“We’d been in touch for some time through … intermediaries,” says Allegreza. “Of course, almost no one is completely trustworthy. Especially when a network starts reaching abroad.” She takes a deep breath and raises a hand to her face. Startled, I realize that this older woman is close to tears. “We encouraged Aysim to join forces with us, but ultimately we let her down. I will have that woman’s death on my conscience for as long as I live. But at the moment much is unclear. It would be foolish to rush in when our security is at stake. Do you understand?”
Sophia sits quietly, her profile illuminated by the setting sun. I have no idea what she’s thinking.
“I’m beginning to,” I say quietly, but my mind is shouting, That’s not good enough! We might not have long!
“Good girl,” Allegreza tells me, with something like fondness in her voice. “Let us deal with Silvio first and discuss Roberto after.”
She leaves us, slipping beneath an archway and out of sight. The sun is setting, and the darkness summons the people of the city to their homes, and the women of the Segreta to their duties.
The heat in the small dressing closet is stifling. Grazia stands on one side of me, and Sophia on the other. We each wear heavy woolen cloaks with hoods and black felt masks that hide our faces. My mask makes it difficult to breathe, and I can feel pinpricks of sweat in my armpits. I slip my hand into the pocket of my cloak and stroke the hilt of a stiletto dagger, its blade sheathed in a leather holder. Grazia gave me this weapon before we arrived. My fingers tremble in my pocket. I’ve handled more weapons in the last day than in the rest of my years combined, even with my months of practice with Roberto.
A strip of light glows at the edge of the closet door, revealing a hook from which hangs an orange studded with cloves. Its scent does little to overpower the smell of mothballs tucked into the folds of garments on a shelf above our heads. Sophia’s eyes shift between Grazia and me. My left foot has almost gone to sleep. Perhaps Silvio won’t come at all.
I suppose it’s only fair that I’m one of those chosen for tonight’s task. It was I who drew the Segreta’s attention to Teresa’s plight. I shift my weight to the other side of my body, feeling the tingle of blood returning to my ankle.
“Wait!” a woman cries merrily. There’s the sound of a grunt and a heavy, unsteady footfall. A wet noise of lips smacking against skin and a moment’s silence, and then: “I said, wait!” She is laughing, the good-hearted courtesan whom I first met through the Segreta. She helps us in our work; few of the men in Venice realize that the yellow handkerchief that marks her as a woman of ill-repute hides a quick wit and more secrets than anyone can possibly guess.
“I have to be home soon,” slurs the man. “My shrew of a wife will burn my dinner otherwise!” His voice is thick with drink.
“Does your wife know where you are?” Bella Donna asks in a teasing voice.
“I don’t care,” he snarls. “Now come here.”
“One moment, my Silvio.” Bella Donna’s voice is closer now. This means she is moving towards the doorway, ready to exit. “I just need to freshen up.”
That’s our cue. The bedroom door snaps shut, and we spill out from the closet. I’ve drawn the dagger from my pocket. Around us, candles burn low, their smoky flames flickering and casting the room in dancing shadows. An unmade bed, piled thick with blankets, stands in the center of the room. Teresa’s husband scrambles back against the headboard as he sees us emerge, and we quickly move around the bed to surround him on three sides. There’s no escape.
“What the …!” Silvio scans our faces, frowning and squinting. “Who are you?” His frown turns to a sly smile as his addled brain tries to make sense of the situation. “Are you part of the entertainment?” he asks. His face is matted with stubble, and even from a distance I can smell the drink on his breath. “Come here, my darlings,” he says in a singsong voice, curling a finger.
I go to my position, guarding the door. Grazia throws back her cloak, and I understand that she is allowing Silvio to glimpse the silver dagger at her waist. His