The heavy, balding man was not the type to be impressed by Case Vecchie clothes or orders. Money would talk, however. Benito hoped he had enough. They’d picked up Valentina . . . Claudia was off somewhere. The way Valentina said “somewhere” meant: Strega stuff, don’t ask.
“Your eyes almost seem to be glowing,” said Maria, looking at him curiously.
Benito knew he could get killed doing this. So could Maria . . . So could other people. It didn’t stop him loving it all. He was feeling brave, so he put a hand on her forearm. That was gambling with your hand, with Maria.
“It’s in my blood. My grandfather . . . And my father.”
She flicked the hand off. But almost gently. “Your grandfather I’ve heard about. Dell’este is a legend. But the Valdosta . . . I asked. They’re like Marco.”
Benito pulled a wry face. “We’re half-brothers really, Maria. I think my father was Carlo Sforza.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. Sforza. The Wolf of the North. She shook her head. “So. Just what are we going to do to get into the Casa Dandelo? There are probably up to thirty Dandelos and their slave overseers. There are God alone knows how many Montagnards there too. We have thirty men and one thief.”
“There must be three hundred slaves,” said Benito. “And the way out is going to be through the Casa.”
Maria nodded. “True. And having been in there myself, killing a few slave-masters might be sweeter than freedom to a lot of them. Well, keep it simple. Clever plans go wrong.”
“I’ll do my best.”
* * *
“You want thirty empty casks?” Giaccomo looked at Benito. Then at Maria. “What for?” He went on polishing glasses.
“And your small barge.” Benito ignored the question, and began counting out gold coins onto the counter. He noticed that Giaccomo had stopped polishing glasses.
“You’re with Dorma nowadays,” said Giaccomo. “Quite the young Case Vecchie gentleman. With a brother who once tried to sell me fake relics. I want to know why, boy—or no deal. Not for twice as much.”
“I’m not Marco,” said Benito calmly. Giaccomo flustered Marco; Benito knew you just had to keep calm around him. “Have I ever done you wrong, Giaccomo? I brought coin for you once.”
“Yeah. But I still want to know. And nobody else has barrels enough.”
Benito shrugged. “Dorma wants me to blow up Casa Dandelo. Destroy the place. We had a dead certain tip-off”—he couldn’t resist the pun—”that it’s full of Montagnards. They’re due to cause trouble when the invaders come.” Benito smiled. “And we all know how Maria loves the Dandelos.”
A small corner of a smile touched Giaccomo’s face. “She ain’t your tip-off?”
Benito knew that Giaccomo regarded even a whiff of magic as bad news. So he chose his phrasing carefully. “Party called Aleri. Heard of him?”
Giaccomo’s eyes narrowed. He nodded. He didn’t look friendly. “You can’t trust him.”
“Ah. Let’s put it this way. He was answering certain questions for the Signori di Notte in an . . . involuntary fashion.”
Giaccomo actually smiled. He pulled three of the stacks of coin towards himself. “I’d lend you some manpower . . .” He paused. “This has nothing to do with Aldanto, has it?”
Benito shook his head very firmly. Giaccomo pushed one of the stacks of coin back. Benito pushed it over again. “It’s Dorma’s money. And it’s only right to tell you that if things go wrong you won’t see your barge again.”
“Aldanto’s got money from Ferrara sitting here. Been coming in ever since you and that brother of yours showed up. You see him, you tell him there’s two lots here.” The expression on Giaccomo’s face said: and I don’t mind if he doesn’t fetch it. “The barge is round the back. Jeppo will help you get the barrels loaded.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Giaccomo’s barge was heading for the Casa Dandelo with a cargo of “wine.” Benito hoped that Valentina had the gunpowder in position. When they’d cased the joint, picking up the guards on the roof, she’d said that it would be easy. He hoped she was right, because they’d need the distraction.