Chapter 48: And Then There Was Caterina

The next stop wore two hundred faces, and precious few looked glad to see him.

Candia’s city watch occupied the walls near the western gate in shoddy numbers scraped together. Most were still wearing the boiled leather and dented mail of whatever service they had sworn before the whole business became more complicated.

The rest looked like fishermen who had been handed a spear and given one firm instruction. Don’t drop it.

Judging by the way several of them were clutching their weapons, somebody ought to have given that instruction again.

Their captain met Vito at the foot of the tower with a salute that came half a beat too quickly and stayed a shade too long. It was the sort of confidence put together in a hopeless attempt to impress.

Vito looked past his shoulder, counting the watchmen who seemed to have discovered some fascinating bit of stonework rather than meet his eyes.

The captain’s confidence lost some of its shine.

He clapped him once on the shoulder, warm enough, and let them be. It was fortunate there was very little to no chance the city would be sieged while he was away.

The company’s barracks near the harbor felt like another city entirely.

Pellegrino stood over a table covered in rosters, running through the drill assignments with brisk efficiency.

"Barozzi. Come to see whether we’ve all fled to the tavern while you were gone?"

"To give you more work, actually."

That earned his full attention. Pellegrino put down the roster and crossed himself.

"San Marco preserve me. Go on, then."

Vito simply shrugged casually. "Keep an eye on the fish market, if the Genoese have friends hiding in this city, I expect that’s where we’ll find them. And if one of them so much as sneezes in the direction of my Fondaco, we’ll turn Candia upside down until we drag him out by the balls, capisci?"

Pellegrino’s eyebrows went up.

"Suppose there is worse jobs than that."

"More jobs, too. Get a full squadron over at the cathedral starting tonight, at all times."

Pellegrino reached for his medal and squeezed it out of habit. "Understood, work me out like a miser, why not. I knew you wouldn’t be so kind to let us to linger with simple garrison duty."

"Then pray extra hard tonight, amico. I hear San Marco has a soft spot for overworked men."

Pellegrino’s lips twitched slightly.

"He’d better. I’ve got enough candles burning to prove I’m doing my part."

Down at the docks, Bepi was exactly where Vito expected him, elbow-deep in rope and looking as though a badly behaved coil had personally insulted his family.

Bepi snorted when he noticed the approach. "Come to ask if she’s ready again? Do you think I fancy lying to you, or that I was just mistaken the last three times?"

"Just confirming, amico."

"Confirm this."

Bepi finally looked up, dry as old rigging. "La Contessa is ready to sail the hour you give the word. The only thing aboard her that’s not ready is whatever fresh trouble you’re planning to drag onto my deck."

"What about a fight? Glorious, merciless chance for glory?"

Bepi grunted as if Vito had just told him about bad weather.

"Wonderful, and here I’d started hoping for one voyage where nobody tries to kill my patron."

"Where’s the fun in that?"

"None, precisely how I like to spend my days."

He turned back to the rope.

"Go on. Some of us have real work."

Night had come down properly by the time Vito reached the quarter growing around the fondaco’s rising walls.

The streets were thick with voices, wine merchants, and the smell of tar and fresh-cut timber.

Caterina had taken a house here weeks ago ago, close enough to walk to her books each morning without an escort through half the city.

Her guards knew him well enough by now that there was no need to warn about his presence. One stepped aside at the gate, while the other gave him a tired nod.

Inside, a servant girl looked up from folding linens. She pointed him toward the office at the back of the house.

Caterina sat hunched over an open account book by lamplight, her hair loose around her shoulders instead of pinned up for business.

Her overgown was unlaced, the linen chemise beneath gone comfortably soft with the hour, dressed for nobody’s inspection but her own.

"Have you forgotten how to knock?" she said without looking up.

"It’s also great to see you in this beautiful night."

Vito undid the buckles of his mail, dropping the first piece across the back of an empty chair as though the room had been waiting for him.

"As for your question, it is simply how I often forgot remembrance near your."

"I imagine you also forget your manners then, Vitale."

He laughed. "Oh, no, no. I do remember those, but they are for those who haven’t already seen you in your underpants."

He set [Artiglio del Leone] against the wall with genuine care, even while he made himself comfortable at her table.

"Consider tonight a courtesy."

Caterina’s lips tried to hold back a smile and failed the attempt.

Vito dropped into the chair opposite her once the mail was off.

"How bad is it?"

"Bad enough I’ve stopped pretending otherwise."

She turned the book toward him, one finger following a column of figures without needing to look twice. "Three thousand marks, between what’s left in reserve and what I’ve borrowed against it. Enough to finish the fondaco, pay every man swinging a hammer through the season, and keep this venture breathing until trade finally starts paying us back."

"And the men themselves?"

"Better than either of us had any right to expect."

She leaned back and folded her arms, leaving the accounts forgotten for the moment. "No riots, walkouts, precious little grumbling beyond the ordinary. The Empire abandoned this island to itself before we ever bothered showing up to claim it, the people here are more used to tangent and visible results than idealistic promises."

"Cynical."

"Accurate."

Her eyes met his, sharp and amused at once.

"You’d know the difference if you weren’t so determined to charm everything in sight."

"I contain multitudes, mia cara."

"Considerably fewer than you imagine."

Vito clicked his tongue and picked up a jar of wine. By then he needed neither her instruction nor help to find it, familiarity with the room enough to do the work.

He poured two cups without a care for any protest, if it came.

"Are you incapable of a serious discussion without wine?"

"Who’s to say I visited you tonight for some serious discussion?"

He set the second cup before her, close enough that refusal would require more effort than acceptance.

"Perhaps I simply enjoy your company."

Caterina pursed her lips, closing the accounts books with a soft thump.

One eyebrow rose, without hurry.

And for the first time since he had walked through her door, she gave him her full attention.