If you’re watching this, Gideon, forgive me for playing along. “So...” I held Taviano’s gaze. Firelight from torches positioned around the boat flickered in his eyes and made his mask glow. “You’re a Magician for the Marenato family, right?”
He drew his fingertip up my arm, stroking me as though I were his pet. I congratulated myself for resisting the urge to cringe. “I am.”
Of course, he didn’t clarify that he was only an apprentice.
“What sort of things do you do for them?”
“Whatever the family asks of me.”
I touched his biceps. He was taller than me but not my much. Bony and angular too. Perhaps some girls preferred the lanky and aristocratic look, but I favored Gideon’s brawn and strength. “You must be very smart and powerful to serve a family like the Marenatos.” The words felt sickly sweet on my tongue. I can’t believe he’s falling for this.
Young men love to have their egos stroked by young ladies, Grandfather said. And you are especially lovely tonight.
And he is especially drunk.
The tip of Taviano’s nose brushed my ear. “It is an ideal position for a long and lucrative career.”
“Will you take the place of their current Magician when he eventually retires?”
His finger paused on my arm. He pulled away slightly. “DeLaguna is a doddering old fool. He will be retiring much sooner than he thinks.”
Someone hollered again. Our barge turned and picked up speed. A stiff breeze toyed with my curls and whipped Taviano’s bright hair about his head. The city fell away as we sailed into a wider body of water. “We’re crossing the bay?” I asked.
He nodded and leaned back, letting me peer around him as he pointed at a dark, distant shoreline. Against a cloudy night sky, the Basilica di Magia’s hulking silhouette crouched atop limestone cliffs like a giant barnacled turtle sitting on a plinth. I had studied the islet from my balcony several times and therefore knew it was encircled by a sandy beach that only appeared at low tide. Playing dumb, I blinked at him. “We’re going to the basilica?”
He snorted. “No, to the peninsula just beside it. See?” He pointed again, and the dim light of tiny distant flames flickered on a jutting promontory. We were still too far away and the night was too dark to reveal details. “There is the Gratta Regine del Mare. The Grotto of the Sea Queens.”
I tensed. “You mean...?”
“It’s a temple, a relic left from the days when the Marenatos were sea deities.”
“There aren’t many of those left,” I said.
“Who?”
“The old gods.”
“Good riddance, I say.”
My skin prickled as if lightning were drawing close. “If industry continues to develop at its current rate, Magic might soon be as obsolete as the gods.”
“That will never happen.” Taviano’s mood turned cool and distant. Maybe I should’ve worried, but instead I enjoyed the reprieve when he pulled away. He motioned for a servant to bring me another glass of wine, and he drew a pipe from an interior pocket in his coat. He snapped his fingers, and a flame lit at the tip of his thumb and forefinger. He touched the light to his pipe bowl and puffed until the contents glowed.
Mordid, judging by the burnt syrupy smell. I tried not to let my distaste show on my face.
He pointed the pipe stem at me, gesturing for me to take a puff. Waving him away, I shook my head. “No thanks. I’ll stick to wine.”
He shrugged and sucked in another lungful of smoke.
I glanced behind us, searching for a sign of Gideon. Had he managed to find a taxi willing to pilot him this far into the bay? Without more moonlight, it was impossible to tell.
We completed our voyage in silence while Taviano puffed on his pipe. The barge shuddered as it slid across a sandy bottom and stopped. Another elegant but empty barge had already beached nearby, suggesting the party had started without us. A tall boy wearing a horse mask raised his wine glass and whooped. Crying out in Vinitzian, his companions responded, and the group rushed to disembark, splashing over the barge’s sides. Most had removed their shoes and slogged through the calf-high water without a care for their cuffs and hems. Slow to follow, I kicked off my slippers and bundled my skirt into my arms, holding my hems as high. I eased into the water, leaving Taviano still lounging on his bench, finishing his pipe.
If he didn’t join the rest of us soon, I’d backtrack and try to get him talking again, but my curiosity about the Sea Goddesses’ temple refused to be ignored. How could I come all the way to Vinitzia without seeing the worship place of a former elemental deity? It would’ve been like passing through the graveyard at Fallstaff without paying a visit to my ancestors’ tombs.
I’d descended from a different lineage than the Sea Goddesses, but we were family in a way. Thousands of years before, all of us had once shared the same creator father. As I strode onto the pebbled shore, a feeling of welcome enveloped me.
“Hello, aunties,” I whispered.
Lit torches guided us farther inland. I followed at a distance, apprehensive about what I might stumble upon. As I rounded a tall sand dune, more torchlight spilled upon a pathway threading through a wide entrance in a circular wall made of coral and seashells. The wall served as a perimeter barrier around a sunken amphitheater. Broad steps ascended several yards down to a rounded arena paved in more stone and shells.
As I’d suspected, an additional group of young people had arrived before us and lit the torches blazing throughout the grotto. Bits of glass and nacre from shells embedded in the walls and flooring glittered like gems. Opposite the amphitheater’s entrance, the arching entryway of a tall man-made cave beckoned.
The party raged around me, young people laughing, drinking, smoking, kissing and touching as a quintet played upbeat music. I tuned it out as I slipped down the steps, crossed the arena floor, and stepped into the grotto’s shadows. Rough-hewn walls and columns lit by flaming tapers guided me along a mazelike path that swallowed sounds from outside, leaving me in silence and gloom.
The route ended in an echoing cavern where candles flickered in votives positioned at the foot of a sparkling mural. Bits of glass, pottery, and shells formed an iridescent image of a woman rising from spewing waters, long hair swirling about her like seaweed. Hands open with palms facing up at her side, she greeted worshipers with a meek, motherly smile.
A warm hand pressed against the small of my back. I yelped as Taviano slid close, putting his lips near my ear. “La Madre del Mare.” He reeked of mordid and wine. He slurred as he spoke, his words heavy with his Vinitzian accent. “Her name was Hadria Marenato, the first goddess to rule Venitizia from her throne, here, in Isolas.”
“I didn’t hear you sneaking up behind me,” I said. “You move like a ghost.”
He chuckled low in his throat and waggled his fingers. “Or like Magic.”
I folded my arms across my chest, warding off the cavern’s chill air. “The Marenatos aren’t gods anymore, but they’re still pretty powerful.”
“Indeed.”
“And so are their Magicians.”