Of Hell and High Water
An Assassin's Creed 2 fan fiction by xahra99
Chapter One.
Venezia, April 1492.
Venezia was flooded again.
The floods were not unusual. The city flooded every spring; once, twice or three times, and the Venetians had their own name for the deluge. They called it acqua alta; high water. But the floods that occurred in the spring of 1492, just after the death of Lorenzo de'Medici, were higher than even the oldest citizen could remember.
The water rose from the canals and welled up through the city drains. It made a lake of Saint Mark's Square and lapped around the steps of the basilica. The Venetians crowded inside their churches and begged the saints that guarded their city to spare their houses from the rising water. Their prayers went unanswered. The waters rose. The buildings flooded; houses, churches, and then the great basilica of Saint Mark.
The Venetians cursed and moved their possessions up to the second floor. Beggars drowned in the streets outside, and the old and young died of the cold and damp.
Leonardo's workshop did have a second floor, but it was not a comfortable place. Damp seeped through the stones. The air smelled of grease and linseed oil. Leonardo was a hoarder, and there was hardly enough space in the workshop even when it was not half-submerged. Leonardo had squeezed his workbench in between piles of half-finished paintings, scale models and boxes of crumpled sketchbooks. A row of torn oiled-paper windows near the ceiling let in the rain and the fog, but precious little daylight. Ezio, restless as a soaked eagle in the rain, perched on the windowsill and blocked most of the light that made it through.
"Why in hell did I ever come to Venezia?" he complained.
Leonardo, who knew perfectly why his friend had come to Venezia, said nothing. He added the final touches to a sketch of the flooded Rialto he'd drawn from memory. The drawing was not perfect, but it would have to do. Ezio could run across the rooftops, but Leonardo had to make do with more prosaic methods of transport. He'd run out of money to pay the exorbitant gondoliers' fees that morning, and now he was running out of dry clothes.
He shaded the wake of a gondola into the still waters surrounding the flooded bridge.
"Damn this rain," Ezio grumbled.
Leonardo shrugged. The rain would cease. Eventually and the sun would come out. He would move his paintings back downstairs and travel back to Milano. Something would come up. It always did. "It's just rain."
"The thieves say this weather's unnatural. They blame demons and bad spirits."
Leonardo shook his head. "The thieves don't study," he said without looking up from his work. "The floods are nothing but natural. Winds in the lagoon, the conjunction of the tides, storms at sea; bad engineering. This city's built upon the ocean. Of course it floods."
Ezio drew a dagger from his belt. He scraped a whetstone slowly down the blade "I've bet you've got a solution for that."
"Several, actually." Leonardo told him. "We could simply raise the city. I have designed a system of flood barriers that can be raised in times of need." His pen sketched a map of the lagoon. "Here, here, and ...here."
"You should tell the Doge." Ezio said. "Maybe he'll hire you. There's no better time to propose a flood prevention system. We're all swimming in the streets. At least Firenze, for all her faults, does not sink. "
"The city is not sinking," Leonardo corrected. "The sea level itself has risen."
"Who cares? We have wet feet either way."
"Wet feet are unnecessary. My scheme is ambitious, but effective. It would certainly work."
Ezio shrugged. "So tell the Doge."
Leonardo shook his head. "No point. I have a patron already. And I would not see the project completed within my lifetime even if I did. The Council are old men, Ezio. They are slow to take action. And maybe the world would be a less interesting place if Venezia did not sink beneath the waves once in a while."
"This is interesting?" Ezio waved a hand around the dingy garret.
"Your life would be less boring if you would do anything other than complain and sharpen your blades." Leonardo said mildly. "But you know that you are welcome here any time." He glanced ruefully around the cramped apartment. "I am only sorry I cannot offer you more hospitality."
"No matter, amico mio. Beggars can't be choosers. It would...not have been wise for me to stay in Firenze."
"So I heard," Leonardo said cautiously. He had heard a great many things about Ezio's confrontation with Lorenzo's eldest son. He was sure most of them were probably false. He hoped that they were false. "Is it true that you defied Lorenzo's heir?"
Ezio nodded. "Si. Lorenzo told me once that he had three sons, one dumb, one smart, and one sweet. And il Magnifico was right about so many things. It's a pity he saw fit to keep the eldest as his heir."
"The dumb son is Piero? The eldest? The heir."
"Yes. Giovanni, the second, he always seemed smarter. More like his father. But Piero was the eldest." He looked thoughtful. "I should probably have been more polite to him. I won't be safe in Firenze for a while."
Leonardo pulled out another sheaf of paper and began to draw Ezio's silhouette against the gathering dusk. "So have you decided what you'll do now Lorenzo's dead?"
"Serve the brotherhood," Ezio said. "Kill Borgia,"
Leonardo sketched surreptitiously. "Borgia may not be as easy to kill as you think."
