by Karen Brooks
‘Did you know that all this time, Pietro,’ continued Santo, his voice taunting, ‘all the years you raised Tallow, trained her, you’ve been doing the Bond Riders’ bidding? That Katina, this woman you want to protect –’ he jerked his head back ‘– was making sure that everything went according to plan? The Elders’ plan, Pietro. Not yours, not some divine prophecy, but the gospel according to the Bond Riders.’
‘Don’t listen to him, Pillar,’ said Katina. ‘He’s twisting the facts.’
‘Am I?’ asked Santo, closing the distance. ‘Isn’t it true that the Elders listened to me, Katina, to me? The new Bond Rider. When I said my son and wife would mind the child they fell over themselves to accommodate me. How that must have rankled with you – one of the ancients. But they knew it was a good idea. Hide the child where she was least likely to be found, in the backwaters of Serenissima, apprenticed, as I knew she would be, to a candlemaker.’ He looked Pillar up and down. ‘To you, Pietro.’
‘If Tallow is so important, why did you kill her?’ asked Pillar suddenly.
Santo paused. Bewilderment ran across his features and then disappeared. ‘Because as long as she lives, the Bond Riders can’t act – we can’t be freed. Katina made sure of that when she made the Obbligare Doppio. So you see, it wasn’t me who killed Tallow, it was Katina.’ His face brightened. ‘Sì. It was Katina. And now I am going to kill her.’
As he spoke, Santo twisted his sword and held his knife at an angle. With a mighty shout, he leapt in the air. Still kneeling, Katina looked up in horror to see Santo descending on her, the blades of his weapons inches from her face.
She screamed and threw herself backwards just as Santo swivelled again and turned on his own son.
Pillar had run at his father, his axe raised. Santo landed lightly, sword and dagger attacking. Pillar swung his axe, crudely, bravely, but Santo’s abilities were greater. With his sword arm, he parried the axe, pushed it away and used his knife. Again and again, he stabbed at his son.
Katina saw Pillar’s face change. The realisation that his own father was prepared to kill him triggered something inside. With an almighty howl, he jumped, just as Santo plunged his sword into what would have been Pillar’s heart. Santo lost his footing, stumbling forwards, his neck outstretched. Pillar lowered his axe with all the force he could muster.
Santo’s scream of rage was cut off the moment the axe lodged in his neck. His body collapsed at Pillar’s feet. Pillar raised the axe above his head and struck again and again. Blood rained on him from above, spurting in a vermilion fountain and flowing, thick and sluggish, from the growing wound. It looked unnatural in the light that penetrated the clouds and illuminated the glade, soaking into the earth, a metallic vein of silver.
It was only when Santo’s head detached from his bloodied shoulders and rolled into a pile of leaves that Pillar stopped. Santo’s eyes stared at the sky, a look of surprise and pain forever etched across his features.
Katina rose slowly, a rock clutched in her fist. She let go and it thumped to the ground. Pillar stared at his father’s body, his face frozen in disbelief. Katina hesitated.
Pillar flung the axe to one side and, running towards Katina, held out his arms. She surged towards him, but stopped short, her hands raised. ‘Pillar … you’re covered in …’ She indicated his clothes.
He dropped his arms and looked down in dismay.
‘My father’s blood.’
‘Sì.’
With great care, Pillar took off his cloak and pulled off his shirt, using it to wipe his face, his head and his hands. When he’d finished, he flung it to one side and slowly retied the cloak. Only then did Katina stepped closer. He cupped her face in the palm of his hand.
‘You saved my life,’ she whispered.
‘By God, I thought I was going to be too late,’ he said, swallowing the emotions that threatened to spill.
Katina drank in the sight he made, noting the bloodstains smeared across his cheeks, over his forehead, between his fingers and under his nails. She saw the thinness of his body, the muscles twitching in his face. They stood under the moon staring at each other for what seemed like ages.
