Immortal Read Free Page B

apologetic look, his crazy blue eye tipping upward and his loose ears waggling. Then he pointed at me and bellowed, “Thief! This boy is a thief!”
    My feet were well schooled in fleeing, that being the education I’d had until then, but I was so shocked by Massimo’s accusation that I froze. The little girl turned and looked at me, her pink lips dropping open in surprise. I waved my hands to placate Massimo, whose cries were attracting attention. “Thief, thief!” he yelled louder. I stumbled backward—right into the arms of a waiting ufficiale della guardia.
    “I’ve got you, dirty thief!” the ufficiale growled.
    “I’m not a thief!” I cried.
    “Check his shirt,” Massimo urged. “I saw him stuff it in there!”
    “There’s nothing on me,” I argued. But there was a subtle brush against my rib as Massimo leaned into me, pointing and jabbing, and my heart grew cold and quiet. There was something there now. The ufficiale thrust his hand into the tattered sash that bound my shirt.
    “A signet ring!” the ufficiale cried. He waved it aloft, gold glinting between his thick fingers. “Where did you get this, scoundrel?”
    “I didn’t take it!”
    “It’s mine,” a cool voice said, tones of scorn ringing out. The crowd around me settled into a quiet that reeked of distaste. The grandmother pulled the little girl behind her. People pressed back as from a viper as a lean, well-dressed man made his way toward us. “It was in my purse just a short while ago. This young thief picked my pocket.”
    “I never saw you, sir,” I protested, but the ufficiale slapped my ear, hard, so that it popped. Pain and an insistent buzzing swallowed my head. The man who claimed I had stolen his ring stepped closer to me, and I recoiled in fear. Wafting perfume, he bent his face down close to mine, so that I saw the acne pits on his lean cheeks and the brushstrokes in his coiffed dark beard. He had a pointy, protruding chin and a sharp, whittled nose like a blade. I turned my face away, gagging, and struggled in the ufficiale’s grip.
    “Look at me, thief,” he breathed. I slanted my eyes upward. One side of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “You’ll do nicely, my fine lost boy.” He nodded, then straightened.
    “He stole something from me that is more valuable than his miserable life,” Bernardo Silvano said. “He belongs to me now. He can work off his debt. That will be fitting punishment for the likes of him.” The crowd melted back silently, and Silvano dug his fingers into my shoulders. “Bind him,” he instructed the ufficiale, who produced coarse rope with which he jerked my wrists together behind my back. I protested and the ufficiale boxed my ears again. A trickle of blood warmed the pinna of my right ear. I looked, unbelieving and horrified, at Massimo, whom I’d considered a brother. He refused to raise his mismatched eyes to me. The rest of the onlookers turned away, the matter resolved, if unpalatably, in their minds. Silvano leaned over and took Massimo’s hand in his own. With his other hand, almost in a caress, Silvano dropped something into Massimo’s palm. Metal gleamed, and Massimo quickly clutched the florin to his chest. A whole florin; that would feed him for a month. Was that what I was worth, a month’s meals?
    “No, Massimo!” I pleaded.
    Massimo looked up at me and whispered, “I win!” Then he fled.
    The ufficiale shoved me at Silvano. “Take him!” he growled. “Just so he stays out of trouble.”
    “Trouble doesn’t interest me. I have other plans for him,” Silvano said coolly. Bile washed up on my tongue. I had never felt so alone and afraid. I jerked wildly away from Silvano, but his long silky fingers hid an uncanny strength, and he held me by the ropes around my wrists. He twisted them upward, forcing my arms into an unnatural position. Pain sliced through my shoulders and I groaned, falling to my knees. I looked around for an escape, for help, but there was none.