Standing at the window, Alessandro was listening to his subordinate's report. The morning sun made his eyes blink. The domes of a little church nearby were gleaming unbearably in the sun, and Matteo's ringing voice seemed to screw into his aching temple. Even at this early hour the city was full of stifling languor. That was all due to the sirocco.

Usually the warm morning breath of the sea covered the city with a white cloud of glowing fog. But now the hot stifling wind was rapidly driving the fog away from the streets, shutting up the dark foul water in the lagoon, which made the houses smell of rot as if the holds of a ship that had been at sea for months. In the evening the wind howled over the dark veins of the canals and its tiresome monotonous voice affected people in different ways. Some people became listless and weak, while others got mad over nothing. People snapped at each other, which caused more fights in the city, and for the night watch – signori di notte – life was a real mess at that time.

"We've inspected the docks, alerted the guards and interrogated the ladies at the parlor houses," Matteo, a young guard, reported. "We couldn`t find a trace of our Ariminum tramp yet, but Guido and the boys are now searching the Arsenal gate, where people saw someone suspicious yesterday.”

Alessandro nodded and discreetly pulled back the collar of his doublet to take a breath of the damp stifling air. His scar was itching as if the wound was fresh, and his right arm was aching too.

"Your diligence does you credit," he finally said. "How many men does Guido have? A dozen? That should be enough. Have you announced a reward for any information about Manriolo?”

"Sure," Matteo said shortly, looking up to his superiors like a little boy looks at the picture of a great general. “Here.”

He handed a piece of paper with something written on it. Alessandro di Goro always felt uneasy under direct open gaze of the boy. God knows, he had never considered himself a pleasant man. He was demanding enough and serving under him must have been difficult. However, Matteo looked at him as a model, a perfect knight who could carry any burden. Then why on earth did he feel so broken and exhausted? Come too late and miss the fatal blow – that fear had been torturing him in recent months.

He read the paper and handed it back.

"Double it and announce it once more. When you see Guido in the evening, send him to me to report. Understand?”

Matteo nodded. However, he hesitated at the threshold.

"There are rumors," he muttered. "You know, people always talk. They say that the Count wasn`t a real target that evening. Someone remembered that his lordship had invited don Soranzo at his dinner, but the illness had prevented the Doge from coming to the feast. And don Soranzo is also a big fan of saonskoy wine. Everyone knows about their friction in the Council. The Count would offer him some wine, of course, and…”

"Madonna, what a nonsense!” Alessandro exclaimed. "Don Arsago was nearly poisoned himself! I`m sure it was Falieri who made up that gossip so we couldn`t get at him!”

"They also say we let the poisoner go on purpose. Now some people believe that Manriolo was the Count`s an undercover agent and his spy in Ariminum.”

Alessandro slammed his fist against the window frame.

"If only I could talk to one of them and make them eat their words back!”

He realized that would be useless, though. To pass a word across Venetta you only needed to whisper it in the wind and that`d spread like wildfire. So Alessandro let Matteo go and rested his wet forehead against the cool window glass.

Manriolo wouldn`t go far. The guards were searching every doorway, every inn and every church. A stranger in Venetta had nowhere to hide, he would stand out in any sestiere and don Arsago had enough informants around the city.... However, Alessandro knew for sure that Manriolo was innocent. That night he watched his every step and the suspicious guest didn`t even touch the jugs with wine. And there were no other strangers at the feast, which left only one possible solution: someone had betrayed them. And that person was from their close circle.

Down the terrace he caught a glimpse of a light dress, a flap of veil splashing in the wind. "Julia," Alessandro thought with an involuntary smile. The grip on his head seemed to loosen, and the hot heavy air seemed didn`t seem so foul anymore.

The girl gently supported donna Arsago`s arm to help her into the gondola. Alessandro remembered that the Countess wanted to visit the Spinalonga temple as it was Enrique`s birthday today. Julia and Ines usually accompanied her but today, because of sirocco, they both decided to stay at home.

Leaning against the window, he watched her kissing goodbye to the Countess. The pure joy of the encounter faded, giving way to suspicious doubt. He had to report to the Count about that, but… he simply could not. Because of recent events, he wasn`t able to investigate that case with Terra dei Miracolo because there was no way he could leave his lord at the moment. And to entrust the case to someone else, to allow a sleuth to search her past and reveal her old painful secrets... No, that was absolutely impossible!

However, just before the Exile Day he managed to find out something else. A mysterious young nobleman who visited the convent quite often. On a small, impoverished island, he was as conspicuous as a peacock in a chicken coop. He asked several fishermen, and fortunately enough, one of them had an extremely sensitive hearing and said confidently that the mysterious visitor was not from Venetta.

"A stranger, from his accent,” said the old man. “Can`t say for sure, but I would guess he was an Ariminan".