The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(114)

"All right," Mal said. "But my first obligation is to protect Sandy. If I cannot find an opportunity to abduct Olivia before midnight, I will come back to the embassy and open a tunnel for you to escape Hennaq's ship. Swear to me you will come?"

"I swear," his brother replied.

Ned clapped Mal on the shoulder. "Don't worry, mate. Gabe, Hendricks and me can keep watch and make sure you're not disturbed."

Coby shot him a filthy look. She was relieved Mal would not be spending the evening alone with Olivia, and that toad Faulkner knew it, but he need not look so smug about it. She distracted herself by gathering up the glasses, though she did not trust herself to carry them downstairs without an accident.

"Here," she said, thrusting the tray at Ned. "You wanted to be useful. Take this down to the kitchen."

When he had gone she lingered in the doorway, hoping to hear the sound of breaking glass.

"Come, it's time we were all abed," Mal said, leaning over her.

She looked up into his dark eyes. "You will be careful?"

"Of course. You don't get rid of me that easily."

For a moment she thought – hoped – he was going to kiss her, but he just ruffled her hair and gave her a playful shove towards the little attic room. She bade him good night and plodded down the steps. Tomorrow. It would all be over, tomorrow.

CHAPTER XXXI

Coby slept badly that night, haunted by nightmares in which Mal burned on a pyre studded with fireworks whilst an unseen woman laughed and laughed. As dawn came she lay staring up at the rafters, watching their now-familiar lines coalesce out of the darkness, and wrestled with her conscience. There was no getting away from it; she had to at least try to persuade Mal not to go through with this idiotic plan, otherwise she would never forgive herself.

As soon as it was full light, she got out of bed, washed and dressed, then flung open the shutters. The street outside was quiet apart from a man with a handcart delivering sacks of flour to the nearby bakery. The city seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation of its greatest day of the year: the celebration of its independence as a self-ruled republic.

She could hear the men on the way down to breakfast. Opening the door she caught Mal's eye.

"May I have a word, sir?"

"Of course."

He waved the others ahead of him. Coby caught Ned winking at Mal, who shook his head. She pretended not to notice. Let them play their foolish games.

Mal closed the door at the top of the stairs.

"Well?"
She cleared her throat, summoning all her courage to say what she knew he did not want to hear.

"I know you know far more of these things than I do, sir, but I don't think this is a good idea. You only just prevailed against Suffolk, and if Master Alexander is to be believed, he was nothing compared to one of the ancients."

Mal put his hand on her shoulder.

"I know you're afraid for me," he said softly. "But I have to do this."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? If I don't, Hennaq will take Sandy and me back to the New World. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not. But surely there's another way? Why do you have to risk your life – your soul – to capture this guiser? Venice has managed perfectly well for centuries without our interference."

"I agree."

"You do?"

"Of course. But it is not my role to decide these things. I was sent here by Sir Francis to spy on the negotiations, and I can do that best with Olivia out of the way. Nor will it hurt to show the skraylings that I respect their ways, beginning with helping one of their lost sheep find her way home."

She shook her head. "I think you have become obsessed with this woman."

"I? I am not the one who blushes at every mention of her name."

Coby stared at him for a moment, then wrenched open the door and ran down the stairs, heedless of the tears streaming down her face. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She had let her jealousy derail her reasoned argument, and now he would never listen to her.

? ? ? ?
After breakfast they dispersed to their chambers and reassembled half an hour later in the atrium. Berowne wore a heavily embroidered peascod doublet and an enormous ruff edged with Venetian lace, whilst Raleigh was dressed in the latest English fashion, in an oyster-coloured silk doublet with a simple collar of near-transparent lawn, and black-and-white striped trunk hose. Mal's borrowed finery was not unlike his former livery as Kiiren's bodyguard, all sable velvet discreetly slashed with matching silk, and the others were likewise dressed in traditional Venetian black. Coby's doing, no doubt; none of them wanted to attract attention tonight.

Berowne handed out masks.

"Damned foolish custom, if you ask me," he said, "but we'll look the fools for showing our bare faces on a festival day."

A sudden knock at the front door made Mal start. Sbirri? His heart pounded as Jameson shuffled over to the door, painfully slowly, and unfastened the locks and bolts.

"May I help you, sir?" he quavered through the gap.

"I damn well hope so," a half-familiar voice said. "I'm here to see my brothers."

Jameson opened the door a little further.

"Alexander! Maliverny! How good to see you again!"

Charles pushed past Jameson, beaming, but froze when he saw how many others were gathered in the atrium. To Mal's surprise his brother looked far less disreputable than Ned's description of him; evidently he had smartened himself up for the occasion.