The Auditore Challenge - by Liva Wilborg
Chapter 3: Parties
Leonardo still felt the unease and urgency of the situation in his body, the necessity of getting through the pleasantries as quickly as possible. He gently placed the key to the wheellock mechanism on the table and raised the loaded pistol. The snarling lion-mask that had covered his face was lying next to the horn of gunpowder and the scouring stick.
He had been trying very hard not to be too fretful and rude or show some other anxious sign of impatience when he had been scouting through the other guests for the host. He had been worried, that finding the man would be difficult at a party where masks were mandatory. His fears proved exaggerated, though, when his host turned out to be wearing a mask that let his red beard show.
Leonardo let his shoulders relax and pushed everything from his mind but the targets, three clay bottles, that stood prodded up on a row of ornamental stone waves decorating the wall at the far end of the garden, generously lit by numerous lanterns in the fragrant, blooming lemon-trees. He aimed for the side of the bottle furthest on the right, expecting momentum to spin it when it broke.
The weight of the pistol felt familiar in his hand. He had fired it so many times that he had almost lost count, back when he was testing his newly build toy; trying to find out how much use it took to jam the mechanism, how often it had to be cleaned and which types of metals were best for the spring and the wheel, to prolong the life of the firing mechanism.
"Notice the reload time..." he said and calmly took the shot. The bottle shattered, and clay shrapnel spun to knock the middle bottle to the ground with a crisp smash. Leonardo quickly reloaded the gun, pouring in the powder charge, bullet and wadding and ramming it into the barrel with the routine of a seasoned soldier. Trying hard to keep a smug smile off his lips, reminding himself not to enjoy this when his friend lay dying, he used the key to wind up the spring, primed the mechanism and calmly fired the second shot. The last bottle shattered.
Leonardo turned to his host and handed him the pistol, handle first. Jacobo Pasqualigo, captain of the city's official guard force, took the weapon, a reluctant smile spreading on his face.
"Handy, isn't it?" Leonardo asked. "The mechanism produces its own spark, so it can be primed in advance and needs no cumbersome match string. It is light, easily carried. At the moment, it is the only one in existence; but more can be produced, for a modest fee, of course."
Pasqualigo tuned the weapon over in his hands: "I hate this masked party nonsense." he finally mused in his deep voice, gesturing at the mask he had worn: "But this just brightened my evening!" he stated: "So... What do you want?"
Leonardo smiled, thankful for the direct approach: "I need a favour. I have been robbed of something quite vital, and I need what was stolen returned to me. " he lied smoothly. "I didn't know where else to turn. And this," he nodded at the gun, "was my best idea for pleading with you to lend me the expertise of some of your people."
"Robbed, eh? What was stolen?"
"Design schematics for an item, paid for by a prestigious client who would not be pleased to know that it had been lost or possibly duplicated." Leonardo said quietly. "The woman who stole it is quite dangerous, and even managed to wound an associate of mine from out of town." Deep in his mind, he felt appalled at the necessity for dishonesty. It was one thing to trick Aurelio into helping him, that would eventually be forgiven, but commandeering the city guard with bribery and deception... But then, in his mind's eye, he saw Ezio, pale, pained, struggling to keep breathing...
"I can't lose this!" Leonardo stated: "I will be forever in your debt if you can assist me."
"You know... I remember when you were here to make the sketches for my wife's portrait."
"...I hope you are satisfied with the result?" Leonardo asked, not quite certain where Pasqualigo was going.
The captain made a dismissive sound: "She tells me you are popular and that portraits are necessary. I care little. But for this..." he turned the weapon over in his hands. "I will happily give you what you ask for." He suddenly laughed loudly and slapped Leonardo's shoulder: "And I had heard that you were a girly, squeamish pacifist who would only eat vegetables, and then you create weapons like this... I think I need to have a word with my informants." he boomed.
o-o-O-o-o
Satisfied with his progress so far, Leonardo hurried through the crowded streets of the inner city. He wore his mask. The snarling lion-mask he had created to fit his own face. He has fashioned it to be fierce but had been surprised at the level of success, at the look of vicious ferocity it had taken on when he wore it. The great cat aggressive, about to pounce. He had been looking forward to using the mask, mostly because nobody else had anything like it, but now it seemed to be almost too angry for comfort, and he wondered briefly, as a woman gave him an alarmed look from behind her own pretty cat's mask, whether this was what it felt like to be Ezio, hood over his face, threatening like a lead-grey storm cloud.
He had seen Pasqualigo send the runners out and had been presented with an officer of the guard who would act as his contact. The city's port officials were informed not to let a foreign woman with red hair and pale eyes book a ship to leave the city by conventional means and the guards of the city were being instructed to keep an eye out for her.
