The next day I went to the don Arsago`s palazzo. The whole morning was spent on final preparations for my leaving. I really hoped to talk to Ricardo before he left, so the breakfast disappeared from my plate like winking. Melina, the maid, tried to grumble something about the bad luck for those who didn`t pay decent respect to the food, but I didn`t listen. My brother was in his room, packing his things. When I came in, he was tightening up the straps on the trunk. His brows were furrowed and he kept brushing his long dark fringe in annoyance. For some reason, when I saw all those sacks and chests, they made me sad.

“Will you be back soon?” I asked with my voice wavered.

“Huh?” Ricardo looked at me, surprised. He looked as if he was far away from here. “I really don`t know, sister. It depends.”

"Well, good luck then.”

“You too,” he left the truck, at last, and even bothered to embrace me and kiss my cheek. So casually. “Will you take care of our future father-in-law for me?”

His eyes were smiling, but I couldn`t force myself to smile back at him.

“Are you kidding me? Don Arsago has enough guards beside him.”

“Well, and where were those brilliant guards yesterday, I wonder? Don`t be too modest, Julia. You`ve done him a great favor and the Count shall never forget it. And if he will, I`ll remind him. They will respect our family at last.”

I pulled away from him. He only thought about Granacci family, and what about me? Was he interested in something else beside his prestige and a long purse? Had he ever though about me as a person or… a woman?

My so-called brother looked at me with indifference, then his eyes rested thoughtfully on the small crack on the wall – the way he probably looked at all the goods, wondering if he could sell them off more profitable. Well, thank you. Now I know how the evaluated products felt.

"About don Arsago… There is something strange going on, so your vigilance may be very useful," Ricardo said at last. “I hope for you, my little sister.”

We kissed goodbyes − much colder than I had expected. When I went back to my room, my heart was aching. However, my troubles didn`t end there.

Melina and Assunta were both in my bedroom, bustling around a terrifying pile of clothes on the bed. The golden coverlet was completely hidden by a mass of numerous petticoats, corsets, veils and silk capes. Two large chests were standing beside them. Compared to Ricardo's ascetic baggage, that one looked much more impressive. It seemed that my aunt had decided to use the opportunity and evict me to donna Arsago for good. Which wasn't part of my plan.

“Why do I need so many clothes? I'm only going for a couple of days!”

"We are going," Assunta corrected me. She shook out another black dress that was indistinguishable from the other mourning garments and handed it to the maid.

I was confused.

“We?”

“Well, you didn`t expect that I`d let you alone, did you?” my aunt said with a short laugh.

“But… donna Arsago wrote…”

Assunta gave me a scornful look and muttered that a timid, weak Countess could not keep up with such a wicked girl like me. I tried to appeal to her sense of decency – yet, in vain. The stubborn wrinkles around her thread-tight lips were indisputable signs of her determination to accompany me. Really, all my "relatives” decided to drive me crazy today!

Feeling annoyed to the bottom of my heart, I went to the salon, to my favorite corner behind the tall glass windows which overlooked the canal. There was a tiny balcony the size of a swallow's nest, with a lot of blooming geraniums in the pots. My personal isolated island, hanging on the wall above the restless, noisy river of life.

As I went outside, I saw Fabrizio paddling up to the terrace. Ricardo, who had changed into a simple doublet and traveling cloak, ran out to meet him. From my vantage point, I saw the tiny note flutter from hand to hand. As soon as Ricardo ran his eyes over it, he brightened up and laughed. What a healing effect a small piece of paper could have on a person! Since morning Ricardo had been wandering as pale as a dead man, and now he seemed to come back to life. There was a bright flush on his cheekbones and a triumphant smile on his lips. He even looked up at the sky – and accidentally caught my eye. That didn`t make him feel ashamed or returned to his solemn shell, though. He just waved friendly at me. And then he jumped into the boat, which was directed by Fabrizio not towards Fuzie, where people usually took horses for the journey to Patava, but up the canal. Toward the house where the beautiful Bianca Sanudo lived.

I really wanted to take a pot of geraniums and throw it at my brother's back, but instead I waved at him affectionately, as a loving sister should do. And then, taking advantage of the absence of Assunta, who was now in charge of my room, I began to think about the house of Arsago, where I was to go, and its mysterious owner.

