Free The Alchemist's Code by Dave Duncan Page A

angrily. “Is that the whole truth, messer ? Did you purloin the lady’s jewels when you left? Help yourself to silverware?”
    â€œNothing,” Danese muttered, squirming in the nethermost pit of humiliation. “I give you my solemn oath. Grazia brought some jewels, but they’re her own. I have a few trinkets Eva gave me. She let me take them and my clothes. That was good of her, but I had done my best for her until then. Gesù , had I ever! Grazia was a virgin until last night— after the wedding! She isn’t now. What other prurient details entice you?”
    I said, “The question is whether the Sanudos will accept you as her husband. Is that what you want? Or would you rather they just paid you to disappear?”
    He flushed even redder. “If I had my sword—”
    â€œYou don’t. I do. You got yourself into this,” I said. “But I promise we won’t turn you in. For old times’ sake, I will not send you to the galleys.”
    He muttered, “Thank you, Alfeo,” as if the words hurt. “I want Grazia to be happy. I love her, damn you! Have you never been in love? I want whatever she wants.”
    The Maestro was peering into the alembic. “Alfeo, take her home. I want my fee. I earned it.”
    Funny that I hadn’t noticed him rushing to my defense on the Riva del Vin. “Yes, master.”
    â€œNegotiate anything else you like as long as it’s legal. And hurry back because I have notes for you to transcribe.”
    That was ominous news. He probably meant he couldn’t read his own scrawl and wanted the rest of my Sunday. I led the way out into the salone and closed the atelier door.
    â€œWell, clarissimo ?” I said. “ Sier Zuanbattista really did tell me he wants his daughter to be happy. I don’t know if that means he will accept her choice of sleeping partner, but it’s up to you. You can trust him and come to Ca’ Sanudo with us. Or you can head for the Mestre ferry and vanish into the sunset. You decide.”
    Danese dithered, looking everywhere but at me. “I want whatever Grazia wants,” he muttered to the floor.
    Looking tiny as a doll beside the great statues, Grazia was running toward us from the kitchen.
    â€œYou wait here,” I told her husband. “I want to hear it from her own lips.”
    I strode forward to intercept her; she tried to dodge; I sidestepped to block her. We studied each other appraisingly. I had not veered from my first impression, that Grazia Sanudo was cast from the same hard metal as her mother. She was wondering how to play me, which should not be a difficult decision, given our respective ages and genders.
    â€œMadonna, I must take you home. My master’s orders. Do you want Danese to accompany us?”
    She blinked several times, but no tears welled up in her magnificent eyes. “ Sier Alfeo, how could you? You think I would marry a man yesterday and cast him off today?” She dropped her gaze and smothered a dramatic sob. Better, but she needed practice. She had never learned how to speak to men other than relatives or servants.
    â€œNo. But he may be taken from you. I told you the message your father sent. Do you trust his word? Will your parents accept Danese now?”
    Another dry little sob…“You realize what they may do to him? You condemn me to a life sentence in a convent? You will send your childhood friend to jail or exile?”
    â€œNo. If you think that, he is free to go.” Good riddance, mustn’t say so.
    She hesitated, chewing her lip. The tragic heroine role is hard for fifteen-year-olds. We both knew that if Danese walked out of her life now she would never see him again.
    I was confident that whatever choice she made would be the wrong one. The previous day, just for my own amusement, I had cast Grazia’s horoscope, using the date and time her parents had given the Maestro. The stars were very