Kat found attentive maids waiting, who stripped her with the same terrible efficiency as shown by Petro Dorma, popped a nightdress over her head, and eased her into a bed she didn't even see. After that--she didn't even dream.
* * *
But the next day . . .
All of the peace of mind which had come to her came crashing down the moment she stepped out into the public corridors. Two pages were waiting for her, and whisked her off to join Marco, chattering at her the entire time.
She and Marco, it seemed, were the Saviors of Venice. Father Lopez, still covered with dust from his hurried return to the city, explained it all to them.
Never mind Petro Dorma, or the Arsenalotti. Forget the brilliant tactics of Dell'este. Ignore the subtle intervention of the Emperor. Completely discount the actions of the Knights under confrere Manfred and his friend Eric Hakkonsen. Pretend that Father Lopez never battled Sachs and Ursula and the horrible thing they had brought in on behest of the dread Grand Duke of Lithuania. She and Marco were the Saviors of Venice.
Dorma was with Marco, and Senor Lopez joined them a moment later. 'You must make an appearance,' Dorma told them firmly, before they could make any objections. Lopez nodded, even more firmly. Kat discovered that, when sandwiched between two such forceful personalities, no becomes a word that does not effectively exist.
Dorma and Lopez took them both to the very, very public Scala di Giganti, where the new Doges were always inaugurated, and as they all stepped out onto the top step, a roar went up from the Piazza San Marco. As she stood there, once again clutching at Marco's hand, half-blinded by the sun and deafened by the noise, she realized to her horror that the piazza was packed solid.
'Smile,' Dorma shouted into her ear. 'Wave.'
She did; the crowd roared again.
'Now come this way.' Dorma took her arm and steered her along the second-floor balcony to the side that faced the lagoon as Lopez did the same for Marco. The piazza was too densely packed for anyone to follow, but that hardly mattered, since the wave of sound propagated along as they passed. And when they got to the seaward side of the balcony, it seemed that every floating object in Venice began parading past.
At least here, facing the Doge's palace and the lagoon, where not so many people could crowd up against the building, it was easier to hear.
'Keep smiling and waving,' Lopez said gravely, doing the same. Then he and Dorma explained to them how and why it was that they were suddenly the Saviors.
'Dell'este is not one of us,' Dorma said, bowing as one of the House racing-boats passed with every scion of nobility the House possessed manning an oar. 'The Knights--well, so far as the average Venetian is concerned, they have only just redeemed themselves for the actions of Sachs and the Sots. And, besides, they aren't our people either.'
'Nor are we, the foreign clerics, and never mind who sent us here,' Lopez agreed wryly. 'And Petro Dorma--' His lips twisted in an attempt to suppress a smile. 'Petro Dorma is a fine example of the best of the Casa Vecchie, and he will surely make a great Doge. But he is balding, middle-aged, and has an undistinguished nose. Not the fine figure of which legends are made.'
Dorma chuckled. 'True enough. Not'--here, a bit smugly--'that my humble nose is going to stop any of the single ladies of the Casa Vecchie from seeking out my company with an eye to matrimony. But, yes, I will be the first to admit that I do not make an appropriate figure for the future statues which will commemorate this triumph.'
He gazed at Marco and Kat. 'You, on the other hand--you are both handsome, young, and--well. That problem still has to be dealt with, but the rumor of your little romance is already sweeping the city. Not so little, actually. You have ended a feud between your families to rival that of the Capuletti and Montague in Verona. You have served as the vessels for the oldest of Venice's magical protectors, and of a bona fide angelic power. So, I can hardly blame the people for deciding that we old men only sat and twiddled our fingers while you two saved the city. Smile,' he added, as Kat began to object. 'And wave. This is what is meant by noblesse oblige, as our Aquitaine friends would say.'
The two youngsters did as they were instructed. But Kat had the sinking realization--sinking like a stone anchor at sea--that the 'rumor sweeping Venice' was going to make her life a lot more complicated than it already was. The ugly term adulteress crept into her mind, making her wince. She wasn't sure if she should keep holding Marco's hand. But--
His grip was far too firm to resist anyway. Even if she'd really wanted to.
CASA DORMA ----------
'You have used the children quite enough. Go any further and you imperil your souls.'
