotti. They haven't joined your stupid militia because they are insulted by it. The defense of the Republic has always been their responsibility.'
Dorma nodded. 'Get me paper and sealing wax,' he commanded Rafael. He turned back to Maria. 'You obviously know the Arsenal, woman.'
'My cousins are caulkers,' said Maria stiffly. 'My father was a caulker.'
'Would they rally to the Republic, if you were to tell them that the defense of the Arsenal and the Doge's palace are in their hands, that they must deal with any rogue militia?'
Maria snorted. 'You're so stuck up, Dorma, that you have no idea. Of course they would! And most of the boat-people too. Send Marco to rally them. They saw him with the Doge. And he has a reputation five times as good as yours. They trust him.'
