tried to cut his purse from his belt.
'Hey!' yelled Ezio. 'Coglione! Stop!' And he raced after them. The one he'd marked as his attacker turned for an instant, pushing a tress of auburn hair clear of the face. A woman's face! But then she was gone, vanishing into the crowd with her companions.
They resumed their tour in silence, Leonardo, however, now contentedly clutching his two lay figures. Ezio was impatient to be rid of the buffoon who was their guide, and even of Leonardo. He needed time alone, time to think.
'And now we approach the famous Palazzo Seta,' Nero droned on. 'Home of Su Altezza Emilio Barbarigo. Messer Barbarigo is famous at present for his attempts to unify the merchants of the city under his guiding control. A laudable undertaking which has, alas, encountered some resistance from the more radical elements in the city.'
A grim fortified building stood back from the canal, allowing for a flagstoned space in front of it, at whose quay three gondolas were moored. As their own gondola passed, Ezio noticed the same businessman he had seen harassed earlier try to enter the building. He was being held back by two more guards, and Ezio noticed on their shoulders a yellow blazon crossed with a red chevron, below it a black horse, above it a dolphin, star and grenade. Barbarigo men, of course!
'My stall has been destroyed, my goods ruined. I demand compensation!' the businessman was saying in an angry tone.
'Sorry sir, we're closed,' said one of the uniforms, poking the poor man with his halberd.
'I haven't finished with you. I'll report you to the Council!'
'Much good may it do you,' snapped the older, second uniform. But now an officer and three more men appeared.
'Causing an affray, are we?' said the officer.
'No, I -'
'Arrest this man!' barked the officer.
'What are you doing?' said the businessman, frightened. Ezio watched powerless and in growing anger, but he had marked the place in his mind. The businessman was dragged off in the direction of the building, where a small ironclad door opened to admit him, and immediately closed behind him.
'You haven't chosen the best of places, though it may be the prettiest,' Ezio told Leonardo.
'I am beginning to wish that I'd plumped for Milan after all,' replied Leonardo. 'But a job is a job.'
13
After Ezio had taken leave of Leonardo and settled into his own lodgings, he wasted no time in making his way back to the Palazzo Seta, not an easy task in this city of alleyways, twisting canals, low arches, little squares and dead-ends. But everyone knew the palazzo, and locals willingly gave him directions when he got lost - though they all seemed at a loss as to why anybody should wish to go there of their own free will. One or two suggested that it would be simplest for him to take a gondola, but Ezio wanted to familiarize himself with the city, as well as to arrive at his goal unnoticed.
It was late afternoon as he approached the palazzo, though it was less of a palace than a fortress, or a prison, since the main building complex had been erected within the battlemented walls. On either side it was hemmed in by other buildings which were separated from it by narrow streets, but to its rear was what looked like a sizeable garden surrounded by another high wall, and at the front, facing the canal, was the wide, open area Ezio had seen earlier. Here now, though, a pitched battle seemed to be taking place between a bunch of Barbarigo guardsmen and a motley group of young people who were taunting them and then skipping lightly out of reach of their swinging halberds and stabbing pikes, throwing bricks, stones, and rotten eggs and fruit at the infuriated uniforms. Perhaps they were just creating a diversion, for Ezio, looking beyond them, could see a figure scaling the wall of the palazzo beyond the scene of the melee. Ezio was impressed - the wall was so sheer that even he would have thought twice about tackling it. But whoever it was reached the battlements without detection or difficulty, and then, astoundingly, leapt up from them to land on the roof of one of the watchtowers. Ezio could see that the person was planning to jump again from there to the roof of the palace itself and try to gain access to the interior from there, and he made a note of the tactic should he ever need - or be able - to use it himself. But the guards in the watchtower had heard the person land, and called a warning to their fellows on guard in the palace proper. A bowman appeared at a window in the eaves of the palace roof and fired. The figure jumped gracefully and the arrow went wide, clattering off the tiles, but the second time the archer fired his aim was true, and, with a faint cry, the figure staggered, clutching a wounded thigh.
The bowman fired again, but missed, since the figure had retraced its steps, skipping from the tower roof back down to the battlements, along which other guardsmen were already running, then leapt back over the wall and half-slid, half-fell down it to the ground.
On the other side of the open space in front of the palazzo, the Barbarigo guards were pushing their attackers back into the alleyways beyond, down which they were beginning to pursue them. Ezio took this opportunity to catch up with the figure, which was beginning to limp away to safety in the opposite direction.
When he caught up, he was struck by the person's light, boy-like, but athletic shape. As he was about to offer his assistance, the person turned towards him and he recognized the face of the girl who'd tried to cut his purse in the market earlier.
He found himself surprised, confused, and - curiously - smitten.
'Give me your arm,' said the girl, urgently.
'Don't you remember me?'
'Should I?'
'I'm the one you tried to rob in the market today.'
'I'm sorry but this is no time for comfortable reminiscences. If we don't get out of sight fast we'll be dead meat.'
As if to illustrate her point, an arrow whizzed past between them. Ezio put her arm round his shoulders, and his round her waist, supporting her as he had once supported Lorenzo. 'Where to?'
'The canal.'
'Of course,' he said sarcastically. 'There's only one in Venice, isn't there?'
'You're damned cocky for a newcomer. This way - I'll show you - but be quick! Look - they're after us already.' And it was true that a small detachment of men had started across the cobblestones towards them.
One hand gripping her wounded thigh, and tense with pain, she guided Ezio down an alley, which led to another, and another, and another, until Ezio had lost all sense of the compass points. Behind them, the voices of the men pursuing them gradually receded and then were lost.
'Hirelings brought in from the mainland,' said the girl in tones of great contempt. 'Don't stand a chance in this city against us locals. Get lost too easily. Come on!'
They had arrived at a jetty on the Canale della Misericordia. A nondescript boat was tied up there with two men in it. On seeing Ezio and the girl, one immediately started to unloop the mooring-rope, while the other helped them in.
'Who's he?' the second man asked the girl.
'No idea, but he was in the right place at the right time and apparently he's no friend of Emilio's.'
But she was close to fainting now.
'Wounded in the thigh,' said Ezio.
'I can't take that out now,' said the man, looking at the bolt where it had lodged. 'I haven't got any balsam or bandages here. We must get her back fast, and before those sewer-rats of Emilio's catch up with us.' He looked at Ezio. 'Who are you anyway?
'My name is Auditore, Ezio. From Florence.'
