The Outcast Blade Read Online Free Page B

seen ghosts.
    Specifically, his father’s ghost.
    The Council of Ten had to wait while he explained this.
    His stammer making it m-m-m-minutes before they could get to the matter of real importance. The explosion at San Lazar andthe close escape from death of returning runaway Lady Giulietta di Millioni, second in line to the Venetian throne.
    Since the death of Marco’s father, known to Venetians as Marco the Just, a label Alexa chose for him, her primary goal was to keep their idiot son alive. Her secondary one was to keep the city out of the hands of the Byzantine emperor, the German emperor, and her own brother-in-law. One of whom was undoubtedly behind this outrage. Alexa’s third goal was to protect Giulietta. It came lower on her list, but she still took her niece’s safety seriously.
    In front of the thrones stood Lords Atilo and Roderigo. Sir Tycho stood one pace behind them. Roderigo’s Mongol sergeant had been made to wait outside.
    “Is G-g-giulietta safe…?”
    “She’s gone to the basilica to give thanks for her safety and to pray for the soul of her dead husband.” A demand, Alexa thought sourly, impossible for the rest of them to refuse without looking impious.
    Alonzo snorted.
    Her brother-in-law was everything her son was not.
    As much at ease among the shipbuilders of the Arzanale as among the city’s merchants and nobles. In early maturity he’d been handsome, even beautiful. Now his face was soft with good living, his voice rough with wine as he ordered guards to admit the Mamluk ambassador.
    “Your highness…”
    Having bowed to the throne, and touched his fingers to his heart, his lips and his forehead in ceremonial greeting, the Mamluk avoided looking at Duke Marco again. Since his pride was notorious and his sense of the respect owed a servant of his master unbreakable, the fact he’d waited an hour in a deserted audience chamber stressed how seriously he took news of the explosions on San Lazar.
    He might be presenting himself to the duke, but he wasspeaking to Alonzo and Alexa first, the Council of Ten second, and those gathered at their orders third. The pretence that he addressed the twitching fool on the throne was simply that. Pretence. “My master is not responsible for this outrage.”
    “Do you know that for certain?” Alonzo’s voice was cutting. “Does your master tell you everything he does?”
    “Yes, my lord.” The ambassador held Alonzo’s gaze. “Everything.”
    The Regent of Venice considered that for a moment. When he spoke again his face was calmer and his voice mild. A stranger wouldn’t have guessed he was the man who burnt the Fontego dei Mamluk only a few months earlier, nailing the chief merchant’s daughter to a tree and ordering her flayed alive. Though the Mamluk ambassador was unlikely to forget it.
    “We have your word on this?”
    The Mamluk ambassador nodded stiffly, then added, “You have my word. The sultan did not order the explosion that destroyed the Crucifer hospital.”
    “It was not destroyed,” Atilo said.
    “Damaged then…” The Mamluk’s curtness revealed how much he hated acknowledging Atilo, a man he despised as a turncoat to his own race and a traitor to his religion. “Any help we can offer solving this crime is willingly offered. Should we receive information we will share it. We would not wish you to believe we are breaking the truce we have just signed.”
    The almost total loss of the Venetian and Mamluk fleets in battle off Cyprus had left both sides shocked. And the sultan’s offer of a year’s truce had been accepted with little reluctance. Venetians were pragmatists. The more enemies you had the fewer people you could trade with.
    “My lord ambassador,” Alexa leant forward, “do you plan to remain in our city?” Her question was almost gentle. Its weight in what she avoided mentioning. That the ambassador’s brother was among those who died in the recent battle.
    “W-w-webs,” Duke Marco suddenly