Part Sixteen: Death of a Sycophant
Ezio slept well into the next morning, especially since several of the thieves insisted on partying well into the night. He did not wish to linger, however. He wanted to head to Santo Stefano. Better to be early and see the lay of the land, rather than arriving without a clue what was before him. Plus, he'd spent so much time in the San Polo district; it would probably be best to re-familiarize himself with the San Marco district. If he was able to kill the Spaniard, he'd need to know his escape routes.
He was dressed once more in his white hood and robes and munching on some bread for breakfast as he headed to the courtyard (the Venetian taste for salt in the bread now more palatable after so long in the city). Along the marble floors several thieves were still passed out and those that were awake were slumped by the well, trying to manage the brainpower necessary to get water in an attempt to remove their hangovers.
Ezio couldn't help but laugh.
Those awake sent rude words and gestures in his direction, those with enough concentration to do more than grunt.
Antonio was walking along the bodies, swaying a little, but he smiled when he saw Ezio.
"Ah! My friend! What a beautiful morning! And it couldn't be more beautiful than us being in the Seta! Reports are already coming in that the merchants are celebrating!"
"It's good to see the results of such hard work," Ezio agreed, clasping Antonio's arm and shaking it.
"Now, I believe we should probably start sorting through some documents and see what else our dear benefactor of such a lovely palazzo left behind."
"Indeed," Ezio smiled. They both buried themselves in Emilio Barbarigo's documents, looking for anything useful about other Templar activity in the city. Rosa and Ugo checked in with them much later, finally awake, and were put in charge of searching the rest of the palazzo and returning stolen goods back to the merchants.
While looking through the documents, Ezio explained that there were two things he kept an eye out for wherever he went. One was the skull within the Assassin symbol of a compass in a cup. Finding them in Florence was easy, Ezio knew the city like the back of his hand, but he was hoping Antonio knew the islands of Venice just as well. As for Codex pages, Ezio was sifting through a desk when he came across several.
"Bene," he smiled. "I'll need to make a trip up to Milano."
Frankly, he may just need to make a trip back to Monteriggioni. With all the Codex pages he'd found and feathers he'd gathered, to say nothing of the seal he'd found in Forli with Leonardo. These were things he didn't trust with a caravan, things he felt best to deliver home in person, but he just hadn't had the time. Going to either Milan or Monteriggioni would be a several day trip, depending on weather, but Ezio could worry about where to go first later.
It was almost evening when Rosa burst into the study.
"Antonio!"
"What is it, Rosa?" the thief stood quickly.
"A Barbarigo porca puttana is here to see you," she growled.
Ezio stood as well. "How many men did he bring?"
"None," Rosa replied.
"Ah," Antonio smiled. "I think I know who that is. Come, Ezio, this should be interesting."
They left the study together, Rosa swearing quietly behind them and glaring distrustfully as they descended the stairs and met the single Barbarigo who stood in a circle of thieves, looking nervous.
"Agostino!" Antonio greeted! "My, it has been a while!"
"Antonio," the Barbarigo said, relieved, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his thin snow-white hair. "I apologize for being silent for so long."
"Nonsense!" Antonio came up, his dark eyes sharp. "I understand your brother Marco was having you watched. Didn't like your associations with us?"
"Not in the least," Agostino grunted. "My big brother has the Borgia holding his leash. It's despicable."
"What brings you to our door?"
Agostino sighed deeply, his great girth seeming to deflate. "My idiota of a brother is getting nervous about something. Nervous and anxious, I suspect he's expecting a windfall of some kind, especially now that our figlio d'un cane of a cousin Emilio is dead." The large man turned to Ezio. "Much as I hated the bastardo, I hope it was quick?"
Ezio merely nodded.
"Good. Better than he deserved, but... bene." Agostino turned to Antonio again. "Marco has been talking about a meeting when he thinks I'm not listening. It can't be good for us, whatever it is."
"Don't worry," Ezio said. "If it's the meeting I'm thinking of, I'm already going to be there."
Agostino nodded again. "Well then I'd best be on my way. Sorry, but I don't think it's wise for me to be seen with you. The only reason I got away from Marco's watchdogs is because he's focused on this meeting of his."
"Don't worry about it," Antonio replied. "Consider us properly informed. Some of my men will shadow you home and make sure you weren't seen."
"Va bene." Agostino sighed again. "What a family I have. Assassino, I suspect you'll be visiting a few of them. Make sure their ends are quick."
Ezio bowed. "I make no guarantees, but I shall try."
"That's all I can ask, I suppose."
Antonio made a motion and Ugo nodded, he and several thieves taking off to the shadows of evening as the Barbarigo left.
"I'd best be on my way as well," Ezio said, turning to Antonio.
The thief nodded. "I suppose that's for the best. I'm still busy here reorganizing things, getting things returned. You've the freedom to move. Come see me after that meeting, though. I'll still give you whatever aide you need."
"Of course, my friend," Ezio smiled. The grin he gave Rosa was more flirtatious, which she returned with an arched brow, but Ezio took his leave.