Leonardo had requested that the guards try to warn the gondoliere too and even posted a generous reward for the woman's capture. He knew that the gondoliere had a frighteningly efficient system for exchanging knowledge, and that the promise of florins would travel fast through the city. He secretly looked forward to telling Ezio to hand the money over in case someone could actually claim the reward. Assuming that Ezio lived to enjoy growing a little poorer, Leonardo reminded himself, quickening his pace. Feeling as though he was swimming through a sea of masks, he felt a sudden hopelessness gnawing at him. What were the chances of finding this woman in a city where everyone wore masks... He quickly pushed this disheartening thought from his mind and concentrated on the task ahead.
He had told the contact Pasqualigo had made available to him, that he would be going the guild hall of the Brotherhood of Painters, just in case they needed to find him if Fortuna should decide to smile on him and let the guards located the woman.
He felt both relieved at having the extra eyes and ears, but also slightly alarmed. He knew there was a risk that someone might go in search of him and go to his home; that the chain of information could be broken and that someone might recognize Ezio. But then he imagined being forced to just sit still and watch as his friend struggled to live and found that he would rather take the chance of discovery, than live with the helplessness or the knowledge that he had done nothing.
He turned the corner, reaching the street in San Polo where the guild hall was situated. He could hear the music streaming from the house and saw that the party had spilled into the street, as though the house was as drunk as the partiers and had expelled groups of his fellow craftsmen into the street. He stood still in the shadows cast by braziers illuminating the street shakily, his heart sinking.
Of all the nights he could have needed their help...
Leonardo shook his head, sternly reprimanding himself for not having considered the practical consequences of the citywide festival. Gathering his patience he removed his mask and pushed his way inside through the talking, singing, laughing and shouting crowds of guild brothers. Inside the hall, he was nearly overwhelmed by the stuffy, noisy atmosphere.
The spacious guild hall where councils and meetings were held, judgments pronounced and works exhibited, were now lined with tables piled with food and drink. The hall was full of partiers and Leonardo guessed that the party had started early judging from the level of drunkenness displayed by most of those present. There were several groups of musicians scattered around the hall, each playing their own tunes which created a phonetic chaos that grated on the artist's nerves. As he looked around, he saw that there was even a casual amount of women present, though most seemed to be in the same line of work as Detta.
He quickly scanned the crowd, hoping to spot someone not as drunk as the majority. At a desk, just inside the main hall, a man was seated, having a conversation with someone who seemed to be able to stand without leaning on anything. Leonardo made his way there while he leafed through his roll of invitations until he found the right one.
"You new?" the man at the desk enquired over the din of revellers.
"Yes." Leonardo handed him the slip of paper: "I need some information from someone who paints epitaphs." he said.
"What? You need a gravestone?" the man said, looking from Leonardo, to the invitation and back again uncomprehendingly. His companion at the desk loomed closer, interrupting: "You are familiar..." he mused: "Aren't you Leonardo from Toscana... who thinks man can learn to fly?"
Leonardo felt the sudden annoyance tug at his features, but he clenched his teeth and settled for nodding, promising himself to be more careful with where he left his notes in the future. The man at the desk laughed and padded his shoulder in mock sympathy: "Don't worry, you are not a bad portrait painter I hear. I'm sure your obsession with impossible machinery won't prove too much of a detriment to a decent career. So, what did you need?" he grinned.
...To code my notes and learn to keep quiet! Leonardo thought. Aloud he said: "I need information. I'm looking for two dead gentlemen, Taddeo and Arlo. I need to see if anyone here has knowledge of them. Maybe someone who was commissioned to paint their grave stone or sculpt an epitaph..." he said, and had to sidestep a drunken group passing by, nearly sloshing his orange doublet with wine in the process.
The two men at the desk looked at each other; then the man who was seated asked: "You have a workshop down by the Rialto, don't you? At San Giacometo?"
"Yes? Look, can you assist me or not?" Leonardo stated.
"We are; we are assisting..." the other man interjected: "What my friend here is asking is why you come here for information on the Solario-brothers?"
"Solario? Arlo and Taddeo Solario?" Leonardo enquired, a feeling of recognition again pouncing on him.
"Where were you the Sunday before this one?" The seated man asked.
"At home..." Leonardo said, allowing himself a brief daydream about how much simpler life would be in situations like this one for someone of Ezio's profession.
"Practising your flying, no doubt, if you managed to overhear the funeral parade. ...No expenses spared; music, mourners, more velvet and silver than you could shake a wing at. They even had the old Donna Solario riding a wagon in the front, tossing coins at the crowds all the way to the San Silvestro church."
