Kushiel's Chosen

materials while Severio's manservant waited. "I asked him to present me to his grandfather the Doge and to Prince Benedicte. I'll wait on that answer before I plunge into Serenissiman society-'tis the Doge's Palace I need to access. Anyway, it does no harm to keep him anxious."
    To that, he made no reply.
    Ere nightfall, my chevaliers had returned, full of high spirits and useful information, which they related to me over dinner. Careful to take no chances, I had the household servants dismissed while we dined; knowing no better, they put it down to some D'Angeline oddity.
    "The chiefest rumor," Ti-Philippe announced eagerly, "is that the Doge himself, Cesare Stregazza, has plans to step down come year's end." He looked at me to continue, and I nodded. " 'Tis well known he has the shaking-sickness, and rumor says the Oracle of Asherat has proclaimed he will die of it, if he does not cede the throne."
    "Rumor says too," Fortun murmured, "that there is pressure from the Consiglio Maggiore, who fear his illness weakens their position in negotiation."
    "It has not been formally announced?" I inquired.
    "No." Ti-Philippe shook his head vigorously. "But everyone says it, and we went over half the city, pretending to be drunk, after Fortun found out how much profit you made on that lead shipment, my lady!" He grinned. "I always liked Drustan mab Necthana, but I like him better now that I know how cheap he's selling Alban goods for D'Angeline trade!"
    Fortun cleared his throat. "I arranged to put it on account at the Banco Tribune," he said apologetically. "Messire Brenin said it was the best."
    "Fine," I said. "And what does La Serenissima say about the Doge's imminent retirement?"
    Remy laughed, then sobered at my quizzical look. "Pardon, my lady, but it's a dogfight, or near enough. There are six Sestieri to the city, and each one's the right to put forward a candidate, though it must be one whose family name is inscribed in the Golden Book-and that's by popular election. When the Doge is elected, 'tis the Consiglio Maggiore who does the choosing among 'em. Right now, it's all rumor and chaos, with the districts fighting among themselves and with each other over who they favor. I mean really fighting," he added. "Mobs of young gallants in striped hose, beating each other over the head."
    "We saw a splendid fight," Ti-Philippe said cheerfully. "On the bridge, with staves. I wanted to join it, but Fortun threatened to throw me in the canal."
    "Thank you," I said to Fortun, who nodded gravely. To Ti-Philippe, I said, "La Serenissima lacks a proper sewage system, you know. They use the canals." I knew, I'd seen Leonora empty the chamber pot.
    "Well, that's why I didn't, isn't it?" he asked logically. "Anyway, two of old Cesare's lads are in the mix, it seems. Marco's the elder of the Stregazza; your Severio's father, that's wed to Prince Benedicte's daughter. He's got the Sestíeri Dogal's vote, all the clubs are behind him, and they love him well, only he's fallen out with Prince Benedicte, they say, since the old boy remarried, so his people are nervous that the Consiglio's going to turn against him. And the other's Ricciardo, his younger brother, who's going for the Sestieri Scholae, where all the craft-guilds are quartered, and getting them all up in arms over some tax."
    Severio had told me as much, I remembered; it hadn't meant anything to me at the time. Now, I struggled to encompass it. "Six Sestíeri," I said. "Six districts. There are four other candidates, then?"
    "Not yet," Fortun told me. "We heard Orso Latrigan has a lock on the Sestíeri d'Oro, and what he can't win, he'll buy. But there are three others where candidates are still vying." He shrugged and gave a quiet smile. "I like Lorenzo Pescaro for Sestieri Navis, myself. They say the ink's still wet in the Golden Book where his family name was entered, but I've heard of him; he made a reputation chasing Illyrian pirates. He's a good commander."
    "I'll be sure to note that." Having heard more than I hoped I'd ever need to know about Serenissiman electoral candidates, I asked the one question that really mattered. "And Melisande?"
    One by one, my chevaliers shook their heads.
    "My lady," Fortun said reluctantly, "we asked. We played at being drunken D'Angeline sailors up and down the length of the Grand Canal, and too many byways to count, and some of us-" he scowled at Ti-Philippe "-were not exactly playing. Remy sang that song, you know the one? 'Eyes of