***

"Come on, just say it: you really don't want him to be guilty!”

Sometimes Pulcino`s voice could happily replace the voice of conscience, as he possessed the same annoying manner to say awkward things at a bad time and saw beyond the surface.

"Of course, I don't want to! Don Arsago is too good to be guilty. First, he is energetic and brave. He is the only one who`s trying to bring Venetta its former greatness... Besides, someone just tried to poison him. And I bet that`s the same person who has killed signora Granacci first and now his new target is the Count…”

"Oh, really! And what about the motive? Arsago wants your wedding more than anyone else, and he can't wait to get his hands on those-who-live-under-the-waves, among other things. Or else he hadn`t bought that house with the mural.”

I was particularly interested in that mural of St.Viadora Joanna had told me about before. It was quite strange to know that don Arsago never showed it to anyone of his guests. Usually the owners were really proud of such things. Unless don Arsago had his reasons... If the previous owners of the house worshiped Holy Viadora so much, there had to be a crypt there. And don Arsago couldn`t miss that. What was he doing down there? I was hoping that those next few days in the Count`s house wouldn`t be spent in vain. I had to solve that mystery.

Some really talented chiamata knew how to talk to the stones. Well, I wasn`t crazy enough to start talking to a pavement. However, the crypt itself wasn`t as empty and lifeless as it seemed to be. Normally there were enough animals there such as rock clams, spiders, moss slugs... Their intelligence was no more than the geraniums`, but even they could catch some echoes of events. Don`t despise the humble beginnings, as the old saying goes.

I was bold enough to start my investigation right on the doorstep. As soon as Ines and I bowed respectfully to donna Arsago, I casually asked if I could take a look at the face of my patron saint who had been protecting me in her convent for two years. That seemed to be an appropriate question on the part of a novice who had recently returned from Terra dei Miracolo. To my surprise, the Countess, who already looked like a dried butterfly, became as pale as a ghost.

"Oh, do you mean that mural? Unfortunately, we couldn`t save it.” Her white lips stretched in a forced smile. "It was really damp there, you know. I`m very sorry.”

I was sorry, too. Not for the mural, but for the mistress herself. She used her embroidery frame as a pretence not to answer any more questions. Her thin hands were trembling slightly. Her face, covered with a network of wrinkles, wore an expression of wistful anxiety and a kind of doomed resignation. Even the air around her was filled with fear. Of course, I immediately stopped asking questions, but the desire to find the mural and the cursed crypt flared up in me with a new force. Something was wrong here…

The large house of the Count was arranged in a usual way. Just a few front rooms faced the Grand Canal as if the house had turned away from the water. Life of its habitants was concentrated around the courtyard. The lower floor had two exits: the one that led to the spacious water terrace, and the other which led to a courtyard overgrown with scrawny honeysuckle and acacia bushes. A curved staircase in the hall led up to the main hall and the galleries with two rows of the rooms on each side. The servants lived in the attic. Some rooms had private staircases and there were many small closets and other nooks. I thought that finding a secret passage in this anthill wouldn`t be so easy.

In the evening the dining room was unexpectedly full. There was Ines and her mother, don Sacketti and the other supporters of the Count. There was Bianca, who looked really pretty, either from the sadness caused by Ricardo's departure, or for some other reason. Sadness softened her sharp mermaid features, giving them a hint of spirituality.

The guests were enjoying the dinner in spite of the recent accident and Picoletto`s tragic fate. However, the wine was now served only in glass jars. Thanks to the art of our masters, the venetian glass was so thin that it could crack once the poisoned drink was inside. Surely don Arsago had taken other precautions. He couldn`t count on me only. It was funny if I was actually invited here to try all the dishes!

I looked at my future mother-in-law, who was cutting a thin chicken wing on her plate without any appetite. Maybe she really wanted to get closer to her future daughter-in-law... but we hadn't even had the opportunity to talk face to face all day. Why did she invite me at all? Did she get bored without her lovely son? Or did she want to gather a female circle around her, like the duchesses of the neighboring principalities? Sometimes, on the contrary, it seemed to me that she was bothered with our presence, especially with Joanna's offhand remarks or Bianca's sharp jokes.

It's more like she's afraid to be alone with her husband after Enrique's departure, I thought, and my suspicions against the Count flared up again.

