Free The Alchemist's Pursuit by Dave Duncan Page B

anything?” he asked me.
    â€œWe have a name for the killer, the nickname Caterina knew him by.”
    â€œExcellent, that will help. Now let’s have dinner.”
    He began to tap his way painfully forward. I exchanged surprised glances with Violetta, for only very rarely does he express any interest in food. I was even more surprised when I followed her in and saw the guest waiting there—Alessa, no less. I had never known her to visit Ca’ Barbolano before.
    I suppose he really is a wizard.
    We all sat down and Mama Angeli came bustling in with loaded platters of her superb Tagliolini ai Calamaretti .
    â€œWe found Matteo—” I began.
    â€œNo talking business at table!” Nostradamus decreed.
    Either he was just being perverse, because he loves to talk business at table, or he did not want Alessa to know what we had been doing. Either way, I was quite happy to start eating. I got one mouthful of octopus down before he started in on me.
    â€œAlfeo, yesterday you began explaining to me how the Venetians elect their doge. I am still anxious to hear more about this fascinating procedure.”
    Everyone in Venice knows this. Alessa and Violetta smiled politely to hide bewilderment. Talking and eating at the same time is a skill I have yet to master, but I get a lot of practice when the Maestro is in that sort of mood. I detest cold food, though.
    â€œThe Grand Council chooses thirty members by lot,” I said. “The thirty then reduce their number to nine, again by lot. The nine elect a committee of forty, and the forty are reduced to twelve. Twelve elect twenty-five, reduced to nine; the nine elect forty-five, reduced to eleven; the eleven elect forty-one. And the forty-one elect the doge.” Quickly I scooped a loaded forkful into my mouth.
    â€œWe were discussing things that make or do not make sense at the time, I recall. You can explain the sense of all that Byzantine tomfoolery?”
    â€œWhat I have always assumed,” Alessa announced bravely—and in a slow, deliberate tone to give me time to chew—“is that the wise ancestral fathers of the Republic wished to avoid the dangers of faction. How terrible it would be if the Grand Council split into two or three contesting groups! That is what would happen, or might happen, if they merely relied on election. And likewise, if the choice were made solely by lot, then we might find ourselves with some incompetent idiot as head of state.”
    We have done that a few times anyway, but it would be criminal sedition to say so.
    â€œIt must go further than that,” Violetta said in Aspasia’s dry, calculating tones. “Not factions, I suspect, but a matter of the ‘ins’ and the ‘outs.’ The inner circle, the handful that like to think of themselves as ‘the First Ones,’ are certain to have matters arranged so that the next doge will always be chosen from among their own number. All this electing-then-reducing rigmarole allows them several chances to take hold of the process. Once they have a majority on any of the electing committees, they can make certain that only ‘sound’ people are chosen in the next round. From then on they have the election under their control.”
    I nodded to show that her analysis made sense, but I noticed the Maestro smirking as if he had another explanation for what is certainly a bizarre procedure. I was sure he wouldn’t tell me if I asked, and Alessa changed the subject.
    â€œThe food is admirable,” she said, “and the ambience quite commendable. I shall marry Alfeo so I can come and live here.”
    I choked on a throatful of octopus.
    Â 
    Â 
    The Maestro soon tired of the idle chat and began to fidget, because he really did want to talk business. It may be that the three of us dragged the meal out a little just to turn the tables on him, but eventually we finished our dolce. Mama brought in cups of the newfangled