He spent the night on the rooftops, admiring the stars and the moon before he fell asleep. The following day he familiarized himself with the San Marco district, exploring all sorts of nooks and crannies that he hadn't had the chance with all the time he spent in San Polo. He restocked on supplies, particularly throwing knives, which he'd relied on when sweeping Emilio's archers off the roofs, went over all his equipment.
That night he slept in a haystack near the small square in front of the church and watched the crowds once dawn came.
Carlo Grimaldi arrived early, just as the sun was cresting the horizon, and sat on a bench, reading through some papers by lantern, rubbing at his short salt-and-pepper beard. Within the hour, a portly man in a red short cape and hood approached.
"Where is Emilio?"
Carlo shrugged. "I told him to be here."
"You told him yourself?" the red hooded man said skeptically. "In person?"
Grimaldi frowned. "Yes, myself, in person." Then he scowled. "I'm concerned that you don't trust me."
"As am I." They stayed still for a moment before the red hooded man shrugged. "Perhaps he'll arrive with the others. Walk with me."
Carlo nodded, gathering up his papers and stood. Ezio easily slipped out of the haystack, brushing off the pieces, and melded with the early morning crowds.
"So," the portly man asked, "how goes things at the palace?"
Carlo sighed. "Honestly, it's difficult," he said. "Mocenigo keeps his circle close. I have tried to lay the groundwork, making suggestions, but he has other voices at his ears."
"Then you must work harder," the red hooded man replied like it was obvious. "You must become part of his inner circle."
"Si," Carlo nodded as Ezio merged with a crowd in front of a herald. "But it's harder than I expected."
"And why is that, Carlo?"
"I don't know!" Grimaldi growled in frustration. "He's just a... the Doge doesn't like me."
"I wonder why."
"It's not my fault!" Carlo defended. Ezio merged with a crowd passing by. "I keep trying to please him. I learn what he craves, and I have it delivered. The finest jams from the orchards of Sardinia, the latest fashions from Milano-"
"Yes," the portly man spat, "and that's called being a sycophant."
Ezio held in a chuckle.
"A what?" Carlo exclaimed, insulted. "What did you call me?!"
"A doormat, a flatterer, a bootlicker. Need I go on?"
Ezio left the people he was walking with and joined a small group that was deep in conversation about all that business in Rome with Caterina Sforza holding the Castel Sant'Angelo.
"Bastardo!" Grimaldi growled. "You don't know what it's like; you don't understand the pressure in there."
"Oh, I don't understand pressure?!" the red hooded man scoffed.
"No, you have no idea!" Carlo was trying very hard not to shout in the crowded streets. "You are a government official! I am two steps from the Doge himself. I am beside him day and night! You wish you could be where I am!"
The portly man crossed his arms and looked down his nose haughtily. "Are you done?"
"Hardly." Grimaldi spat back. "You listen to me now! I am close. The Doge can be recruited to our cause, I'm sure of it. I just..." he looked away. "I need a little more time."
"Time is not a thing we have in great supply," the portly man retorted. "Keep moving."
"Is it much further?"
The red hooded man growled. "Don't be such a little girl!"
All conversation stopped as they continued walking.
Ezio stayed behind them, flitting from conversations to travelers, always talking with someone like he belonged there, though his eyes never strained from Carlo Grimaldi and whoever his companion was. It was full morning when they arrived at the sprawling square in front of both the San Marco Basilica and the Palazzo Ducale. It was far more crowded here and Ezio had no problem shifting from one flow of people to another until he was near a wooden stage of some kind. From across the massive square came a man whom Ezio was certain was Agostino's brother, Marco. Also with a beard of snowy white, though not as long and heavy set, the man was dressed in expensive ermine robes, despite the warming day, a younger man by his side with a broadsword, likely a bodyguard.
"Buon giorno, cousin," Marco greeted. Ezio nodded to himself, confirming another Barbarigo in the family. "Signor Carlo."
"We thought Emilio would be with you," the red hooded Barbarigo said.
"Emilio is dead," Marco replied.
"What?" the portly Barbarigo gasped. "How?"
"The Assassin!" Grimaldi realized. "The same one who hunted down the Pazzi! He's here, in Venezia. I warned that fool Emilio!'
"It is so," Marco confirmed. "Silvio, did you not know? He could be anywhere. He could be here right now and we might not even know. He struck Emilio inside his own palazzo!"
A part of Ezio was pleased that his work was recognized. But a larger part of him was cursing in frustration. Anonymity and surprise were his greatest assets, and it seemed he no longer had them. These Barbarigo would be prepared. Merda.
"And so, what of our plans?" the red hooded Silvio Barbarigo demanded.
"There is no longer time for subtlety, my brothers," Marco replied. "We must act now."
"But Marco," Grimaldi protested. "I'm so close! A few more days. If I can just-"
"No," Marco said firmly. "It happens this week."
The bodyguard who kept watching the square leaned forward. "We should keep moving."
The quartet started to move again and Ezio easily blended into the crowds once more.
"And what does the Spaniard have to say of this change of plan?" Silvio asked, glancing around them as well.
"You can ask him yourself soon enough," Marco replied with a smile.
"He's here?" Carlo gasped. "From Roma?"
