by Karen Brooks
I fought, kicking and punching, but it was no good. I was clamped soundly to the rider's chest. Ahead, I could see people running in all directions, wailing in terror. Pillar flung himself against the sides of the bridge to avoid being crushed. But closer still, I could see Dante standing directly in the path of the horse.
Cane barked furiously.
'Dante!' I screamed. 'Look out!'
I waited for the rider to pull in the reins, to swing past them as he had me. But he didn't. Instead, he rode straight for Cane and Dante. Without hesitating, the horse bore over them. Cane yelped and Dante shouted before both were silenced by the sickening sound of crunching bones.
I shouted and struggled harder. I had to get away – to Dante, to Cane. They were hurt. They needed me.
But the rider held me. Using all my strength, I bit down on the exposed bit of skin that gripped the reins. I ground my teeth into his hand and felt my mouth fill with blood. I tore the flesh away and spat. The rider cried out and loosened his hold. It was all I needed. I flung myself sideways, forcing him to release me. I hurtled through the air and slammed into the stones. I rolled for a moment, the wind knocked out of me. My left arm hung uselessly. But I didn't care. I rose to my feet unsteadily and staggered back along the bridge. I was dimly aware that the rider had halted his horse. He watched me.
As I came closer to where Cane and Dante lay sprawled on the bridge, my heart seized. A chill coursed through my body, as if winter had entered my bones. Blackness threatened to overwhelm me, but I pushed it all away.
'No, no,' I moaned as I reached Cane. I dropped to my knees before him. Using my functioning arm, I pulled his broken, lifeless body into my lap. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his ear caressed my own. His brown eyes wore a dull, opaque film. His blood soaked my shirt, but I didn't care. 'Oh, Cane, Cane. My beautiful boy.' Tears stung my eyes; my chest filled with rage and sorrow. Then I looked over the top of his soft, umber head and saw Dante.
I lay Cane down gently and crawled along the bridge towards my dear friend.
Dante's eyes were closed. Apart from the blood that flowed from his nose and mouth, he looked asleep. But I could see from the pallor of his cheeks and the blue that tinged his eyes and lips that his injuries were dire.
'Dante?' I lifted his head onto my knees. He groaned and his eyes fluttered open. 'Dante?' I repeated, stroking his cheeks, feeling him back to life.
'Tallow?' he said, ever so softly. He began to smile. His teeth were red with blood. 'I found you.'
I couldn't help it. I began to cry. 'Yes, yes you did.' I took a deep breath, ignoring the fire that ignited in my side, and tried to pull myself together. 'Dante, I have to help you.' I became aware that the crowd was cautiously mounting the steps towards us, curiosity overcoming their fear. The enigmatic horseman waited on the fondamenta, his mount dancing skittishly on the spot.
'No, Tallow.' Dante lifted a hand to my cheek and rested his cooling palm against my hot face. I leaned into him. 'There's nothing you can do, my friend, nothing.'
'You're wrong,' I said, and leaned over to press my cheek against his. My lips were close to his ear as I whispered, 'I can help you, like I did Cane.'
'No,' said Dante. His eyes were rolling back in his head. 'If you do, they will know what you really are. Your life will be forfeit.'
'I don't care,' I said. My tears ran tracks through the blood on his face.
'But I do,' he said. His eyelids began to flutter. 'May God forgive me, but I love you, Tallow. My little dorato.' His breath came in short, sharp gasps. 'Some ... some may say ... that what ... I ... f– feel is wrong. It's not. Not this. I ... want you to know I ... love you ... now and ... for eternity.'
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I wanted to scream, fight the injustice of the whole damn world.
'Oh, Dante. I love you.' I pressed my lips against his. I could just feel the tip of his tongue inside my mouth. I lifted his hand, all grazed and bloodied, and pressed it against my body. 'I love you, too.' With our lips joined, my words flew into his mouth.
As I clutched his hand to my chest, I forced his fingers apart. I saw his eyes widen and a frown crease his forehead as he felt the natural swelling that I'd tried so hard to hide. His broken fingers cupped my breasts. 'Tallow?' My name came out as one long gurgling breath. Blood flowed freely over his teeth and lips. I held him tight, showering kisses on his face. I could taste his blood in my mouth. I was his pledge stone, he was my Bond Rider. 'I love you, I love you.' The words were my mantra against the inevitable.
He gave a violent shudder. Blood gushed from his mouth in one final exhalation. Then he lay still. I gripped him tighter, sealed his lips with mine, willing him back to life. But it was no good.
'No!' I screamed. 'You can't leave me! Don't you dare, Dante. Come back!' I sat back on my knees, his head heavy in my lap. My hand ran lightly over his features, pulling gently at the lips that moments before had uttered words I'd never thought to hear. This wasn't happening. 'Dante,' I whispered.
A quick clatter was all that alerted me.
