Uncertain what to do without her, Sofia’s decina went to report the unscheduled docking to the Borselinno. Secondo raised his flag and led them back to the bridge. Mule stayed behind; he had an intuition of where Sofia might be.
Giovanni confronted Secondo at the river. “I told you to stay away.”
“It’s nothing to do with you, Concordian.” Secondo pushed by him, telling his men to hang back.
“You’ve no right—the bridge isn’t complete!” Giovanni was about to follow when Fabbro pulled him aside.
On the southside, Gaetano Morello had arrived. He too left his bandieratori off the bridge as he stepped onto it. Workers parted, making a path for the capodecini. Flags up, focused on each other, neither noticed Vettori waiting in the middle.
“We defend this barge,” Gaetano shouted.
“Like hell you do, Morello. The shipments are under Bardini protection.”
“Now, just hold on,” said Vettori, trying to keep them apart.
“Gentlemen,” Fabbro said as he ran between them, “let me explain—”
As soon as they understood that the merchant had sought both Families’ protection, they turned on him.
Fabbro was implacable. “My dear boys, this is but part of a delivery. I have large orders to meet. The work requires the skills of both north and south, so I sought shelter of two great houses, north and south. Was that wrong? Our need for security is genuine—as, I trust, is your protection.” He smiled, as if anything else was highly improbable.
“I will pay for protection,” he continued, “just as I pay my taxes. I don’t interfere with Signoria business, but without my money, how will it pay the tribute?”
There was no answer.
“Gentlemen, quarrels cost more than we can afford. Please, lower your banners.”
“I don’t take orders from tradesmen,” Gaetano said.
“Go home, then! Let your masters decide if Rasenna should survive and what price we must pay for that favor,” Fabbro said.
Mule brought Sofia from the Baptistery in time to see the standoff.
“We were looking for you,” said Secondo angrily.
“I’m here now.”
“What should we do?” whispered Mule.
She answered him loudly. “Signore Bombelli is right. If we can’t pay tribute, we won’t have a town left to fight over. Lower your flags.”
“Is that an order, Contessa?” Gaetano said.
“This isn’t the time to show me what a hero you are.”
“Doc won’t like this,” said Secondo.
“Who’s the Scaligeri heir, me or him? I’ll answer to Bardini. What do you say, Tano?”
“I’ll take it to my father.”
Giovanni wondered whether it was Fabbro and Sofia’s words or the unprecedented spectacle of united angry Woolsmen that made the borgati retreat.
“Where have all the glasses gone?”
Cooking l’ampra dotto usually calmed the Doctor, but this evening he was livid. “How did things get to be such a mess?” He took a few bites, then threw his fork down. “Shared protection? This really stumps us—if we fight, we lose the Small People. Bombelli’s a wily one: he’s balanced us against one another. And Morello went for it! That’s the difficulty when your opponent is a fool; sometimes they make the right move without knowing it.”
He raised his wineglass. “When you’re Contessa, Sofia, I wish you intelligent enemies.”
“Thanks!” She took a sip herself and said, “Have you ever considered that protecting the Small People is in our interest?”
The Doctor couldn’t disguise his frustration. “A couple of months ago you were thirsting for southside blood—now you’re the friend of the working man?” he growled. “I wouldn’t be bleeding wind now if you’d watched the bridge like I told you.”
“I’ve kept my flag down so as not to antagonize the southsiders.”
“I didn’t tell you to do that! And where are you if you’re not on the bridge? Not the workshop anyway.”
“You’ve got the Borselinno.”
“And they idolize you, Sofia—all the students do. In a few weeks the Twelfth comes, and you come into your inheritance. The hour’s at hand. I hope to do it neatly, but flags blow where the wind takes them. If things go awry, I need every student at their peak.”
“Sorry,” she said, finally sounding a little contrite. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately. I guess I’m nervous about becoming Contessa,” she said, studying his reaction.
“I’m behind you every step,” Doc said. “Eat up now.” And he refilled her wineglass.
Sofia went early to bed, and the Doctor climbed the tower with a heavier tread than usual. He’d spent a lifetime learning how to look for weakness, and he saw the things people hid from themselves, from others. What was she hiding from him?