"So I've heard," Marco replied haughtily.
"Good!" Silvio smiled. "Then perhaps he's made a decision."
"About what, cousin?" Marco raised an eyebrow.
"About which of us shall step into the robes of the Doge, 'cousin'," Silvio said coldly.
"I didn't know there was a decision to be made," Marco said confidently. "Surely the choice is obvious to all."
"Obvious, indeed," Silvio said with just as much confidence. "It should be the one who organized the entire operation; the one who came up with the idea of how to save this city."
Ezio noticed guards keeping a sharp eye out and spied a courtesan. With a quick payment, she was distracting the guards while he went by unseen.
"There is no lack of value in tactical intelligence, good Silvio," Marco nodded to his cousin. "But it is wisdom one needs to rule. Do not think otherwise."
Grimaldi tried to intervene on the rising tension. "Calm, calm friends, please. There is no need for this. You know, it's not up to either of you. For all we know, he might not even choose a Barbarigo." No doubt where Carlo's hope was. Especially given how he was currently serving the Doge.
The Barbarigos noticed this as well and howled with laughter.
"And why not me?" Carlo protested. "I'm the one who's done all the hard work!"
"Enough!" Marco still chuckled. "We wait for his arrival."
The four had arrived at a dark back street surrounded by residential apartments. Ezio was isolated on the main thoroughfare, so he swiftly climbed to the roofs, ignoring the surprise of the people around him.
"Must have been drinking the good stuff!"
"He must be late... And she must be beautiful!"
"Isn't there a decency law that applies to just such an occasion?"
Once on the roofs, Ezio edged forward carefully, much as when he was at the Seta and stayed low. The sun was approaching noon and he didn't wish for his shadow to be seen. Little did he know he had been seen scaling the face of the building.
"Are you sure he's coming?" Carlo asked.
"Yes," Marco replied.
"Signori," the bodyguard said, glancing up to the rooftops. "We should move a little faster. I feel eyes on us."
Marco smiled, extremely pleased. "Thank you, Dante. We will move at your pace." Dante nodded, taking off at a slightly faster pace.
"This guard's a good find, cousin," Silvio complemented. "How much did you pay for him?"
Marco's chest puffed in pride as Ezio continued to follow on the roofline. "Perhaps not as much as he deserves. He's saved my life on two occasions, though he's not much of a conversationalist. "
"Enough with your inane prattle!" a Spanish accented voice growled, "The choice of Doge was never up to any of you, and you were never given permission to make plans."
Ezio cursed himself. That meant that the Spaniard had been following and listening as well. How had Ezio not seen him? He should have changed to his special vision during the tailing. Had the Spaniard seen Ezio? He thought he'd done a good job blending from crowd to crowd, but now he wasn't so sure...
Really, Ezio could be such an idiot sometimes.
"Forgive us, Maestro," Marco bowed. "We wish only to serve."
The Spaniard stood tall, towering over them in presence even if he wasn't the tallest one, and soaked in silence for a moment. Then, he changed topics. "The plan is this: Doge Mocenigo will die tonight. And once the deed's been done, Marco shall take his place."
"I humbly thank you, Maestro," Marco was quick to bow deeply and with much humility.
Silvio stepped forward, clearly angry, then scoffed, looking away.
"Good," the Spaniard nodded, pleased. Then he turned to Carlo. "Messer Grimaldi, you are closest to Mocenigo, your work, the most vital. Serve us well, and it won't be forgotten," Carlo bowed as well. "Walk with me."
With the Spaniard now amongst them, they kept walking down the residential streets. Ezio stuck to the roofs, careful to keep his shadow away from them as the sun kept creeping higher.
"I don't want any blood spilled, you understand?" the Spaniard said. "It must appear to all that he goes quietly."
"Certainly, Maestro," Grimaldi assured.
"When are you closest to him?" the Spaniard asked.
"I have full run of the palace," Carlo said confidently. "He may not care to hear what I have to say, but he trusts me by now as one of his own."
The Spaniard nodded. "Bravo. Then I want you to infiltrate the kitchen and poison his meal."
"So be it."
The Spaniard turned. "Marco, can you furnish us with a suitable toxin on short notice?"
"I defer to my cousin. That is really his area of expertise."
"Ah, Silvio..." and the Spaniard turned to the red hooded Silvio.
"I am at your service, Maestro," he said.
"What can you bring to get this done?"
"I will confer with my associates in the streets, but chances are good that I can procure some Cantarella," Silvio said with confidence.
"Yes," the Spaniard nodded, "and what is that?"
"It is a most effective form of arsenic and difficult to trace."
"Ah, va bene, va bene. Then it's decided."
They continued to walk, discussing timing, when the poison could be obtained then delivered, how Grimaldi could get it and then slip it into the kitchen. Ezio stuck to the roofs and listened, committing every detail to memory.
Merda. He had no time to prepare, no time to plan! For the past four years he'd been doing nothing but planning, but now he had to wing it, infiltrate the Palazzo Ducale somehow. He leapt nimbly down to the Ponte di Rialto, landing on a roof and crawling forward on his stomach to watch and listen.
