Chapter 24

Silvio was standing in living room and Dafne hadn't even noticed his presence until he had announced it. His arm was wrapped in a clean bandage while his clothes and hair remained dishevelled from his encounter with Cockerell.

He never got learn the source of their amusement as Dafne sprung up and went over to hug him as carefully as she could.

"How are you?" she asked.

Silvio shrugged nonchalantly as though what he had been was no great ordeal.

"I'm okay."

"What did Orlanda say?"

"She said you should be more careful brat," said Silvio, mimicking the woman's voice and scowl, making Dafne giggle.

"Was that all?" Dafne said, "What did she say about the wound? Is it healing properly?"

Silvio seemed to sink under Dafne's questioning.

"Stop harassing him," Basta called to her, "He said he's fine."

Dafne caught the grateful look on Silvio's face and raised her hands in defeat.

"Okay then," she said a little testily.

Cockerell had been savagely kicking the boy and she wasn't supposed to be concerned?

She swept back over to the table with Silvio in tow, now looking apologetic.

"The wound reopened," he said, "Orlanda had to stitch it back up. But she said it should be fine, he didn't manage to break anything."

Dafne's face softened. She ruffled the boy's hair.

"That's a mercy at least. You were really brave you know," she told him.

Silvio looked embarrassed at her praise.

"It was nothing," he insisted, turning to Basta, admiration in his voice, "You sure showed Cockerell back there. It was really cool."

Basta laughed, obviously pleased.

"Cockerell's a pushover when it comes to my knife."

Silvio looked wistful,

"I wish I was good with a knife like you."

This was a desire Basta was willing to accommodate.

"I can teach you if you want," he said.

Immediately alarm bells went off in Dafne's head.

"I don't that's such a good idea..." she tried to interject but she was drowned out by Silvio.

"That would great!" the boy said, miming the throw and whiz of a knife.

Dafne sighed. Silvio was acting as though Basta was about to impart some secret wisdom of the universe instead of how to wield a pointy object.

"Silvio, if Basta teaches you, you would only use a knife in self-defence right?" she said, trying to approach this situation diplomatically.

Silvio paused in mid-mime,

"Self-defence? Oh yeah, I'd only use it then," he said, slightly allaying her fears, "Like if Cockerell tried to jump me."

This was accompanied by an almost anticipatory smile and Dafne's sense of dread came rushing back.

"Cockerell won't do that," Basta said, adding threatening under his breath, "If he knows what's good for him."

"Even so, you stay away from him Silvio," Dafne felt compelled to say. She didn't the boy feeling invincible enough to go looking for revenge.

Silvio rolled his eyes at her, slightly indignant,

"Come on Dafne, I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not," Dafne said, "I just... worry about you."

She glared at Basta as if to say that this was his fault, which it was, teaching Silvio how to wield a knife was asking for trouble.

"You don't need to worry about me," Silvio whined.

"Of course she does, she thinks she's your mother," Basta said, smirking at Dafne.

"And what are you his father?" Dafne retorted, "Passing down the tradition of knife waving?"

"He wants me to teach him," Basta said, "What's the harm?"

"Harm? That's precisely what you use your knife for," Dafne challenged him.

Basta pursed his lips,

"I didn't hear you complaining when I used it to save you," he pointed out, leaving Dafne momentarily speechless, racking her brains to come up with a response.

Silvio made use her silence, jumping in.

"I'll be careful I promise," he swore, looking at Dafne with pleading eyes.

It was two against one.

"Alright," Dafne relented unhappily, "But I'm going to hold you to that promise."

Silvio gave a whoop of joy before moving onto the next matter.

"Hey you cooked," he said, looking at Dafne appreciatively.

Dafne smiled,

"Sit down, I'll get you some."

Basta regarded the boy slyly across the table as he took his seat.

"Hey Silvio, did you get your little girlfriend home?"

Caught off guard, Silvio began to blush.

"What? No," he spluttered, "Netta isn't my girlfriend."

Basta leaned forward, clearly enjoying the boy's discomfort.

