country,’ said Lord Waterford, frowning disapprovingly at Jacopo, ‘they can and they do.’
The sneer left Jacopo’s face as quickly as it had appeared. ‘I apologise if I have caused offence, amico mio.’
Lord Waterford bowed stiffly.
‘Jacopo is right, Lord Waterford. The Doge’s daughter will now be married off quickly, probably to one of the nobile houses here in Serenissima in the hope of forming an allegiance that will be of benefit to the Dandolos in the future. For, once this Doge is dead and with Claudio gone, there are no more Dandolos to take the throne. They will become mere nobiles and their house, their casa, will be reduced in importance.’
‘Once a direct bloodline is finished, doesn’t the Dogeship have to pass to another nobile family?’
‘You are well acquainted with our customs, Lord Waterford. It does indeed signify a change of that order.’
‘What does that mean for the Dandolos’ extended family?’
‘They will have to begin their climb to the top all over again.’ Signor Maleovelli’s eyes glinted. Giaconda couldn’t hide her smile.
‘Ah. I see. Are you not currently the Eighth Casa, Signor?’
Signor Maleovelli nodded. Lord Waterford appeared thoughtful. ‘What of a successor for the Dogeship; your laws are quite precise, are they not?’ he asked shortly.
‘It’s the Serenissian law that the Council of Ten, the Great Council of Nobiles, and a representative of the Church, which will be the Cardinale, throw the Dogeship open to all the remaining eligible houses. From among these, a new family will take the throne.’ Signor Maleovelli held up his glass. A shaft of sunlight passed through the stem, setting the golden spiral in the centre alight. It was as if a small sun flared. ‘One with power and influence will be chosen: a family whose elevation can benefit all of Serenissima and her allies. One who can shape destiny.’ He drank the ruby liquid, smacking his lips in appreciation. He smiled, the tannins in the vino staining his teeth.
Tallow repressed a shudder.
Lord Waterford looked from Signor Maleovelli to Giaconda and back again. His eyes rested on Tallow, shining in the dimming light, a beacon by the window for those in the campo to see.
‘Power and influence you say? How convenient.’ Lord Waterford raised his glass, the benign expression that usually rested on his face replaced by a more cunning, dark look. Tallow tried to read him. It was as if a different man stood in the place Giaconda’s lovesick paramour had occupied only moments before.
‘My dear Maleovellis,’ he said, stepping away from the window and putting his glass down. ‘I think the time has come for us to have a very serious talk.’
‘SHE DISOBEYED US, PAPA. She must be punished!’ Giaconda slammed the brush down on the dresser and spun to face her father.
‘Gia, Gia, cara mia. Calm yourself,’ said Signor Maleovelli, placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her back onto the stool so she faced the mirror. ‘What Tarlo has done is show a little inventiveness. She’s still accomplished what we told her to do – the Prince has disappeared. He cannot claim the throne.’
‘But he’s a Bond Rider – he can come back!’
‘Only if an Estrattore extracts his soul from the pledge stone. And where in Vista Mare is he going to find one of those?’ Ezzelino Maleovelli spoke soothingly, his long fingers stroking his daughter’s hair. ‘We control the only one known to have survived the purge, remember? Anyhow, Bond Riders no longer become human again – they’re effectively trapped in the Limen. It’s been over three hundred years since one was able to come back. Even if they choose to, they can’t return – not while their souls are in the pledge stones.’
Giaconda sighed. ‘But Papa, you’re missing my point. She disobeyed us. She’s taking matters into her own hands. It isn’t the first time. Don’t forget what she did to –’
‘Hush,’ said Ezzelino, resting the tips of his fingers against her mouth. ‘We do not talk about that – about them. As far as we’re concerned, what happened to those men were all unfortunate accidents. We know nothing.’ He waited until the fire went out of Giaconda’s eyes and he felt her shoulders relax before he took his hands away.
‘You’re right, Papa. I am just … concerned, that’s all.’
‘What about, exactly?’ Ezzelino moved to sit in the chair and from there watched his daughter perform her nightly ritual. She took up the brush and resumed.
‘Tarlo’s changed.’
‘Ezzelino chuckled. ‘Of course she has. We’ve all worked very hard to ensure