The rider had finally urged his mount forward and, as I held Dante, he careered towards me, leaning low in the saddle.
I wavered for just a second. I didn't want to leave Dante. He'd given his life for mine. But that same inner voice that had first told me to run now told me leap.
I clambered over the edge of the bridge, clawing my way over the stone railing with my good arm, and launched myself into the canal.
I heard the gasp of the mob and the angry shout of the rider before water closed over me and I knew no more.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The significance of
failure
'HE MISSED,' SAID KATINA, HANDING over the spyglass to her companion. 'I can't believe it. He has her in his grasp, then the idiot goes and drops her. And now she eludes him again.' Katina was glad that her voice did not betray the fear that had claimed her when Tallow had hurled herself into the water.
'What did you expect?' asked the tall, blond Bond Rider, squinting to better see the events unfolding on the bridge. 'Give a mission like that to a newcomer and it's bound to fail.'
'Get off my back, Stefano,' snapped Katina. 'It wasn't my idea and you know it.'
Katina's mind was racing. On the one hand she was glad their mission to kidnap Tallow had suffered a setback, while on the other she was anxious for the girl. She had to find her, protect her. But not the way the Council demanded– not by forcing her to come with them.
She'd followed orders to observe Tallow before approaching her. The mess she'd found had dismayed her – not only from the disease that had destroyed so many Serenissian lives, but in Tallow's life itself. Nothing was as she'd left it.
Stefano grinned at her. 'Your idea didn't work either, did it? Tracking her, waiting for the right time to reconnect. All we did was arouse curiosity – at least the horse stopped the mob charging her. This ...' He gestured to the crowd on the bridge. 'This mess is as much our fault as anyone's. Perhaps the Elders should have listened to you after all. Turns out, there was no right time.'
Katina glared at him and then, leaping to her feet, ran nimbly over the roof tiles, parallel to the canal. There was still no sign of Tallow. Katina felt sick. 'Come on!' she ordered. 'If we're to have anything to report, we're going to have to see if she surfaces.'
'Shall we take her?'
'Only if we can,' Katina was torn. Oh Tallow, be safe, she thought. But stay out of sight. I need to think. I need to get this right – for all our sakes. 'We're not supposed to be seen, remember?'
Stefano grimaced. 'Then what was Santo doing?'
'What he's always done ever since he joined us – indulging in spectacle.' Katina longed to confront the Rider, and not only for this morning's disaster.
Katina and Stefano jumped from rooftop to rooftop, running over the shingles, sliding down drains, making their way to the street. Away from the commotion on the bridge, they finally rejoined the canal,
leaping onto the fondamenta and linking arms like lovers out for an afternoon stroll.
'Follow the current,' murmured Katina, her calm voice belying her angst. 'She's bound to surface somewhere along here.' Her eyes scanned the waterways. Apart from a gondola in the distance, she could see no sign of boats or bodies. Come on, Tallow, she thought. Don't let all this have been for nothing. We can do this. Don't die on me now.
'Could she swim?'
Katina shrugged, pretending indifference. 'I don't know. Perhaps.' Beloved gods, protect her, she chanted to herself.
'What about what happened on the bridge? The young man? Do you think he's dead?'
Katina looked at him blankly. 'You mean the chandler's apprentice? I would think so, wouldn't you? The steel shoes on our horses' hooves don't miss much. They're not supposed to. At least Santo didn't fail us there.'
Katina wondered about this young man with whom Tallow had formed such a close relationship. A little flame of jealousy flickered. Why the Council had demanded his death, she had no idea. At least that part of their mission had succeeded. But the look on Tallow's face, her despair, the fact she'd flung herself into the canal rather than be taken – this young man was clearly someone for whom Tallow cared deeply. Katina frowned. What was going on? How had so much happened in so short a time? She caught herself. But it wasn't a short time; she'd been gone for months and everything, everyone, had changed – including herself.
An idea began to take shape in her mind. Perhaps she could yet salvage this mess. But she would have to be quick and discreet – it was an enormous risk, and her life and Tallow's depended on it.
'No,' drawled Stefano. 'When all is said and done, Elder Dandolo will be pleased.'
Katina glanced at her companion. He mustn't know what she was thinking. 'Quit the sarcasm. I'm in trouble and I know it. This mission has been one huge bungle from beginning to end. But before you go and get too cocky about it, Stefano, remember you've contributed to the failure, too. You're part of this feeble effort.' She punctuated every word with a jab in his chest. 'Now, shut up and help me find the Estrattore. If she's alive, we need to find out where she is. If she's not, then we'd better think of where it's safe for us to hide in the Limen.'
'From the Elders?' said Stefano. 'Nowhere.'
'Exactly,' said Katina. 'So you'd better pray she's alive, hadn't you?' She stared at him for a moment. 'Let's get on with it. We have to meet Santo, Debora and Alessandro at the pledge stone by sundown.' She shaded her eyes with her hand and glanced at the sky. 'By my reckoning, we have two hours.' She stormed off, scanning the banks carefully, her cloak flying out behind her.
