The chiefs exchanged glances and near-imperceptible nods.

“I see no reason,” Morosini proclaimed, “for us to forbid the sort of charade the Maestro is suggesting, as long as we make clear that it is a private function. How many people would have to be rounded up?” He directed his faded eyes and scarlet wattles at me.

“About a dozen, Your Excellency. Five or six houses would have to be notified. One man and a boatman could deliver the warrants in a couple of hours.”

“Why about a dozen?” asked Portly. “Can’t you count?”

I glanced at Circospetto. Sciara had a sudden need to scratch his right ear, which in turn required him to shake his head, ever so slightly. I took that to mean that I was not to invite the doge.

“My master would like to have the servant Pulaki Guarana attend the demonstration, and also a certain Domenico Chiari. We do not know their present whereabouts. Perhaps the Council does?”

The chairman said, “Even we can’t know everything, lad. You want warrants? I s’pose…Can we order the Imer man to allow this invasion of his home, Avogadoro?”

The prosecutor smiled thinly. “The learned attorney is certainly aware that it is every citizen’s duty to assist the Council of Ten in its inquiries. As long as compliance is voluntary, verbal invitations would be adequate.”

And non-compliance would be prima facie evidence of guilt of course. The chairman glanced at his companions and both nodded. Sciara took up his pen again.

“Let it be recorded,” Morosini declaimed, “that the chiefs raised no objection to the petitioner organizing a private party to reenact the events at the Imer residence…within the existing laws governing assemblies. The petitioner was so advised, and…”-more glances and nods-“…and Missier Grande was instructed to ensure that the proposed gathering be conducted in an orderly fashion.”

I bowed, backed away three steps, and bowed again.

Bruno bowed also. Missier Grande strode across to open the door and see us out to the anteroom. One of the fanti closed the door behind us.

“Find the vizio, ” Missier Grande told him. “Quickly. I’ll watch this door.” Both men vanished out the door to the staircase. He turned back to me with an eye colder than the peaks of the Dolomites. “That man you scared to death yesterday-we had been keeping him under observation for months. The Ten nearly skinned me, because of your meddling.”

For once I could think of nothing to say, so I said nothing.

“Does Attorney Imer know you want to stage a masque in his house?”

“Not yet, Missier. ”

“Do any of the ‘guests’ know?”

“Not yet, Missier. ”

He growled. “So now I’m going to have to send Vasco out with you again, wasting another day of his time as if he had nothing better to do? I warn you, Alfeo Devil-take-you Zeno, that when he came back with a corpse yesterday, the chiefs tore his balls off and made him eat them. The vizio likes you even less than I do. Now I will more or less be putting him under your orders, so I suggest very strongly that you do not say so! If you try to lord it over him, he may lose you in a canal somewhere, and if he does, I do not intend to lead the search party.”

What Filiberto Vasco had in mind for me was forty or fifty lashes, I recalled. Perhaps ten of those had been added by yesterday’s disaster; the rest had been building up over the years.

“The Maestro is very sure of himself,” I said quietly. “He is certain that Karagounis did not poison the procurator and that someone else did.”

Missier Grande grunted. “He had better be right. You are not to mention the chiefs, understand? You do not speak with their authority.”

“If I cannot say that the Council of Ten has given its permission, then no one is going to turn up.”

He growled again, longer. “Vasco’s presence will tell them that.”

For a moment there was silence, but it was too uncomfortable to last.

“I assume you have Pulaki Guarana locked up?” I asked.

“I will see he is there tonight.”

“And Domenico Chiari, the interpreter?”

“Never heard of him.” Missier Grande ’s basilisk stare dared me to call him a liar. I didn’t. “Just between us two, sier Alfeo, who do you think your master is going to accuse?”

I was not going to fall into that trap. Any opinion I ventured would be held against me by somebody. “I honestly do not know, Missier Grande. I have learned never to try and outguess the Maestro.”

A glare from Gasparo Quazza would strike terror into Medusa. “If he is so frightened of having the name mentioned beforehand that he does not even tell you, his trusted apprentice, does that not suggest that the person he will accuse is someone of importance?”

Of course it did. It might also suggest that the Maestro thought the murderer was possessed. Karagounis might have died to save another demon from exposure and eviction. Mentioning that theory would land me in even worse trouble.

“Being a doctor, he regards everyone as being of importance, Missier Grande.”

The silence was now deadly. Fortunately at that moment my dear friend Filiberto Vasco flew in, cloak swirling. He shied back when he saw me and bared his teeth like a horse. He was sweating like one, too, from his run up all those stairs.

“It’s more bad news,” Quazza told him. “The chiefs have agreed to let Nostradamus organize revels. The host doesn’t know it yet and none of the guests will want to attend. So you have to accompany this pest around the city and make sure everybody understands they are under absolutely no compulsion to cooperate, but if they don’t show up their absence will be noted. Attendance is purely voluntary, but God help those who stay away. No threats, though. Understand?”

The vizio ’s eyes measured me for the rack. “And when do I get to extract the real story from Alfeo Zeno? Soon, please?”

“Tomorrow, perhaps. If his master doesn’t pull off another of his miracles tonight, Their Excellencies will be very upset. Then I think we can certainly bring Alfeo in for questioning.”

Vasco smiled hungrily. “I look forward to it.”

“So do I. I’ll take the first hour. Carry on.” Missier Grande Quazza went back into the meeting room.

21

T he Lord be with you, Vizio,” I said politely.

“You may need Him more.” Vasco flinched at Bruno’s troglodyte leer. Bruno knew him and even had a sign for him, but he also knew that sometimes Alfeo did not like him, and Bruno disapproved of such people. Since Alfeo was presently smiling, the vizio must be a friend now, so Bruno was happy.

“Come along and let’s get it over with,” I said. “I’m fussy about the company I’m seen with.”

As we went down the stairs, I explained the situation in more detail. I could hear the lash count going up inside his head: sixty, seventy…When we reached the loggia, he was chalky white with fury.

“You think that I am now under your orders?”

“Well, Missier Grande certainly told me you were, but warned me not to say so, because the news might provoke you to excessive secretion of black bile. I’m sure you’ll do fine, as long as you’re properly respectful so I don’t have to reprimand you in front of witnesses. Your boat or mine?”

“Yours. You sank mine, remember?”

We trotted down the giants’ staircase and marched across the courtyard to go out by the Frumento Gate, directly to the Molo. The fog was still heavy, and people would loom into view and then veer suddenly when they recognized the vizio almost upon them. Even the normally unflappable Giorgio was startled to see his new passenger and bowed to him. I told him Ottone Imer’s house, and off we went. Vasco left the outside, damp, benches for Bruno and joined me on cushions in the felze, sitting at my side as if he was about to bite off my ear.

“Did you see your Turkish friend?” he asked suddenly.