"But you like her don't you."

"No!" Silvio protested, "I don't even know her..."

"Don't worry Silvio. He's just teasing you," Dafne said, shooting Basta a reproachful look.

"You're no fun little mouse," Basta pouted but he backed off all the same.

"Did you have any troubling getting Vanetta into the house?" Dafne asked Silvio as she set dinner in front of him.

"Nah, it was no problem. Mortola wasn't around," Silvio replied before taking a large mouthful, "Zat moot lahdee wes werting fer us."

"You might want to swallow first and repeat that last part," Dafne advised him.

She heard Basta chuckle under his breath. He had taken out his knife and was tapping his finger on its point.

"I said that mute lady was waiting for us," Silvio said.

"You mean Resa?"

Silvio had taken another mouthful so all she got was muffled affirmation.

Dafne was relieved, to know the girl had been delivered safely back into her friend's care, Mortola none the wiser of Vanetta's escape attempt.

"Good," she said.

Basta flicked his knife into the air, catching it expertly.

"Well then, everything seemed to have worked out, wouldn't you say little mouse?" he said, "All you have to do now is clean up my kitchen."

Dafne gave a growl of exasperation.

"Really little mouse, would you have given Mortola this kind of attitude?" Basta remarked as Dafne grudgingly snatched up his bowl along with her own.

Dafne ignored him, stalking over to sink.

Fine, you want me to clean, I'll clean, you weird clean-freak.

It didn't take Silvio long to devour the pasta. He got up and took his bowl over to her,

"Here Dafne," he said, sidling up very close to her.

As he passed the bowl, his other hand discretely slipped something in the pocket of her dress.

Dafne glanced down then back up at him questioningly. But Silvio gave a tiny shake of his head, his face solemn.

She understood. Whatever it was, it was meant for her eyes only. Not Basta.

Paranoid, she checked to see man had been watching them, worried his suspicious eyes may have detected Silvio's move.

But thankfully Basta appeared to be still preoccupied with his knife.

Silvio's eyes had also travelled to Basta.

He smiled, reassured that his action had gone unnoticed.

"I gotta go now," he announced, "I got bridge duty."

"Bridge duty?" Dafne said, forgetting the mystery in her pocket, "But your arm is still in a sling."

She looked to Basta rather than Silvio for explanation. He was the one in charge of rostering the men.

"No good looking at me, little mouse," he said, catching his knife for the umpteenth time, "He wanted to be scheduled on."

"But why?" Dafne asked Silvio.

"I wanted to see the dogs," Silvio replied, which was all he needed to say to make Dafne understand. She knew how attached he was to them.

"You had better run along then," Basta said, "Don't keep the stupid brutes waiting."

Silvio didn't need further prompting. He was eager to go as it was. In his haste, he appeared unfussed by Basta's open dislike for the creatures.

"See you guys later," he said, hurrying out the door.

"I guess it's just you and me then," Basta said.

Dafne turned back to the washing up. She could feel whatever it was in pocket and she was itching to see what it was. But she couldn't with Basta around.

"I guess so," she said, knowing she would have to wait.

"You don't have to sound so glum about it," Basta said, misinterpreting the sigh in her voice.

"I'm not glum," Dafne said, turning to him and forcing a smile, "See? Happy."

"But you would prefer Silvio to be here," Basta said, sounding almost jealous of the fact.

"I could ask you the same thing," Dafne said, deflecting the question back at him, "It must be nice having someone around who hero-worships you."

"I can't say it's not," Basta said, "But as much as I like the boy, I like your company better."

"Really?"

"Really. For one thing, it's fun to wind you up. You're such a Goody Two Shoes about everything," Basta said before mimicking her in a high voice, "Basta, don't teach Silvio how to use a knife, its wrong!"

"I'm glad my morality is a source of amusement to you," Dafne said, highly unamused by his impression.

Basta rocked in his chair smiling,

"Oh don't get me wrong. It's aggravating too, having you telling me off all the time."

"It's not all the time," Dafne said.

"It's most of time. You need to get off your high horse and stop taking everything so seriously."

