The Alchemist's Pursuit Read Online Free PDF Page B

to notice the irony. “I had to ring the bell.”
    â€œWhat bell?”
    She smiled sphinxly. “I have a hidden bellpull by the bed. Antonio came. Avonal drew on him. Antonio disarmed him, snapped his sword over his knee, and threw him out. No, not into the canal. But I shall not come in with you to see His Excellency.”
    Antonio is the senior bouncer at 96. He is nowhere near as big as Bruno, the Maestro’s porter, but a sight more blood-curdling, with a forked beard and the scarred face of a lifelong fighter.
    â€œWas Avonal one of Lucia’s patrons also?”
    â€œI don’t know. He could have been. She had retired, but that doesn’t mean . . . Maybe not completely retired. If she was asked nicely.” At that point, Minerva inexplicably yielded place to Helen, threw her arms around me, and kissed me until my hair smoked.
    â€œMm . . .” I said when I was allowed a chance to breathe. “I do think this case is insoluble. The best thing we can do is go home and discuss it.”
    â€œLater.” She smiled a promise and cuddled a little closer.
    â€œI love you,” I said. “You rule my heart as la Serenissima rules the seas.”
    â€œOh, really? That would have been a much better compliment a hundred years ago.”
    And so on. Banter was very enjoyable but did not help me plan a strategy for calling on Senator Avonal. I knew nothing about him except that his name was uncommon and nobles from small clans rarely win election to senior offices. He must be personally impressive or extremely rich or both. Violetta was not much better informed, unable to tell me what other posts he had held, or what allies had helped him win his seat in the Senate.
    The Senate meets three or four afternoons a week, but I had not heard the dei Pregadi bell in the Piazza ring to summon it, so he might be home. Or not. Having no official standing, I cannot command an audience with anyone, and Avonal was neither a patient of Nostradamus’s nor a client for astrological counsel. If he were not home I should have to leave my name; if he were home he might refuse to see me, and either way I might never get a chance to speak with him at all. Proper procedure would be for me to go home and pen an effusive letter begging a few moments of His Excellency’s valuable time at some date and hour he would select, for some reason I must invent. Normally I would have played safe and done so, but that day I was making inquiries on Violetta’s behalf, not my master’s, and tomorrow he might remind me that my time is his time and tell me to stop wasting it. I would have to risk the direct approach.
    Violetta directed us to a watergate opening directly onto the Rio di San Nicolò—no grandiose frontage or loggia, just an unprepossessing doorway in a plain brick wall.
    â€œAnnounce me,” I told Giorgio.
    He crooked his eyebrows. “To call upon Senator Avonal?”
    â€œThe villain himself.”
    â€œOne floor up,” Violetta said. “The door to your left.”
    Giorgio brought the boat in and moored it with the stern nearest the steps, so he could disembark. Then he adjusted his bonnet, stepped ashore, and vanished into the dark corridor.
    I had to ask, “You are absolutely convinced that Lucia did not commit suicide or just fall into a canal in her party clothes?”
    â€œAbsolutely.” But her eyes gleamed gold.
    â€œNot you, Delilah. I want to hear it from Aspasia.”
    â€œOh, Alfeo, you idiot! I wish you would stop this silly game of giving me different names.” But then she spoke in Aspasia’s voice. “Lucia was a very hardheaded and sensible woman. A merely pretty woman can amass a fortune, but only a very clever one can hang on to it.”
    â€œThank you.” I kissed her.
    At last Giorgio reappeared and nodded to me—His Excellency would be graciously pleased to receive me. Now it was my turn to climb the stairs.