Two babies. Umberto is as much a child as the little one.
But that was unfair. He was a good man. He cared for her.
He cares for what he thinks you are.
He loved the baby. And that insidious voice in her head could say nothing about that.
She had thought that she was going be able to settle down, and now they were moving again. On yet another ship, so Umberto would be ill again. Two babies to tend, in the close confines of a ship. Another set of new people to meet and deal with, another strange place to try to make into a home. Harder, this time. She could not count on a fortuitous accident to show her what she needed to know. And she already knew that although Umberto was good enough at dealing with honest men, he was lost when it came to those who were less than honest.
She had only traded one set of problems for another, in marrying the man. But he cared for her, and would do his best for her even if it killed him. It was up to her to see that it didn't. If she could not love him, she certainly owed him.
Maria stood on the quay, watching the corded trunks and canvas bundles being loaded, as little Alessia nestled into her arms and nuzzled. Maria looked down at her child, and sighed.
"To think a year ago I hadn't even been beyond the fringes of the lagoon . . ." she said, half to herself. "And now here you are, daughter, off to another distant place."
Beside her, Kat gazed at the ships, and her eyes were still luminous with happiness. Maria thought that she had never seen a more contented person, and yet she knew that Kat was not blind to Marco's faults. Nor, for that matter, was Marco blind to hers. They had both known exactly what they were getting into, and yet they were two of the happiest people Maria had ever known.
How very different, Maria thought forlornly, from the way I felt after my wedding.
"I wish you weren't going," Kat said with a sigh. "Or I wish we were going along with you. I'd like to visit Corfu." Alessia stirred and Kat reached for her. "Let me hold her a little. It may be years before I see her again."
Maria handed the baby over. She watched with some amusement at how awkwardly and carefully Kat took the child. Just on three weeks ago, she'd been just as tentative.
"When I left for Istria, I was never coming back, Kat. Never ever. Now here I am again. Things change. Who knows? Petro Dorma might get so sick of Marco that he'll ship you both off to Corfu."
Kat shook her head. "Marco is as much part of Venice now as the canals."
Involuntarily, Maria glanced across the thronged piazza behind them to the tall pillar where the bronze statue stood. "Or as the Lion of Saint Mark."
Kat nodded. "The Lion is Venice after all, and Marco is the Lion, too. He can't leave, Maria."
Alessia twitched, gave a tentative whimper, and then burst into full bellow. Kat rocked frantically, an expression of raw panic on her face. "What's wrong, my cherub? There, there . . . Help, Maria! What is wrong? I didn't do anything to her. What do I do now?"
Maria found laughter a welcome gift. "By the smell, I think she's probably done something to herself. Don't worry, that's not what's making her cry. It doesn't seem to worry her."
Kat hastily held out Alessia at full arm's stretch, as if she were a precious piece of porcelain suddenly found to harbor a poisonous spider. Maria did not reach for Alessia. "I'll show you what do about it," she said cheerfully.
Kat searched frantically for rescue. "Ah. Er . . . I see Papa's Vinlander partners are here. I'd—I'd better go and speak to them. I'll come back and see you in just a moment." She thrust the bellowing Alessia at her mother, and bolted.
Maria, familiar now with all the less pleasant aspects of babies, took Alessia off to change, glancing as she went at the tall, large, blond contingent that Kat was greeting. And there, hastening down the quay-side from the Doge's palace, was Marco. Probably been to see Benito. Benito's face, when he'd seen her, had been quite a study.
She scowled as she thought about it. If Umberto was one sort of child, Benito was another—a brat, a bridge-brat, destined to hang, no doubt. But Venice would not forget that latest exploit of his in a hurry. Being Venice, it would embrace it as quite a favorite story.
* * *
Eneko Lopez was on a high balcony of the Doge's palace, his eagle eyes looking out over the Jesolo marshes when Marco finally tracked him down. The stern visage cracked into a smile on seeing Marco. "And how is wedded bliss, Marco Valdosta?
Marco felt himself blush. "Um. Blissful, thank you, senor."
This reply lightened the stern visage further. "It is intended to be, you know. That is why Christ sanctified the institution of marriage with his first miracle." He pointed out toward the sky. "Tell me: what is happening up there?"
Marco peered into the blue. "I'd say that a bird . . . or a pair of birds, rather, are being mobbed by seagulls. The gulls around here can be quite territorial, and there are thousands of them."
The part of him that was the Lion stirred. And so am I, it said within him. They do not belong here.
Of course, Eneko Lopez could not hear that voice, and Marco did not feel easy enough to explain. But he knew, now, why the gulls were attacking the hawks. The gulls were as much part of the lagoon as the water was, and the hawks were the eyes of the Lion's ancient enemy. The Lion would blind that enemy, if he could—and if he could not, he would at least deny him the use of those eyes over Venice.
Eneko nodded. "A pair of what I should guess were goshawks, although I am not an expert on birds. Are such things common over Venice?"
"Well, I've seen hawks in the reed-brakes and barene close to the fringes of the marsh, but not really out here," Marco temporized. "They don't belong here. The gulls will see them off."
The gulls will kill them if they can.
"I have seen two hawks in the sky rather often of late. They appear to be hawks, at least," said Eneko. "I have attempted to scry them. Birds are difficult to connect with, and raptors most particularly difficult. They think mostly of hunting and killing, and not a great deal else."
Well, this was the opening Marco had rather wondered how to make. "But if you were scrying and it turned out they were not hawks . . . wouldn't you be very vulnerable?" He took a deep breath. "Brother Mascoli said I should ask you for help with magical defenses for protection against evil."
He felt the eagle gaze again. "Mascoli is a good man. But he sees only good in everything. If he thought you should consult me on this, I must conclude that something particularly evil happened. Tell me about it."
So Marco explained.
Eneko Lopez's eyes narrowed when he came to the part about the undines and San Raphaella. "I was aware of this. I was also aware that the undines that live in the Lagoon have a great deal to do with the Strega mages. In particular with the late Luciano Marina." Something about the way he said it filled in the word "unlamented" before "late."
Marco nodded, but innate honesty forced him to defend Chiano. The Strega mage might have intended to kill him to save Venice—but . . . he'd also saved Marco's life before that. And been a friend when a terrified boy needed one.