“We’ve really got to stop taking jobs that lead to regime changes though.” Tenzin sighed. “We’re going to stop being invited anywhere good.”
“Agreed.”
Radu said, “Currently, I do not have any more work for you, but I do have a bonus.” He withdrew a small lacquered chest and opened it. A row of gold bars lay nested in the bottom of the velvet-lined box. “The price Ben and I negotiated for the goblet has already been transferred to your account electronically, but this is for both of you, a thank-you for the inconvenience.”
Tenzin’s eyes lit up.
“I confess,” Radu said, “Vano’s gold stores were far less than I expected, based on his business empire and how much he had been withholding from the clan.” Radu snapped the chest shut. “But what is there is yours. With Tatyana’s skills, I have no doubt that the Eastern Poshani will be well provided for in the future.”
Ben opened his mouth, but Tenzin grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. “We will be honored to accept this,” she said, “as an apology for the damage to my trailer and the… unfortunate incident that will never be spoken of again.”
Radu looked relieved. “I do appreciate your discretion.”
“Of course.” Tenzin rose. “We should leave now. We’re heading west tonight.”
Radu and Ben both stood, and Ben held out his hand. “I would be happy to travel with you again.”
“You are welcome anytime.” Radu turned to Tenzin. “It was good to see you, Tenzin.”
“I would say the same.” She lifted the box and held it hugged to her chest. “We didn’t move the trailers, but we did loot them a little.”
“Understood. The darigan will take care of them. Do not even think of it.” Radu reached under the table and lifted a backpack. “I nearly forgot this.”
“Oh my God, my tablet.” Ben hugged the backpack to his chest. “I don’t even want to think about how many emails I’ve missed.”
“Let’s not think about that at all.” Tenzin reached for the backpack and put the lacquered box inside. “Are you ready?”
Ben nodded and slung the backpack over his shoulders. “Radu, give our best to your sisters.”
“My sisters.” He smiled. “I do like the way that sounds. I will tell them. Safe journey, my friends.”
Ben and Tenzin rose into the sky, waving at the Hazar, who flew alongside them until they had left Poshani territory. Then there was nothing in front of them except for scattered clouds and the nighttime sky.
“You realize,” Tenzin said, “that if we hadn’t let René take all the gold, we would have been paid so much more.”
“You realize,” Ben said, “that if René hadn’t helped us get the third goblet, none of this would have worked out the way it did.”
Tenzin huffed. “I suppose so.”
“Leave it.” Ben glanced over his shoulder. René was probably still in the camp, sewing Vano’s gold into the lining of all his brocade coats. “I have a feeling we’ll end up running into that annoying little bastard again.”
* * *
They landed in the courtyard of Tenzin’s home in Venice on the island of San Marco. The old palazzo was steps from the Assassin’s Street, looking out over the rio di San Luca. The interior courtyard was filled with a trickling fountain and the orange tree was in bloom, filling the courtyard with a heavenly scent.
The house was locked up—Tenzin’s caretaker Silvio was clearly not expecting guests—but Ben remembered where the keys for the utility room were stored. He turned on the power and the water.
“I’m really looking forward to a bath.”
Tenzin was already lounging in the long gallery that led to the interior dock. “I thought that waterfall was a very good find.”
“It was better than nothing.” Ben flipped the breaker on, and the Moroccan lamps that lit the hallways flipped on. “But warm water cannot be beat.”
In the corner, he spotted the old record player he’d found on his first trip to Tenzin’s house. He lifted it from the storage room and set it on the gallery table before he plugged it in. He knew the records lived in the library, so he walked up half a flight to the first floor and opened the door.
The musty smell of books met his senses. Vanilla and leather. Mold, incense, and a hint of lemon oil. The familiarity of the smells allowed Ben to relax for the first time in weeks.
He walked to the far wall and grabbed a record in a faded white sleeve.
Perfect.
Tenzin was opening a bottle of blood-wine from the kitchen when he returned. He put the record on the player, and the crackling sounds of Louis Armstrong’s trumpet filled the gallery. Ella Fitzgerald sang “Dream a Little Dream of Me,” and her golden voice echoed through the marble hallways.
Tenzin set the bottle down and walked over to him. “Dance?”
Ben held out his hand. “We always dance to Louis.”
Without another word, she stepped into his arms and Ben brought her close, wrapping his arm around her waist as he held her hand in his and swayed in the smallest hours of the night.
The city was silent as they moved in rhythm with the rising song. The music filled the air and floated over the water.
“Heaven,” Ben whispered along with the music. “I’m in heaven.”
“Heaven or Venice?” Tenzin pressed her cheek to his chest.
“Right now they feel the same.”
“Your old room isn’t light safe,” Tenzin said. “You’ll have to stay in mine.”
Ben smiled. “You mean I have to stay with the woman I love and sleep in the grand entry hall that looks over the canal?”
“With the drapes drawn, it’s light safe. There isn’t a bed in there though. We’ll have to bring a mattress up.”
“I can handle that.” Ben dipped her and kissed her neck. “You own a palace.”
“It was a bargain in the seventeenth century. I had to put a lot of gold into this place to make it livable.”
“Glad