Marco finally slipped the topic to something else. "Forgive me, Maestro, but is this not a tad dangerous for you, involving yourself so intimately with the minutiae of our plans?"
"I feel the need to involve myself more directly," the Spaniard said firmly. "The Pazzi disappointed us in Firenze. I pray you will not do the same."
"Do not worry this time," Silvio said with bluster. "The Pazzi were a bunch of foolish-"
"The Pazzi were a potent and venerable family," the Spaniard interrupted coldly, "reduced to rubble by one young Assassin. Do not underestimate this troublesome foe who now haunts your city, or the same fate will befall the Barbarigo. I want this done promptly. Bene, I must return to Roma. Time is of the essence. Do not fail us."
The Spaniard glanced around, wary, then turned and disturbed a flock of pigeons as he stalked away.
A flock that flew right at Ezio and had him backing up on the roof to avoid spitting out feathers. By the time he'd swatted all the pigeons away, all the Barbarigo, the Spaniard, and Grimaldi had dispersed and disappeared.
What an idiot I am! He should have kept his eyes on them no matter the distraction! He would have to go and see Antonio if he had any hope of salvaging the mess he'd made.
Ezio stayed on the roofs, since the thieves now controlled San Polo and he didn't have to worry about archers. It was faster as he leapt from tiled roof to crossbeam, to archway. He was halfway to the Seta when Rosa stopped him on the roofs.
"Salute, my pretty. What has you in such a rush? You back to see me already?"
Ezio smiled as he caught his breath, then kissed her cheeks in greeting. "Sorry, mia cara, but I am not here to play. I must speak with Antonio. It's urgent."
Rosa gave a beautiful pout. "Antonio!" she called out. "Ezio's here!"
Antonio seemed to appear on the roof, "Ezio!" he greeted, "Is everything alright? How did the meeting go?"
"Carlo Grimaldi and the Barbarigo are in league with the one they call the Spaniard," he explained. "They're going to murder the Doge and replace him with one of their own. They will have all of Venezia, her entire fleet, in their grasp."
"... And they call me a criminal!"
"Then you will help me?"
Antonio nodded. "You have me on your side, brother. And the support of all my men."
"...and women," Rosa added, eyeing Ezio up and down.
"Grazie, friends."
"But, Ezio, I must warn you," Antonio said seriously. "It's not going to be so easy this time. Palazzo Ducale is the most heavily-guarded building in Venezia."
Ezio shrugged. "Nothing is impenetrable."
Rosa laughed in her throat, making Ezio realize the possible innuendo of his words and he offered her a flirtatious smirk. "This is why we like you, Ezio," she said.
"Come! Let's go take a look. We'll come up with a plan," Antonio said.
"I'll get Ugo and start seeing where this Silvio could get the poison and see if we can head him off," Rosa said.
Antonio and Ezio took off over the roofs again, backtracking the way Ezio had come and avoiding the crowded streets below.
"This business with the Doge...terrible," Antonio commented. "Though, treachery like this no longer surprises me."
"Nor I," Ezio agreed as they reached the Rialto Bridge and swiftly crossed it.
Antonio continued on his own philosophies, of how nobility would never add another to their ranks due to ingrained bigotry, though the lower classes still believed that they always had a chance. Antonio had worked hard, studied and learned, but could move no higher in the social ladder. So, to Antonio's beliefs, the real nobility were at the very bottom: The people who would bleed and sweat to save the city.
They arrived once more at the great square in front of the Palazzo Ducale and San Marco Basilica, where Ezio had been not hours before.
"We need to scout the palazzo carefully; see it from every angle," Antonio said, "We just might find a way in. I know of a tall campanile behind the palazzo. Or we might find a way to climb the back of the Basilica. Do you have any ideas?"
"I assume the front door is out?" he asked in Florentine irony.
The thief laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. "Va bene, we'll try the front door as well, saputello."
Ezio smiled and they slipped into the shadows of the Campanile di San Marco in the middle of the square. From there they had a view of the entire square, spanning from the Basilica all the way to the Palazzo and the lagoon beyond it.
And a perfect view of all the guards.
"We're not getting in this way," Antonio frowned. "They'll have time to murder the Doge before we're able to get through all these guards."
Ezio agreed and they jogged off into the crowds, weaving through the thick mass of people and heading for the small docks before turning and going along the south side of the Palazzo Ducale and over a small bridge of a canal. Ezio saw the tall campanile Antonio had mentioned and they both started to climb swiftly.
"Look at that," Antonio cursed. "Archers everywhere."
And indeed, patrolling the roof of the Palazzo Ducale were easily a dozen archers, looking down to the streets with knocked bows.
"And the walls are impossible to climb on this side," Ezio sighed.
They climbed back down and started along the east side of the Palazzo Ducale, still finding no climbing points or anything of any use to them.
Ezio's stomach was starting to grumble, but he ignored it. It was only an hour or so past noon. They crossed the canal back, looking to the north side of the Basilica when,
"Bene!" Antonio exclaimed. "We're in luck. Looks like there's a perfect path up the scaffolding to the roof of the Basilica. Shall we?"