"Yes." the other man chimed in: "Just because her sons were simply private guardsmen, apparently that doesn't mean she couldn't see them off from this world in style."
"Donna Solario?" Leonardo vaguely associated a stern, elderly lady in a dark and severe dress with the name. Searching in his mind, he found that she belonged to a house just behind his workshop on the other side of the small plaza.
"I think he just remembered." The man behind the desk commented laughingly.
"Thank you. You have both been very irksomely obliging." Leonardo gave them both a quick bow and speedily left the guild hall, replacing the mask over his face.
o-o-O-o-o
As he hurried through the streets, Leonardo found that he was biting his tongue to prevent himself from swearing under his breath. Looking back to the Sunday before last he vaguely remembered having heard a commotion from the street outside, but he had been so absorbed in the drawings for a suspension bridge that he had even skipped church; though he had to admit to himself that this was partly in fear of getting cornered by the Morosini sisters again. He shook his head as he hurried along, scolding himself for not having recognised the names earlier, for not having had the sense to know what was going on right outside his own door and for having somehow managed to let the casual notes he had made on the subject of flight get out of his hands.
It was past midnight now and masks were worn more casually. There were still many people in the streets, but when he reached the street behind his home, he caught a glimpse of the small plaza when he looked down the narrow lane. The stalls were closed, except for the two that served refreshments. Several tables were placed in the plaza and people were seated, talking, laughing, enjoying a drink; most having left their masks on the tabletop, the different designs of costumes and decorations shone under the coloured lanterns. A musician was sitting by one of the stalls, playing a soft tune on a shawm.
Images of Ezio stalked Leonardo's mind rekindling the sense of dire urgency and, envious of the revellers relaxing with a drink, he turned to what he guessed was the Solario house.
Keeping his head down as he loosened the mask, Leonardo knocked on the door. It was a long silence. He leaned towards the door, listening but hearing nothing; then he took some steps back, to study the facade. There was a brief flicker of a lamp moving in a window on the first floor and after a while he heard soft footfalls on the other side. The door opened, and a mousey servant woman holding a lamp gave him a questioning stare. Her eyes were tired and it seemed she had been crying recently.
"I'm sorry to disturb..." Leonardo said. The woman gave a little nod, but didn't answer.
"I need to speak with Donna Solario. I know this is an awkward time, but-" he caught himself at the quiver of the young woman's lips.
"I'm sorry, but the mistress joined her sons in Heaven just yesterday morning, messere." The woman sniffed.
"She's dead?" Leonardo asked pointlessly, the vista of possible reasons and solutions shifting before his inner eye. The woman nodded a goodnight to him and made to close the door.
"Please, I'm very sorry..." Leonardo said quickly, putting a hand on the door: "I need some information. Have you seen a foreign woman here? With red hair and pale eyes?"
The servant woman hesitated: "Signorina Settentriona? She was here visiting the mistress in her grief and just the day before the mistress died."
"Settentriona? From the north..." Leonardo mused: "Do you know how I might find her?" he hurried to add.
The woman looked a little perturbed at this: "The mistress sent my husband out with a note to her a few days ago. To a taverna in Cannaregio called Il Covo down by the foundry. The barkeep there can contact her."
The woman made a gesture as if about to close the door.
"Please, I need to know what happened to Donna Solario's sons; Arlo and Taddeo?"
"They were both murdered when the White Assassino broke into Palazzo Barbarigo while they were on guard duty. The mistress was told they gave chase and almost caught him, when..." She stopped and her lips pressed together as she noticeably tried to control her emotions. "Now please, messere, it is late..." she finally said, pleadingly, and slowly closed the door.
Leonardo stood alone on the steps to the house, taking a moment to rest his forehead against the closed door. He felt humbled by the woman's sorrow and told himself several times that Ezio must have been forced; must have seen no other way out, the guards standing in his way, doing their duty. Doing what they were paid and obligated to do.
"There must have been a reason!" he whispered fervently to himself, as he left the house, his feet taking him in the direction of the foundry in Cannaregio. "There must have been a reason..."
o-o-O-o-o
Leonardo had spent a moment in the shadows, simply studying the taverna. It was undoubtedly the seediest place he had ever been near, even including the one or two extremely dodgy establishments he had visited in Firenze while still an apprentice. He gave the shadows up when a lady of the night dragged a staggering customer there and began earning her wages.
In the short time Leonardo had spent studying the place he had seen several fights break out, the contents of several stomachs emptied in the muddy street outside and more than enough sagging and exposed skin, feminine and otherwise.