Stefano watched her, resentment brewing in him. The smart-arsed bitch was right. They had to find the Estrattore.
For, as the Elders continually reminded them, the Bond Riders' very existence depended on her.
CHAPTER FORTY
Claudio's dreams
COUNCILLOR LORD RODBURY WAITED UNTIL he was announced before walking into the queen's chamber. He noted the lady's maid, who squatted on the carpet mending another torn curtain, before coming to a halt beside the queen's desk and bowing deeply.
'Your Majesty,' he said, in his deepest voice.
Zaralina looked up from the report she was reading. 'Ah, my Lord Rodbury. What is it?'
Rodbury straightened slowly, taking the opportunity to search the chamber for the queen's unholy confidant, Shazet. The Mortian was nowhere to be seen but the chamber was very cold. And, Rodbury remembered, just because you couldn't see a Mortian didn't mean it wasn't there, as too many of his peers had learnt to their misfortune.
What did draw his attention was the small child bouncing on the huge canopied bed in the corner. It was the captive prince, Claudio Dandolo. Rodbury swallowed his surprise. He hadn't thought the queen would tolerate such behaviour. The rumours were true, then; she was indulging the boy.
Aware the queen was studying him impatiently, he snapped to attention and cleared his throat. 'I thought you would want to know, Your Majesty, that Lord Waterford has successfully crossed the Mariniquian Seas and reached the lagoon of Serenissima.' He handed her a small, tightly rolled scroll.
'Already? That's less than four months.' She put down the report she was reading and unfurled the scroll. Her eyes scanned the page. 'He has made excellent time.'
'Indeed, Your Majesty. As you can see, he reports that the winds were extraordinarily favourable.'
The queen waved her hand. 'Yes, yes. But more importantly, has he been well received by the Serenissians?'
'It is too early to tell, ma'am. He's been forced to weigh anchor. It seems that Serenissima is recovering from what seems to be a type of plague – the second in less than a hundred years. Early reports say that almost a quarter of the population perished.'
Rodbury shuddered. He'd read accounts of the disease: unholy in its speed, indiscriminate in its choice of victims. The deaths had been swift, gruesome and like nothing ever seen before. He sent a swift prayer that it never came to Albion – not in his or his children's lifetime.
'Really? A type of plague, you say?' The queen rested her chin on her hands and gazed out the window. A thick slab of snow smothered the landscape. 'How unfortunate. Must be something to do with the fetid marshes upon which they chose to build the city in the first place. Perhaps Waterford's timing is more fortuitous than we realised.'
'Yes, ma'am,' said Rodbury. The child's bouncing in the background was beginning to irritate him. 'You will also read that Waterford hopes that the cargo he carries will be very much desired, if not essential, to the Serenissians.' Rodbury hesitated. 'Your Majesty showed remarkable foresight in sending grain, barley, corn, wheat and wine among the other precious gifts.' He bowed again.
'Yes, I did, didn't I?' Zaralina laughed. 'The Council couldn't understand why I would send what the Serenissians appeared to have in abundance – at least, they did while their peasants were still alive to reap their harvests and other nations were prepared to trade with them. But who on the other side of the Limen would have the courage to trade with a disease-ridden city – particularly when it had been struck by a new type of plague that had no precedent.
'The gods were on my side, Rodbury. One must always be prepared to take risks – to prepare for the unexpected. I had a feeling about this, and I was right. I saw what others did not – a seemingly affluent city desperate for the most basic of items. Jewels do not assuage hunger. Even the Serenissians know that. Of course they will be grateful to have a friend. And, when the time is right, they will welcome Waterford, and thus Farrowfare, with open arms.' The queen's eyes narrowed and her face took on a faraway look. 'Thank you, Lord Rodbury. Keep me informed of any updates, won't you?'
'Y– yes, ma'am,' said Rodbury. He shot a glance at the little dark-haired prince who had stopped bouncing and was staring at him, slack-jawed. He quickly looked away. There was something about the boy, something in his countenance ... Rodbury bowed again to cover his unease.
The queen watched him out of the corner of her eyes, a small smile playing on her mouth.
'Alyson?' The queen gestured to her lady's maid.
'Ma'am?' Alyson leapt to her feet and, dropping the damask curtain she was mending, curtsied.
'Show the lord out and then leave me and Claudio alone for a while, will you.'
'Yes, ma'am,' said Alyson.
Once the door was shut, Zaralina began to laugh. 'He has the temerity to compliment my foresight; did you hear that, Shazet? As if the entire enterprise were an accident.'
From out of the shadows, a grey shape swirled and became manifest.
Claudio fell back onto the mattress and crawled into the pillows strewn against the bedhead, clutching them to his chest.