‘Oh,’ I said, my voice breaking in an effort to be light. ‘What sort do they want?’
‘Ones that will make their new friends trust them.’ He laughed. ‘Ironic, isn’t it?’
‘Sì,’ I said quietly.
‘Bene.’ He slid a box of candles towards me. Inside were half a dozen creamy tapers, different from the ones we’d used the last few weeks. I lifted one out. They’d been rolled well and the wicks were of good quality. Slow burning. They looked like the work of Master Querini on the salizzada in the Candlemakers Quartiere. I didn’t dare extract to see if my supposition was correct.
‘You’re to infuse these with loyalty – confidence – and a bit of gullibility, so those inhaling the scent will have faith in what’s being discussed. Capisce?’
‘Capisco.’ I replaced the candle and pushed the box to one side and picked through some of the objects Baroque had left on the bench. Using a piece of stone that had been partially carved, and a sea bird’s feather, I became aware that they carried within them many other emotions, many other stories.
Concentrating, I distilled what was asked of me into the candles. The stone gave me the requisite confidence, the bird feather loyalty, and the fish it had greedily snatched from the ocean as they broke the surface, credulity. I also used a piece of myself, how I’d felt just before Baroque reminded me of who I was; what I was. As I had infused musk into my washing water this morning, so I gave that heady scent to the candles, knowing that whoever breathed their perfume would believe whatever they were being told. The changes took only moments to effect. The candles appeared luminous in the waning light.
Baroque pressed the taper to his nose and inhaled. Then he turned to regard me. ‘No wonder the Doge wanted you all gone. This is incredible. I can actually feel myself responding to the scent.’
‘Me too.’
‘I’d always thought you were immune.’ Baroque put the candle back in the box and placed the lid on top, pressing down as if to stop the smell escaping.
‘Not entirely.’ I didn’t reveal that all I needed to do was touch something else, extract a different emotion for the affect to alter or end.
‘Do you know when these are to be used?’ I asked, trying to keep my tone indifferent.
‘No. Not exactly, but I can guess. The Maleovellis are preparing to have guests.’
‘Guests?’ I was astonished. Since I had been here, only a few tradespeople and some debt collectors had been at the casa, the latter to receive soldi owed. I had heard them singing the praises of the Maleovellis as they left. I’d also smelled my candles burning in Jacopo’s office downstairs.
‘Sì. Tonight.’ Baroque regarded me steadily. ‘And so it begins, Tarlo Maleovelli.’
‘What does?’ I asked, the innocent note in my voice fooling neither of us.
‘The purpose for which you were brought here – to ensure the Maleovellis rise to power.’
My heart began to pound and a roaring filled my ears. I resented his accusatory tone. ‘It’s the same reason you’re here too, Baroque Scarpoli, only my reasons are not so selfish. As they rise, the return of the Estrattore comes closer. I am doing this for my people.’
Baroque gave me a long, long look. ‘Then how is your reason any different from mine? Do you expect me to believe you won’t personally gain from that?’
I didn’t want to answer. Instead, I packed up quickly and fled to my room.
THE MOMENT I WAS TOLD I’D BE HAVING dinner in my room, I knew that not only were the guests Baroque had told me about expected, but also that I had an opportunity to discover exactly what the Maleovellis were using my candles for and how they were doing it.
I sat by the fire, prodding the coals to make them smoulder and create more heat. It was a cold night and I would be grateful for their warmth later. I slipped into my nightgown and wrapped a shawl around my shoulders, clasping the edges with one hand to prevent the fringe from catching in the flames.
There was a sharp rap on the door.
‘Permesso!’ I cried, resting the poker against the fireplace. I leant back in the chair and waited for Hafeza to enter.
She came in backwards carrying a tray from which steam and a delicious smell arose. I could see a large bowl of soup and a bread roll, along