He had once heard a story of elephants, detailing that they all found their way to the same spot when it was time to die and Leonardo speculated that Il Covo was where courtesans and drunkards went when their career was nearly over. Shuddering at the thought, he made his way inside. This part of the city was less interested in the finery and imagination of masks and costumes, and more interested in the celebration of being alive in the present.
The inside of the taverna was lit by a fireplace and grimy lanterns hanging from the roof beams. The numerous patrons were stuffed into a narrow, oblong area running along the bar, ending in a wider space in which a fight was taking place, the shouts and cheering echoing through the crowds inside. Leonardo dislodged himself from the attention of two harlots who had been guarding the door, ready to pounce, by simply removing their hands from his person and ignoring them as he made his way to the bar. He felt grateful for having hidden the majority of the money he had brought with him in a pocket under his doublet, considering that different hands in the crowd had already been groping for the money in his belt.
The innkeeper was surly, enormous and had obviously used his face to weather blows on more than one occasion, judging by the scars. He gave Leonardo a glance down a shapeless nose: "What do you need?" he growled.
"To speak to la Settentriona." Leonardo stated and watched as a sly fire lit in the man's dull eyes.
"Who told you I know anyone by that name?"
"I don't have time for this... Can you help?" Leonardo asked coldly and held up a coin: "Or do I bribe someone else?"
o-o-O-o-o
Leonardo felt a rush of gratification as he very carefully leaned in and looked through the window into a small, two-room apartment, catching a glimpse of a red mane of hair, shining in the candlelight. The young woman was pacing back and forth, the generous folds of her green dress swishing about her as she shouted angrily in a language Leonardo didn't recognise, her heels clicking furiously across the floorboards. A man stood with his back to the window, near the door, his entire posture indicating anger.
Settling for just listening, Leonardo crouched down very carefully so as not to slip on the clay tiles of the overhang roof he stood on. The ladder he had borrowed from a small orange-tree garden around the corner stood close by, but Leonardo was painfully aware that he would be in trouble getting down again quickly if someone should discover him.
Back at the taverna, Leonardo had considered that the barkeep of Il Covo might have him robbed blind, beaten up, thrown out or anything in between. He had not considered for a moment that he might be recognised by the man as a friend of Ezio's. The question "Hang on, haven't I seen you with the Assassino?" was quite a surprise but not as much as being hailed as the greatest inventor of weapons in all Italia and slapped on the shoulder by an enthusiastic barkeep who told him that a friend of a friend was always welcome and freely gave the needed information. The rest had been easy, and he had found the house without incident but in the back of his mind, Leonardo kept asking himself in an alarmed tone of inner voice, where and how he could have been seen by the barkeep in Ezio's company.
The house was located in Cannaregio not too far from the Rialto; not nearly as seamy a part of the city as the one where Il Covo was located. Inside the apartment, Leonardo heard the heels stop pacing and the woman changed back to Italian although she still carried an accent of her own language when she shouted: "...And how the hell can you blame me for your incompetence. I fucking poisoned the man. Twice! I did my part. And your drunk and moronic people just weren't even good enough to-"
"You can insult me, but don't you dare speak ill of the men you got killed today!" the man interrupted furiously: "You said this would be easy. And you said it wouldn't happen before much later. What the fuck kind of planning was that. You couldn't even-"
"How was I supposed to know that any twist of skirt would attract him like an insect to a candle!" she shouted: "He found me, what was I supposed to d-"
"You were supposed to stick to the plan. I should have just let you deal with him yourself-"
"Oh, please, your people were supposed to keep me apprised of his movements. They failed. And you almost make it sound as if your idiot-brigade mattered. These last few hours I have tried to leave the city and been stopped at the port, been stopped by a gondolier and a handful of city guards were trying to follow me... So whatever the hell is going on, you have it easy, you coward!"
"What did you call me!"
Leonardo, driven by curiosity, carefully sneaked a peek through the window. The woman was in profile, her pretty face animated by anger, cheeks flushed, eyes flashing. The man was tall, broad, wearing a padded jerkin and a small armoury worth of weapons. A soldier of some sort, Leonardo thought, and the way the man's fists clenched and eyes narrowed made Leonardo wonder what he would do if the foreign woman got herself killed before he could get to her.
She moved so close to the man that Leonardo guessed they could feel each other's breath on their faces: "I called you a coward." she said very slowly: "You whine, instead of doing the job you were hired to do. You let Auditore escape!"
The man clenched his teeth, the battle going on in his mind written clearly on his features.
"Well?" The woman asked. Leonardo saw a slight twitch of her hand, hidden from the man's view in the folds of her skirt. A small blade, curving around her fingers, was slid out from under her embroidered belt.
