Disclaimer: Some in-game bits in here, which definitely do not belong to me. The series of events is also slightly distorted, which is where I've utilised my artistic licensing a tad. Don't shoot the writer!
Chapter 2
His thoughts should have been on something else entirely, and yet they were focused on a particularly beautiful woman. Why she fascinated him so, he had no idea. But she fascinated him nonetheless. Her father had been murdered by an assassin and, despite this fact, she had not sent for the guards, nor had she displayed any form of resentment towards him. She'd known he was an assassin. Her concession begged the question: what were the reasons behind her father's murder? Assassins, like himself, only killed certain people – traitors, corrupt political figures, tyrants and the like. Had her father fallen into any of those categories, he mused. Perhaps the reason why she had allowed him to go free was because her father had been despotic, and when the assassin had killed him she had secretly delighted in his demise. Such a circumstance was not unheard of.
Even Leonardo, who was usually so wrapped up in his inventions or his masterpieces, had noticed his distraction. The painter hadn't even enquired into what it was that distracted him, but instead had clapped him on the back and cried: 'she must be one speciale signora, Ezio!'
He supposed she was special, in a way. A woman had not captivated him quite like this since his Cristina, back in Florence. What he had felt for her was now but dust in the Mediterranean wind. Like Caterina, she, initially, had not been the slightest bit interested in him, but eventually, with much perseverance, her resolve had crumbled. However, that had been before his days as an assassin. The days when his father and his brothers were still alive and well, the days when he could laze about all day by the harbour, and the days when the most immoral thing he had done was pinch a piece of fruit from a market stall. Oh how times had changed.
Shelving the nostalgia, he considered returning to Caterina's house and paying her a visit. It had been two days since he had leapt through her window and they had had a minor altercation before she'd bandaged up his head. Meeting her for the first time had been like the first taste of red wine; pleasant – if not more so – and leaving one wanting more. And he wanted to look upon her features again. He could picture her face, the epitome of beauty, but the mental image certainly could not compare to the real thing.
He would go to her, he'd decided. And if she sent him away, then so be it. At least he had tried. His father had said to him once, 'if you don't try in life, Ezio, then you will never know what could have been'.
He would go and collect the new weapon Leonardo was constructing for him, and then he would pass by her house next to the canal.
Ezio knocked on the door of Leonardo's workshop and pulled his hood down. He did not need it to hide beneath when he was in the company of a friend.
"Ezio! So good to see you!" Leonardo said when he opened the door. It was always as though he had not been to visit for years and he was greeting a long lost companion. "Come in, come in, I have something to show you."
Ezio followed Leonardo inside, pushing the door shut behind him. Leonardo took him to his workbench, where the codex page Ezio had given him the previous eve was outspread. Next to it sat various pieces of moulded metal that looked too small to be of any proper use.
"It's a mechanism for your wrist, but not a blade," he explained. Ezio stared blankly down at the parchment, the drawings too technical for him to be able to decipher, though he could see the bold outline of an arm guard. "It seems to be a kind of arma de fuoco… but, as you can see," he gestured to the metal fragments that Ezio had dismissed as being useful some moments ago, "small as a hummingbird!"
"Is that possible?"
"I've no idea," Leonardo grinned. "Let's find out, shall we? Take off your arm guard so I can fix the bits and pieces to it."
Ezio did as he was told and stood back to allow Leonardo to work on the device. So far, Leonardo's creations, or, what he had built upon the instructions of various other codex pages, had been successful. Hopefully this next one would be, too.
Five minutes of fiddling and mumbling to himself, Leonardo held up the finished product to admire his handiwork. "Finito, il mio amico," he beckoned Ezio over and handed the arm guard to him. When the assassin had slipped it on again, he said, "try it with one of these," he picked up a small pouch that had been sitting on the edge of the table, and emptied the contents out into his hand. Five small, perfectly spherical metal balls sat in his palm. Ezio gave him a questioning look, to which Leonardo chuckled. "Bullets, Ezio. You are to fire them from your wrist. Here, I'll show you." He loaded the new weapon with the ammunition, "you twist this here, sì? And then you aim and push this-"
A loud bang resonated around the room and Ezio's wrist went flying backwards, only narrowly missing Leonardo's face. The firing of his new toy had sent a mass of vibrations up his arm as a consequence and he tried in vain to shake them away.
"It works! Fantastico!" Leonardo exclaimed with delight, rushing across the workshop in the vague direction of where the bullet had been fired. "Oh caro," he said, still grinning as he stooped to pick up one of his paintings. It was a portrait of a rather large, though finely dressed man with a bowl cut and a very long beard. Leonardo put the painting to his face and peered at Ezio through the bullet hole that was directly where the man's left eye used to be. "At least you hit the bull's-eye!"
Before Ezio left, he asked Leonardo about the new Doge, Marco Barbarigo. The artist did not know much of him, but said that Antonio was the person best to speak to about it. He mentioned the upcoming carnival, which Ezio had heard about but was not especially excited for. "I don't have a mask," he said.
"I can help you with that," Leonardo patted Ezio's shoulder and disappeared off into the back of his workshop, weaving his way around the stacks of paintings piled up against every sturdy edifice. He returned moments later, holding a pure white mask with silver and crimson pattern lining the edges, which he then handed to Ezio. There were almond-shaped holes for his eyes, and it covered the majority of his nose, leaving the tip exposed, as well as his mouth. He was quite glad that when he spoke, it didn't muffle his voice. "The carnevale begins tomorrow eve, don't forget!"
"Grazie, Leonardo," Ezio said as he stepped outside. "Ciao."
Leonardo's workshop was not far from Caterina's house, or, so he thought. Many of the houses in Venice looked alike, and there were many houses situated by the canal that looked identical to hers. It didn't matter to him, though. He would gladly look through the windows of every balcony to find her.
