The Fallen Blade: Act One of the Assassini by Jon Courtenay Grimwood

Fra Zeno was young, and smiled when he saw her. He would listen without getting cross. But she found the patriarch instead. Or, rather, Patriarch Theodore found her.
    “My child…” His quavering admonition from the darkness made her jump. “What,” he asked, “are you doing here at this hour?”
    “I…” She was about to say looking for Fra Zeno, when she realised that was tactless, open to misunderstanding, and it didn’t matter which priest she talked to. And Theodore was patriarch, after all.
    If he didn’t know what she should do…
    “Seeking help.”
    The old man looked around him and smiled. “There are worse places to seek it,” he agreed. “And a troublesome mind is no respecter of the hour.” Taking an oil lamp from a shrine, he turned and Giulietta realised she was meant to follow him into the area beyond the altar.
    “That’s…”
    “The warmest place here.”
    In a tiny sacristy she’d never seen stood a gold chalice, decorated with emeralds and rubies. Slabs of lapis were set into the bowl and its rim was ringed with sapphires. The cup rested on a chest containing priestly vestments. An old Persian carpet covered half the floor, and a tattered battle flag hung from one wall. In the bowl of the chalice was a wedding ring.
    She knew it instantly. It was the ring with which the Duke of Venice married the sea each year to calm the waters and give fair wind to her ships. Not a year had passed since the city was founded without the marriage taking place. That was what she’d been told by her tutor anyway.
    “How old is the ring?”
    “How old is an axe if you keep replacing handle and blade? The ring’s been repaired this year. And the chalice has had a new base, a new stem and new stones in my lifetime alone. The originals would be six centuries old. Perhaps less. Records undoubtedly lie about which duke first married the sea.”
    The old man laughed at her shock. “You didn’t come here forhistory lessons. So tell me why you’re here and by a secret entrance. I didn’t realise you knew about that door.”
    “I discovered it.”
    She wondered why he smiled.
    “The devil makes work for idle hands. And between them, Aunt Alexa and Uncle Alonzo have kept you idle for longer than is wise. Still, there are worse things for girls your age to discover than secret doors.”
    For a moment, Giulietta thought he’d lean forward and ruffle her hair, but he simply sighed and balanced his stolen lamp beside the chalice, looking round for a chair.
    “So,” he said, finding one. “Tell me what upsets you.”
    Maybe he expected doubts about her wedding; God knows she had enough of them. Or maybe doubts about leaving Serenissima, because she had those too. But his smile died and the twinkle left his eyes within seconds. By the end he watched with the stillness of a snake. Although his fury was not for her. Giulietta realised that when he did his best to paste a smile into place.
    “Let me think for a moment.”
    She’d avoided all mention of Mistress Scarlett, the hatchet-faced
abadessa
and the goose quill, fearing Dr. Crow told the truth. To speak of them would steal her voice forever. But what she said was bad enough.
    “Perhaps you misunderstood?”
    “No,” she said firmly. “Uncle Alonzo’s orders are clear. Once an heir is born I must poison my husband and rule as Regent until he is old enough to rule for himself. My uncle will tell me what decisions to make.”
    “And how are you…?”
    “With these.” Giulietta produced two tiny pots from beneath her dress. One was small, the other smaller; no bigger than a thimble. “This,” she said, holding up the larger, “has three hundred fly specks of poison.”
    “To kill your husband?”
    “No. To
habituate
myself from the poison in this one.”
    She stumbled over Dr. Crow’s strange word and Archbishop Theodore looked thoughtful. Maybe he heard the alchemist’s echo in her voice. The patriarch always greeted Dr. Crow with a steely