"I do not kill women. Even if they deserve it." the soldier finally said curtly. "Good luck getting out of the city, bitch." He angrily turned on his heel and left the small apartment, slamming the door. The woman screamed in frustration and kicked a daybed standing against the wall, causing it to slide across the floor. Then she sighed, obviously trying to calm herself and started turning towards the window as she expertly replaced the knife under her belt.
Realising that she might be heading for a breath of fresh air, Leonardo made his way across the overhang roof and descended the rickety ladder as quickly as he dared and had just tipped the ladder out of sight from upstairs when he heard the window open. Feeling as if she must certainly be able to hear his heartbeat, he stood in the shadows under the narrow roof.
After a while there was a protracted sigh from above and then he heard her mumble something in her native language. It was a while before he heard the clink of the window closing and the latch being flipped to lock it. Leonardo waited a moment before he slowly put the ladder down and then snuck out of the small yard and around the house.
He was at the street level door before he knew it. It wasn't locked and he made his way up the stairs, treading lightly, closest to the wall where the wooden planks creaked the least. Most of the other apartments were silent. His heart was beating fast in equal parts anticipation and fear and he suddenly found himself doubting the sanity of his endeavour.
When he finally stood before the door to the small apartment, his mind was jumping frantically from one approach to the next. Somehow, he had allowed himself to think that everything would be obvious if he made it this far. Should he try to trick her? Would she fall for that? Should he try to use force? He scoffed at himself in his mind at this solution. Should he try to reason with her? Was that even possible with an angry and armed woman? While he was standing in the dark letting his mind debate the issue, he suddenly found himself knocking on the door.
I'm going to try to reason with her. Leonardo thought.
There were angry stomping footsteps on the other side: "What now! I swear, I will ki-" She stopped herself midsentence, the silver-pale eyes narrowing: "Who are you!" she demanded.
"My name is Leonardo... I... need to speak to you."
"I'm very certain I'm not who you think I am. Goodnight!" she said and started closing the door.
"Mette!" Leonardo said urgently, putting a foot over the threshold. "Please. I need to speak to you about the wishes of the late Donna Solario."
"I see..." she said slowly, giving him a suspicious look. Then a small smile found its way to the corner of her mouth and her shoulders made a sensuous little motion that let him view a little more of her pale breasts: "That's different then." she said softly.
As she stepped back, letting him enter, Leonardo noticed her hand furtively sliding by her belt and hiding in the folds of her dress. He slowly closed the door behind him, holding Mette's gaze as he did so; his pulse so fast he felt the steady drumbeat in his entire body. Then he took a quick step closer to her and struck her cheek and nose with a clenched fist.
Gasping, Mette stumbled backwards, lifting her arm to protect her face as she fell against the wall by the window.
One part of Leonardo's mind was simply a spectator, gasping in horror at what he was doing as the other part steered him forward, drew the slender dagger he carried and quickly cut the woman's lower arm, drawing blood. Then he scrambled backwards, appalled at his own deed, just as Mette's eyes met his. There was a kind of madness in her gaze made even more intense by the blood streaming from her nose and down her pale lips and breasts. The small blade flashed in her hand.
"No. Stop. Please! I'm really sorry I had to-" Leonardo held out a hand as she jumped towards him, slashing out at his face with a furious scream. Panicked, he raised his arm, feeling the blade bite into the thick leather bracer he wore under the doublet. He had brought it partly out of prudence and partly because it prevented his clothes from singeing with the expelled gunpowder when he used the wheel lock pistol. Frantically scrabbling to get out of the way of her rage, Leonardo yelled: "Don't! The poison will spread faster when you move like that."
Ignoring him, she changed her tactic, slashing low instead and it was all he could do to keep her at bay.
"I don't want you dead." Leonardo shouted urgently and finally managed to push her away a few steps while he dodged and parried her slashes: "I'm sorry! You have to listen!" he yelled, surprised to see her stop, panting, and retreat slowly, knife raised. The look in her eyes shifted back and forth from rage to dread.
"Please, listen." Leonardo said, breathless, and slowly sheathed the dagger. Then he held up both hands in what he hoped was a soothing gesture as he pressed his back to the door: "You poisoned my friend. All I want is a cure for him. I don't want to hurt you. I really don't want anyone dead. But I need the antidote; and so do you now. So we must talk."
"What makes you think there is an antidote?" She laughed, tauntingly.
"Hope." Leonardo said quietly, shrugging a little. "Ezio is my best friend. I love him. I cannot lose him."
He watched as her gaze shifted to the wound on her arm; watched the awful realisation in her features: "...And then you will let me go. I don't believe you." she finally said.
