The waiter led them all to a tiny room, with barely room for more than a table and a few chairs in it--but it had a door and the door shut softly behind them. Aldanto seated himself at the table and put down his wine glass. The way he positioned himself, the boys had to stand with him seated between them and the door. The lantern that lit the room was on the wall behind Aldanto's head and made a sunblaze out of his hair.
'I'm waiting,' was all he said.
'Milord, my brother's got information that you might be able to use--it might be you and him know the same people. We want to sell it.'
He poked Marco with his elbow. Marco shook himself into awareness.
'Information?' Aldanto did not look amused. 'What on earth could you two have that would be of any use to me?'
'Milord, somebody thinks it's important. My brother has been having to hide out in the marshes because somebody thought it was important enough to kill my mother, but she passed it on to Marco here. See, we know who you are. We know where you're from. We reckoned you would be the right man to know what he's got. And we figured you'd be the best man to pay our price--and that's to keep him safe after he's told you.'
The blond man began to look angry. 'If this is some kind of a scam--'
'Brother,' Marco said clearly and distinctly, 'the viper strikes.' It was the password of those in the service of the Milanese Duke Visconti.
Aldanto, who had just taken a mouthful of wine, coughed and practically choked.
Marco took the most recent of his precious copies of The Message from his shirt pocket and handed it to him.
* * *
Hazed with fatigue, Marco was blind to Aldanto's reactions--but Benito wasn't.
Within a few moments, Benito had figured Aldanto was not pleased with their recognition of him as a Milanese agent. Moments after that he knew by the worried look that Aldanto wasn't working for Duke Visconti anymore.
This required recalculation.
Then Aldanto's mouth began to twitch as he read the paper Marco had given him.
'Where did you come by this?'
'I told you,' Benito said, stalling for time. 'Our mama was something with the Milanese--passed their messages and whatall. Except somebody figured that out an' came for her, and Marco ran for the marshes to hide out with the last thing she got. Figured things were fine until he got jumped out there a day or so ago, and it weren't just any nightbird, it was an assassin. We are Valdosta; you might know the name--you might know people Mama knew--Ventuccio. You going help us out?'
'Valdosta. Well . . . well . . .' Aldanto pointed at the paper. 'Nothing here for me,' he said. His mouth was amused but his eyes were hard. 'What you've got is an out-of-date infiltration schedule. Useless. And worthless.'
* * *
Marco's mind went blank. All the hope--the plans--all in ruins; and the man Aldanto didn't seem the least bit interested in helping, much less being the shining rescuer Marco had prayed for.
'But--somebody must think I know something,' he said desperately, 'or why try to kill me? And why send an assassin? They could have hired one of the marsh-gangs, easy.' Now all he wanted was to be able to think of something useful to Aldanto; something worth the cost of protecting both himself and Benito. It was far too late now to go back to the Jesolo marsh. 'Maybe--maybe I know something someone doesn't want out--like a name, or a face--can't you use that?'
'Absolutely--Marco never forgets anything,' Benito chimed in. 'That's why Mama took him everywhere with her. He knows all kinds of things--things maybe still worth knowing.'
'Like I remember you, milord. You were with Mama's man, Carlo Sforza--it was--around the beginning of October, I think, about nine years ago. You were wearing brown velvet, and you and Carlo talked about the bribes your father'd been paying . . .' Marco trailed off at the grim set of Aldanto's mouth.
'Besides--damned Milanese are out after us along with you,' Benito interrupted, stepping hard on Marco's foot. 'Mama would have sold us to slavers if they'd told her to. Duke Visconti never got us anything but trouble, and I bet it's him as sent the assassin. You need something, well, I can get it, or I know who can; I can get things done, too--get people disappeared--get you disappeared too, only less permanent. We've got connections you can't get
