Benito knew exactly which house the man was talking about then. He'd passed it on his way to look for the Dorma factor, and again while walking to the hospital. He sighed. It had been that sort of day.
"What's wrong?" enquired the burly laborer.
"Nothing much. I've just walked down from virtually next door. Anyway, thanks."
The man grinned, showing missing teeth. "You're welcome. I saw you coming in from the ship this morning. And working with old Umberto. He's not a bad soul, for a Venetian."
So Benito walked back up. He found the house. The goat leaned over the wall and bleated at him. Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the door and knocked.
Maria opened the door, baby on arm. "Benito! What are you doing here?"
"You know this young fellow?" asked Umberto, smiling and getting up from the table. "He gave me a lot of help this morning. Come in, young man. We never got formally introduced. I know your face from Venice. This is my wife, Maria . . . but you already seem to know that?"
Benito bowed. "Maria was very good to me while I was growing up. I'm Benito Valdosta."
"Marco Valdosta's brother?" Umberto looked faintly awed. "The ward of the Doge?"
"And more trouble than he's worth," said Maria. It wasn't exactly welcoming . . . but at least she wasn't yelling at him.
Benito held out his hands pacifically. "I'm trying to reform. Really. Back when Maria met Marco and me, we were both bridge-brats and always in trouble."
Maria snorted. "You were. Marco wasn't. He was a trainee saint even then."
Benito grinned. "Even when he ran off into the Jesolo, after writing love-letters to Angelina Dorma?"
Maria shook her head, a reluctant shadow of a smile coming to her face. "He was a young idiot. He grew up."
"Oh, I agree. About the saint part and the idiot part, which he never grew out of. I still love him dearly." He sighed. "And if this wasn't such a hideous situation, I'd wish he was here now."
Maria smiled properly now. "He and Kat are both idiots—at least by your standards, Benito—but I also love both of them very dearly. They're our Alessia's godparents, you know."
"I know," said Benito. "She couldn't ask for better ones."
Umberto beamed on both of them. "Well, why don't you come in and have a glass of wine with us, you being by the way of things a sort of god-uncle to my daughter. Then you can tell us what we can do for you. You have a place to stay?"
Benito had to swallow hastily. He nodded, looking around.
Maria and Umberto's little home was small, Spartan, and lovingly tended, from the simple tablecloth to the little wicker cradle in the corner. Umberto certainly hadn't been able to smother Maria Garavelli in worldly goods. But he'd given her what she'd needed: a home, stability, and a reliable father for her baby. Someone who wouldn't go doing crazy things that might get him killed.
"I have a place to stay, thank you. I just came to pass on Kat's messages. She sends her love to you and to little Alessia. She said I must tell you to write. I also came to offer my help if there was anything useful I could do for you . . ." he finished lamely. It didn't seem like a very good reason for seeking someone out. He looked at the baby and Maria, standing Madonna-like. "She looks well-fed."
"At least you didn't say she looks beautiful like everyone else does," said Maria, tartly. "Here. Hold this well-fed baby while I get the wine." She passed the plump bundle over.
Benito found himself with a soft, milky-breathed baby in his arms. After the initial shock, it didn't feel too bad.
* * *
The habited woman on her knees tending the flowers outside the Hypatian Order chapel looked up as Eneko Lopez and Father Pierre approached. "And how can I help you, my sons?" she asked pleasantly.
"We're looking for a Sibling Eleni," explained Pierre.
The Sibling got up, dusting her knees. She had the ageless sort of face, ornamented by bright brown eyes, that Eneko tended to associate with Hypatian Siblings. There was something about the cloistered life that kept age at a distance.
"That is me. Actually, there is only me here. How may I help you?"
Eneko nodded. "It's rather a long story, Sibling, but we have here a letter from the Grand Metropolitan of Rome. We were on our way to Jerusalem, before our ship was diverted here."
The nun smiled. It was clear then, as fine lines appeared around her mouth and eyes, that she was, if not old, certainly no longer young. "If it is a long story, let us go into the chapel. God doesn't mind listening out here, but it is cooler for us there."
She nodded politely at Eneko. "Your reputation and description go before you, Senor Lopez. I'm afraid I don't know you," she said to the priest accompaning him.
"Father Pierre," he said simply, smiling.
"Ah." She said nothing else until they were within the tiny chapel, and seated on some stools she brought from the back of the building. "Well, now, how may the Hypatian Order on Corfu serve you? You've come to heathen parts, I'm afraid." She shook her head, but with more fondness than irritation. "The locals attend church faithfully, but I know for a certain fact that many of them continue their worship of a pagan deity. A bloodthirsty goddess of some sort, I suppose. That is, I suppose she is bloodthirsty, because the men seem to hold her in some fear. The women—well, they keep their secrets to themselves."
She sighed. "It's all nonsense, of course, but they are happy in their nonsense, and we try to educate them slowly. The island is simply stiff with such superstitions."
"You would not mind, Sibling, if we enact the ritual of the veil of divine privacy?" Eneko shook himself. "I've just seen two birds of prey high in the sky. I know there is a war on and the hawks and eagles come to feast . . . but I'll swear I've seen those birds following us since we left Rome."
The Sibling spread her hands wide. "You may do as you wish, Father Lopez. You know the Hypatian Order believes strongly in the appropriate use of Christian magic whenever needful."
* * *
The chapel was built with a careful alignment to the four cardinal directions. Statues of the archangels Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Uriel stood on plinths in their corners. Eneko and Pierre set about raising the wards. Soon the distant sounds of the Citadel were shut off inside the veil. It was with a feeling of relief that they returned to their stools.
"We have had scryings both of great deeds and portents of magical conflict here, Sibling," Eneko said, certain now that nothing could overlook him. "Evil in the shape of Chernobog, and an ancient power that we could not identify."
The small Sibling started. "Here? Here on little Corfu? Oh, no, Father Eneko! Nothing ever happens here. The locals talk about magical Corfu, but it is small magics, if there are any at all. Superstitions and mutterings about the Goddess, but never have I seen a sign of great pagan power. There are a few Jews who may be involved. A Strega charm-seller or two. Virtually every hamlet has its so-called wise-woman, who might dabble in birthing spells . . . but that is it."
She shook her head emphatically. "Unless it is something the Hungarian invaders have brought with them, not something from here."