For an answer Maria lifted her dress to reveal her bare feet and the iron anklets. ” ‘That Kat’ was right. Casa Dandelo. I escaped. And Kat saved my bacon. I owe her, so you treat her with respect, see.”
“Oh she’s not so bad,” said Benito with a grin. “Got a snappy tongue when she’s cross though. She brought us back here, but Rafael was waiting, so Marco went off with him, and she left. So who’s the friend with the cannon?”
Maria realized that Kat was hiding behind her fan. “Just a friend, little sneaker. Leave her alone. Katerina—I’ll get these clothes back to you. And . . . thank you. Thank you a million times. You ever need to find me, you leave a message with Giaccomo. I’ll tell him. I owe you. Go carefully, huh?”
Kat nodded, without taking the fan from her face. And—with her other hand, still holding the pistol—pointed to the bag on the duckboards.
“Good idea,” said Maria. “You take care now, see.” She took out the hooded cloak and pulled it over her borrowed finery.
The gondolier had pulled the boat next to the walkway and the two of them alighted. The gondola pulled away.
Maria waved. Kat, having returned the pistol to the reticule, waved back.
“Mighty silent friend, that,” said Benito curiously.
Maria yawned. “Be a good thing if you buttoned your lip sometimes, Benito. Let’s get home. I can’t wait to bathe myself.” She could hardly believe that he hadn’t recognized Kat. But then, looking in a mirror, she’d hardly recognized herself in these clothes.
“She reminded me of someone,” said Benito. “But I can’t think who. I don’t know any posh women like that. But I hardly even recognized you in those clothes.” He hesitated. Then, speaking much less brashly than usual, almost shyly: “You’re real pretty when you dress up nice, Maria Garavelli. Real pretty.”
Maria swatted his ear. Gently, though. She was quite sorry Caesare hadn’t seen her in Kat’s best gown. She was tempted to hang on to it for long enough to model it for him, but on reflection that wasn’t a good idea. For Kat’s safety, it would be best if she revealed as little about her part in this as possible.
Chapter 57
When Father Mascoli saw the three figures entering his little chapel in the Cannaregio, he sighed. “Come into the back,” he said. “I don’t want to discuss the matter out here.”
He led them through the door behind the statue of Saint Raphaella and into his private quarters. Then, seeing them pause, he waved his hand. “Further in the back,” he muttered. “We need someplace that I’m certain is safe.”
He opened the water-door at the rear of his cell and led them into the small water-chapel beyond. There was just enough room for four men to stand there.
The three other priests examined the chapel with interest. Their interest was aroused further when the heads of two undines broke the water and gazed at them. The undines’ eyes seemed wary—or perhaps simply watchful. Both of them were female.
“It’s all right,” said Mascoli. “These are . . . friends.” There was just a slight hesitation before the last word.
The undines studied the three strange priests, their eyes spending most of their time examining the shortest one. “I hope so,” hissed one of them. Pointing at the short priest: “That one could be dangerous. Very powerful.”
The priest in question pulled a wry face. The solid eyebrow line twisted into an S-shape. “First time I’ve ever been called that. Even before my leg got mangled.”
“She’s not speaking of your physical strength, Father Lopez,” replied Mascoli, almost snapping. “As you well know.”
“He likes to practice modesty,” said one of the other priests, his Savoyard accent very pronounced. “Good thing, too. He’d be insufferable otherwise. I’m Pierre, by the way. The other one is Diego.”
Despite the tension of the moment, Mascoli chuckled. “Well said. All right, then. I assume you’ve come because you heard the news about Dottore Marina. Reappearing in Venice—out of nowhere, it seems—after all these years.”
Lopez nodded. “We need to speak with him. But it would be dangerous—very dangerous—to do so openly. We thought . . .”