And indeed, there was scaffolding and beams set up for repair work to some of the bricks of the Basilica, and Ezio could trace an easy line up to the roofline.
It was an hour to climb up, the sun beating down for an unusually warm day, but Ezio wiped the sweat away once he was on the roof. The roof of the Palazzo Ducale was barred by heavy iron, but that wasn't what drew Ezio's eyes as he looked down into the vast courtyard of the Palazzo Ducale.
"Ezio, look!" Antonio hissed. "Isn't that him? Grimaldi?"
And Carlo was crossing on a second story balcony, following a man in gold fabric and expensive ermine. Ezio sharpened his ears as much as he could, trying to let the wind bring the words to them.
"Don't you understand what I'm offering you, Signore?" Carlo pleaded. "Listen to me, please! Or this will be your last chance..." his voice trailed off with a touch of menace.
The Doge didn't even break his stride. "How dare you?"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Carlo was quick to apologize, "I meant nothing by it! I'm only looking out for your safety."
Antonio cursed, breaking Ezio's concentration. "We're running out of time! There's no way through this fence and there are guards everywhere. Diavolo!" he cursed. The Florentine Assassin agreed. He wandered the roof of the Basilica, the greenish metal warm under his boots from the sun. He passed one of the massive domes of the San Marco, eyeing the cast iron fence. Scaling wasn't exactly the problem, but the sharp finials were hazardous, and the archers along the roof of the Palazzo Ducale would see their every move. Frowning, he descended a ladder, Antonio becoming more and more frustrated as time pressed upon them both. The lower roof hooked around and left a breathtaking view of the San Marco square; but it was also filled with archers, and Ezio was about to discretely retreat when he looked at the recess he was hiding in.
"It's impossible!" Antonio was hissing, eyeing the guards. "There's no way in or out for men. Only birds."
"Yes... birds..." Ezio said, only half listening.
Antonio sensed the distraction and followed his gaze. "What is it?" he asked.
But the twenty-six-year-old was grabbing at the eye sockets of a skull, twisting it and revealing the Assassin symbol, and ancient mechanical sounds could be heard as the recess swung open, yawning into a dark tunnel.
Antonio gasped, the older thief looked to the former noble with wide eyes. "I can see why you wanted my men to search for these symbols," he said, a little breathless.
"Perhaps I'll find a treasure while I'm in there," Ezio said with an ironic smile, anticipation beginning to fill him. "Still I have a way in to the Basilica, and from there I can get into the palazzo. I don't know how long it will take, but I'll move as fast as I can. Have someone standing by if I have to make a quick escape - I don't know from where. Even if I'm caught, I'll try to make enough noise that Carlo Grimaldi will doubt he has time to assassinate the Doge."
Antonio blinked. "You... you would sacrifice yourself over this?"
Ezio gave a charming smile. "I hope not to sacrifice myself at all," he said brightly, before his face turned serious. "I've been in Venezia for four years, Messer de Magianis," Ezio said. "Florentine though I am, I've come to enjoy the city's charms, and however much I hate the Templars and what they've done to my father, and to Florence, and to the Medici, I refuse to stand and let them to it elsewhere."
The pale thief blinked, and then smiled, reaching out and patting Ezio's shoulder. "You've grown since we met," he said, nodding stoutly. "I'll do what I can."
Then, he gave an aristocratic bow, formal and stiff and elegant, and disappeared back over the roofs to prepare.
Ezio followed the dark tunnel, his namesake's eyes open to every shadow and dip. At the end of the tunnel he pulled at a lever, and startled slightly that the ledge he was on began to spin around. As he entered the Basilica proper, he realized that he had entered through another recess; this was the most secret of all the entrances he had come across in these old tombs, and he stepped out carefully, weary of guards. To his surprise, however, the church was entirely empty; it seemed the guards' only needed to guard the outside.
The inside was massive, as large as the Duomo, Basilica della Fiore in Florence, with intricate marble floors, impressively tall windows that streamed beams of light everywhere, cross shaped chandeliers, and an impressive altar at the end of the pews. The lack of guards gave him a moment to breathe, but he also knew that his first priority was getting to the palazzo next door. He could explore the church for the assassin tomb at a later date; his first priority was to the Doge and saving his life.
The balcony he was on had no doors, a decorative structure to highlight the massive cross, inlaid in the windows behind him. Frowning, he took a moment to gauge the distance before making a controlled fall to the floor, landing in a tight roll. Ezio wasn't sure which way he was facing, and which end faced the palazzo, and so he explored the cavernous space with its colored light and marble floors, passing an astonishingly detailed mosaic inlay at the center of the basilica. Every door he tried was locked; it felt like the entire building was closed.
He did, however, eventually find the connector to the palazzo, and his lips thinned when he saw it was veritably flooded with guards. This late in the afternoon, there was no new business or governing duties to attend to, everyone had left and he was the only one not in uniform. Could he knock a man out and steal the Venetian blues? He studied the patrols, and saw that everyone traveled in pairs. Damn, damn, how was he supposed to get past all of that?