‘You were just in time,’ said Katina, softly. All the confused affection she’d held for this gentle man rushed to the surface. She touched his beard, ran her fingers through his filthy grey hair. ‘Oh, Pillar. Grazie. Grazie.’
Pillar bent his head to kiss her. She stopped him. ‘Pillar, mi dispiace. But you … you smell terrible.’
For a moment, hurt flared in his eyes, but then he laughed.
‘You’re probably right. I have lived with this odour … this state for so long, I am no longer aware.’ He cupped her chin. ‘When I am clean again, perhaps?’
‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But there are more important matters.’
His eyes narrowed and his hand fell away. ‘Tallow,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I was too late to save Tallow.’
‘No. No. That’s not true,’ said Katina hurriedly. Disregarding the bloodstains, the stench, she grabbed Pillar’s face between her hands. ‘She lives, Pillar. She’s going to be all right. She’s in the Limen. Dante has taken her, and Constantina, another Estrattore.’
‘She lives?’ Pillar’s face broke into a smile. The sadness that cast his features sloughed away. He laughed. Softly at first, but then with greater abandon. ‘Thank God. Oh, thank God.’ He looked deep into Katina’s eyes again, his hands rising to cover hers and press them into his skin. ‘There’s another, you say? Another Estrattore? Is this possible?’
‘Sì, Pillar. It is. There are many more and I have to find them. It’s part of my Bond, part of my duty to Tallow. I must find the rest of her people. Terrible things are happening in the Limen. There are dreadful forces mustering and we have to stop them. The Bond Riders are not what they seem,’ she glanced at Santo. ‘They have been corrupted, lost their way. That’s why I cannot stay with you. I have to go, Pillar. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Mi dispiace, You understand? I must work with Tallow and give her a chance to do what she was born to.’ She dropped her hands and stepped out of reach. She held his regard a moment longer before turning towards Birrichino. She found her sword among her things and sheathed it.
‘But I can help as well. I must,’ said Pillar, following her.
‘No, you don’t understand.’ Katina paused and spun to face him. Already the light was changing and she could see Pillar’s face more clearly. A cold wind gusted through the clearing, rustling the trees, loosening the moisture collected on the leaves that surrounded them. ‘You cannot come with me, Pillar. I have to return to the Limen. What happened here tonight, in Serenissima, and this …’ She gestured to where Santo’s corpse lay, wincing at the sight. ‘This is only the beginning. I have to see it through to the end.’ She swung herself up into the saddle.
‘No,’ cried Pillar, and grabbed the reins. ‘It’s you who doesn’t understand.’ Birrichino pulled against him, neighing in protest. ‘I’m coming too. You can’t stop me.’
‘Pillar, you of all people know that’s not possible. Only Bond Riders or those without souls can breach the Limen.’
A strange look passed over Pillar’s face. ‘Esatto,’ he said, and shoved his palm towards her.
In the cold light of the new dawn, Katina saw the long, jagged cut filled with dried blood that crossed his flesh.
Katina gasped. ‘No!’
‘Sì. I am pledged, Katina. I have made a Bond as well. To Tallow. I have forsaken her once but I’ll not do so again. I promised.’ He let go of the reins and, instead, used the edge of the saddle to heave himself up behind Katina and wrapped his arms about her. ‘I apologise for the condition I’m in, but the sooner we breach, the faster I’ll be able to do something about it. And the faster we’ll be able to help Tallow.’
Katina froze for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
‘What are we waiting for?’ cried Pillar. ‘Take me with you, my Bond Rider.’
> After the horror of the last hour, Katina felt the release of laughter bubbling up inside her. Pillar was right. What were they waiting for? The time had come to set things right.
‘For Tallow!’ she shouted and, swinging Birrichino around, galloped towards the beckoning veil of the Limen.
ALL THE WHILE, HIGH ABOVE THEM, a pair of mournful, dark eyes watched and waited …
ZARALINA’S EYES FLEW OPEN and she sat bolt upright in her bed. ‘Shazet!’ she cried.
