Spira Mirabilis by Aidan Harte

sociable as his father, if not nearly as diplomatic. Where Fabbro had cajoled and bargained with the world,Salvatore barged through. Fabbro’s death confirmed Salvatore’s position as head of the family firm; after Rasenna was lost, the Bombelli Family banco became a truly rootless venture – and a whole world of profits opened to it.
    Guido was always pale and hollow-cheeked, but he looked even more gaunt, Pedro thought. He had never before seen him without his twin, but some instinct prompted him not to remark on it now. Neither had ever flirted with other trades; banking had been their sole obsession since they were boys. Guido might be less effusive in his greeting than Salvatore and Costanzo, but he was never very warm; all that mattered was that the Bombelli were here. Pedro’s great fear had been that they would find some accommodation with the Concordians – they were businessmen, after all, and for all their swagger they were conservative risk-averse investors.
    When Pedro finished telling them about the situation in the city of towers, Guido cleared his throat solemnly and said, ‘Things have moved on in Ariminum too. The revolution—’
    ‘—that’s what they’re calling it,’ said Costanzo. ‘Sounds better than
coup
, I suppose.’
    ‘Whatever they’re calling it,’ Guido continued calmly, ‘it was soon settled. When the Consilium barricaded themselves in the Basilica, the Moor took the harbour and the arsenal – God knows how.’
    ‘I know,’ Pedro said quietly. ‘The arsenalotti gave it to him.’
    ‘Look at the dark horse,’ Costanzo said.
    Guido nodded slowly. ‘That explains it. The arsenal is Ariminum’s real heart.’
    ‘I suppose the Consilium tripped over themselves to betray each other?’
    Guido regarded Pedro carefully. ‘I see you’ve dealt with them before. The Moor said yes to everyone, and when the Basilica’s doors were opened – well, they learned what his word was worth.’
    ‘In the Basilica!’ the duke exclaimed, then reflectively, ‘I suppose that temple was long defiled by moneylenders. No offence, Signore—’
    ‘None taken,’ said Salvatore graciously. ‘Our work’s not holy, only necessary.’
    ‘In any case,’ Guido continued, ‘I escaped, but Gasparo didn’t. He was strung up with the rest of the Consilium.’
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ Pedro exclaimed.
    ‘We’ve all suffered,’ said Salvatore stoutly.
    This was the time to reveal what he’d discovered at the summit. ‘The Moor’s made a deal with Concord,’ he announced.
    Salvatore didn’t look remotely surprised. ‘Of course. Akka’s far away. He wears the corna as long as Concord allows it. But we can discuss this over dinner. Come back to my apartment and we’ll make you presentable. You can’t dine with a duke dressed like a brick mason.’
    *
    Back in Salvatore’s apartment, Costanzo sheepishly presented a purple velvet suit. ‘Byzantine. I’m terribly sorry about the cut. It’s two years old.’
    Pedro assured Costanzo that he’d never worn anything as fine; his father would have greatly admired the exquisite tailoring. As he dressed, he remarked to Salvatore that his relations with the duke seemed somewhat strained.
    ‘You picked up on that?’ said Costanzo dryly.
    ‘It’s the stress,’ said Salvatore. ‘Grimani is a man used to solving his money problems by fiat.’
    Pedro looked around the lavish surrounding, ‘Money problems?’
    ‘Yes. One would think a people with a cornucopia like the Cagligarian Isles would have few, but prudence is like any muscle. It atrophies if it’s not used. The duke’s appetites and the indolence of his subjects have both grown over time. When he discoveredthere was a limit to the amount he could levy and remain popular, he debased the coinage. Then he began to confiscate the estates of wealthier citizens. Of course he distributed a fraction to the Small People so no one protested, but now that he has to pay for things that have been