A patrol started to head towards the Basilica, and Ezio quickly ducked away from the door, backtracking into the church and pacing slightly, his mind working furiously. Could he lie and say his partner was off with a lover? How strict was the discipline of the guards? He didn't know, he didn't know, and he wished he had time to plan the way Antonio always did. After four years of careful construction and execution of heists from rich caravans or raiding noble palazzos for redistribution, or wreaking havoc during Carnevale, Ezio could never go back to just sneaking in and hoping for the best, and he couldn't understand how he had done it for so long beforehand.
Cursing over lack of time or lack of plan would do him no good, and with a growl he asked his eagle to help him. Darting his gaze about the church, he looked for a trace of gold, some instinctual hint of what he was supposed to do next. It lead him to the altar, and walking around it he found a hidden Assassin symbol, pointing to a discreet corner of the altar and to a well-hidden button, or lever of some kind lost in the relief that decorated the massive tableau. He fumbled with it for a moment before spinning it around, and he could hear the heavy sounds of machinery beneath his feet. It echoed everywhere, and Ezio prepared to bolt up to high ground if any of the palazzo guards heard the cacophony of noise.
When the rumbles and echoes finally stopped, Ezio got up from behind the altar and went back out to the center of the Basilica, shocked to see that the magnificently designed mosaic floor had lowered. He fell down into the new hole, quickly finding a lever and watching in fascination as the tile was lifted back up to its original position. He wished suddenly that Leonardo was here; the man would likely go on for hours about the engineering and how the designs and structures had been set up to create such an elaborate entry.
Now that he was below, he descended a series of steps to find the tomb, the statue a duplicate of the one in the Sanctuary at Monteriggioni. There was decidedly less treasure here, only a few massive vases too heavy to carry and a few chests, but Ezio didn't even spare them a second glance, instead putting his weight against the sarcophagus, the relief a similar design to the statue of Altair in uniform, and gazed at the mummified remains, a red sash draped over the assassin and the seal he was looking for resting in its hands.
"I am sorry to disturb you," Ezio said, reaching down and taking the seal. "But my time is short. I have a life I need to save. I hope your exit leads me to the Ducale."
He asked his eagle for help in that. He found a false wall, needing quite a bit of weight to turn it around, and he exited to another dim tunnel, bidding the tomb one last farewell before closing it and then walking down the tunnel. Experience told him that no one knew of these tunnels, and eventually he was ascending an unending series of stairs, taking him up and up and up. When he exited, he found himself on the roof of the Palazzo Ducale.
He... he made it. He made it.
It was deep into the night as well, his time spent traversing the tunnels leading to and from the tomb was apparently much longer than he had initially thought; and when he realized that he also realized he was starving. More than that, however, was the pressing realization of how long the gray-bearded Carlo Grimaldi had been with the Doge. Had the poison been delivered by now? Had they already supped, or would it be slipped into a late night snack? Was the Doge already dead?
No, he couldn't think like that. He had managed to save Lorenzo de' Medici, thereby saving Florence and keeping their idyllic lifestyle. He had blocked the Templars from digging their hands into his home; he had to do the same for Venice. No city in all of Italy needed a Templar in charge. None. He had to kill Carlo before he killed the Doge, his death was necessary to fight the Templars, and so Ezio could not allow himself to think otherwise. He would be in time, he would save the Doge, and he would prevent the freedoms of the people of Venice from being trampled on.
With that in mind, he stalked the roof, coming almost immediately upon an archer and stabbing him in the back, up and with a twist to create a bloodless death and dragged him to one of the many chimneys of the palazzo, hiding the cadaver there.
He gazed out over the roofline, eyes examining the enormous courtyard, letting his eagle use his eyes to scan every window, every step, every trellis to let his intuition guide him in where to go. He spotted a flicker of gold to his left, and saw an open window to let in the cool, late summer air. He heard a faint, "It's your move," that was the distinct voice of Carlo Grimaldi, and he knew where he had to go. There were stairs below, on the other side of the oblong courtyard, and with a few quick calculations he knew he could make the jump from the roof to the stairs, if needs be, and he saw some trelliswork he could use to climb if, finally getting there, he saw that it was still too high up.
Nodding, Ezio began working his way around the roof, sticking to the deep shadows of the chimney, keeping his dark half cloak wrapped around him to keep him invisible. He'd rather avoid killing too many archers; he was trying to save a life not steal a dozen others. His boots were heavy on the roof, but the stiff wind carried most of it away, and many of the palazzo's guards didn't even realize he was there. Those that did chased down the sound to find nothing, Ezio disappearing up to the tops of the chimneys, the smoke from fireplaces inside the palazzo stinging his eyes and making him choke for air, but he dared not move until an archer passed.
After almost two hours of sneaking about, Ezio at last arrived to the other side of the roof, and he carefully assessed his options.
Sound carried better than he thought in the courtyard, making leaping an impossible option. The ornate gothic architecture made for no shortages of handholds, however, and Ezio mapped out a path that kept him away from the many arched windows, tracking it to the one that still held a flicker of gold, and with a deep breath he set out.
It was slow going in the dark, and Ezio could not help but think of a different night when he climbed in the dark, desperate to save life - his father and brothers - and hoped that the outcome of tonight would be different. Venice couldn't be torn down by the Templars, she just couldn't.