Never far away, the Morte Whisperer materialised beside her.
Without acknowledging him, she addressed the darkness. ‘She is in the Limen.’
Shazet released a long, triumphant sibilation.
‘Bring her to me.’ Zaralina lay back down slowly. ‘Bring her to me now.’
There was a slight disturbance in the air as Shazet went to do his mistress’s bidding.
THESE TERMS ARE EITHER ITALIAN or Venetian, or sometimes fantasy variations of the two. I have, on occasion, taken liberties with meanings and spellings.
allora: an expression used to start a conversation. For example, ‘So, …’
altana: roof top terrace
amica mia: my friend (female)
amico mio: my friend (male)
amore mio: my love
anche: also
aspettare: wait
barnabotti: a group of impoverished nobiles or degenerate young men
basilica: church
bells of Serenissima: bells in the campanile or tower in the main piazza that all rang to mark time and/or occasions. Nona sounded at midday, the Maragona rang to mark the beginning and the end of the working day. The Renghiera was sounded to denote an execution, while the Trottiera called Council to a meeting and the Mezza Terza summoned the Senate.
bocca di leone: literally, ‘the mouth of the lion’. In Serenissima, citizens (of any rank) are encouraged to reveal the names and behaviours of those who are breaking the strict laws and doing anything untoward by depositing a slip of paper with the details in the mouth of a carved lion. These lions, or repositories, are situated in different locations on the islands and the notes found in them are taken very seriously and investigated by the Signori di Notte.
Bond Rider: a person who surrenders his or her soul to a pledge stone for keeping in order that he or she may fulfil a specific task – a Bond
broach: wooden rod from which wicks are suspended, then dipped repeatedly in either tallow or wax to make candles of varying thicknesses and lengths
buon fortuna: good luck
buon giorno: good morning
calle: alley
campo: local marketplace or square, plural is campicandles: used for both heat and light. The cheapest are formed from animal fat (mostly beef) and render, often a mixture of different types, while more expensive candles are made from beeswax and even different types of oil. The most popular types are: long, slender tapers; small, squat votives placed in glass containers, often used for religious purposes; pillar candles, thicker and taller than votives. Rush lights, lumps of tallow rolled around a basic wick, are popular with the poorer classes because a one-metre homemade rush light burns for about an hour. Wicks can be made from any flammable fabric that maintains a consistent burn and temperature, e.g. hemp or cotton. Additives can also be applied to the wax to sweeten the candle’s scent.
capi: collective name given to the three nobiles who head of the Council of Ten. The positions are rotated among the Council.
capisce: you understand
capisco: I understand
capiscono: they understand
capite: you (plural) understand
casa: grand house owned by a member of the aristocracy
Castana: means ‘chestnut’; is the name of Cristoforos’ horse
cavola: literally ‘cabbage’, but also slang for ‘bitch’
certo: certainly; sure
ci vediamo: till we see each other again (pronounced che)
colleganza: a short-term business partnership
Commedia dell’arte: term for a particular type of theatre with distinct characters that relied on humour (usually satire and irony as well as slapstick) to tell the story
Council of Ten: elected nobiles who advise the Doge on matters of governance and security. They have extraordinary powers of veto and often work without the Doge’s knowledge to protect the interests of Serenissima.
Doge: elected ruler of Serenissima
dorata: golden (feminine)
dorato: golden (masculine)
dottore: doctor
esattamente: exactly
esatto: exactly
Estrattore: someone who has the ability to extract specific emotions and feelings from a person, animal or object and alter and transfer this emotion/feeling, positive or negative and distill these in different ways
Factotum: general servant or person who fulfils many functions in a household – mostly, administrative
felze: small passenger compartment on a gondola
fondamenta: paved path that runs beside the canal
forcola: the oarlock on a gondola
fortuna: fortune, chance, good luck
grazie: thank you
grazie mille: thank you very much (literally: thank you a thousand times)
homicidi: murder, homicide
insegnante: teacher
Limen, the: a peculiar space that divides countries and, according to legends, worlds. Within this space, time stands still. Only Bond Riders and their horses or those who have partial or no souls can dwell in these parts.
