The Alchemist's Code by Dave Duncan

innocuous enough in their blue cloaks, but look at them closely enough and you will see that each one carries a rapier hidden in the folds, hanging vertically under his left arm. Martini is short and trim, aged around forty, with a no-nonsense expression stressed by a pointed beard that juts forward. He has the reputation of being handy with a sword, but I can’t vouch for that.
    Giorgio hovered behind him, looking alarmed. I sprang up and bowed, prepared to leave if told to do so and hoping it was not me he wanted.
    â€œMaestro Filippo Nostradamus?”
    If the doge had been taken ill, one of his equerries would have come, and would have addressed Nostradamus as “Doctor.”
    The Maestro snorted. “By the saints, Marco, if you’ve forgotten my name, it is time you retired.”
    â€œThe Most Excellent Council of Ten,” the fante continued without taking offense, “requests and requires that you attend Their Excellencies this evening at your imminent convenience.”
    Some people would have fainted out cold on the floor. The Maestro calmly dabbed at his wizened lips with a finely starched napkin. “It is always an honor to wait upon the noble lords. I may follow you in my own boat?”
    â€œThat will be permitted. I shall report that you are on your way.” Marco nodded at me. “Don’t forget.” With a hint of a trace of a shadow of a bow, he departed.
    We did not have to answer the summons. We could flee into exile.
    â€œIf Sanudo has let slip the fee you charged him,” I said, “you will surely find yourself jailed for extortion.”
    The Maestro actually laughed…well, chortled. For the moment his ill humor was forgotten. “Rubbish! It was his wife who offered it. They would have sent Missier Grande and a squad of sbirri if they wanted me arrested. They probably seek my advice on the doge’s health. I have warned him he is overdoing it.”
    I was less optimistic. As I told you, the Republic is ruled by a pyramid of interlocking committees, so that every man has another man looking over his shoulder. The system is deliberately inefficient, but that inefficiency has let the Republic retain its freedom for nine hundred years. Nevertheless, some matters must be handled swiftly and in secret, and this is where the Council of Ten comes in. It cuts all the knots. If dawn reveals conspirators dangling from gibbets in the Piazza or floating facedown in the Orfano Canal, then that is the Ten’s doing. Men drop dead in distant lands by the hand of the Ten. It runs the finest intelligence service in Europe, both inside the Republic and out, interprets its duties as widely as it pleases, and answers to no one. It handles all major crimes, such as rape, murder, and blasphemy, and there is no appeal against its decisions.
    Nevertheless, I would assume I was included in the invitation until a door slammed in my face. “Do I have time to change?”
    The Maestro was already wearing his physician’s black hat and gown and therefore had no such need. “Certainly. They will keep us waiting for hours.”
    Giorgio, having seen our visitor out, reappeared in the doorway.
    â€œBruno?” I said. “And a twin?”
    I hastened to my room. Christoforo and Corrado, the dreaded Angeli twins, arrived there before I did and tried to wrestle each other out of the way. Chris won, being the larger, and I stepped between them before Corrado could charge back in and turn shove into mayhem. I flipped a soldo and told Chris to call it. He guessed “Doge!” which was wrong. I gave it to his brother and sent him to tell Fulgentio I had to break my date, forbidding him to say why. Chris went with him to make sure he did it right and in the hope of sharing in the reward Fulgentio would certainly supply. Arguing furiously, they disappeared down the stairs.
    Armed or unarmed? I should not be allowed to wear a sword in the palace and we should be