“I can’t swim!” she yelled, spluttering. Fortunately there was quite a lot of air trapped in the thick serge of her dress.
Benito backed off to the stairs at the water-door. “You tried to murder me!” he accused, also forgetting to keep his voice down.
Katerina shook her head. She was getting lower in the water. “You were on the other side of the boat. Now get me out!”
“Oh. Yes. Like I was supposed to stay where I went down.” Benito clutched the parcel to his chest, and retreated.
Katerina managed to grab the edge of her gondola and, having learned from last time, hauled herself hand over hand along the boat to the mooring post and thence to the steps.
Benito held the precious parcel in front of himself like a shield. “You come any closer and I’ll throw it back into the water.”
Katerina found herself trapped between fury and embarrassment. “Look. It was an accident. I told you.”
“Accident, my foot!”
By the tone, Katerina knew she was in trouble. She couldn’t offer him more money. A ducat was stretching things as it was. “Look. I can offer you more work. . . .”
“Va’funcula!” spat Benito. “Are you crazy? Claudia warned me—”
A terrible shriek, a sound not intended to issue from a human throat, came from the embassy behind them.
It silenced both of them. Briefly.
Benito snapped out of it first. “Holy Saint Mark! What . . .”
A terrible inhuman laugher erupted. Katerina felt the hair on the nape of her neck rise. She knew she had little magical skill, but she was sensitive to it. This was magic. Something dark. The medallion on her chest felt very hot.
“Never mind what!” Katerina scrambled into the gondola. “Come! Let’s get out of here.”
Benito looked doubtful, his face white in the reflected light of the unshuttered windows. Then there came more sounds from the windows, as if tables were being overturned and glass breaking.
A man’s voice, shouting: “Back! Back, you fool! Knights! Seal the doorways!” Followed immediately by a swelling chorus of many voices screaming in panic.
“Come on!” Katerina barked. “Get in. You can hold the parcel. Just get in! We’ve got to get away from here!”
The boy jumped into the boat and cast loose hastily.
Katerina pushed off. With skill, she turned the gondola and sent it gliding away from the embassy.
Breathing a prayer she looked back. And nearly dropped the oar. It was hardly surprising really, with all the noise they’d made and the goings-on over at the embassy. But at the Casa Brunelli, the doors leading onto the upper-floor balcony were thrust open, flooding the balcony with light. She saw him clearly. The same slight red-haired man. The same single forbidding line of dark eyebrows. He was staring at them. Katerina would swear the expression on his face was one of triumph.
She shivered. And the shiver had nothing at all to do with her wet clothes.
* * *
Benito felt for his dry jacket. He was shivering. It was partly the cold and partly the fright. The boathook, bobbing in the canal behind them, had barely scratched his thigh. Hell. He loved thrills. It was the best part of being a roof-climber. But this was deep dark water. She could have her parcel. Then he’d be off. He wanted no part of this woman and her business. Fortunately, they’d part ways in a few hundred yards and he would never have to see her again. She’d never be any part of his world. He could look after himself, but he didn’t want Marco involved with someone like this girl.
Chapter 9
The monster was dragged away from its feeding by a shrill of command from its master. The master’s servant, rather, through which Chernobog usually spoke and gave commands.
Emerging from the darkness of its feed—snarling, reluctant—the monster’s world began to take on a semblance of color. Insofar, at least, as various shades of gray could be called “color.” After a time, red streaks began to appear in the mist. Those were not real, however—simply reflections of the monster’s own rage.
The sight of those scarlet flashes brought courage. Again the monster snarled, and this time with bellowing fury rather than frustration. The clump of gray that was the form of the master’s servant seemed to waver, as if she were cowering in terror.