maestro della casa: literally, master of the house; a Major Domo
maragona: see ‘bells of Serenissima’
mercato: the market
Morto Assiderato: a plague, literally means ‘frozen to death’
Mortians: wraith-like beings whose specific origins are unknown but who currently have an allegiance with the Queen of Farrowfare, Zaralina. They are able to breach the Limen and can move mostly undetected. It is also believed that they have formed a treaty with a Bond Rider faction to enable them to navigate the Limen more readily. Also known as Morte Whisperers.
naturalmente: naturally
nobile: noble; aristocrat
non è possible: it’s not possible
nona: see ‘bells of Serenissima’
nonno/a: grandfather or grandmother
ombretta: small glass of wine
paean: song or poem of joyful praise or exultation
palazzo: palace
paline: red-and-white striped poles in the canals to which personal watercraft are tied
piano nobile: main floor of a palazzo or casa
pianterreno: ground floor of a palazzo or casa
piazza: main central plaza in Serenissima – the Doge’s palazzo and the Cardinale’s basilica face onto the piazza
piazzetta: small square for markets or concerts, often linked to other parts of the quartiere by bridges and calles. Casas, businesses and local basilicas usually line piazzettas.
pledge stones: name given to the strange monoliths that absorb the souls of Bond Riders. Each is named after a major Serenissian nobile’s house or casa.
ponte: bridge
Ponticello di Mille Pietre: Bridge of a Thousand Stones
portego: main room in some casas
porteghi: a covered walkway generally formed when houses meet or through deliberate design
puttana: bitch or whore
quartiere: a district; plural is quartieri. In Serenissima, quartieri are named after the major profession or trade of the area.
ragazza: adolescent girl
ragazzo: adolescent boy
rami: very small, often dead-end, alleyways
Redentore: the Redeemer
salizzada: main street; means ‘paved’
scion: a descendent (of a notable family); a son or daughter
scuola: school or trade group. In Serenissima, scuola are non-religious establishments based in areas where master
craftsmen live. The group decides on tithes, training and the general rules by which craftsmen and women should live.
senta: literally, ‘listen’; a common way to start a conversation
La Serenissima: republic formed by a group of islands nestled in the lagoon area of the Mariniquian Seas and surrounding mainland areas, between the Jinoa and Vyzantian pensinulas
Serenissimina: a conquered island off the coast of Hibernya. Forms part of an important trade route between Moroko, Hibernya and Serenissima. Literally ‘little Serenissima’.
sestieri: the six major areas of Serenissima, which are then broken up into quartieri named for the dominant craft in each area
signor: mister, sir
signori: gentleman; lords
Signori di Notte: Lords of the Night. A band of elite soldiers/police who answer usually to the capi (three heads) of the Council of Ten, but also, in Serenissima, to the Cardinale.
Signorina: unmarried woman
sottoporteghi: passageways through the city; tunnels formed when buildings meet over open spaces
squero: boatyard
stazione: jetty where passengers wait for sandolis or traghettos, also known as fermata
ti amo: I love you
traghetto: a gondola ferry
vero: it’s true
vi amo: I love you (plural)
Zia: Aunt
Zio: Uncle
THIS NOVEL HAS BEEN A LABOUR of love and I’ve so many people I wish to thank. I fear I’ll be a little sentimental, but when you read why, I hope you’ll forgive me that indulgence.
When I wrote the acknowledgements for my last book, Tallow, I stated how inspiring two of my dearest friends, Sara Warneke and Grant Searle, who were undergoing treatment for cancer were (and still are). Little did I know, as I typed away that I too had cancer. Diagnosed last year, I’m still in the process of recovery and, without the unwavering support of the people I’m about to mention, I doubt I could have gotten through the last 18 or so months – a time when I also lost my father and, within a few weeks, my beloved dog, Dante, as well.