“You were quite correct in your surmise,” said Dorma. “Each of these vile murders—except possibly one, where the fire destroyed the entire building it was in and therefore we can’t be certain—has been found to have recently involved a missing item of clothing.”
“Mammet witchcraft!” barked Sachs.
Petro Dorma cleared his throat. “Well, the expert on magic I have spoken to says there are several other possibilities. But I wanted to thank you gentlemen for your efforts on behalf of my fellow Signori . . . and also to tell you the sad news about Father Belgio and Lord Calenti. Despite our hopes, Lord Calenti died last night. And in a separate type of murder, someone killed Father Belgio as well.”
“Father Belgio was not killed by magic?” asked Erik, intent.
Petro Dorma shook his head. “No. Just straight assassination. A misericord pushed in behind the ear while he slept. A thoroughly professional killing.”
“Why?” Manfred demanded. “He didn’t seem the sort of man to attract enemies.”
Sachs snorted. “He was a man of God. That’s enough for these Godless Strega.”
Petro Dorma’s expression was pained, for an instant. “We have had Strega murders from time to time, Abbot. Poison, not steel, is their way. We’re following several lines of inquiry. That is only one of them.”
Dorma paused for a moment, studying Erik and Manfred. “I came for another reason, as well. There was another magical murder last night. In the slave quarters of Casa Dandelo, of all places! According to my investigator who examined the scene, once again the victim had lost—or claimed to other prisoners to have lost—all of his clothing.” Petro Dorma frowned. “Whoever murders these people by whatever demonic means, and for whatever reason, there is certainly no respect for rank. From Lord Calenti, to a slave.”
Again, Dorma paused. Then: “But the reason I asked Abbot Sachs to speak to the two of you is tangential to the murder. Rumors are flying all over Venice that the Dandelos abducted a citizen into slavery, just before the killing. A canaler by the name of Maria Garavelli. She apparently took advantage of the confusion caused by the magical murder to make her escape.”
Erik’s jaws tightened. In the months since he had arrived in Venice, he had developed a detestation for the type of chattel slavery tolerated in the Republic—throughout most of the Mediterranean, in fact. Slavery had been legally abolished in the Holy Roman Empire for more than a century. And while it was still officially practiced in his own League of Armagh, Celtic and Norse thralldom had little of the sheer brutality and degradation of the Mediterranean variety of servitude.
“I’ll bet that’s causing a stir,” snorted Manfred.
Dorma pulled a wry face. “To call it a ‘stir’ is to understate the matter considerably. Bad enough that the Dandelos tried to enslave a legal citizen. To make matters worse, the girl is a well-known canaler from a large family of caulkers at the Arsenal.”
Manfred whistled softly. “All hell’s going to break loose, then. They abducted a daughter of the Arsenalotti? Are they insane?”
“I have no idea what motivated the fools. They are trying to deny everything. But the facts seem well enough established.” Dorma scowled. “And, at this point, I no longer care what their reasons might have been. If the authorities do not act decisively—” He nodded at Manfred. “As you say, ‘all hell will break loose.’ ”
By now, Erik understood Dorma’s purpose. “And you want us—Manfred and me—to be part of the, ah, what shall I call it?”
” ‘Punitive expedition’ will do quite nicely,” said Dorma firmly. “Yes, exactly. There are enough factional tensions in the city. If some Knights of the Holy Trinity are involved in the affair, no one will be able to claim the raid was done for partisan purposes.” He glanced at Sachs. “The Dandelos are known to have Montagnard leanings.”
Erik was a bit puzzled by the abbot’s apparent willingness to go along with Dorma’s plan. But Sachs cleared up the mystery immediately.
When the abbot spoke, he almost seemed to be choking on the words. “Naturally, Lord Dorma. Given the recent unpleasantness . . . misapprehensions of the Knights’ motives . . .”