"You will give me the antidote to cure my friend..." Leonardo said calmly. "All I need is for you to come with me and give the antidote to Ezio. When he is well again, I will give you the antidote to the poison in your system and let you leave. I swear it."
She gave a bitter laugh: "Of course you do. I'm not going to let you imprison me so Auditore can kill me. What sort of a world do you live in..."
"Forgive me, but I don't quite trust you to hand over the real antidote. Ezio will listen to me. He won't pursue you if I ask him not to."
"No. I don't trust you." Mette tiredly sat down and slowly wiped the blood off her face with her sleeve; studying the cut on her arm tentatively, a scared look in her eyes.
"Please." Leonardo found himself pleading: "Please. I am very sorry that I attacked you, but it was the shortest way to making you listen to me. It's the only way I can be certain you will give me the right antidote."
She gave him a harsh stare: "That man is filth. He is nothing but a murderer. And you are his friend."
"He has his faults." Leonardo almost rolled his eyes and allowed himself to relax a little. "He is almost unbearably self-satisfied on occasion; he thinks it natural that everyone around him should stop whatever they are doing to help him when he needs it. He is a bit like a cat dragging a half dead bird to your bed and expecting praise. And then he kills people. Like you."
"A woman looses both her sons. She has already lost her husband and has nothing left." Mette snapped vehemently: "Who will avenge her when she gives up and lets the grief claim her life? Do you know how many injustices women have to live with without the tools to fight back, neither physically nor lawfully? Rape, bereavement, violence." she finished despondently, the fingers closing around the wound on her arm shook a little.
"You justify it. Just as Ezio does. His reason is based on loss. There is always a reason." Leonardo said quietly.
She just stared at her feet for a while: "What did you do to me?" she finally asked.
"You should be able to feel the effects in about an hour." Leonardo shrugged: "We can have this over with long before that. Please. I will call off the city guards and let the gondoliere know that the reward is no longer relevant and you can leave the city in the morning by ship. I will even pay your fare if you need it. Ezio is dying; I don't care about reasons one way or the other right now." Leonardo tentatively moved a little closer and handed her a handkerchief from his belt pouch.
She snatched the cloth and turned her icy eyes on him, giving him a long stare that made him feel exposed. After a while she said: "I care. You only agreed he was a bastard. You never gave me a reason for letting him live."
Leonardo sighed: "He is honest. Loyal. The rest of the explanation you can have on the way. I beg you; his time is short." he pleaded and was surprised when she stood up slowly, clutching the cloth to the wound, and simply gave him a nod: "I must have my things with me. Do not attack." She slowly crouched, drawing a small chest with an elaborate little padlock from its hiding place under the bed. There was a shoulder strap attached to the chest for easy transport. Then she said: "Fine, let us get this over with. But if you make any threatening moves, I will attack you, and this time you won't be fast enough."
o-o-O-o-o
It was the strangest walk Leonardo had ever taken. He had let Mette walk first down the stairs but once they were in the street, he had gently put an arm around her, locking his fingers into hers to prevent her attacking. She had been angry, and had been swearing a lot in her own language until she had given up and demanded to know why Ezio was worth saving. He told her, as they made their way to the workshop.
The walk seemed endless although he knew it was quite short, just through a few streets to the Rialto and then down to the workshop behind the market. As they walked, Leonardo was acutely and awkwardly aware that the closeness between them must seem intimate to the casual observer, as though they were lovers. There was a smell to her hair, he noticed. It was very familiar, and after a while he realised that it was the same smell as the apothecary's store which he had often visited as an apprentice, fetching pigments for his master. Earths, plants, ores, minerals and all alchemical things in between. He said nothing of it, though, and was mildly surprised that she didn't interrupt him as he told her of his friend.
They met only a few people in the streets, all of them quite happily drunk and when they reached the plaza it was silent, the refreshment stalls closed. There was a pale pink stripe on the eastern horizon and a chill dawn mist seeped into the air of the city when finally they stood before the door to the workshop. Leonardo felt the cold seep into his bones as he stared at the door to his home, realising that Ezio might already be dead and that this could be the last moment of his life where he had the right to think otherwise.
"What!" Mette snapped: "Is this it? You are going to have to let go of me."
With a wave of annoyance flooding his body, Leonardo kicked the door yelling: "Aurelio, open up!"
It was a moment before there were footsteps on the other side of the door, and Leonardo was alarmed at the tired and almost defeated look in Aurelio's dark eyes as he opened, although the expression changed to surprise as his gaze went from Mette to Leonardo and back again.
"How is he!" Leonardo demanded pushing past, into the workshop. He stopped abruptly. Ezio was stretched out on the heavy worktable, a blanket covering him, looking dead but for the very slight rise and fall of his chest with each irregular and faint breath. The tabletop beside him was strewn with vials and beakers and a mortar was filled with the ground leaves of a dried plant.