When he was sure he'd found the right house, distinctly remembering it being opposite a small art outlet, he scaled the wall and heaved himself up onto the balcony. He crouched on the parapet for a while, searching the dimly lit room inside for any sign of life. He was not one to get startled easily, but he nearly fell backwards off where he was squatted when Caterina's figure emerged from the darkness and glared at him through the windows. She flung open the doors, her expression telling him that he wasn't welcome there. That would not deter him, though.
"What are you doing here?" she said angrily in a hushed tone. Without the bustle of people roaming the streets to drown out their voices, their exchange would be available for any prying ears to hear. "You're not injured again are you?"
"No," he replied.
"Then what are you here for?" her kind eyes betrayed her glower. She was a good actress, Ezio had to admit.
"I was simply admiring your beautiful window, signora. Don't begrudge me my one and only pleasure in life."
She raised an impeccably plucked eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, though she'd be damned if she allowed it. She held out her hand, a gold band around both her thumb and her forefinger, but nothing occupying her ring finger. It silently pleased him that she was not married, and he took her hand, hopping down from the parapet and following her inside. Va bene, Ezio! He cheered. She sat down at the stool tucked underneath the body of the dressing table, where a thin wisp of smoke was secreting from the end of an incense stick. He surreptitiously inhaled through his nose; frankincense. He plucked at the back of his hood so it fell from his head. "How are you, la mia donna?"
"I am well, grazie," she replied, examining her nails as if she were bored. "And yourself?"
"I am all the better for seeing you," he said. She had to admit, he had a way with words.
"What brings you round here?" she asked, looking up to meet his gaze. "Surely not just my beautiful window?"
Ezio gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a while until he answered her. "You – I want to know more about you."
She scrutinised him, then. Her eyes narrowed and somehow she seemed to retreat back without moving from her seat. "There is not much to know."
"The thing I do not understand is – and do not mistake me, I am molto grato – but I did not understand why you let me go the other day. Why you helped me the other day, knowing I was un assassino."
Her head dropped to the side pensively for a moment, her gaze moving away from his eyes and concentrating on an inconspicuous blemish in the wood of one of the floorboards. "You think I should not have helped you, based on the fact that my father was killed by un assassino?"
Ezio rubbed the back of his head. "I suppose."
Caterina rose from the stool and began briskly pacing the room, the folds of her navy gown swishing around her ankles and billowing behind her. "Because…" He could see the battle of wills going on inside her. Part of her wanted to tell him the truth, and the other part… well, the other part wanted nothing to do with him. She stopped all of a sudden, and lifted her head to look at him again. "My father was un assassino, too. He was betrayed by a brother."
Caterina's eyes glistened with tears, but she blinked forcibly to prevent them from spilling down her olive cheeks. Ezio stepped towards her, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
"No," she withdrew from his gesture, moving and situating herself right across the room from him, next to the far, notched post of her bed. "I don't need your sympathy."
"I'll leave you alone," said Ezio, walking towards the open balcony. "You have my apologies for bringing such a delicate topic up. I do not wish to see you upset."
"No, wait," there was panic colouring her voice. He paused, turning to look at her. "Stay."
He nodded his head and leant back against the wall, folding his arms across his armoured chest. Twice he'd made to leave her house, and twice he'd been stopped from doing so. It was no coincidence, he was sure.
"The assassino came for me, too," she continued, her head bowed as she fiddled with the fabric of her dress. She beckoned him closer to her, and he pushed off the wall and did as requested. She turned around, tugging the shoulder of the dress down and revealing to him a long, vicious scar that ran from the nape of her neck down past her shoulder blade and carrying on beneath the rest of her back covered by her clothes. "That was his parting gift to me before I was saved by one of my father's friends – another assassino; another brother. Giovanni Auditore… my saviour."
Ezio's jaw dropped at the mention of his father's name. Caterina shot him an inquiring glance. "That's…" he couldn't quite believe it. How incredibly coincidental that his father should save the girl whose window he happened to jump through two days ago. "Giovanni Auditore is… he was my father."
Caterina too seemed surprised by this revelation by the way her eyebrows shot up. "I remember him well. I... see a lot of him in you. How is he, of late?"
"He… he died not long ago."
"Oh Ezio, I'm sorry," she rested a hand on his arm and looked into his eyes searchingly.
"Grazie, Caterina," he managed a ghost of a smile. Rodrigo Borgia was going to pay; he would make damn sure of it.
"Answer me this," he said after a short, understanding silence. He looked into her deep brown eyes, avoiding looking too deep for fear of getting lost. "Are you going to the carnevale tomorrow eve?" He knew it was a dramatic change of topic, but he wasn't one for morbid discussions. He didn't quite know what to say in such situations, either. It was best he said nothing at all, rather than risk saying something inappropriate and causing offence.
"Sì."
"What mask are you going to wear?" he asked, a cheeky grin painted on his face.
"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" Caterina said playfully, almost... seductively. She stepped back and twirled on the spot so her dress fluttered around her calves and her hair cascaded down her shoulders.
"But then how will I know who you are?"
Her smile was wry. "You will just have to trust your instincts. Isn't that what you assassini do?"
She was clever, this one, Ezio concluded.
"Then I shall do just that," he said. He reached out for her hand, took it gently in his, and pressed his lips to her knuckle. "Buonanotte, Caterina."
"Buonanotte, Ezio."
And with a flicker of ivory and scarlet, he was gone.
Arma de fuoco - firearm
Finito, il mio amico - finished, my friend
Oh caro - Oh dear
Va bene - good going
La mia donna - my lady
Molto grato - very grateful
Assassini - plural 'assassino'
Buonanotte - goodnight
