The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(122)

Mal looked at him suspiciously. "What have you done, Charles?"

"Not here." He gestured towards a door in the back wall of the gambling house.

Mal glanced back at Ned and held up his hand in a "stay there" gesture, then followed Charles through the door into what turned out to be a large pantry-cum-buttery, well stocked with barrels of wine and jars of olives, along with stacks of plates, napkins and finger-bowls. Sausages the size of a man's arm hung from the rafters, filling the air with the scent of garlic. Mal's stomach grumbled, demanding breakfast.

"Well, out with it," he said, as soon as the door was shut.
Charles sat down on a barrel and stared at his clasped hands. "I don't expect you to forgive me, little brother–"

"For destroying our family? How can I?"

"Maliverny…" Charles got to his feet, though he still could not meet Mal's eye. "Rushdale Hall were never sold."

"What do you mean? I went there, some fellow named Frogmore has it now–"

"As a tenant. He rents it from me, through our lawyers."

"What? They told me–"

"They told you what they had been instructed to tell you. It was for your own good, yours and Sandy's–"

"I don't believe you. This is some ruse, to try and make peace."

"No, I swear. I had to raise the money to come here somehow, and my credit was hardly the best."

"Why Venice?"

"Because I found out that folk possessed by skraylings had come here long ago."

"You wanted to find Olivia?"

"No. I wanted to find others who'd fought these creatures – and won."

"And did you?"

Charles laughed bitterly. "No such luck. There were plenty of gossip and old stories, but no sign of either the possessed ones or their destroyers. And by the time I'd made certain of it, I were out of money. I could have returned to England in disgrace, but what would that have achieved?"

"You could have reclaimed your heritage," Mal said. "Rushdale Hall is still worth something, surely?"

"I cannot live there, not after everything… and neither should you. It's too dangerous."

"It seemed quiet enough when I visited, three years ago."

"Happen it does. But stay there long enough, and you'll see."

"Why are you telling me all this now?"
"Because neither of us might see tomorrow." He fumbled with the signet ring on his right hand. "Take this to our lawyers, and they'll tell you the truth."

Mal stared down at the heavy gold ring, remembering seeing it on their father's hand.

"Don't think this means I'll forgive you for what you did," he told Charles. "If you had seen Sandy in that place…"

"What's done is done; I'll face my sins when the time comes. God knows the account is long enough."

Ned waited, somewhat impatiently, for the brothers to finish whatever business Charles thought too private for his ears. He'd briefly been tempted to go over to the door and eavesdrop, but on reflection he'd had enough of prying into the Catlyns' business. Instead he took up Hendricks' former station at the window. The city was beginning to stir: a man hurried past, looking nervously at every doorway; a shutter opposite opened briefly and closed again. No one was going outside who didn't have to.

"So, are we going to stand around all morning, twiddling our thumbs?" he asked when Mal emerged from the pantry.

"Not at all. I mean to seek out Cinquedea and call upon whatever aid he and his… family are willing to give."

Charles snorted in derision. "Good luck with that. They say the Ten have been trying to infiltrate the Lacemaker's organisation for years, without success."

"I'm not talking about infiltration, merely an alliance," Mal replied. He scratched his chin. "I don't suppose Cinquedea will be at the Mermaid, not after last night. So where do we start looking?"

"Since you seem to be dead set on this scheme," Charles said, "I will give you one piece of advice. Go to the island of Burano."

"Burano? Ah, yes, that's where most of Venice's lace is made," Mal said.

"It's no idle nickname, 'the blind lacemaker'. The women who follow the craft often lose their sight from working every waking hour, dawn to dusk and then on by candlelight if need be."

"And you think I will find Cinquedea there?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. If there's trouble in Venice, the Lacemaker's boys are likely to retreat to home ground."

Mal thanked his brother and beckoned to Ned. "We'd better go back to Berowne's first. My rapier is there, and I would be reassured to know that our other friends escaped unhurt."

They bade Charles farewell and hurried through the empty streets of Venice. For once Ned had nothing to say. He could rail at Mal for being so besotted with this woman as to bring her wrath down on them all, but what good would that do? He just hoped Gabriel was all right. If anything happened to his darling boy, Mal would really feel his fury.

Mal hammered on the embassy door and shouted their names several times, but even so it took Jameson some minutes to open it. They ducked inside, and Mal ran up to the attic to fetch his weapons.