"I don't think it'll be easy. I've tried before, remember. It will take time, of course, but I have that." Ezio blew on his blade and applied a coating of linseed oil filched from Leonardo's supplies. "Make no mistake; I will take the bastardo down. It may take years, but I'll do it."
"I don't doubt it." Leonardo said absently as he drew. He hoped against hope that his subject would not move, but Ezio never stayed still for long. He stood up before the drawing was half-completed and climbed out of the window onto the roof, balancing easily on the narrow sill. He did not say where he was going. Leonardo didn't ask. He put away with his drawing regretfully-it was getting dark, anyway, lit a taper and opened a treatise on geometry.
***
Ezio found the night unusually quiet as he crept across the rooftops. The city's festivities had continued unabated on the first night of the flood. Noblemen and maids had giggled and kicked up clouds of spray as the water rose nearly to their ankles. On the second night of the floods, the water had deepened. The Venetians' gatherings were more somber; the music and laughter punctuated by nervous glances at the rising waters from the palazzo windows.
That night was the third night of the floods, and most people had stayed at home. Ezio glimpsed only a very few determined figures sloshing waist deep through the water. Further out to sea black gondolas cut silently through the waves. The lagoon was a deep sea-green. Fog shrouded the horizon and muffled the clang of bells across the water. Ezio slipped silently from gable to chimney pot to verandah, unnoticed and unmentioned. The mist left the tang of salt on his lips.
He felt the first drop of rainwater on his face as he paused in the shadow of a campanile to check his bearings. It began to rain; first lightly, and them with more force. Ezio was soaked to the skin by the time he reached the pigeon coop. The pigeons huddled in a soggy mess at the very back of the enclosure.
Ezio opened the coop by force of habit. He did not expect to find any messages. Lorenzo de Medici would send him no missions from the grave, and the Templars had gone to ground once again. He searched anyway. The sleepy birds cooed and shuffled in protest at the intrusion.
He was surprised to see a small white message-cylinder gleaming on the leg of one of the pigeons. The seal on the scrap of paper inside was emblazoned with the lion of St Mark.
When the bells strike noon tomorrow, come alone to the Ca'd'Oro.
Ezio raised his eyebrows at the theatrics, but he stuffed the note into the pocket of his doublet anyway and headed back to Leonardo's atelier across the slippery roofs.
Leonardo had fallen asleep over his book, but he woke with a start when Ezio climbed in through the window. "Any news?"
"A message."
"Who from?"
Ezio shrugged. "The Council."
"The Council of Ten? Are you going to answer it? You shouldn't."
"I shouldn't, but I'm going to anyway." Ezio dug in his doublet and pulled out the message. He handed it to Leonardo, who waved it away without reading it.
"No, thank you. I don't want to get mixed up with the Council. I'm only here until these flood waters drop. Why on earth did you take it?"
Ezio replaced the note in his doublet pocket. "I'm bored."
"If you meddle with the Council, boredom will be the least of your worries. It's hard to be bored when you're in a sack with weights tied to your feet. The Ten are dangerous."
"They also rule Venezia," Ezio pointed out. His voice was muffled as he dried his hair with his last clean cloak. "I'd like to be able to visit one city openly. The Borgia run through Roma like maggots, and Firenze-well, you know about Firenze. I'm still welcome in Forli, but Caterina does have a husband, so it wouldn't be prudent to stay there too long. I want to hear what the Ten have to say. Whatever it is, it can't be more dangerous than refusing them without even a meeting."
"Maybe." Leonardo said doubtfully. "But don't blame me when you're floating in a sack in the Canale Orfano."
"Don't worry. I won't bring the Council down on your head."
"I am not concerned for myself, Ezio. Besides, if you bring the Council down on me I will throw you in the canal personally."
Ezio laughed. "You worry too much."
"And you do not worry at all." Leonardo retorted. "I hope you have changed your mind by morning."
"I doubt it."
"So do I. Now be quiet. I'm going back to sleep."
***
Leonardo was still asleep the next morning when Ezio dressed himself in Assassin's white and set off across the rooftops to the Ca d'Oro. It was still raining. The canals reflected the leaden skies overhead. Waves swelled and sank between the plastered walls of the houses. The grey-green water looked menacing; a far cry from its usual sparkling mosaic surface. The rooftops were still slippery, and Ezio took more than usual care.
The note hadn't contained directions, but he didn't need them. Everyone who had been in Venezia more than a few days knew of the House of Gold. The palazzo had been built years ago for the Contarini family. The Contarini had been rich. They had been powerful, and they had wanted the whole world to know it. The stones of the palazzo gleamed with gold leaf. The house had been considerably grander before the flood; but the thieves of Venezia had taken advantage of the dark nights and high waters to peel gold leaf from the facade.
There were guards on the roof; but the guards had not stopped the thieves. They did not give Ezio more than a pause. Ezio simply waited until they had sloped off into the shelter of a chimney-stack for a quick game of cards. The ornate carvings that edged the roof provided him with an excellent handhold as he swung himself down to the second floor's elegantly arched balcony.
