The Exiled Blade: Act Three of the Assassini Read Free

oversaw executions. When the local Prior of the White in Montenegro proclaimed himself High Prior of the
Red
, and announced he and his followers would drive heretics from Montenegro, most regarded that as heresy itself. The man might be dead but his knights remained, holding to their new name, their supposed religious mission and the land they should be protecting from Serbian bandits. The Duchy of Montenegro was one of Venice’s newer colonies. Not large, but its position across the Adriatic from Sicily made it key to protecting Venetian trade.
    “My friend . . . What are you suggesting?” Alonzo asked.
    Bribanzo glanced at the other councillors. One of them nodded slightly, and from the sudden stiffening of Alexa’s shoulders Tycho knew she’d caught the glance. Alonzo’s plot spread wider than both of them thought.
She’s worried. Alexa worried is me worried.
Tycho loosened his dagger and Alexa shook her head.
    “If you won’t stay here, my lord, serve Venice in another capacity. Don’t simply retire to your estates. The city can’t afford to lose its greatest general.”
    The Regent shrugged.
    “I mean it, my lord.” Bribanzo’s voice was stronger.
    Here it comes.
    “So,” said Alonzo. “Sail against the Barbary pirates . . . Retake Paxos . . . Defeat the Red Crucifers . . . Which do you want from me?”
    “Any of them, my lord.” Bribanzo looked to the Council for agreement and received half a dozen nods. Alexa would note who agreed and who kept their counsel. She glanced at her son but Marco seemed too lost in his thoughts to notice a split was appearing.
    “Alonzo,” she said.
    “Yes, my lady?” The Regent sounded innocent.
    “I thought you were determined to retire to your estates?”
    “That is my dearest wish. But if the Council of Ten still want me to serve my city . . .” There was enough ambiguity in his tone to leave it unclear whether he meant he served the city, or he regarded the city as
his
. He’d made it clear to everyone over the years that he didn’t consider it hers. “If the Council want me to serve, how can I refuse? No matter what my enemies say about me . . .” He looked at Tycho this time. “My devotion to Venice is unchanging. My friends already know my friendship is for life. My enemies would be fools to underestimate me . . .”
    “
Alonzo
.”
    “A man may say goodbye to his friends. Especially when he goes to risk his life for his city. Any Venetian knows this.”
    “And I’m not Venetian?” Alexa’s voice was tight.
    Alonzo smiled. “As you say . . .”
    “S-s-snow.” Marco said suddenly. The room stilled as he unfolded spidery legs, abandoned his throne and wandered to the window. He opened an inner shutter, peered through a small circle of bottle glass and sucked his teeth at the darkness beyond. “It’s going to s-snow. Look . . .”
    Stars that had been high and bright when the meeting began were now shrouded by cloud, and the moon a sullen glow on the far side of a slab of grey. It was cold enough in the chamber to need a brazier in the fireplace, but snow? Snow was rare in Venice. At least flakes that lasted beyond a few days.
    “Isn’t it, T-Tycho? Y-you’ve seen snow. D-doesn’t it feel like snow to you?”
    What’s behind that smile?
    “M-my uncle will need a big b-blanket, and an army for when he g-goes to M-Montenegro. Well, g-gold to buy an army but in such a good cause. And a n-nice thick coat for M-Maria for when he’s not k-keeping her warm in b-bed.”
    “Montenegro?” Alexa asked.
    “He can fight the Red C-Crucifers. He’ll l-like that.” With this, Marco abandoned his window, wandered to the door, which he opened for himself, and ambled away whistling “Touch Her Teats First”, a song usually heard at peasant weddings on the mainland. The meeting broke up immediately. Marco was duke; without him there was no meeting to be had.
    “My lord . . .” Bribanzo bowed to Alonzo. “May I offer you my congratulations on your