The Alchemist's Apprentice

by Dave Duncan

  I made them welcome. “You all know the learned Attorney Ottone Imer, of course…”

  Vasco started to translate, but milord Bellamy did not wait for him.

  “This outrages me! I have sent complaints to the English ambassador.”

  “I hope it will be over very quickly, messer.”

  The foreigner’s absurd horned mustache quivered. He began to gabble and Vasco rattled off a translation. He was good. “We were due to leave today. The boatmen we had hired insisted on payment. The carriage waiting on the mainland will want an extra day’s money. Who will compensate me for these losses?”

  There are times when my humor gets the better of my discretion. I pointed to the salone. “In there, messer, is sier Enrico Orseolo—the elder of the two men in mourning weeds. He is one of the six great ministers of the Republic. More even than the doge himself, the great ministers run the government. Why don’t you go and present your problem to him?”

  That, I thought, ought to put the chickens in the fox house. As Sir Feather offered his wife his arm, the big woman disconcerted me yet again.

  “How much for your outfit, Alfeo?”

  “You want me to quote it as a complete set or item by item?”

  “Every stitch.” Either she had the strangest way of flirting I had ever met, or her wheels were well off center. I could engage verbal rapiers with Violetta, but the foreigner’s signals confused me.

  “Perhaps you and I can discuss that after the meeting?” I said, half expecting her husband to whip out his sword and start yelling at me. He just took her elbow and steered her away.

  I noted with amusement that the buzz of conversation from the salone ceased abruptly when the foreigners entered. I smiled at Vasco, who was practicing looking intimidating but had a long way to go.

  “You are also welcome, Vizio. The guests are assembled through there, and Missier Grande is in here.” I turned to Imer. “Lustrissimo, that should be everybody.” I was wrong.

  Imer was not looking at me. He was staring aghast at the stairs. Majestic in his scarlet robe and patriarchal white beard, Ducal Counselor and State Inquisitor Marco Donà was ascending at a measured pace. I clenched my teeth tightly so they would not start chattering. The last time we had met, he had sent me to the torture chamber.

  24

  In my demonic delusion, the old man had been grim and menacing. Present in the flesh, he was paternal, condescending. He nodded benignly when Imer groveled to him, bleating how honored his house was and how he would brag of this visit for years.

  Donà almost patted his head. “This charade is an imposition, citizen, and your cooperation is appreciated.” But then the old man turned cynical eyes on me as I bent to kiss his sleeve. “And you must be the philosopher’s apprentice.”

  I had met him in nightmare; he had never met me. “Alfeo Zeno, Your Excellency, honored to be at your service.”

  “Mm? It looks as if the Council of Ten should be investigating the permissible scale of physicians’ fees. What do you think, attorney?”

  “And the sumptuary laws also, Excellency,” Imer murmured.

  “Definitely the sumptuary laws.”

  The Council of Ten, its three chiefs, the three state inquisitors, the doge—I had no idea what political currents were flowing and who was on whose side. This was definitely not a moment to create waves. I replaced my bonnet at a more sedate angle. Humble was in.

  “I borrowed these clothes for the occasion, Your Excellency.”

  He nodded. “From your friend Fulgentio Trau.” He was warning me that I was under surveillance and the Three knew everything. They might know who had poisoned Procurator Orseolo and prefer that no one else did. “I just came to see if your master can make good on his boast. You are about to begin?”

  “At Your Excellency’s convenience. You wish to meet the other guests?”

  “I think I know them all. Those I have not met I can guess. Where is Missier Grande?”

  I would have bet a month’s wages that Gasparo Quazza was standing just inside the dining room, eavesdropping on all the arrivals. If so, he moved quickly. By the time I had bowed the inquisitor through and followed him in, Missier Grande was seated in a chair several feet from the door.

