Free States of Grace by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Page B

“Not that I anticipate much useful, but what have you found out about di Santo-Germano in your dogged pursuit?”
    Rather than answer the question, Leoncio posed two of his own. “Why does this foreigner merit so much attention? The Collegio, the Minor Consiglio, and the Savii, all probing his every move and choice. Why not have him live on the Giudecca with the other foreigners? Then none of this would be necessary.” He glowered at the cold cinders on the hearth. “I shouldn’t think his being an exile makes that much difference.”
    “He is a successful merchant and he has a press, and he has sponsored a number of civic projects. As an exile, you must remember his allegiance cannot be called into question. Not that there aren’t foreign merchants living on the Giudecca, but their situation is different,” said Cuor. “For one thing, di Santo-Germano has provided the Arsenal with an improvement on the war galleys, and that makes it necessary for him to live on the main islands. It also means that he must be watched.” He sighed. “I dislike northern cities, but I am ordered to follow him, and send regular reports back to the Collegio.”
    “Then why are we talking?” Leoncio asked. “Let the fellow go, and be thankful he’s gone.”
    “Camilio, don’t be more of a fool than God made you. The north is a hotbed of Protestantism, and that is dangerous to all who follow the True Faith. You know what has been going on in the German States and among the Swiss.” He took a drink of wine and went on. “It is bad enough that the Ottomites have taken so much Christian land for their own, but now, when united faith is needed, the German States of the Holy Roman Empire and the English are coming apart from the True Church with opposition to His Holiness. A man of means, travel-seasoned and with di Santo-Germano’s knowledge, would be invaluable to those turning from the Church, to say nothing of what the Ottomites would want with him.”
    “What nonsense you talk,” said Leoncio, and took a long drink of his wine. “What do the Protestants care about Venezian ships?”
    “If I talk nonsense, I learned it from your uncle, Camilio. You would do well to keep it in mind. You and I serve the same master.” He folded his arms on the table. “So—you have yet to tell me what you have learned.”
    “His servants are unwilling to speak with me,” Leoncio said reluctantly.
    “Given your appearance, I should think so,” said Cuor, unpleasantly amused. “Were I you, I should try the mistress.”
    “She won’t admit me. I sent her a box of honied rose-hips, but she sent it back with a note saying that she was not a strumpet.” He laughed. “As if the fidelity of mistresses were legendary.”
    “You were foolish to do such a thing,” said Cuor.
    “Why? She’s like any other woman—won over with gifts and sweet words, and with more wiles than a hungry fox. You know what women of her sort are—twice as capricious as any wife. I should think she would welcome my attentions, since her patron’s may not always be available to her.” He smiled to show his experience in such matters.
    Cuor flung up a hand in exasperation. “This isn’t some lightskirted whore you’re dealing with: this woman is a musician, an artist who has a book to her credit and another to—”
    “Her patron has a press,” Leoncio dismissed the matter. “It is another kind of gift he gives her.”
    “You’re hopeless, Camilio,” said Cuor, and drank most of the wine in his tankard, then raised his hand for more.
    Offended at this dismissal, Leoncio tapped the table in irritation. “Va bene,” he snapped. “What would you do?”
    “Learn some of her music, and know what is thought of it, so you might speak about it intelligently,” said Cuor; he had been waiting for such a question. “I would ask to hear her new works, and praise them. I would encourage her to write more.”
    “Appeal to her vanity,” said Leoncio,