Nobody noticed Ezio's quiet arrival.
He opened the gilded door and slipped inside the palazzo. The building's exterior was grand enough, but inside it was like many Venetian palaces in winter; cold, damp and uncomfortable. Water dripped on the floor somewhere in the distance. Draughts rattled the frames of the elegantly arched windows.
Ezio found a flight of servant's stairs in the back of the building and climbed down to the piano nobile.
He opened several doors before he found the Doge. The old man sat alone at the end of a long table.
"Welcome," Agostino Barberigo said quietly. He did not look around. "I doubted you'd attend."
Ezio inclined his head."Illustrissimi signori, benvenuti. I was curious."
"I am pleased you have accepted my invitation," Agostino said. He pushed back his chair and got up, turning to face Ezio. The Doge hadn't changed much since Ezio had last seen him. His beard was a little longer and more finely groomed; his clothes a little richer, but that was all. "I trust you had no trouble arriving? I meant to make the meeting for midnight, but my councilors are old and they insist on their sleep. "
"No trouble. Besides, any fool can infiltrate a palazzo at midnight. It takes skill to do it at midday."
The doge, a man who had never taken any exercise in his life more taxing than a gentle stroll around one of Venezia's famous walled gardens, nodded. "I would imagine that it does. I would expect no less," He beckoned Ezio towards a small door set into the corner of the room. "Shall we?"
Ezio followed him through the door into a small, wood paneled chamber. It was tiny and it was crowded.
The whole council had assembled in the small chamber. The Council of Ten were ten in name only; in practice, they numbered seventeen.
They were all old men. The patricians of Venezia waited years for their chance in office once they grasped it, they were understandably reluctant to let go. The councilors resembled richly robed skeletons. Ezio resisted the urge to cough; just in case they crumbled into dust.
Agostino lowered himself into a seat at the head of the long table. He inclined his head, his features impassive.
Ezio bowed. "My lords," he said politely. "How may I be of service?"
One of the Capi cleared his throat with a noise like rustling parchment. There was no sound. The Council waited in concert for someone else to reply, with the inevitable result that nobody did.
Agostino's voice cut the silence like a knife through soft cheese. "We need an assassin."
"You speak plainly," Ezio said, surprised. Leonardo had wasted an hour of his time the previous evening before he went to sleep describing the Council's Byzantine politics in far too much detail.
"I recall that you appreciate directness," Agostino said. He glanced around at the assembled men. "Besides, this conversation shall not leave this room."
Ezio nonchalantly checked for exit routes. He berated himself as he did so. If the doge had wanted to kill him, he'd be dead by now. The Council favored silent, clean deaths. They did not shed blood themselves. Agostino had tried to kill Ezio before, yes, but only in the most impersonal way. If the doge was stupid enough to order his guards to stop anybody they saw running across Venezia's rooftops, then he deserved to lose some guards.
"There are other assassins in Venice," he said mildly.
"Yes," one of the councilors said sourly, "We know. We've tried that."
"None of them have come back," said Agostino.
"Interesting. Who's the target?"
"His name is Baltasar Tomei," Agostino said carefully. "He is from Siracusa on the island of Sicilia. At least, we believe so."
"One man? Who is he? A soldier, a thief..?' He looked around at the assembled faces. "A politician?"
"An alchemist," one of the Capi said.
Ezio raised his eyebrows. He was sure that there was more to the mission than the Council were telling him, but he'd have time to find that out later.
"Il Duce tells us that you have the ability to do the impossible," the Capi said.
Ezio had confidence in his ability to talk or fight his way out of most things. He was not modest. He nodded.
"We want to make a deal," the Capi said.
Ezio nodded again. This was what he had expected. The Venetians were a race of merchants, after all. "I'm listening."
They told him.
Ezio considered for a moment before he turned to the Council. "I accept."
***
Author's Notes:
I took a few liberties with the floods in this story; although Venice flooded and will continue to flood many times a year, this one's maybe a little too extreme. As far as I know, the spring of 1492 was not especially wet.
Lorenzo de'Medici died on the 8th of April 1492. Unlike his own father, Lorenzo was far more interested in politics than in banking, and Medici bank 's fortunes began to decline during his era. His son Piero was even less interested in the bank, and the Medici fortunes continued to fall under his rather ineffective rule.
Leonardo's plan to prevent the city flooding is remarkably similar to the Moses Project, a system of gates currently being installed in the lagoon.
The Council of Ten were the de facto rulers of Venezia at this time. They were exactly as scary as they sound. The Cappe Nero, the black cloaks, were the Ten's security force, and were especially feared.
The Ca d'Oro is now a museum, although like all museums in Venice, it's expensive. It still looks pretty good from the outside, even if its golden facade is long gone.