Heart of Glass - By Sasha Gould Page 0,90

night before I sleep. So I am part Venice, see?”

The Doge nods, and his hand falls heavily onto his desk. “And to think that villain would have taken my son’s life.… We will blow his ships out of the water!”

“There’s no need for bloodshed,” I say.

“No need!” shouts the Doge. “Halim and his plotting almost cost us everything. My own Council turned against me.”

“Laura’s right,” puts in Roberto. “We should expose them publicly. That way you can win back the support of the Council.”

The Doge turns away from us and walks towards the west-facing window that opens onto St. Mark’s. I can tell that he’s thinking, measuring up one course of action against another. “This girl is wiser than most of my Council,” he murmurs. When he turns again, a smile has crept over his lips. “Noon is the time when Prince Halim’s ultimatum is due. Perhaps we can deliver more than he expects. Summon my messengers!”

44

When the time is close to midday, the main hall of the palace is crowded with men from the Grand Council and their retinues of clerks. The Doge has sent out word that his errant son has returned, and it’s as much because of curiosity as anger that the men gather.

Aysim and I sit half hidden in a gallery above. We watch the Councilors flock into the chamber with their attendants. They preen and strut like exotic birds. Massimo is the last to appear, escorted by a dozen soldiers.

“Where is he?” he bellows. “Where is the murderer?”

The Doge, dressed in his officiating robes at the other end of the hall, looks calm. “He will be handed over when the Ottoman delegation arrives.”

Massimo bristles. “If this is some trickery—”

“It’s almost as if you’re looking forward to battle,” says the Doge.

From the look on Massimo’s face, I rather suspect he is.

As the clock strikes noon, Faruk arrives at the head of several fearsome-looking footmen with their bare chests oiled. He strides into the heart of the chamber with his chin raised haughtily until he stands before the Doge’s dais. I wonder if Massimo does not wish the Turks to know of his grab for power, as he did nothing to prevent the Doge from taking his usual place, nor did he ever expel him from the palace.

Ranged before the Doge are the men of the Grand Council. Behind them crowd lesser officials and scribes clutching parchment and quills. The room falls silent at last as they listen carefully to everything that’s being said.

“I hear that your son Roberto has reappeared. I am pleased for you, Alfonso,” Faruk says. “Pleased for Venice also.”

There’s a gasp—how dare he call the Doge by his first name! Faruk sends a quick, nervous smile around the court, realizing his mistake.

“Where is your master?” asks the Doge.

Faruk grins, and shrugs. “My master is not a fool. In this city, he trusts no one.”

“Is that right?” asks the Doge. “We are men of honor.”

Faruk’s grin falls away. “I mean no disrespect to Your Honor,” he says, “but now that your son is back, we’d like him to be handed over. As you are aware, Prince Halim wants to see justice done. If he can deal directly with Roberto, Venice will be saved”—he waves a hand through the air—“from a most unfortunate set of events.”

The Doge gets to his feet. There is nothing of the frail old man about him now.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he says, maintaining his politeness despite all that’s happened. “New information has come to light.”

Angry muttering breaks out in the chamber, and the Doge waits for it to die away. He looks over the top of Faruk’s head and snaps his fingers at us. I press gently at Aysim’s back, and she stands, moving forward to the edge of the balcony. Her head is bowed modestly, and she is dressed in the latest Venetian fashion. But then she lifts her head to look into Faruk’s eyes, and energy crackles through the room.

Faruk staggers back in recognition. He licks his lips nervously, his glance darting from the Doge back to his master’s sister.

“Who is this woman?” he asks, his voice faltering. “I don’t understand.”

The Doge’s eyes narrow. “Oh, I think you do.”

Faruk seems to see that there’s no denying Aysim’s existence and switches his tactic. He gives a cry and lifts his hands towards the balcony. “Princess Aysim! You’re alive!”

The assembled Councilors burst out in exclamations. Aysim’s glare doesn’t shift from Faruk.

“It’s a miracle,” he continues. “Prince Halim will