  The dining room had been made by joining two smaller rooms and was awkwardly long and narrow, but our host had again been generous with the lighting, loading his Murano chandeliers with lamps. Most of the floor space was taken up by what seemed to be one long linen-draped table, but must in fact be several set end-to-end. A few books had been laid out at intervals along it to represent the Karagounis manuscripts; sixteen chairs stood along the far side, on one of which sat the Maestro, leering at us as we entered. The sixteen on the nearer side had been pulled back against the wall, and it was one of these that had the honor of supporting Missier Grande. He rose to acknowledge the inquisitor, his face giving no hint of whether or not he was surprised to see the old man there.

  Donà gave him a quick nod and said, “No, do not rise, doctor,” to the Maestro. “I trust you will make no wild accusations you cannot prove?”

  The Maestro’s face turned sulky. “Your Excellency forbids us to proceed?”

  “Not at all.” Donà chose the chair behind the door, where he would not be visible to persons entering. He sat down heavily, as if his feet or ankles hurt. “No, I wish to see justice done. The official view, I can reveal, is that the supposed Greek, Karagounis, was an agent of the sultan and had set up a complicated trap to murder the doge. Poor old Bertucci somehow got the wrong glass.” And to suggest otherwise may be unwise.

  “That is certainly a theory I considered, Your Excellency.”

  The inquisitor raised silver eyebrows. “And discarded? You intrigue me already. You have no objections to these proceedings, Missier Grande?”

  “None, Excellency. I have known the Maestro to astonish us before.”

  “Carry on, then.”

  “Alfeo?”

  “Master?”

  “Since the doge did not come, either you or sier Benedetto will have to stand in for him.” From where the Maestro sat he had seen everyone going past the door.

  Donà chuckled—ominously, of course. A state inquisitor cannot possibly chuckle otherwise. “That should be my role, surely? We mustn’t raise the Orseolo boy’s hopes too high before he has even taken his seat in the Great Council. And we must not distract sier Alfeo from his duties as Carnival King.”

  He obviously enjoyed being one of the dreaded Three, and I did not like the way he was muscling in on my master’s production. Had Circospetto Sciara told him what was going to happen this evening? Or told the doge so the doge had told Donà? Had the Ten assigned the case to the Three, or was Donà there without the knowledge of Bartolemeo Morosini and the other chiefs of the Ten? And who could stop an inquisitor doing almost anything he wanted anyway?

  “Your Excellency is gracious,” I said. “With your permission, I will sound the trumpet.” I stalked out and headed to the salone.

  There I found three separate groups, sitting well apart and conversing in whispers—the three Orseolos, the two Tiralis and Violetta, the Feathers and Vasco. The unfortunate Pulaki sat by himself, with eyes closed and face twisted with pain. Imer had been waiting in the hallway and followed me in.

  I apologized for the delay. “We had an unexpected arrival. Pulaki, please go and help Giuseppe with the wine. I know you have only one good hand, but I’d like you to watch and see that everything happens in the same order as last time.” I waited until he had gone. “At the original viewing, the guests entered the dining room in the following order: Ambassador Tirali first, then the procurator and madonna Bianca. Your Excellency, will you represent your father for us?”

  Lizard Enrico nodded with poor grace. Bianca, I was happy to see, had raised her veil to expose her angelic child-woman face.

  “Then came sier Bellamy Feather and madonna Hyacinth. You spent some time discussing the books with Maestro Nostradamus, I b
elieve. Vizio, you will interpret for them, please? And the next man, as you all know, was the doge, incognito. He will be represented this evening by State Inquisitor Marco Donà.”

  I wished I could watch all the faces at once, so that a sudden pallor might identify the murderer for me. I did not see one. Hyacinth demanded a translation from Vasco.

  I continued. “Sier Pasqual, you and the lady were next. That completes the ensemble, except for Alexius Karagounis, who cannot be with us this evening because he is tied up on the Piazzetta. Will you stand in for him, please, sier Benedetto?”

  He shrugged his shoulders, sling and all. “If you will tell me where to go.”

  “That will be everyone’s problem.”

  “This is not going to work, you know,” Pasqual told Violetta. “We all moved around too much. I suppose the person who demonstrates the worst memory must be the murderer? Come, my darling, let’s go and carnival.”