"It's a little hard for me to do that," Dafne snapped, "I'm not used to violence and murder being thought of so casually."

"See, there you go again," Basta pointed a finger at her triumphantly; "You can't help yourself."

Dafne sighed in frustration.

"Fine, I'll keep my thoughts to myself from now on."

"I believe that when I see it," Basta said.

Dafne didn't reply, instead she took her anger out on the cutlery, scrubbing them furiously. She became so engrossed that she didn't notice Basta come up behind her.

"Are you mad at me, little mouse?" he said, startling her so that she dropped the bowl she holding back into the water, splashing suds onto her face.

"No," Dafne said with undisguised testiness.

"It sounds like you are," Basta said, wiping the foam from her cheek with his thumb.

Dafne jerked her head away,

"You told me to clean, I'm cleaning," she said, dragging the bowl back out of the suds.

Basta watched her for a moment,

"You missed a spot," he said.

"Basta!" she moaned, "Please leave me alone."

"I'm just trying to help," Basta said defensively.

"I'm perfectly capable of washing a bowl."

"Obviously you're not."

"Obviously not to your high standards," Dafne retorted.

"I'll take over then, shall I?" Basta said.

"Be my guest," Dafne said, moving aside.

"There's wine in the refrigerator," Basta instructed as he began to dry Dafne's handiwork, inspecting each item critically, "Make yourself useful and pour two glasses. You do drink, don't you, Miss Goody Goody. You're not going to lecture me on the evils of alcohol?"

Dafne ignored the jibe, doing as he bid.

"There's chocolate in here," she said, peering into the refrigerator, "Can we have chocolate too?"

"I don't know if you deserve my chocolate." Basta said, speaking to her as if she was a misbehaved child.

Dafne rebelliously snapped a piece off and popped it into her mouth.

"Sorry I wasn't listening," she said, carrying both wine and chocolate to the table, "You said yes right?"

Basta looked amused at her small act of defiance,

"I must have done."

Dafne poured two glasses and took one, taking a sip and grimacing at the taste. It wasn't the quality wine Signor Orazio would have with lunch and dinner, always insisting she share a glass with him. It had been a while since she had thought of him and she felt guilty. Her happy life with him seemed so long ago, almost like a dream. She had planned to escape and return his wife's necklace to him, the necklace she wore, hidden beneath her dress. This seemed unlikely now. Signor Orazio would have to go on believing that his once trusted maid had absconded with a treasured possession and set fire to his library.

The thought was painful. Dafne took another gulp of wine, deciding she would bear its aftertaste. It would make do for drowning sorrows.

By the time Basta finished his task and wandered over, she was downing the rest of her glass.

"Slow down little mouse," he said with amusement as she went to top up, "It's not a race."

Dafne slid his glass towards him,

"I'm sure you can catch up."

"You can count on that, little mouse," Basta said, knocking back a hearty mouthful.

"Daf-ne. Why that so hard for you to say?" Dafne said as she refilled her glass.

Basta shrugged, reaching for the chocolate,

"Habits are hard to break," he said, "Little mouse."

"How about I give you an incentive. If you don't stop calling little mouse," Dafne leaned forward threatening, "I'm going to start calling you little cat."

Basta frowned,

"Little?"

"Because you're short," Dafne said, giggling into her glass.

Basta flushed angrily.

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are, you're a little cat who likes to scratch people," Dafne said, breaking into singsong, alcohol making her bold, "Little cat, little cat."

"Stop calling me that," Basta demanded.

"Stop calling me little mouse," Dafne shot back, "Little cat."

"Fine, whatever you want. Just stop it with the little cat."

"I'm glad we could come to an agreement," Dafne said, sipping her wine with the relish of a victor.

"You're a mean drunk, little mouse," Basta observed sourly, "I mean Dafne."

"So are you," Dafne said, "I recall a certain inebriated person dropping a snake through my window."

Basta grimaced,

"Are you going to start in on me?" he said wearily.

"No. I'm going to tell you story," Dafne said.

"I hope it's not a morality tale."

