The Fallen Blade: Act One of the Assassini Read Online Free PDF Page B

said daily?
    The insult was more subtle.
    The palace said to foreign princes, You hide behind fortified walls in ugly castles. I live on islands in the sea. My power is so great I can afford to live behind walls so thin they could be made from glass. That fact had not occurred to Captain Roderigo until Sir Richard pointed it out to him.
    “Sir Richard, perhaps you could…”
    Indicating Giulietta discreetly, and then the nearest palace door, Roderigo said, “I have official matters waiting.”
    “You’re not dining with us?”
    “As I said, duty calls.”
    Sir Richard scowled. “I don’t suppose…”
    “Me,” said Roderigo, “the duke can manage without. You, heis expecting for supper. Well,” he added, more honestly, “I’m sure the Regent and Duchess Alexa expect you. His highness…”
    There was no need to say more.
    “This business had to do with the customs office?”
    Roderigo jerked his head at a dozen ships moored on a stretch of lagoon reserved for those in quarantine. Since God’s wrath killed half of Venice sixty years before ships now waited offshore to make certain they carried no disease.
    “We think one of those might already have taken the glass-blower aboard. We’ll be boarding the ship tonight.”
    “Which one?”
    “See the last?”
    Sir Richard peered into the sleet. After a second, Roderigo realised that Giulietta and her lady-in-waiting had joined them.
    “Moorish,” Eleanor said.
    Giulietta shook her head. “Mamluk,” she corrected. Seeing Sir Richard’s surprise, she added tartly, “When there’s nothing to do but watch ships you learn their flags quickly enough. Any fool can work it out.”
    Sir Richard’s face went blank.
    He had to confirm a treaty, collect his king’s new wife and escort her to Famagusta, where she could watch ships headed north for the Venetian ports strung like pearls between Rhodes and the city itself. After this, Giulietta’s temper was the king’s business. Sir Richard didn’t look upset at the thought.
    “What did the ship do wrong?”
    “Absolutely nothing,” Roderigo told Lady Eleanor. “It arrived, waited as told, and followed our pilot without arguing the price…”
    “That’s it?” Giulietta’s lady-in-waiting sounded surprised.
    “Paid harbour dues, bought fresh water. They didn’t even try to bribe their way out of quarantine…”
    Lady Giulietta snorted. That was suspicious indeed.

5

    Inside the customs house, Venice’s famous Dogana fortress, men had been gathering since sunset. Roderigo was the last to arrive.
    “Hey, chief…”
    The man who spoke was shorter than his commander and half as broad again. He had the wide face, Mongol eyes and tallow skin of his father. After fifty years on God’s earth, he still spoke like his mother, a Rialto fishwife.
    “What?”
    “Guess that answers that.”
    “Answers what?”
    “I was going to ask if you were all right.”
    Roderigo had found Temujin drunk in the street begging for alms. In two years he’d gone from mopping floors to sergeant. He fought dirty, drank hard and paid his debts; and the troop respected him for it, or had the sense to keep any doubts to themselves.
    “Everyone here?”
    “One’s ill. I’ve borrowed him instead.”
    Temujin pointed to a rat-faced man in a Castellani smock, overlaid with a leather jerkin so filthy he could pass unseen ona moonless night. The composite bow over his shoulder fired arrows of a kind the captain hadn’t seen in years. Taking another look, he noted the shape of the man’s eyes.
    “I can find someone else.”
    “No need.” The Mongols kept a
fontego
in the city. A trading post where Mongol law applied. Like every other race, they left their bastards.
    Taking another salted fish, Roderigo chewed it until it was just about soft enough to swallow. He wanted wine to remove the aftertaste, but once ordered the temptation to drink would be impossible to bear.
    Atilo il Mauros had to be sixty-five at the least. His name