The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(116)

After what felt like an eternity he reached the midpoint of the quay and found a small gull-headed boat tied up amongst the gondolas. Some of Hennaq's crew had come ashore, then. Whether this was a good or bad thing, he could not decide. He jumped aboard, untied the painter and took up the oars.

Mal trailed after the others for a while, but his heart was not in merrymaking. Rather than spoil their enjoyment of the fair, he excused himself and went back to the embassy, where he could go over the plan without distractions. Olivia was ancient and powerful, far beyond his previous experience; how could Sandy be so sure they could capture her, even working together? He could only assume his brother had access to Erishen's knowledge of such matters.

Even if it worked, was he even doing the right thing? It would get rid of Hennaq, but going back to the New World probably wasn't what Olivia wanted. Venice was her home, and she had ruled it well enough for all these centuries, or at least, she and her kinfolk had. On the other hand, with the rest of the guisers dead her rule was beginning to falter. La Serenissima was no longer the great power it had been, and would sink further unless it gained the one thing Olivia could not allow: an alliance with the skraylings. Truly it was a kindness to everyone in Venice for her to admit defeat and go home.

It felt like an age until he heard movement downstairs and the sounds of the returning party. He went down to greet them, grateful for the distraction from his own conflicted thoughts.

"Did you enjoy the Sensa?" he asked Ned.

Ned shrugged. "You didn't miss anything, really. It was a lot like Bartholomew Fair, only with painted wooden booths instead of tents."

"Didn't miss anything?" Coby said, looking to her companions for confirmation. "What about the mechanical Saint George and the Dragon? It breathed smoke and rolled its eyes, and then… Saint George cut its head off."

"It sounds very impressive," Mal said. "However we ought to be getting ready for the reception."

"Of course, sir."

At last they were all washed and combed and ready to leave. Tonight the city would be freed of the guisers' insidious influence, and he would be able to complete his mission in safety. And then? Best not to look beyond the current action. Tonight he must focus on one thing alone: the capture of Olivia.

The Doge's Palace shone like a lamp, its fa?ade rippling with the light reflected off the waters of the nearby lagoon. From its upper windows the well-to-do could look down upon the little square between St Mark's and the quayside, where stood a tiered wooden structure at least three times the height of a man. In the flickering light Coby could make out the shapes of fireworks: catherine wheels, fountains and other devices, individually quite small but together capable of making an impressive display. She tore her eyes away and followed Mal towards the palace entrance; when that lot went off, she wanted to be as far away as possible.

Lamps hung at intervals from the ceilings of the outer and inner cloisters, creating pools of light and shadow where guests gathered for whispered conversations. Berowne and his gentleman companions were escorted to the foot of the great stair leading up to the state rooms, whilst Coby, Ned and Gabriel were left to mingle in the courtyard with the other retainers.

"I don't like this," Coby muttered. "Sandy's been gone for hours. How do we know Hennaq hasn't got him trussed up in the hold again?"

"We don't," Gabriel said. "But if he has, he won't get Mal or Olivia, so what's the profit for him? He might as well have taken Sandy alone in the first place."

"Hardly alone." Ned slipped his arm through Gabriel's. "He would have taken you too."

Gabriel patted his hand. "I'm quite safe now, don't fret."

"So what are we going to do for the next hour?"

"In your case, keep out of trouble," Gabriel replied.

Ned punched him in the arm with his free hand.

"Enough, you two!" Coby frowned at them both. "Look, there are servants coming round with trays of sweetmeats."

Ned's eyes lit up, and he released Gabriel.

"Going to need both my hands free for this," he said with a grin.

Mal followed Berowne and Raleigh up the magnificent staircase and past the great statues of Mars and Neptune, trying not to think about the last time he was here. From the first floor they went further upwards, through a tunnel-like stair lined with gilding and white stucco, into an antechamber where the guests paused before being announced and presented to the Doge and council. To his left Mal could see the studded door he had been taken through after his arrest. He turned away, though he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched.

"Signori Geoffrey Berowne, Walter Raleigh e Maliverny Catlyn, del'Inghilterra!" a lackey announced.

Mal tried not to goggle as they entered the great chamber beyond. Like the Doge's barge, its every beam was carved and gilded, and every space between the beams was filled with paintings depicting the glory of Venice. Vast friezes with themes both secular and religious lined the walls between high windows overlooking the square; the chamber itself was of such enormous size that even with every nobleman in Venice present, it appeared half empty. How the roof stayed up with no columns to support it, Mal could not imagine.

He left Berowne and Raleigh talking to a group of blackclad Venetians and moved casually through the throng, hoping to spot Olivia. There were many more women here than he had expected, all of them masked and clad in bright silks laden with gems and embroidery, but their skin was as fair as Olivia's was dark. Most, judging by their reserved air, were patricians' wives enjoying a rare venture into public life, but a few, no less richly dressed but with a certain sensuality of demeanour, were undoubtedly courtesans.