The Venice conspiracy

CAPITOLO XX
666 BC

Atmanta Tetia is cutting herbs in front of the hut when he arrives. She watches as The Punisher dismounts from his great white stallion and strides her way. A shiver trickles down her spine like ice melting on a cave wall.

She hadn't thought it would be so soon.

It's only a day since she saw Pesna.

Larth holds the reins confidently and pats the animal's head. 'I have come to take you to Mamarce, the silversmith.'

'Now is not a good time.' Tetia motions to her hut. 'I have a sick husband to attend.'

'Now is the time. I have come and you must go.' The look on his face warns her there is no room to argue.

Tetia nods. 'I need to tell him. Make arrangements for him to be looked after.'

Larth slants his head towards a trough. 'You have until I have watered the horse. No longer.'

Tetia hurries away.

Finding Teucer sleeping, she kneels and puts the palm of a hand to his face. 'Husband.' Her voice is gentle to begin with, then firmer: 'Teucer, can you hear me, my sweetness?' His skin feels warm and unshaven as she strokes it.

His lips finally move and for a split second his eyelids open. There is only a milky deadness where once there had been a spark that set her senses ablaze.

It breaks her heart to see him like this. 'Teucer, can you hear me?'

He smiles sleepily. 'I am blind, not deaf. I fell asleep again. Now that I cannot see, my mind seems to seek the solace of sleep more often.'

'Magistrate Pesna has sent a man for me. He is outside and I have to go with him. I will be gone for some time.'

Apprehension shows on his face. 'Why? The magistrate knows of my condition. Your skills are more likely to be needed for my tomb than his.'

'Do not say that!' Panic rises in her chest. 'You were the one who told him about my work. Yesterday he said he would think of what he wanted. I suppose he's sent for me now because he's made up his mind.' She tries to sound excited. 'This is a big chance for us, Teucer. Pleasing the magistrate will benefit us both.'

Teucer says nothing. He feels he no longer has any power. He has become an object, to be moved around as and when people wish.

'I will ask your mother to look in on you.' She squeezes his hand. 'I'll be back quickly. Wish me luck.' She kisses his forehead.

He wishes it had been his mouth. Wishes there was only him and his wife, no horror growing in her stomach, no guilty secret to try to forget. 'May fortune smile upon you.'

She doesn't hear him as she rushes away and almost collides with Larth. It's clear he was about to enter her home and fetch her.

Tetia steps past the giant. 'I have to see his mother, then I will come,' she calls over her shoulder, not daring to look back. To provoke Larth's temper is to unleash a violence so terrible that even the bravest in Atmanta would cower. She steels herself for the roar of fury, the fist, the boot, but it seems the monster is curbing his anger for once. Even so, she moves quickly, and the moment she has secured Larcia's promise to look in on Teucer, she's running back to Larth, gathering her robe so it doesn't catch in her old leather sandals, while at the same time trying ensure no glimpse of thigh should awaken his lust.

He mounts the stallion and pulls her up one-handed behind him.

Before Tetia has even settled, the horse is at full gallop and she has to cling to Larth's waist in order not to fall.

They head north, riding hard. First along the city's cardo, then the decumanus, the east-west road. The crossing point of the roads is a special place, solemnly divined by Teucer when the settlement was first established and housing planned out and around the main routes. They don't rest until they come to the easternmost of Pesna's silver mines.

'Mamarce's workshop is part under the earth,' explains Larth as he fastens the horse to a fence stake and pulls Tetia down. 'I will show you, but I will not go in there with you.'

Tetia looks at him. 'Why not? You are afraid to do so?'

He grabs her by the elbow and walks her quickly from the horse. 'I am afraid of nothing mortal. Journeys below earth are for rodents, and I am not given to the company of rats.'

The mine buildings form a dog-leg, part set in the cliff with the remainder running away at a forty-five-degree angle before disappearing below ground.

Larth tugs open a battered door to reveal a dim, musty corridor lit by torches. They flutter as the wind is sucked in.

'I will be here when you have finished. Mamarce will call for me.'