seen their triumphant smiles.
Finally, hundreds of faces were fixed on the older group behind the table. ‘Are they the Elders?’ whispered Dante. His last word was captured and bounced off the walls – Elders? Elders? Elders? – his intonation casting a question over their authority.
Dante held his breath. A trickle of sweat carved a passage between his shoulder blades. Already, the air was growing warm, close.
Alessandro pressed his lips against Dante’s ear. ‘Sì. They’re our Elders, like the Doge’s Council in Serenissima, they’ve kept peace and order here in the Limen ever since the Bond Riders came into being.’ Alessandro glanced around then continued. ‘Here, we’re all senators – whether we’re from a nobile line or not. We all have a say – we’re all kept informed. In the Limen it’s what the popolani think – what we think that counts.’
Before Dante could challenge this, a shadow filled the cave entrance and, as one, the crowd stood as a thin, ancient man dressed in a gold togati, draped with an ermine cloak and wearing a cone-shaped hat appeared. For just a moment, Dante thought the Doge had left Serenissima and entered the Limen. His heart caught in his throat.
The old man moved behind the table and took the central seat. As he sat, the other Elders took their places and the Bond Riders, after a suitable interval, followed suit.
‘Bring in Katina Maggiore,’ said the man. His voice was clear and deep.
From a recess in the cave that Dante hadn’t noticed before came two guards. Between them walked Katina. Debora drew her breath in sharply and Alessandro stiffened. Dante wished he hadn’t sat between them, but it was too late to move.
Neatly groomed with a clean shirt and leggings, Katina looked refreshed. Age appeared to have sloughed away from her. Dante had met her only once, but he’d remembered her as older. Not this tall, relatively unlined woman who stood before the Council. She hadn’t been languishing in a cell as he’d imagined.
‘She looks good. They must have been feeding her.’ Debora’s lips barely moved.
Alessandro gave the barest of nods.
As Dante understood it, only the sick were fed. Food and drink functioned like restoratives. The air of the Limen was enough. If they were providing Katina with nourishment, surely that was a good sign – it meant they cared about her well-being. That would explain the lilt in Debora’s tone.
Katina crossed the floor, her head held high. All eyes were upon her yet she glanced straight at Dante, picked him out of the crowd. His heart responded. He felt her, felt the strain beneath the outward show of composure. She gave him the barest of nods. He returned it.
Debora and Alessandro sat on the edge of the seat.
The guards brought her to a standstill in front of the wide stone table and left her, retreating to the entrance, their swords still drawn.
One of the Elders, the one who had ordered Katina’s capture when he first entered the Limen … Nicolotti? rustled some papers. He found what he was looking for and passed it to the Doge-like man.
After scanning the papers for a couple of minutes, the Elder in gold finally spoke.
‘Katina Maggiore.’ He raised deep-set eyes to hers. ‘You have been brought to the palazzo today to hear the judgement of the Council of Elders.’
‘Sì, Elder Dandolo. Grazie.’ Katina’s voice was low but firm.
The head Elder had the same name as the Doge.
‘This has not been easy, Katina. You have been a Bond Rider for over three hundred years. You’re one of our oldest, our finest and, furthermore, you’re linked to the prophecy.’
A dull murmur swept the room. Dante’s ears pricked up. Prophecy? He glanced at Debora and Alessandro, but their eyes were fixed on what was happening in front.
‘We’ve never had any reason to doubt your loyalty,’ continued Elder Nicolotti. ‘You have remained true to the Riders’ ways, obeyed all our laws. Until recently.’
Another round of muttering blew through the room.
‘While we can understand that not all the tasks to which we set our Riders will be successful, ‘continued Nicolotti, ‘your recent antics now cast your other, more recent failures in a different light. Was this fiasco a result of bad planning or unforeseen circumstances? Or was it deliberate?’
A candle spat. Someone coughed.
‘You will answer, Katina Maggiore.’
‘It was never deliberate, Elder Nicolotti. Never. Things happened that could not be predicted. We were forced to respond to the situation as events arose, to change our plans accordingly.’
Elder Nicolotti nodded grimly and