"No. It's about the woman I'm named after. Actually she wasn't really a woman, she was a nymph. Did you have nymphs in your world?"

"Nymphs, yes, you usually found them around rivers, bathing," Basta said, then scowled, "They were really stuck up. If you tried to pay them a compliment they would splash water at you and swim away."

Dafne bit her lip to stop smiling at the picture of Basta in her head drenched with water, giving him a pitying look instead.

"That sounds like the nymphs in myths from my world. They even rejected the advances of gods," she said, "which is kind of what my story is about if you want to hear it."

"Alright," Basta said, still grumpy from his reminiscence, "Tell me about your stupid nymph."

"She wasn't stupid," Dafne sighed, "Anyway the story begins with Apollo, the sun God and Cupid, the god of love. Apollo was skilled with a bow and mocked Cupid's own prowess with the weapon. Cupid decided to teach him a lesson and took up two arrows. They were no ordinary arrows, if they struck a person they caused opposite effects. One caused a person to go mad with love, utterly consumed and driven by it. The other took away ability to feel love completely. Cupid hit Apollo with the one causing love and hit Daphne with the other. One day Apollo came across Daphne and fell in love with her on sight as she was very beautiful. He wooed her but she was cold to his love under the spell of the arrow and ran from him. Apollo chased after her, under a spell of his own, pursuing her relentlessly. In desperation, Daphne fled to her father a river God and begged him to change her form. Her father did as she asked, transforming her into a laurel tree. When Apollo came upon her new form, he loved her still but realised he could not have her as she was now a tree not flesh and blood. From hence on, he declared that laurel trees would be sacred to him in memory of Daphne."

"I would say you have a rather ill-fated name," Basta remarked after Dafne finished the tale.

"A name is what you make it," Dafne said, "Basta might mean unwanted child but that doesn't make it your destiny, no more than I'm destined to turn into a tree."

"You think so? I always felt my name was like a curse," Basta said, staring melancholically into his glass, "My parents didn't want me and as I went through life I found that no one else wanted me either, except Capricorn of course, but no girl, nymph or otherwise. No matter how hard I tried to make them like me. I thought Roxanne might have been different. She was so beautiful it made you ache just to look at her. I felt like that god in your story. I had to have her. I couldn't think of anything else. But she didn't want me, she wanted Dustfinger, a vagabond who could do fancy tricks with fire. He didn't deserve her. He didn't love her as much as I did. He makes eyes at Resa like Roxanne didn't even exist. If she had chosen me, it would have been different. I would have been faithful but she didn't give a chance. Just like all the rest," he looked up at her distraughtly, "You're the first woman who can stand being around me. The others look at me like I'm completely repulsive."

"You're not repulsive," Dafne said, torn between pity and discomfort, "You're actually good looking. It's just that you're kind of intimidating and your temper doesn't do you any favours. I think if you..."

"You think I'm good looking?" Basta interrupted, seeming not to have heard anything past that.

Dafne inwardly kicked herself. The wine was loosening her tongue in ways she didn't like. He was handsome in an intense sort of way but this was just an observation. She had been trying to cheer him up, not imply she was attracted to him even though he was actually attractive.

"Um yes," she said embarrassedly, "That's what I said."

Basta leaned back in his chair with a look of amazement.

"No woman has ever said that to me before," he said before turning distrustful, "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"No," she said, "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," Basta said, "I'm just not used to a woman giving me a compliment."

He smiled at her almost gratefully now he was convinced of her sincerity.

"You're welcome," Dafne said uncomfortably, faking a yawn, "I'm sleepy, it must be the wine. Would you mind if I went to bed?"

Her instinct was to flee the situation, given the path it seemed to be heading. But she felt bad, watching the smile she had put on his face falter.

"Er, of course not," he said.

She rose very self-consciously, the scraping of the chair legs on the floor deafening in the silence.

"Goodnight Dafne."

This made Dafne stop in her tracks. He had said her name genuinely for the first time. She couldn't help smiling at that.

"Goodnight Basta."

To be continued...