Where he was immediately mobbed by the diminutive audience of a nearby Punch and Judy show.
Mircea had heard that Venice was possibly the largest city in the world, now that mighty Constantinople had started to decline. But even after living there almost a year he hadn’t really believed it. Until now.
Everywhere he looked—crowding the banks, hanging out of windows, piled on top of surrounding buildings, and floating in the water—were people. Laughing, talking, flirting, occasionally fighting, or dancing to the ensemble that had finally gotten itself sorted and started to play. The whole panoply of human life visible in one huge vista. And in between, bewildered-looking tourists stood, as awed and slack-jawed by it all as he was.
Until the gondola suddenly bumped into something. Mircea looked around to find that it was a pier. He supposed they must have been moving, after all.
And then he was tumbling out along with the girls.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The pepper merchant turned out to have a fine view of the parade route, which would wend its way by water from the Rialto all the way to San Marco. He also had a double loggia, the colonnaded galleries popular in Venice, on the front of his house. It allowed him to accommodate a large group, and he’d taken full advantage. To the point that the lower loggia was so packed by the time they arrived that they could barely squeeze through and into the house, where an inner staircase led to the less populated upper floor.
But they’d arrived in time, finding places at the railing at almost the same moment that the faint scent of burnt gunpowder filled the air.
“Look, look!” Besina grabbed his arm, as excited as a girl, as a dim glow appeared over some buildings in the distance.
A moment later, the rest of the crowd saw it, too, and abandoned their other amusements to mob the banks. That resulted in several people ending up in the water, only to be fished out dripping and cursing while everyone else laughed. Everyone except for the people on the official-looking ships coursing through the canal, shouting for people to hurry up and get out of the way.
People did. Although less, Mircea suspected, because of respect for the law than out of fear of being set aflame by the floats headed their way. Boats pulled up onto embankments and crowded the piers, extending the viewing area out several more yards in all directions. Which was promptly taken advantage of by more than a few spectators, who swarmed the boats much to the owners’ outrage.
But no one cared. Least of all Mircea. Who was caught up in the same amazement as everyone else when the floating procession finally came into view.
He’d heard it said that the Venetians held displays on the water to awe visiting dignitaries, who would then go home with a profound respect for the power and wealth of the Serene Republic. But he’d never had a chance to see one. And had frankly always wondered how a simple thing like a parade could have such an effect.
He didn’t anymore.
“How the hell do they do that?” Bezio asked, crowding in beside him. Mircea had no answer, too busy staring at the magnificent miniature castle, if something almost two stories tall could be called that, which was first in line.
It was amazingly intricate, adorned with real-looking turrets and gates, pennants and fountains. Along with less expected elements like a bunch of wildly spinning wheels and a cheerful-looking sun that wobbled over the whole in a less than reassuring manner. Especially considering that it, and most of the rest of the castle, was busy shooting out bright orange sparks.
It took Mircea a few moments to notice the short wall around the bottom of the structure, which partially concealed darting figures, their naked bodies covered in soot. It made them all but invisible against the night as they ran about, frantically lighting fuses.
“There,” Mircea said, trying to point them out to Bezio, but the older vampire wasn’t listening.
Or perhaps he was, but the collective gasp of thousands of people managed to render even his ears deaf. And no wonder. Coming down the water after a few smaller edifices was a massive barge carrying an equally massive marine monster. Or possibly a snake. Mircea wasn’t exactly sure what the long, flowing, scale-covered body was supposed to be—until the gaping maw on the huge head slowly opened.
And a shower of sparks erupted, so forcefully that it set the stern of the preceding boat on fire.
“Dragon!” Bezio yelled at him, over the sound of thunderous applause.
“Thank you,” Mircea said dryly, while the soot-covered men ran around on their cheerfully burning boat, hysterically putting out flames.
Next came an edifice designed to mimic the bell tower of St. Mark’s, with a wheel on top. It looked like the ones on the castle float, except that it was mounted horizontally and was perhaps ten times as large. And far more powerful. When the gunpowder in the open ended tubing attached to it was set alight, it propelled it around in a blur of speed, throwing out sparks so furiously that it looked like a ring of fire was hovering in the air.
Next was a comparatively plain looking barge that seemed out of place in the brilliant throng. Until it suddenly sent a burst of military rockets high into the sky, which had been modified to create showers of gold and silver sparks when they exploded. Thankfully, they burned out safely above the host of smaller ships accompanying the spectacle, which were resupplying the gunpowder that the barges were using up at a fantastic rate.
And on and on, in a long line that stretched down the canal as far as Mircea could see, like a glittering snake winding its way through the heart of the city. It sent light shadows leaping over the surrounding buildings and the enthralled crowd, especially whenever a shell exploded overhead. And the whole glittering panoply was mirrored exactly in the dark water of the canal, doubling the effect.
And finally Mircea understood what those visiting diplomats were supposed to see: the unity of earth, air, and water by fire. The Venetians managing to show mastery over all four elements at once. And making their city insanely beautiful in the process.
“Enjoying yourself?”
The words were spoken close enough to his face to make Mircea flinch. With all the noise and applause, he hadn’t heard anyone approach. He looked around to find Martina watching him, from behind a glittering half-mask.
“Yes,” he said, slightly confused. He hadn’t expected her to join them, since she rarely went out of the house.
Or to look so angry if she did.
“Good. I, on the other hand, am not. Would you care to guess why?”
“There is a problem?” he asked carefully.
“Oh, no.” Carmine lips stretched into something that in no way resembled a smile. “Not unless you consider the fact that I haven’t heard a peep from the senator since your last appointment. You should have an offer by now. I should have one. Yet, not only has she not attempted to acquire you from me, I haven’t heard a thing from her in days.”
“Three days,” Mircea pointed out.
“Yes, and last time, it was less than three hours.”
“I think she’s had rather more on her mind than last time—”
“It isn’t your job to think! It’s your job to seal the deal, something you appear incapable of doing. So allow me to add to your motivation. Convocation will be over at the end of the week. When that happens, I won’t need extra help, will I? Especially from one who has already thrown away the chance of a lifetime.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, that if you’re still here in a week, I’ll throw you back where I found you.
“Auria!” The girl stepped out of the shadows. “He will service you tonight. See if you can discover why our princeling continues to disappoint.”