  I stood at the dining room door to direct the dance. Wineglass in hand and escorted by our host, Ambassador Tirali swept by me, red senator and black attorney.

  “You introduced me to Maestro Nostradamus, did you not, attorney? But the Greek was here when I came in.”

  Benedetto Orseolo was summoned and inserted as Alexius Karagounis.

  “Then you left, attorney,” Tirali continued. “I walked down there and worked my way back up to about here. And the accursed Greek kept following and yattering at me.”

  Benedetto smiled. “Yatter, Your Excellency. Yatter, Your Excellency.”

  Tirali laughed. “You’ll do well in the Senate, my boy. I was about here…”

  He turned and I nodded to Minister Orseolo. As he entered with Imer, I noticed that the glass he carried was empty. He might scoff at tales of murder, but the Lizard was taking no chances. A moment later Bianca followed him in, flashing me a smile that raised my heartbeat significantly. She joined her father-grandfather. Imer went out again to greet more imaginary arrivals.

  Missier Grande had disappeared, which seemed odd if he had come to oversee the reenactment. The actors on stage had a brief argument over who had been standing where. I waited until they reached agreement, then nodded to Vasco to bring in the Feathers. Bellamy stalked by me without a glance. Hyacinth paused, looked me over, and fluttered her eyelashes at me before continuing into the dining room. Vasco, coming behind, shook his head at me in disbelief. I wondered if she had been flirting with him, too. How crazy was she?

  “Englishmen need more encouragement,” I explained quietly.

  He very nearly smiled.

  Now there were eight people in the room and it was becoming obvious that Pasqual had been right—the Maestro’s plan was not going to work. It had been four days, and there had been no reason to memorize the choreography of a casual social meeting, or just when who said what to whom.

  “My turn now?” murmured the inquisitor, who had been sitting close to the door all this time.

  “I think it must be, Your Excellency—or may I address you as ‘Your Serenity’?”

  Donà heaved himself up and approached the table. The Maestro directed him to a place.

  Hyacinth spun around, moving very fast for so large a woman. She barked an objection, which Vasco translated: “The Greek was here. I was not so close.”

  Benedetto stepped into place between her and the doge-substitute. I saw his lips shape, “Yatter?” but he did not say it.

  I turned to the still-crowded hallway and located our host. “Attorney, did you recognize the doge when he arrived?”

  Imer riffled his feathers. “Of course I did. You think I am blind? But before I could even bow to him he told me he wanted no ceremony. He had just come for a second look at some of the books and would stay only a few minutes.”

  “Thank you.” That explained why the doge had entered the dining room alone.

  The actors had agreed on where they should be. Violetta was disturbingly close to me, her perfume all around me, whispering promises. She said something to her patron, pointing at Benedetto.

  Pasqual murmured agreement and raised his voice. “We think the Greek was standing closer to the doge when we came in.” He entered, Violetta on his arm.

  I watched the players dance in the masque, but I had returned to my old opinion. It seemed quite impossible for anyone to have switched glasses with the procurator, or with the doge if he had been the intended victim. When the disagreements wound down I caught the Maestro’s nod and looked for Imer again.

  “Now, lustrissimo. This is where you threw out the foreigners.”

  Imer nodded and strode past me, heading for the Feathers. “Now I ask you to leave.”

  “It is where you ordered me to leave,” Bellamy countered. “It is where you insulted me. But we did leave. Come, then, Hyacinth, my love. Are we permitted to go now?” he demanded of Vasco.

  Vasco replied in English, but he pointed at me, as Carnival King.

  “That is not what happened next,” said a new voice. Bianca spoke up for the first time. “His Serenity left first.”

  “That is correct, messer,” said a quiet voice at my elbow. It was Pulaki.

  “Excellent,” I said, and beckoned him forward. “We have a new witness. Speak up.”

  Pulaki advanced one step and looked nervously around the room. He spoke to the inquisitor. “I heard voices raised in anger and looked in. His Serenity came out and told me to go to the salone and fetch a gentleman he described. I have forgotten the name, Your Excellency.”