Directly over the window, Ezio took another deep breath and let go, grabbing the sill of the open window as he fell and began hoisting himself up. The Doge was there, in resplendent gold silks and expensive ermine, looking over a chessboard. Across was Carlo, his fingers steeped together and looking down, the picture of patience.
The Doge was lifting a cup to his lips, and Ezio surged into the room.
"Stop!" he shouted, lurching in and thwarting the cup away. "Signore, don't drink that!"
"You're too late," Carlo said, looking up over his fingers and offering a feral, predatory grin. "The Doge is dead." He overturned the king on the chessboard, a signal that the game was over. He stood slowly, menacingly.
Startled, the Doge looked between the two men. "What? Carlo...?" His face started to flush.
"Apologies Signore," the gray bearded man said, standing with stiff formality before bowing - it was a noble's mockery of Antonio's aristocratic grace. "But you should have listened to me when you had the chance." He turned to Ezio, glaring at the man. "Seems you failed, Assassin."
He left, and Ezio was torn between following and helping the gold-robed Doge. The Doge, gripping his throat, still in shock, started to tilt forward. Ezio quickly caught him, helping him into a chair. "Forgive me, Signore," he said, regret filling him. "I tried..."
"Why...?" the dying man asked, choking, coughing up blood. "What was it all for...?"
"Carlo Grimaldi sought to replace you with another Doge," Ezio explained, pulling at the ermine cape and hoping to give the man air. "He works for a group of men who would see Venezia in their hands."
"I'm... I'm... killed...?" the Doge asked, still shocked and unable to get past that fact.
Ezio was painfully torn between trying to help the elderly Doge and going after Grimaldi; but in the end he was not Alfeo, or Bianca or any of the other doctors he had met. He did not have any kind of experience with poison and had no idea how to forestall the effects as the Doge coughed more blood, spilling out over his expensive robes and covering Ezio's gloves. Finally, wincing, he said, "I'm sorry, Signore, I cannot help you..."
"Assassino! Assassino! He's killed the Doge! The Doge is dead!"
Carlo's cried echoed throughout the courtyard and through the open window, and Ezio could not put off the decision any longer. "I hope they find you quickly," Ezio whispered, hating himself, and running out the door Grimaldi had used, to the second story balcony and down the grand stairwell, his eyes spotting the target running about, shouting still.
Guards were everywhere, shouting and cursing, seeing the unknown assassin all but flying through the courtyard. The archers above were already at work; the fading night giving them just enough light to aim, and Ezio was glad his metal armor deflected the arrows as they rained down from above. One guard stepped up, bracing for a strike, and Ezio ducked under it, rolling under the follow up thrust, and blew past him, eyes only for Carlo Grimaldi. That man would pay for what he'd done for Venezia!
"Assassino! The Doge is dead! Assassino!"
The courtyard was flooding with guards, Ezio had little time left, and finally the twenty-six-year-old leapt up, hidden blade extending, and drove it into Carlo's back, his momentum plunging it deep into the man's shoulder; down, down, down into his heart, and the silver bearded man gave a great gasp of surprise.
Panting slightly, Ezio rolled his target over, looking him in the eyes. "It takes one assassin to kill another, it seems," he growled, furious, furious, that he had failed.
Carlo coughed, blood pooling beneath him, and smiled slightly, looking up at his murderer. "We kill thinking it's best for us, do we not, Messer Ezio?"
Did he think...? Honestly think...?
Ezio was disgusted, and his voice was rough when he replied. "I do this not for myself. I make this sacrifice for the greater good. Requiescat in Pace."
"On him!"
"Stronzo!"
"Hold him there!"
Ezio stood, holding his arms far from his body, trying to look pliant. "I have killed the one who murdered the Doge!" he said in a loud voice. "Carlo Grimaldi poisoned the Doge's food and I avenged his death!"
"Liar! There was blood on his shirt before he killed Grimaldi!"
"Has anyone seen the Doge? Do we know how he died?"
"I wouldn't put it past Grimaldi, he may be telling the truth..."
"Doge!"
Everyone turned, Doge Mocenigo stepping weakly down the steps. Blood covered the front of his robes, neck to stomach, and several guards immediately broke formation to help him. The progress was agonizingly slow, Ezio was uncertain what to expect.
When he was within a half dozen meters of Ezio and Carlo's body, he fell, entering a massive coughing fit.
"You... You killed me," he moaned, looking at the assassin and the cadaver. His gaze was blurred, nobody could tell whom he was looking at. "You killed me!" Rage colored his otherwise pale face, but his eyes finally rolled back into his head.
And he died.
Ezio had failed.
Damn. Damn.
"Seize him!"
No less than three sets of hands grabbed at Ezio's arms, and he twisted out of them, reaching into his pouch for a smoke bomb, throwing it to the ground and braced for the explosion and scent of smoke. Soon everyone near him was coughing, and it was the distraction he needed to dash away, running full tilt to the edge of the courtyard, past a covered well and bursting through a set of doors, stumbling out of the palazzo. The dawn light rising over the sea dazzled his eyes, and he stumbled slightly, giving the guards inside and the swarm outside time to close in around him.
