up and the front rower throws a rope to Antonin so he can pull the boats together. “Sire, what business have you in Murano?” asks the swordsman.
“What business is it of yours?” says Marin.
“We are
sbirri,
representatives of the Republic. We inspect all boats entering and leaving Murano. The secrets of our industry must be protected, as you well know.”
“We are here to make a purchase.”
“Glass?”
“No.”
“A mirror? Show us the money.”
“Not a mirror. Ladies’ clothing.”
The man frowns. “Only that? Why come to Murano for a tailor?”
“Exigency.” Marin looks at me. “Would you mind lowering your hood?”
My hands shake, but I do as told.
Marin points at me with his chin. “My lady’s gown was ruined. The good brothers were kind enough to lend that habit. But she needs new clothing before we return to Venezia.”
The swordsman looks at me a moment, then bows. “Pass freely.”
The front oarsman collects the rope and they row away.
“Scoundrels,” mutters Marin when they are out of earshot. “The Republic hires criminals to patrol the lagoon. Thugs. If I’d given any indication we had large sums of money on us, they’d have found a way to extort some. I should have demanded their names so I could report them.”
So Venezia hires monsters to patrol the lagoon. Tormenters must abound there, but clearly there are kind people, too. People who befriend monsters.
“You called Princess Dolce ‘my lady,’ ” says Bianca. “She is now, isn’t she?”
Marin’s mouth hangs open. He looks from her to me and back again. “We will make formal introductions in Venezia, of course. But Dolce has already accepted my invitation to stay with us.” He looks at me and smiles.
Bianca bounces on her bottom. “I knew it.”
I did, too, of course. But what it all means is more than I can fathom.
Bianca presses against me. “Aunt Agnola is good. I love her, you know I do. But a mamma is different. You’ll be my mamma. Won’t you?”
I put my arm around her again. “I will be good to you, as good as my mamma was to me.” We nestle into one another, and the moment feels like a prayer. As though Mamma is listening, approving. And I wonder suddenly if the Lord gave me Bianca to make up for stealing Mamma.
Soon we step onto the pebbled shore around the lighthouse and climb up stairs onto a path. Marin leads the way. I mustn’t show my fear. I learned that over and over on my island.
Everyone we pass is our size. I stop and stare. This is an impossible world. Have the monsters formed a colony on Murano, like birds?
Marin makes inquiries in a candle shop, and soon we are at the door of a tailor. Marin explains he wants a fine dress for me. Something in silk, in a brilliant color.
“Come in, come in,” says the tailor. He leads us through a foyer and up the stairs, into his workroom. He bows to me. “Choose what you like. I can have anything ready within a fortnight. If you please, take a look at these fabrics.” He waves his hand toward rolls and rolls of silks, wools, linens, in every color.
“No,” says Marin, “you don’t understand. We need the dress now.”
“Now? I could perhaps have it ready in ten days at the soonest, but—”
“Now. Before the afternoon. We return to Venezia this eve, and she must be wearing it.”
The tailor shakes his head in dismay. “Impossible.”
“Surely you have dresses that you could adjust for my lady.” Marin hands the tailor a small purse.
The tailor takes the purse hesitantly. He weighs it in his palm. “Of course.”
“And we’ll need someone to arrange her hair.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll go buy jewelry.” Marin turns to me. “When you’re ready, we’ll have a little refreshment. Then leave for Venezia.” He heads toward the stairs.
I run after him and clutch his arm. “Please…”
“What?” He bends toward me. “Don’t be alarmed, Dolce.” His voice is so soft. “Fears plague you. I see that.
“What business is it of yours?” says Marin.
“We are
sbirri,
representatives of the Republic. We inspect all boats entering and leaving Murano. The secrets of our industry must be protected, as you well know.”
“We are here to make a purchase.”
“Glass?”
“No.”
“A mirror? Show us the money.”
“Not a mirror. Ladies’ clothing.”
The man frowns. “Only that? Why come to Murano for a tailor?”
“Exigency.” Marin looks at me. “Would you mind lowering your hood?”
My hands shake, but I do as told.
Marin points at me with his chin. “My lady’s gown was ruined. The good brothers were kind enough to lend that habit. But she needs new clothing before we return to Venezia.”
The swordsman looks at me a moment, then bows. “Pass freely.”
The front oarsman collects the rope and they row away.
“Scoundrels,” mutters Marin when they are out of earshot. “The Republic hires criminals to patrol the lagoon. Thugs. If I’d given any indication we had large sums of money on us, they’d have found a way to extort some. I should have demanded their names so I could report them.”
So Venezia hires monsters to patrol the lagoon. Tormenters must abound there, but clearly there are kind people, too. People who befriend monsters.
“You called Princess Dolce ‘my lady,’ ” says Bianca. “She is now, isn’t she?”
Marin’s mouth hangs open. He looks from her to me and back again. “We will make formal introductions in Venezia, of course. But Dolce has already accepted my invitation to stay with us.” He looks at me and smiles.
Bianca bounces on her bottom. “I knew it.”
I did, too, of course. But what it all means is more than I can fathom.
Bianca presses against me. “Aunt Agnola is good. I love her, you know I do. But a mamma is different. You’ll be my mamma. Won’t you?”
I put my arm around her again. “I will be good to you, as good as my mamma was to me.” We nestle into one another, and the moment feels like a prayer. As though Mamma is listening, approving. And I wonder suddenly if the Lord gave me Bianca to make up for stealing Mamma.
Soon we step onto the pebbled shore around the lighthouse and climb up stairs onto a path. Marin leads the way. I mustn’t show my fear. I learned that over and over on my island.
Everyone we pass is our size. I stop and stare. This is an impossible world. Have the monsters formed a colony on Murano, like birds?
Marin makes inquiries in a candle shop, and soon we are at the door of a tailor. Marin explains he wants a fine dress for me. Something in silk, in a brilliant color.
“Come in, come in,” says the tailor. He leads us through a foyer and up the stairs, into his workroom. He bows to me. “Choose what you like. I can have anything ready within a fortnight. If you please, take a look at these fabrics.” He waves his hand toward rolls and rolls of silks, wools, linens, in every color.
“No,” says Marin, “you don’t understand. We need the dress now.”
“Now? I could perhaps have it ready in ten days at the soonest, but—”
“Now. Before the afternoon. We return to Venezia this eve, and she must be wearing it.”
The tailor shakes his head in dismay. “Impossible.”
“Surely you have dresses that you could adjust for my lady.” Marin hands the tailor a small purse.
The tailor takes the purse hesitantly. He weighs it in his palm. “Of course.”
“And we’ll need someone to arrange her hair.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll go buy jewelry.” Marin turns to me. “When you’re ready, we’ll have a little refreshment. Then leave for Venezia.” He heads toward the stairs.
I run after him and clutch his arm. “Please…”
“What?” He bends toward me. “Don’t be alarmed, Dolce.” His voice is so soft. “Fears plague you. I see that.
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