  “Good, good!” Donà said. “Then, as doge, I leave now. Are the rest standing about where they were then?”

  Pulaki hesitated. “I only saw…” He pointed at Imer and Feather. “I did not notice anyone else, Excellency.”

  “Well, that’s a help.” The inquisitor removed himself from the group and headed for a spectator’s chair. “Carry on, puppet master.”

  I thanked Pulaki, and he left with obvious relief. His intrusion had been out of character for a servant, and even more so for a man fresh from the tormentors. Was he desperate to cooperate in any way he could, or was he just obeying orders?

  Imer showed the Feathers out into the entrance hall and Vasco followed. Behind them, the meeting became confused. Perhaps everyone had been distracted by the loud foreigners, but no one seemed at all sure where anybody had gone after it. The Maestro queried Bianca, who had not left her grandfather’s side, but even she could not be sure who had spoken with him later.

  “This is a waste of time!” the great minister complained loudly. “If I wanted to celebrate Carnival, I would do it in the Piazza or on the Lido. Marco?”

  “I seldom agree with you in the Collegio, Enrico,” the inquisitor said, “but I certainly do this time. I can’t see what more you hope to achieve, doctor.”

  The Maestro spread his tiny hands in resignation. Perhaps only I, who knew him so well, guessed what was coming. “Nothing more, Your Excellency. I have demonstrated what I set out to demonstrate. Didn’t you see who committed the murder?”

  “There is no poison in this glass!” Orseolo snapped, turning it upside down. Then he realized that he had made a very stupid statement. “And I did not see how or when anybody could have put any there.”

  “Because you rarely set it down,” the Maestro retorted. “Your father, examining books with a crippled hand, did not cherish it so closely. Alfeo, would you bring the others in, please?”

  Turning, I almost walked into monolithic Missier Grande, who was standing right behind me, watching over my shoulder. But everyone else out there was listening too, so all I had to do was step aside and let them file past me. I beckoned Benzon and Pulaki to join us, since they also qualified as suspects. No one objected to their presence.

  Missier Grande closed the door and stood in front of it, arms folded. Imer and Benzon began pulling chairs closer to the table. The four nobleman finished up in front of the Maestro like children before a teacher, but the rest of us were content to sit back against the wall. I certainl
y was, because I found myself next to Violetta. By purest chance, of course. She ignored me, attentive to the odious Pasqual at her other side.

  “You will forgive me,” the Maestro said with a hint of malice, “if I point out that everyone who was in this room that night had to be a suspect. For example, the person who had the best opportunity to poison the procurator’s glass was his granddaughter, who never—”

  “You dare suggest such a monstrous thing?” her father roared.

  “No,” the Maestro said mildly. “I am not suggesting that she did so. I am merely arguing that, since nobody witnessed the terrible deed, we must set aside all preconceived ideas and proceed by a careful analysis of the evidence, regardless of where it may lead us. I am sure His Excellency the inquisitor, and attorney Imer, and Missier Grande…and the vizio…will all confirm that this is the only way to make out a case against anyone. I could quote the immortal Aristotle, universally recognized as the paradigm philosopher, and the polymath Roger Bacon…but I digress.”

  He put his fingertips together and I braced for a lecture.

  25

  The means were obvious from the start,” the Maestro said. “Even before he left this house I knew that the procurator had ingested poison. I knew the name of that poison. There is no known antidote. Any physic other than time and rest would have been hazardous in a man of his age, so I recommended none. I knew from its effects that the drug had almost certainly been administered in this room, and madonna Bianca later confirmed to my apprentice that her grandfather had eaten nothing for some time beforehand.

  “Most crimes have an obvious motive, but this one did not. The procurator had reached the pinnacle of his political career, his honored son now supervised the family business affairs, and most of his old enemies have long since preceded him to a better realm. The minister will understand that I speak in generalities when I note that family members are generally more likely to have motives for violence than strangers are, unless we include footpads and pirates, who are not in evidence in this case. I trust that Ambassador Tirali will take no offense at an observation that poison seems an extreme way to eliminate a rival bidder in a book sale.”