they exhaust each other, rather than join forces against you.’
The procurator’s laugh was high and innocent. ‘You have it exactly, Contessa! Plain speaking’s a foreign tongue here, so I’m grateful for the opportunity to practise with a Rasenneisi. It is just so: if the Small People periodically require a riot, as long as it doesn’t interrupt the good order of the State or – Madonna forbid – commerce, then so be it. We think of the State as a ship: you can’t always expect peaceful waters. If our canals were as lethal as your rivers, we’d have to find another way to distract them. No reform is possible, so by necessity we make distraction a fine art. The book was closed centuries ago and now we must play our hand to the end.’ He pointed to a silver plaque on the bridge they were passing under. ‘My father was a boy when that bridge collapsed in the course of a particularly boisterous battaglia. That motto was inscribed upon it when it was rebuilt.’
Sofia read, ‘Cam’era, dov’era.’
‘That’s how we’d rebuild Ariminum if she burned tomorrow. As it was, where it was. We are condemned and committed to this place and we cannot escape it.’ He sighed romantically. ‘And nor would we wish to.’
‘At least you know you’re playing with fire,’ said Levi. Sofia knew his thoughts were back in Rasenna.
‘The battaglie are rather messy,’ he admitted, ‘but when tension builds up, better out than in – look at what’s happening in Concord. Everything’s turned upside down just because they are unaccustomed to choppy waters. It defies understanding, does it not, Maestro Vanzetti? Engineers of all people should appreciate the value of a release valve. When one runs into bad luck, someone must pay for it.’ He shook his head philosophically, then cleared his throat. ‘Speaking of dues, this misunderstanding we had with the Hawk’s Company during our last negotiations—’
‘There was no misunderstanding,’ said Levi calmly. He and Sofia had both reconciled themselves to dealing with the man who’d betrayed John Acuto.
‘I admit the Doge made a terrible mistake, and naturally, you want revenge. But I hope you realise why handing over our leader would be unthinkable! The Doge is Ariminum—’
Sofia and Levi were tight-lipped.
‘—oh my, listen to the bells! We must hurry – I do hope they don’t start without us.’
CHAPTER 49
The slurred Ariminumese dialect is notorious, but the language of her bells is even more impenetrable. It is a rare foreigner who can distinguish the Campanile’s chimes and their meanings, rung out according to various combinations. Some tell the time: the Nona marks midday; the maragona rings at dawn and dusk. Others report governmental activities, a universal concern; the trottiera and the nezza terza announce meetings of the Consiglio and Senate respectively. Others announce public holidays; the malefrico, for example, announces executions, and when it rings nine peals of doubles an especially rare spectacle is in store.
from The Stones of Ariminum by
Count Titus Tremellius Pomptinus
They were close to the sea now. Great white gulls made lazy figure-eights overhead and the great canal was choked with barges coming and going to the harbour. The procurator noticed Pedro’s eyes fixed on the dark smoke columns.
‘I see you’ve guessed our destination, Maestro Vanzetti. Doubtless you’ll appreciate how rarely this opportunity is afforded to foreigners. Much of the work at the Arsenal is secret, but I’ll be happy to arrange a pass so you can visit whenever you wish during the negotiations.’
Before Pedro could say anything, Levi interrupted, ‘That may be … premature.’
The procurator smiled. ‘Of course, Podesta Levi. You’ve been very gracious not to dwell on how poorly you were dealt with at our last encounter.’
‘By “poorly” you mean—’
‘—I mean treacherously. That’s why I brought you this particular route.’
From nearby, a deafening cheer erupted suddenly, followed by cascading cannon-fire.
‘Oh, cazzo!’ the procurator swore. ‘Damn your sloth, Slave! I’ll have you scourged if we’ve missed it!’
Pedro smelled the familiar tang of foundry smoke, and something else – boiling tar? The procurator berated the silent gondolier to quicken his stroke and as they cleared the last bridge the canal bisected. They ignored the branch to the harbour and took the other, sailing into a solid greasy fog like that of Tartarus multiplied a hundredfold. They glided under a steel arch and between two tall, featureless walls lined with grim sentries towards a great shipyard emerging from the black smoke.
Pedro gasped at the tapestry of dense rigging between the ships, and the hardy workmen scrambling careless