"You did not report this to the priest, or a sbirro?"
"No doubt I should have done, but it happened very late at night, and I assumed that the animal would be dead by morning." I could not resist asking Vasco, "Did it bite you?"
He raised bloody hands as if he wanted to leap up and strangle me, but a sbirro's grip on his shoulder restrained him.
"Witch!" he said. "You set your familiar on me! Witchcraft!" His lips were so torn that his speech was badly distorted.
"Not I," I told Missier Grande. "I saw something out of the corner of my eye and looked up. I shouted a warning and jumped back. I regret that he did not react fast enough."
Some of his own men were nodding.
"I charge him with witchcraft!" Vasco mumbled.
I sighed. "There was no witchcraft. I was running to Number Ninety-six because I had a very urgent message to deliver-that a woman might seek to commit a murder there. As it happened, I did arrive there just in time to prevent that dreadful crime. But on my way there, your vizio stopped me and demanded a book. I assured him that I had no book with me, and if he would just accompany me to the door of Ninety-six, so I could deliver my warning, then I would gladly come back here with him and give him the book I thought he wanted. And then… What was it were we talking about after that, just before the cat attacked you?"
Vasco did not answer. His men began to grin, because that had been when Vasco threatened to strip my clothes off in public. Dark alley or not, he had no authority to make such an obscene threat to any resident of Venice, whether nobleman or lowly beggar.
Missier Grande raised his eyebrows at the silence.
I have never reminded him of the debt he owes me and I never will. I have never seen him waver in his duty because of it-except maybe then. Or perhaps he was merely acknowledging all the priceless information I had just extracted from Isabetta Scorozini for him. Whatever the reason, that night he gave me the benefit of any doubt he may have had.
He pointed at the reeking cat. "See that gets burned," he said. "We must get the vizio to a surgeon for stitching."
"I do pray that it didn't bite him," I murmured. Rabies is always fatal, and it can take months for the symptoms to show.
Ignoring my good wishes, Missier Grande glanced around the company. "Their Excellencies may wish to question some of you tomorrow regarding these events, but now I bid you all a good evening."
33
So our guests departed. Giorgio took Matteo Surian back to San Samuele, and the Michiels left in their own boats.
I had not realized how hungry I was. Fussing and scolding, Mama Angeli had removed our uneaten Bisato Anguilla Sull'ara and produced piping hot Canestrelli alla Griglia. The Maestro, in an astonishingly good mood, raided his hoard of favorite wines for a bottle from a vineyard I had never heard of. Although impatient to return to 96 and comfort Violetta, I sat down without complaint and set to work.
"A most interesting case," he remarked between scallops.
I thought we had been very lucky to avoid disaster. "You may have trouble collecting a fee from Violetta. Her contract specified that you would catch a man."
He puckered his cheeks in satisfaction. "Jacopo was just as guilty, and the Caterina note condemns him as an accomplice."
I conceded the point with a nod. "But you have no hope of seeing any lucre from the Michiels."
He took a sip of wine and smacked his lips. "They will not want to face a lawsuit."
The gall of the man! Bill the brothers for proving that their mother had murdered their father?
"You gave the Ten your sacred oath that you had no interest in Zorzi's death."
He scowled. "So I did. A letter of sympathy, then, and hope that they feel like acknowledging my assistance with a suitable honorarium."
"Yes, master." I was more interested in eating than talking. The sooner I could leave the better.
"Of course the case is not quite closed. You still have to tie up a few loose ends."
"Me?"
"Yes, you." Nostradamus waved a fork vaguely. "Every adept develops his own particular style to some extent, his personal talents. I am detecting hints-as I should be by this time-that you are finding your own skills, your particular strengths. For example, after you almost caught Honeycat in the Campo San Zanipolo, you were quite insistent that the root of the mystery lay in Palazzo Michiel. That suggests a burgeoning intuition."
I swallowed. "Um… Maybe. Matteo had told me that the fake friar didn't smell like a friar, and the one I tackled certainly didn't. When I grabbed donna Alina tonight, I… I was reminded that she uses rose water. I think the whole palazzo has a scent of rose water, and that smell was what I was detecting-without realizing, of course."
My master banged his fist on the table. "You don't need to explain everything, you know!"
"Sorry."
"Remember that in future! But your tarot, now. What did Circospetto let slip so that the knave of coins was reversed? Certainly Sciara alerted us to the fact that Jacopo had been lying about the dagger, but we would have discovered that soon enough without him. By the way, who first misled us about the khanjar dagger?"
"Jacopo."
"No, he just encouraged your misapprehension. Think about it. What was the cat that sought you out so often, and what were its motives? Does it relate to XX of the major arcana?"
I probably blinked like an owl. Trump XX is Judgment, of course, the card my tarot reading had used to represent my helper. The cat had helped me several times and died for its pains, but that was the only resemblance I could see to the trump.
"What had a cat to do with angels blowing trumpets and the dead crawling out of their coffins?" I demanded.
The Maestro did not answer. "Are you starting to channel spirit help?"
"Not that I am aware of, master."
He smiled. "I'm sure you will, once you have meditated on these matters enough and attained the necessary trance state. Clearly the final answers are up to you this time."
I swallowed my last scallop and emptied my glass in barbaric indifference to the vintage. I pushed my chair back. "Then, if you will excuse me, master, I will start my meditation at once." I left at a run, before he could forbid me, but I thought I heard him chuckle as I went out the door.
After locked myself securely in my room, I headed for the central window. Number 96 would be back to normal now, so I need not fear feckless sword-wielding guards. Violetta had canceled her engagements, meaning I could have her all to myself for the whole night, perhaps several nights. And she should be especially grateful. The warrior's reward! Bliss! I opened the casement.
"Arghrraw…?"
The cat was sitting on the window ledge, licking a paw.
Everyone knows that cats have nine lives. I reluctantly set aside my lustful ambitions. It was pay-off time.
"The cathouse is on the other side of the calle," I said. "All right, Felix. I am grateful for all your help. What do you want from me?" Other than my immortal soul, perhaps.
The cat leapt silently down and stalked across to the door, where it turned its golden stare on me again. "Arghrraw…"
"You want to lead me somewhere?"
"Arghrraw…"
I retrieved my cloak from the wardrobe.
A dense winter fog had come in with the tide, so thick now that a golden halo glowed around my sputtering torch. Again I let myself out through the courtyard gate. Well muffled in my cloak, I followed the cat around the bends of the calle until we came to the T where we had first met, and where it had rescued me from Vasco that evening. Without hesitation it turned right, toward the campo, tail stiffly upright.
We met no one. With sounds muffled by the bone-freezing fog, the city seemed deserted. Canals lay flat as smoked mirrors, without a ripple. We headed generally westward, along deserted calli and across the empty Campo San Polo. I soon knew that we were heading to either the Palazzo Gradenigo or Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari. The latter was the one. In the middle of the Campo dei Frari, my guide jumped up on the gossip bench at the wellhead and turned to look at me.