The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(115)

"Sir Geoffrey, Sir Walter." Mal turned to his hosts. "This is my elder brother Charles, whom you mentioned when we arrived. Charles, this is Sir Walter Raleigh, Lord Warden of the Stannaries, and His Excellency Sir Geoffrey Berowne, the English Ambassador."

Charles swept a low bow, muttering apologies.

"You're very welcome here, Catlyn," Berowne replied. "Won't you join us in the gondola?"

"Delighted, Your Excellency, delighted!"

Mal forced a smile. "It's good to see you too, Charles."

Berowne led the way to the gondola dock and took his place in the cabin with Raleigh. The three brothers perched on side-benches in the prow of the gondola, whilst Coby, Ned and Gabriel sat in the stern. Fortunately two gondoliers had been hired today, one at the front and one at the back, otherwise the heavily laden craft would never have made it to the lagoon in time for the ceremony.

"Well, this is a happy day," Charles said as they set off. "All the family, together again at last."

"All that's left," Mal replied softly. "What brings you here so unexpectedly?"

"Your man Faulkner. He convinced me that you would be open to a reconciliation."

Mal frowned. What was Ned up to? "Well, I confess to being curious as to what you have to say."

"You shall know all in due course. But perhaps not here, eh?"

"Agreed." The last thing he wanted was for Charles to say something incriminating in front of Berowne. Or Raleigh. "Tomorrow, perhaps. We shall all be much occupied today."

Crouched in the back of an overladen gondola, Coby was reminded of the skrayling ambassador's arrival in London. Every boat in Venice, it appeared, was out on the lagoon, following the ducal galley as it rowed out to sea.

The Bucentaur was magnificent even by Venetian standards. Gilded carving covered every inch of the galley, so that it shone in the May sunlight like a new-minted angel. A scarlet canopy ran the length of the deck, shading its occupants from the heat of the sun, and an enormous banner bearing the lion of Saint Mark adorned its single mast. Coby could just make out the tiny figure of the Doge himself, seated on a throne in the stern.

"The new Doge, Marino Grimani," Gabriel said, "The election was so tightly contested after the death of his predecessor, there almost wasn't a Doge in time for the ceremony."

"So what happened?"

Gabriel glanced around.

"The word is, someone helped him to sway the voters," he whispered. "Someone who knew a great many secrets that could ruin men if they did not change their minds."

"Olivia? Is that why Master Catlyn was so interested in her… business?"

"Why else?" He gave her a sly look. "I remember when you first confessed to being in love with him. We were in a boat then, too."

Coby felt herself blush. She remembered it all right, far too well.

"Do you think Grimani will be in favour of an alliance with the skraylings?" she said, trying to steer the conversation back on course.

"It's hard to tell. He's said to be no friend of the Pope, but that means little."

Just then their gondola was bumped by another craft and Coby had to cling to the gunwales as it rocked alarmingly. The Bucentaur had passed out into the Adriatic, leaving the rest of the city's boats trying to crowd through the bottleneck in its wake.

"We shall all drown at this rate," she muttered.

The gondola did not founder, but there was little to be seen at this distance, so Coby amused herself with watching the occupants of other vessels nearby. Everyone was in their Sunday best and most wore masks, from simple leather shapes like the one she had worn as Columbina, to elaborate full-face constructions, painted and gilded and trimmed with feathers. It was a most peculiar and eerie custom, and one she would not be sorry to leave behind.

After what felt like an age the ceremony was over and the boats turned back to the city.

"Now what?" she asked Gabriel.

"Now we go to the Sensa, the great Ascension Day fair, and pass our time in idleness until the masquerade this evening. I have a mind to see a proper commedia troupe perform. Care to join me?"

When Berowne's party disembarked at the quayside to visit the great fair, Mal took Erishen aside for a moment.

"Be on your guard around Hennaq," he said. "I have no wish to lose you."

"Do not fear. Last time, Hennaq was able to surprise me. Now I know his mind he will find me much harder to deceive."

"I hope you're right."

Erishen wished his brothers farewell and slipped away. Mal had been against it, but Erishen had convinced him that the best time to board Hennaq's ship was in broad daylight, when the water was at its busiest. With so many boats crowding around the quayside on their return from the ceremony, who would notice one approach the skrayling ship?

He waited for a moment until the others had disappeared into the crowd then made his way towards Hennaq's ship, which was anchored about halfway along the quay, equally distant from both the palace and the Arsenale. The broad quayside swarmed with merrymakers on their way to Saint Mark's Square, and the noise and smells – the strange foods and stranger tongues, the mingled stench of sweat, urine and perfume – threatened to overwhelm him as he struggled to make progress against the relentless flow of humanity. He would have turned and run, except that there was nowhere to run to. He took several deep breaths to calm his nerves and pressed on.