The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(98)

"Maestro Zancani," Mal said. "My evening was not entirely one of pleasure. I was pursuing your business advantage as well."

"Oh?"

"I have friends in Venice, friends with connections. They told me that the sanuti are growing tired of their seclusion in the fondaco and would welcome some entertainment. And what better to lift a melancholy heart than the antics of Harlequin and Columbine?"

Zancani frowned, his black eyebrows merging into one. "The sanuti?"

"They have silver to spend," Mal said, "and little to spend it on, until the Doge agrees to trade arrangements. But we should make haste, before another company hears of this and courts their favour."

"True, true. Gossip flies faster than pigeons." He clapped his hands. "Ready yourselves for a procession, everyone. We go to wait upon the ambassador from the New World."

When they had gone, Coby quickly changed into her own theatrical costume. It didn't feel any more natural now than it had then, and the thought of Mal seeing her like this turned her belly into a nest of writhing snakes. Wrapping the shawl around her, she took a deep breath and ventured out to find the men.

Mal raised an eyebrow when he saw her, but made no other comment. Coby tried to hide her disappointment. Did he not find her attractive like this? Or was she expecting too much? She chided herself for her selfishness. The poor man has been tortured, and all you can think about is whether he lusts after you?

Under Zancani's leadership, the players formed up in the little square behind the inn. At the front was Benetto, juggling his painted wooden clubs. Gabriel walked behind him, playing a simple rhythm on a pair of small drums hung around his waist, then Mal and Coby, and behind them Stefano playing the flute. Valerio and Valentina tumbled and cartwheeled on either side.

"Show some more tit, girl!" Zancani barked at Coby. "The Madonna knows your face ain't worth looking at."

Coby blushed scarlet but obediently removed her shawl, tying it about her hips instead to give her figure the semblance of womanly curves. She dare not meet Mal's eye.

Zancani took up his place at the head of the procession, and they began making their way southwards towards the Rialto Bridge.

As they approached the Fondaco dei Sanuti, Mal's gut tightened in apprehension. Sandy was no doubt welcome here, but what about himself? He was an agent of the English Crown and no friend of this mission. Apart from Kiiren, the other skraylings within were not likely to be pleased to see him. Especially this Hennaq, whoever he was. He had still not found an opportunity to ask Coby what that was all about.
Zancani bowed to the guard outside the street door: a Venetian soldier, not a skrayling. The maestro announced their business with many an obsequious bow, describing their company in glowing terms and gesturing to the players. The soldier looked them all up and down as if checking for weapons, then rapped on the gate.

A young skrayling dressed in a warrior's tunic peered out, his eyes widening at the sight of the players. The guard spoke to him in Italian, though evidently the skrayling understood none of it, for he merely stood there staring at them all. Coby glanced at Mal, seeking his permission to intervene, but he shook his head. The last thing they needed was for the Venetians to find out that someone who could speak Tradetalk was visiting the skraylings.

The young warrior disappeared back into the fondaco, and returned a few moments later with two silver-haired elders. Mal watched them carefully, wondering if either of them had been on Sark back in March. Even if none of them remembered Coby from their brief visit, surely many of the skraylings would have seen Sandy at some point. He was thankful for the masks concealing their features.

After a short debate amongst themselves the elders withdrew into the palazzo, and the players were ushered through the gate into a large courtyard. Mal looked up at the rows of arched windows, wondering if Sandy looked back down at him.

Zancani bade his players to show off their talents, and soon the little troupe were surrounded by two score or more wide-eyed skraylings. From out of the corner of his eye Mal caught a flash of azure blue, and then a tall figure striding along the shadowed cloister. A grin threatened to split his face.

As Sandy stepped out into the light, the Venetian players caught their collective breaths in surprise. One of Benetto's clubs fell to the ground, the hollow sound echoing loudly from the surrounding walls.

"What is this?" Zancani was the first to recover his voice. "There are two of you?"

"Forgive the deceit, maestro," Mal said, removing his mask. He nodded to Coby, who ran to the gate. "I'm afraid none of you can leave until our business here is done."

CHAPTER XXVII

Zancani and his players were shown into a side-chamber, little more than a store-room that had been swept clean and the floor laid with the matting the skraylings were so fond of. A flat-topped sea chest served as a table, and servants laid out jugs of wine and aniig and enough glasses for all.

"Please, come with me," Sandy said to Mal. He glanced at Coby. "The girl may come also."

The actor seemed unsurprised at being excluded and set about pouring drinks for the others. Sandy led the way around the cloister to a studded door and thence up a marble staircase and through a series of echoing rooms, each with a different coloured tiled floor. At last they reached a closed pair of double doors. Sandy opened one half and gestured for them to go inside.

The room beyond ran the length of the palazzo fa?ade and commanded a magnificent view of the Grand Canal through the many arched windows along one wall. In the middle of the opposite wall stood an enormous white marble fireplace supported by caryatids. The hearth was cold, though the remains of a log fire crumbled in the iron grate, and matting had been placed in a semicircle around the hearthstone. A circular tabletop of multi-coloured stone inlay sat on four piles of bricks nearby, surrounded by large cushions.