A Deadly Injustice Read Online Free PDF

your own. Which you will be, for you know I can’t come with you until I am released from my duties by the Great Khan.’
    Alberoni’s resolve melted for a moment as he contemplated sitting on the back of a horse for weeks on end. But then I saw the stubbornness return to his eyes.
    â€˜I have determined to go, and go I shall.’
    I sighed, seeing that I would not be able to stop him making the long trek home. Leaving him to his packing of the already crammed saddlebags, I turned instead to Tadeusz, and told him of our plans.
    â€˜We have a new commission. I am to investigate the murder of an old merchant in a town some days south of here. It seems that his prospective daughter-in-law has poisoned him, and she has been condemned to death. But Kubilai has been petitioned to re-examine the case, as some believe her innocent. It will be a mess, and Lin Chu-Tsai will have to arbitrate between the Chinee girl and her supporters, and the local Mongol lord.’
    Tadeusz grimaced.
    â€˜That puts us in a hopeless situation.’
    â€˜Yes. Lin thinks he has been set up by his old adversary, Ko, and I believe him. We can’t win either way, unless we can come up with something extraordinary.’
    â€˜Where is the girl to be found?’
    I pulled out the document Lin had given me, flattening it on the low table with the palm of my hand, and scrutinized the script. It was in Turkish, so I could understand it – written Chinee was still just a confusion of lines and dots to me.
    â€˜She is held imprisoned in a town called –’ I ran my finger along the word, rehearsing it in my head – ‘called P’ing-Yang-Fu. It is some twenty days journey south-west and is close to the Kara-Moran river.’
    I heard a gasp behind me, and Alberoni suddenly piped up.
    â€˜Kara-Moran. That means Black River in Turkish, doesn’t it?’
    I frowned, not knowing where this was leading.
    â€˜I believe so.’
    Now Alberoni was at my elbow, staring at the paper I held in my hand.
    â€˜And in Chinee, that is Hwang-Ho?’
    It was Tadeusz, with his superior knowledge of that tongue who answered Alberoni.
    â€˜Yes, that is correct. The Hwang-Ho is a very large river, a mile wide in places, leading out to the ocean on the edge of the world.’
    A seafarer by birth, I shuddered at the thought of sailing to the edge of the ocean and tipping off. At least the seas beyond the lagoon of Venice were bounded by land. Beyond Kubilai’s empire to the east there was a big island called Cipangu, and then, nothing. But Alberoni wasn’t interested in where the river flowed out to, apparently, but the very opposite as it turned out. He abruptly interrupted Tadeusz’s geography lesson.
    â€˜Yes, yes. That is the place.’
    He grasped my shoulder, and looked into my eyes.
    â€˜Niccolò . . .’ Where others called me by my familiar name, Alberoni always used the formal version. He had been the Zuliani family priest for years. ‘Niccolò, I have been a little precipitate. I now see I should not abandon you at this juncture. Especially if you will be in some danger if you make the wrong decision. I should be there to advise you. I will come too. After all, my bags are packed.’
    I narrowed my eyes and stared suspiciously at the priest, not sure what had changed his mind. But I had to admit his companionship would please me, and his presence could be useful.
    â€˜Very well. We must all hurry to prepare, though. Lin has sent for ponies for us all – including you, Friar, as he assumed you were coming with us.’ I grinned evilly as I mentioned Alberoni’s hated transport. He had insisted on using a cart to make the long journey from west to east six years ago. The trip had been interminable, and I recall almost being seasick in the lurching, swaying vehicle. Me – a Venetian practically living on water – being seasick. It didn’t bear