Cursing, he used another smoke bomb, but there were too many people this time, he could not distract all of them; all it did was give him a few seconds head start, and with it he ran full speed across the massive square of the palazzo, to the Campanile di San Marco and ducking between it and the building next to it. The shadows blinded him after the sun's brightness, but it did for the guards too, and Ezio darted through the alleys, dodging left and right before merging into an early morning crowd, hiding his bloody gloves behind his cloak and listening to the dull complaints of purchase and family problems. The crowd was not large enough to hide him, however, and the faster guards immediately spotted him.
Tired, he pulled away from the cluster even as they turned to eye him, uncertain what had happened, and he was off down the streets again, spotting a pile of crates and leaping up to them, and then to a second story balcony, and then to a third story roof, one very stubborn guard hot on his heels - hot enough, in fact, that he threw his dagger at Ezio and the blade managed to nick his thigh, making him even faster as he spied a collection of birds alone a roofline.
His Uncle had better be right...
He leapt off the roof, nothing but open air, and for a moment all he could think about was Leonardo and his wild theories about making men fly. It was a beautiful dream... But gravity took over and he plummeted down, seeing the hay cart below and burrowing into its stale depths, his shoulder crashing into its bottom.
"Over hear! He's leapt off the roof! His body is in that hay cart!"
Stupid, stubborn, bastardo guard!
Ezio gathered his wits and hauled himself out.
"My God! He's still alive! Seize him! Seize him!"
Back through the streets he raced, ducking left and right, before ending up on a bridge and, instead of crossing it, leapt over it to the shock of many citizens as he hopped over the mooring poles to another bridge and backtracking. He found a bench soon after and sat on it, a drunkard snoring next to him. Fighting to get his breath under control, he leaned against the brickwork behind him and crossed his ankles, trying to look like he had every right to be there.
He must have waited there for over an hour, watching the streets fill as he eventually caught his breath. Guards were everywhere; everyone was talking about the event at the Palazzo Ducale, wondering what had happened.
... The Templars had won. Marco Barbarigo would become the Doge, and likely enact his cousin Emilio's terrible plans to make the entire merchant guild pay him for the honor of doing business or die, and who knew what else. He'd failed, and he turned the events over and over in his mind, wondering what he could've done differently.
He wished Rosa was there. He could use a good fuck to make himself forget all this.
... But he couldn't forget this any more than he could forget his family, and thinking that way wasn't going to get him back to Palazzo della Seta. Where was Antonio anyway? He'd asked for thieves to standby and help in his escape. Ah, but he had so many guards chasing him help was likely impossible. Sighing, he got up, pulling off his bloody gloves and dipping down an alley to the canal where he dumped them into the waters.
"Look! Bloody gloves! I saw that! Over here, he's over here!"
Shocked, Ezio looked up to see a guard at the other side of the canal, having watched his guilty act.
Even Rosa and Ugo at their worst did not have enough curses for Ezio, so he created a few on the spot as he once more ran full tilt down the streets of Venice, making several hard turns before leaping up a ladder to a repair platform - careful not to disturb the buckets of material - and hopping to a flower beam and then to a balcony and then to a roof, running down the tiles, several falling into the canal below him and then testing his balance on a rope strung out over a wide boulevard, hopping down to a lower roof, and finally landing in a tight roll in a dark alley before running out into an avenue and joining a collection of people at its mouth, talking about the weather.
Not five minutes later a hand tapped his shoulder, and Ezio very nearly took off at a run again, but he turned and saw Rosa and Ugo, both gesturing him to calm down.
Safe...
Safe at last...
Author's Notes: le GASP! The twins blatantly ignored the flying sequence of the game. The horror!
Let us explain. We've talked about this before, but the AC games require a certain suspension of disbelief, what with the POE and First Civilization and other things being thrown around. They do a good job for the most part, but once in a while there comes a point when the two of us played that made us go, "No, there's no WAY that could happen." Leo's flying machine is one of them. It's been scientifically proven - several times, that his flying machine can't work, and he was such a scatterbrain that he never finished anything - including the flying machine tests. Tack on the fact that it was the FREAKIN' HARDEST PART of the game, and, well, we threw up our hands and said, "No way."
It also gave us an excuse to use the San Marco assassin tomb, so there's that as well. The San Marco tomb was another case of suspension of disbelief. It was hands down our favorite tomb of AC2, but the idea that the builders of the basilica deliberately created these elaborate free-running routes to unnecessarily twist around a mosaic floor and then lower it to a secret basement... It just didn't fly, and so to our great consternation we streamlined it to the cheap display you see above. Sigh. We tried.
In AC3 news, we've finally started getting recruits. We seem to have hit a glitch, however, where our North Boston district is still in dispute, and we can't find anymore citizens to save. Do we have to wait or something...? And Connor is so 4w3s0m3; he doesn't wanna kill people. And he's so POLITE, too! It's like an echo of Altair... (dreamy sigh)
Next chapter: Ezio mourns his failure with Leonardo, gets a new weapon, and goes to Carnivale. I wonder what Christina memory is coming next...