“Let’s at least go someplace more private. A chapel, perhaps. It’s almost three bells.”
The city was already waking up around them from its daily siesta. Traffic along the riverside was picking up as people returned from naps and long lunches to their shops and work, and the illusion of solitude was wiped away.
The Pontro dachi Pelmotori spanned the Za a few tens of perechi to their right. Quiet a few moments before, it was already humming with activity. Like several of the bridges in z’Espino, it was really more like a building, with shops of two and three stories lining both sides, so they couldn’t actually see the people walking on the span. All that was visible was the red-stuccoed outer façade with its dark mouths of windows. The bridge belonged to the butcher’s guild, and Anne could hear their saws cutting, their boys haggling prices. A bucket of something bloody flew out one of the windows and splashed into the river, narrowly missing a man in a boat. He began shouting up at the bridge, waving his fist.
When another bucket of the same stuff came even closer, he seemed to think better of it and returned to earnestly rowing.
Anne was about to agree with Austra when a shadow fell across them. She looked up and saw a man, dark of complexion—like most Vitellians—and rather tall. His green doublet was faded and a little threadbare. He wore one red stocking and one black. His hand rested on the pommel of a rapier.
“Dena dicolla, casnaras,” he said, with a little bow. “What makes such beautiful faces so long and sorrowful?”
“I do not know you, casnar,” Anne replied. “But good day to you and the saints bless you.”
She looked away, but he did not take the hint. Instead, he stood there, smiling.
Anne sighed. “Come,” she said, plucking at Austra’s dress. The two of them rose.
“I mean you no harm, casnaras,” the man said hastily. “It’s just that it is so unusual to see hair of copper and gold here in the south, to hear such charming northern accents. When such treasures of the eye present themselves, it behooves a man to offer whatever services he may.”
A small chill ran up Anne’s spine. In her grief, she had forgotten to keep her head covered, and so had Austra.
“That’s very kind of you,” she said quickly, “But my sister and I were just returning home.”
“Let me escort you, then.”
Anne let her gaze travel around. Though the streets above were now beginning to bustle, this part of the terrace was something like a park, and it was still relatively quiet. To reach the street, she and Austra had to travel some ten yards and climb a dozen stone stairs. The man stood between them and the nearest stair. Worse, another fellow sat on the stairs themselves, taking a more than casual interest in the conversation.
There were probably others she didn’t see at all.
She stood straighter. “Will you let us pass, casnar?”
He looked surprised. “Why shouldn’t I let you pass? I told you, I mean no harm.”
“Very well.” She started forward, but he backed away.
“Somehow we’ve started off on an ill footing,” he said. “My name is Erieso dachi Sallatotti. Won’t you tell me yours?”
Anne didn’t answer, but kept walking.
“Or perhaps I should guess?” Erieso said. “Perhaps one of the birds will tell me your names?”
Anne was now certain she heard someone behind them, as well. Rather than panicking, she felt a swift anger take her grief for wings and rise high. Who was this man, to bother her on this day, to interrupt her mourning?
“You are a liar, Erieso dachi Sallatotti,” she said. “You most certainly mean me harm.”
The humor vanished from Erieso’s face. “I mean only to collect my reward,” he said. “I do not see what anyone would want with such a pale and disagreeable catella, but there is silver to be had. So come, will you walk or be dragged?”
“I will call out,” Anne replied. “There are people all around.”
“That might deprive me of my reward,” Erieso said, “but it will not save you. Many in the streetguard seek you, as well, and they might well use you before claiming their silver. That I will not do, I swear by Lord Mamres.” He proffered his hand. “Come. Take it. It is the easiest way for you, and for me.”
“Is that so?” Anne said, feeling her anger blacken. But she reached for his hand. As their fingers touched, she felt his pulse, the wet flow of his insides.
“Cer curse you,” she said. “Worms take you.”
Erieso’s eyes widened. “Ah!” he croaked. “Ah, no!” He clutched at his chest and sank down to one knee, as if bowing. He vomited.
“Be glad you did not meet me by the light of the moon, Erieso,” she said. “Be gladder still that you did not meet me in the dark of it.” And with that she stepped past him. The man on the steps stood and stared at her wide-eyed. He said nothing, and he didn’t bar their way as they went up to the street.
“What did you do?” Austra asked breathlessly as they slipped into the crowd on the Vio Caistur.
“I don’t know,” Anne replied.
By the time they reached the stairs, almost all her anger and courage had burned out of her, leaving only fear and confusion.
“It was like that night at the coven, when the men came,” Anne said.
“When you blinded the knight.”
“Something in me—it frightens me, Austra. How can I do these things?”
“It frightens me, too,” Austra agreed. “Do you think you killed him?”
“No, I think he will recover. We must hurry.”
They turned from the Vio Caistur into a narrow avenue, hurrying past stocking shops and a tavern that smelled of grilled sardines, through the Piata da Fufiono with its alabaster fountain of the goat-legged saint and on until the streets grew smaller and more tangled until at last they reached the Perto Veto. The women were already out on their balconies, and several groups of men sat drinking on the stoops, just as they had been the day before.
“They’re still following us, I think,” Austra said, glancing behind.
Anne looked, too, and saw a group of men—five or six of them—rounding the corner.
“Run,” Anne said. “It’s not far.”
“I hope Cazio is there,” Austra said.
“Figs for Cazio,” Anne muttered.
The girls started running. They had gone only a few yards when Erieso stepped from a side street, pale but angry, another man by his side.
Erieso drew his rapier, a narrow, wicked length of steel. “Sorcel this, witch,” he snarled. “I’ve word that they’ll pay every bit as much for you dead, and my goodwill is all worn away.”
“What a big prickler for such little girls,” a woman taunted down from her balcony. “It’s good to see that real men have come to our street.”
“Rediana!” Anne called up, recognizing the woman. “They mean to kill us!”
“Oh, the duchess likes me now, does she?” Rediana called down. “Not like at the fish market yesterday, eh?”
Erieso snorted. “You’ll get no help here, cara,” he said.
An instant after he said it, an earthen crock full of something odious struck his companion squarely in the skull. The fellow dropped, squealing and pressing his head with his hands. Erieso yelped and began to dodge as he was pelted with rotten fruit and fish bones from more than one window.
His other men had arrived now, though, and they spread out to encircle the girls. They were forced to the middle of the street, where heavy objects couldn’t be thrown.
All the women on the street were shouting now.
“I’ll wager he’s got a limpet in his breeches,” one shouted. “Or a wet little snail, all curled for fear in its shell.”
“Go back to Northside, where you belong!”
But Erieso, safely out of range of anything dangerous, had ceased paying attention to the ladies of the neighborhood. He advanced on Anne and Austra once more.
“You can’t kill us, not in front of all these people,” she said.