The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(121)

"You want to go back there?" the gondolier asked.

"Yes, but by a roundabout way," Coby said. There was nothing else for it, if they wanted to approach the palazzo unnoticed.

"I'll let you ashore, then." He pointed ahead, to where a small bridge spanned the canal. "Good luck to you, signori."

A few moments later the gondola bumped up against the canal bank and they scrambled ashore.

"I suppose the ordinary folk are blaming the skraylings for what happened last night," Gabriel said in a low voice as they hurried through the narrow backstreets of Santa Croce.

"It's hardly surprising," she replied. "The ambassador is finally invited to the Doge's palace after weeks in the city, fireworks go off – possibly even fireworks supplied by the skraylings – and shortly afterwards the city is overrun by slavering hellhounds. If I didn't know–" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "–if I didn't know who was really behind it, I'd suspect them too."

The crowd behind the palazzo were still in full voice, despite the occasional rain of broken glass as a stone hit one of the remaining intact windows. Coby heard many mentions of the word diaboli, and much calling on the name of Christ, the Madonna and various saints.

"How are we going to get inside?" Coby said, watching the crowd warily. "All the doors must be barricaded by now."

"If we can't get through the besiegers, we have to get rid of them."

"How?"

"Leave that to me. Give me your purse, and wait here a few minutes. If you see an opportunity to get inside, take it; otherwise just stay here and keep out of trouble."

She watched with a heavy heart as he jogged off down the street. After Mal, Gabriel was the best man to have at your side in a tight spot.

Not all the rioters were actively attacking the palazzo. Many, like herself, were content to observe from a distance. It provided cover, but it also made it impossible to get closer to the building without being noticed. Whatever Gabriel's plan was, it had better be good.

She found an empty doorway on the far side of the street. Either the inhabitants had sensibly locked themselves inside, or they were out here with the rioters; either way, they wouldn't be opening it any time soon. She leaned against the cool stone, trying to look nonchalant instead of terrified. Last time she had been near a mob like this was when the theatre burnt down, and then it was only frightened playgoers fleeing for their lives. This was something entirely different: ferocious and chaotic, like a fire in human form.

Where were the red-coated constables, for that matter? Defending the Doge and council, most likely. No one cared about a few skraylings, particularly if there was even a remote chance they were behind last night's unholy manifestations.

A higher-pitched note threaded through the shouting and was taken up by one voice after another. Screams. Like a swarm of bees the crowd began to turn and move towards Coby and the open street leading towards the Grand Canal. She flattened herself into the doorway, wondering if soldiers had turned up at last, though she had heard no gunfire nor any reason for the screaming. The fury that had been directed at the skraylings was now turned inwards as the fleeing rioters fought one another to get onto the gondolas. A few stragglers halted, weighed up their chances and headed down the street into Santa Croce.

As the last few rioters dispersed, Coby saw what had triggered the panic. Gabriel was staggering down the street, shirt torn and soaked in blood.

"No!" She ran to him, seized his arms, scanning his body for wounds. "Dear God, what happened?"

Gabriel groaned, but when she looked up into his eyes he winked and jerked his head towards the side door of the building.

"Quick," he said. "Before they discover this is all a sham and come back."

"You're not hurt?"

"Pig's blood," he said. "From the market. Now go!"

Coby needed no more prompting. She ran around the side of the palazzo, and sure enough the little fondamenta was empty, and the few gondolas that had been moored there were already gone. She knocked on the door, praying that the skraylings had not abandoned it.

"Hello! You in there! Friends! Ingilanda! Talk trade, get lightwater aid Kiiren-tuur!"

The garbled mix of English, Tradetalk and Vinlandic had the desired effect, and after a few moments the door opened a crack to reveal a sliver of tattooed face.

"Ingilanda?"

"Friends of Kiiren-tuur and Erishen-tuur. Please, let us in. We have to buy lightwater to fight the night-demons–"

The door opened a little further. Impatience getting the better of her, Coby pushed it wide. The skrayling porter goggled at the sight of Gabriel smeared in pig's blood but let them in.

"If you want to get out of this city alive," she told the porter in Tradetalk, "you have to take me to Lord Kiiren. Now."

CHAPTER XXXIII

Mal stood at the window of the Turk's Head, watching the city awake. Could he really ask his friends to lay down their lives to help mend his errors? Did he have a choice? He could hardly face the devourers alone. He slammed the side of his fist against the wall. Cowering here was not going to help. He needed to get out there, track the creatures down…

"Maliverny? There's something I have to tell you, before–" His brother looked around. "Not here, though."