"He's dying. I..." Aurelio stopped and locked the door behind them: "I don't believe you did it... That you actually found her." he said under his breath as Leonardo dragged Mette to Ezio's side.
"Help him!" he demanded: "As soon as he is breathing easily again, you will have your antidote and we can be rid of each other." He slowly released her hands and stepped away, as though handling a wild animal.
"Who is she..." Aurelio asked, taking a place next to Leonardo.
"She's the one who poisoned him."
"Of course, but who is she?"
Leonardo shrugged and they both watched as Mette started unpacking the small chest she had brought with her; filled to the brim with tiny glass bottles of liquids and powders, bundled safely into small padded, wooden shelves stacked neatly in the chest. Several implements for measuring, grinding and mixing the poisons fitted snugly into it, too. She seemed to survey Aurelio's work-place for a moment.
"So," Mette said conversationally as she felt Ezio's neck dispassionately, fingers having to search for the pulse: "Which one of you, if any, is the painter."
Aurelio gave a scoffing sound.
"That would be me." Leonardo said: "Can you please hurry."
"I was bested by a painter." Mette said, her tone a tired statement as she mixed two liquids gently in a tiny bottle. "That would be…" she pointed inquisitively at the ground herbs in the mortar.
"Aconitum?" she asked as Aurelio echoed: "Aconitum."
"Did you administer it?" Mette asked, ignoring the irritated glance from Leonardo as he moved closer, putting a hand on Ezio's forehead, the skin burning under his fingertips.
"I was about to. As a last resort. I'm assuming you poisoned him with nightshade?" Aurelio asked smoothly.
"Yes…" Mette said sweetly.
"Tastefully classic. And it means that I might have saved him after all."
"Thank you, and yes. I'm really sorry we had to meet like this over an almost soon to be corpse." She smiled.
"Oh, would you stop that! Just help him and get out of my workshop!" Leonardo yelled, the annoyance that had been bubbling under the surface turning to anger.
She turned, a carefully studied indifferent look in her features, and handed the small bottle in her hand to Leonardo: "Get the corpse to drink this in a cup of wine. He will fall into a deep slumber that will still his heart to a minimum. At least that's how it works on normal mortals. The dose of nightshade I gave him should have killed him hours ago, so I really can't know. But it's the best I can do for him."
Leonardo snatched it from her and started preparing it with wine from a pitcher on the table: "What is it?" he demanded.
"Somniferum from the Holy Land; distilled and mixed with strong alcohol." Mette readily volunteered. Leonardo gazed at Aurelio who nodded his approval and stepped closer to help get Ezio to drink the antidote.
When the project had med with success, Leonardo gently wrapped the blanket around Ezio again and drew a chair close, watching Mette who sat at the end of the table, removed from everyone, staring blankly into space. She was pale and the blood she had been unable to wipe off on her hand and chest made her seem even more alone. Leonardo wished he could hate her. Sighing, he took the basin of water that had been hot hours ago when Ezio had stumbled into the workshop, and brought it to her side.
"May I?" he asked and wringing the water out of a wash cloth, he held it up. She flinched, her hand going to her belt.
Leonardo sighed: "I'm not going to hurt you."
"No, you already have." Mette said, and relaxed a little as Leonardo gently wiped the blood off her skin and cleaned the wound on her arm. She sat still, staring at him while he worked.
"I can stitch it for you, if you like?" he offered but she just shook her head. Leonardo shrugged and bandaged her arm. When the work was done, she gestured towards Aurelio who was resting his hand on Ezio's chest.
"I think it is starting to work. His heartbeat is slower; stronger." Aurelio commented.
Mette jumped off the table and moved close to Leonardo. He felt the warmth from her body and saw the heat of a smouldering anger in her silvery eyes.
"As you see, I have been true to my word. It's time you honour your promise." she said.
"Your antidote." Leonardo nodded and fervently wished that Ezio would somehow wake up and help him out of this mess. He backed away from her a little and poured a cup of wine.
"What did you poison me with?" she asked uncertainly, and Leonardo knew that she must see his guilty conscience painted on his face with a large brush. He held the cup out to her and she tentatively took it, looking at the mirror in the surface of the dark wine: "What is this?" she asked.
"It's as much an antidote as any other." Leonardo said, moving slowly backwards.
"What do you mean? That it is incurable or-" She stopped herself and paled visibly, her curved lips pressing into a pale line of rage. "You didn't!" Mette spat: "You didn't even poison me! You just cut me. You tricked me!"
