had come to his taverna. Back then, he’d sat in the crowded bar, downed vino after vino before finally enquiring after Katina, appearing almost relieved when Signor Vestire informed him the Bond Rider had not been seen in the Tailors Quartiere for a few weeks. Since then, of course, Katina had been and gone, but this man, who fidgeted on the stool, whose fingers agitated the counter, had not earned the right to know of her movements, nor of the one who remained. He was not a Bond Rider. Nor was he a tailor. Like a good Serenissian, Signor Vestire protected his own. For all he knew, this short, stout man could be working for the Cardinale. And yet, there was something about him that told him this was not so. A desperation that stoked the pity in his heart.
His instincts had not been wrong before. Maybe it was time to set aside caution … after all, the world was stirring. Whispers were they were on the cusp of great change.
He stared at Baroque, who raised his eyes to meet the taverna keeper’s. What he didn’t expect to see was despair. He saw intelligent eyes that missed nothing, not even Signor Vestire’s attempts to put him off track. Baroque was a man on the edge.
Signor Vestire left the rag where it was and filled a mug with vino. He put it down in front of Baroque. ‘Drink. You look like you need it.’
Baroque seemed to hesitate then, with gruff thanks, quaffed the contents. In the time he did this, Signor Vestire looked over his head at the young man who had come down the stairs at the bidding of Signor Vestire’s daughter and sat in the corner, his arms folded, his eyes never leaving Baroque’s back.
All he did was dip his head towards Signor Vestire.
‘Grazie,’ said Baroque again, pushing the mug back towards Vestire. He rested his head in his hands.
Signor Vestire took mercy on him. ‘I may not be able to help you, but you’re in luck. There is one here who can.’
Baroque raised his red eyes to Vestire’s, hope registering on his features. Signor Vestire nodded over his head, towards the stairs.
‘Speak to him.’
BAROQUE SLOWLY TURNED AND STARED into the dimness. He could see the outline of someone sitting at a small table beneath the stairs. Cautiously, he slid off the stool and walked towards the man that Signor Vestire said could help him. As his eyes grew accustomed to the shadows, he saw the man had dark, untidy hair that rested on broad shoulders. He was very tall but quite young; he also noticed, with the eyes of experience, that he was a Bond Rider. He picked up his pace, not even stopping when he knocked over a chair.
He stood by the table. ‘Signor Vestire tells me you can help me with my enquiries.’
The young man raised his head.
Baroque’s jaw dropped. He staggered back a pace. ‘No! Non è possible!’
The man smiled. ‘I have learnt, Signor Scarpoli, that even in this world, everything is possible.’ He gestured to the table. ‘Sit down. We need to talk.’
His eyes never leaving the man’s face, Baroque slid into the chair opposite. ‘Dante Macelleria,’ he said finally. ‘She thinks you’re dead.’
Dante’s lips tightened and the pulse in his neck hammered. ‘I know. It is better that way. For now.’
Baroque noted they did not need to say who ‘she’ was. All effort at pretence had gone.
‘So, what do you want, Signor Scarpoli?’ Again, he lingered on the last word. ‘And tell me, why should I trust you when the last time we met, you not only had a different name and occupation, but you were following me and Tallow. And you continue to work for the very people who sent you after her in the first place.’
Baroque’s eyebrows shot up. This young man had done his homework.
Dante laughed at his expression. It was dry, false. ‘Oh, sì, I have not wasted the time I have spent here. I know what you do – what you make Tallow do.’
Baroque winced. ‘Let me explain,’ he said.
‘Please.’ Dante made a wide gesture with his hand. ‘Unlike you, I have all the time in Vista Mare.’ He called to Signor Vestire to bring them vino. Baroque noticed that Signor Vestire had not taken his eyes from them.
Over the next two hours, Baroque spoke and Dante listened. For the first time in many years, he held nothing back, but revealed almost everything. His role in helping the