"That was him for sure! Who would doubt it?” someone said so loudly that that startled me a bit. While I was brooding, the conversation had gone far ahead.

"That was clear enough even without denunciations," don Sacketti hissed right into my ear.

"Sorry, what denunciations? Who are you talking about?" I asked.

“Someone put a note in the gryphon's mouth of the Doge's Palace. That rogue Manriolo is accused that he had tried to poison the Count Arsago the day before.”

There really was such a custom in Venetta. Here and there in the walls of houses and the galleries of the Doge's Palace were engraved with the heads of griffins. so that the citizens could drop their denunciations of guilty neighbors. It was supposed to make it easier for the judges, but I personally resented anonymous slurs. And though I didn't trust Manriolo by a hair's breadth, it struck me how easily our patricians were ready to forget their new hero and accuse him of all deadly sins. Of course, his sudden disappearance looked very suspicious, but the main reason for everyone to start pegging at him was that he was a stranger without any connections. And that made him an easy target. So I couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

Don Alessandro did not share the general enthusiasm either.

“Don't you think that poisoning wine wasn`t very reliable? There is little chance that the right person will drink it. What`s more, the murderer used a quick poison. Am I right, signor Faletrus?”

Dr. Faletrus, who was sitting with his face as pale as wax, mumbled something in response. What was wrong with him? He looked worse day by day.

And that was signor Manriolo who distracted him, I thought to myself. Why didn`t anyone think about that?

”Well, if Arsago hadn't been distracted by a conversation about cards, I`m sure that he would have been the first to rush to the jug!" laughed an elderly patrician in a rich dark blue coat. “No offense, Lorenzo, but we all know how much you value saonskoye wine!"

Big noise raised up. Someone made a joke about a brave stranger who had eluded moraines of the Grand Canal but fell into the jaws of Venetian justice. I kept silent, trying to conquer my sudden dislike of guests at the table. My appetite was gone and the wine in my glass seemed sour. Look at how they all cheered up! Well, of course: a convenient culprit was found and there was no reason to suspect each other anymore. The crime immediately turned into a favorite topic of conversation.

“Didn`t they find him yet?” I turned to signor di Goro.

Alessandro shook his head slowly. Unlike the others, he was extremely serious. There was a sharp line between his brows.

“Not yet. But believe me, we`ll catch him in no time.”

At the first opportunity, I tried to slip out of the room. I was fed up with all those well-fed, glossy faces and dozens of hot burning candles. When the high carved door of the dining room closed behind me, cutting off all the silly chuckles, vulgar platitudes and clammy glances, I felt relieved. As I went downstairs, I found myself in a hall that looked like a cool, dark cave.

A hard and silent realm of stone… I stared at the pale marble with pale-blue veins, green porphyry and gray and pink granite which looked almost black in the weak light of torches. The glass columns glittered dimly. Each step was accompanied by a soft echo, and the torches on the wall crackled softly. Only the bloody mural on the far wall desecrated the peaceful quietness with its scenes of violence and cruelty.

By the way, the crypt must be on the lower floor.

If I wanted to hide something in this house, where would I make a secret passage to it? What about the mural? It was so repulsive that no one would ever imagine to look there.

I went quietly to the center of the hall. The floor tiles were as smooth as water. Like in other rich houses of Venetta, the servants polished the floors in the morning with a leather circle and rubbed them with linseed oil, which made their surface almost mirror-like. They reflected stone vases in the shape of octopuses stood frozen in the corners. Their tentacles rose menacingly, and the torchlight seemed to flow around them, retreating before the eerie creatures of the sea. The shadows around them curved, kissing the high walls and covering ceiling with a night-dark blanket. Something glittered on the dead shark's face pinned to the wall, and I thought I saw its eyes turn in my direction.

I almost reached the mural when one of the octopuses suddenly came to life. The air in the hall thickened and the sharp smell of dampness, slime, and rotting ooze filled my nostrils. The stone tentacles moved and something that looked like a black snake slid toward me. A deep wet guttural sound came from the nearest corner. Gasping for breath, I backed up against the wall. Every step took a huge effort, as if I was moving under the water. When my shoulder hit the cursed mural, I jerked my hand away in disgust... and then my fingers tightened on the torch shaft. I grabbed it and lunged forward, stabbing the fire at random into the thick, viscous blackness. The darkness screamed like a pig in response.