"Now please, try to understand my urgency." Leonardo backed further away from her, watching her rage building as she approached him: "I really wanted to poison you, but there was no ti-"
With a scream of fury she threw the wine cup to the floor, where it exploded in hundreds of pieces with a brittle sound, and leap at him, hitting him sharply in the chest with full force. Leonardo gasped, the breath knocked out of him, and dropped to his knee. He lifted his hand to protect himself when there was a flurry of dark in front of him and the screaming and struggling woman was locked in Aurelio's grip, her hair flying about her face.
"Her belt!" Leonardo struggled to say and picked himself painfully up from the floor. "Don't let her-" he began but was interrupted by the sound of running feet from the direction of the kitchen and another scream mixed with Mette's. Leonardo looked up just in time to see Detta come running straight for Aurelio and the struggling woman, screaming: "Nobody touches my artist!" before landing a heavy fist-blow to Mette's cheekbone which sent the redhead reeling in Aurelio's arms.
Leonardo slowly backed to his chair, slumped down and looked at the sketches of Detta he had been working on, anticipating nothing but an evening of masks and music before Ezio had shown up. He looked at Aurelio who was holding Mette tightly. Her hair was a mess and she was struggling to stay conscious. Aurelio was seemingly caught somewhere between disgust and anger, and possibly in imminent danger of keeling over with laughter. Detta was looking smug, brushing her dress off and giving Leonardo a sideways glance full of smile, all the while Ezio slept happily on the table, his chest now rising and falling visibly and calmly.
Leonardo knew, that before he could sleep, he would have to make certain that the contact Pasqualigo had made available to him would be informed that the woman the guards sought was no longer a concern; that the gondoliere knew not to try to detain random redheaded women for florins. He would also have to make certain that Mette could leave the city as soon as she was able.
But for now, he rested his head in his hands and started laughing.
o-o-O-o-o
When Ezio awoke he didn't open his eyes, but instead just listened hazily to the world around him. He had a vague impression that something had moved close by, but in his sleep-drunk half consciousness he didn't give it any thought. He felt unpleasantly warm and sweaty and slowly moved to push the stuffy blanket away. A sharp pain in his arm reprimanded him and, resigned to the fate of feeling too warm for a little while longer, Ezio gave up, gently drifting off in a semiconscious slumber. There were noises, far off, it seemed; from outside. The sound of a cart in the street, the wheels bumping over the pavement. A gentle buzz of people far away, talking. A dog was barking. A gentle creak of the wood of a building settling in the heat. Ezio slowly opened his eyes, disappointed that the impressions had robbed him of his slumber.
Ignoring the pain, he lifted his hand. The stitches of the cut on his lower arm were small and neat. As he let his hand fall, the shade it had provided vanished and the bright sunlight cut into his vision. He turned his head and looked at the man curled up in a chair within arm's reach of the table. It was a few seconds of studying the unruly blond hair, the stubble on his chin and the dark shadows under his eyes as he slept resting his head in his arm, before Ezio's tired brain guiltily realised that it was Leonardo and the memory of running from the attackers, bleeding and realising that the poison coursing through his veins would likely finish him, hit him like the brick wall he'd had the dubious pleasure of meeting as he fell from the window last night.
He slowly reached out, lightly brushing Leonardo's shoulder; the movement sent a sharp reminder through his body of the physical punishment he had suffered.
"Leonardo." Ezio said, his voice sounding cracked and strange in his own ears.
Leonardo stirred, lifting his head and giving Ezio a sleepy stare which quickly turned sharp and alert as a smile lit his features: "You are awake! Thank God!" he jumped to his feet: "How do you feel?"
"Poisoned; beaten up." Ezio said slowly.
Leonardo just grinned: "Interesting. I would have thought you'd feel like your life was saved by a painter who found your would-be murderer and got her to give you the antidote, making you feel much better..." he commented with a self-satisfied grin. "Do you need anything?" he added more seriously.
"What happened?" Ezio asked, trying to sit up: "How long has it been? How did you..." pained, he closed his eyes and fell back on the pillow; a wave of exhaustion washing through his body.
He could hear the smile in Leonardo's voice: "Don't worry; I'll be sure to take you through the minutiae of my cleverness as soon as you are recovered."
Ezio smiled: "Of that I have no doubt." he mumbled and drifted off to sleep again.
.
.
.
Thanks to Fiothin from deviantArt for beta-reading and motivation! Fio has a scrumptious gallery of Assassin's Creed artwork. You should nip by her page there and have a look! (just search for Fiothin.)
If you have comments or questions about the story, or an idea for something you think I ought to write, don't hesitate to beep me, either here on or on deviantArt (username Liva-Wilborg). Thanks =D