The Mosaic

Chapter 8

"An assassin from Cremona," the boy explained.

Giacinto raised an eyebrow. "Fitting name."

"Anyways, Marco will pretend to alarm the duke. While this forces the Reaper to come after him immediately rather than waiting like he did between the other murders. He doesn't want to arise suspicion — too many accidents shortly after another will put him in the spotlight. But," the spy snapped his fingers, "Marco will kill himself and you'll have your last clue."

"Would it kill you guys to like, I don't know," Giacinto rolled his eyes, "actually get your point across without the death and riddles? That'd be great. Then again," he mused, "it really did kill you."

"Marinos!" Alessandro hissed.

Giacinto crossed his arms, "No offense?"

The boy sighed. "None taken. Guido, by the way."

Alessandro opened his mouth and closed it right away. He knew their names already. "How do you know our names?"

"We're spies?" Guido tilted his head, as if trying to figure out why Alessandro would ask such a question. "What kind of spies would we be if we couldn't find out two names?"

"Dead ones?" Giacinto piped up. He tried to hide the grin tugging at his lip.

Alessandro glared at him.

Giacinto raised his hands defensively. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Won't do it again."

Guido ignored their exchange. "Alvino told you already—"

"Told is a bit exaggerated. He took a stone out of a ceiling," Giacinto snorted.

"Genoa is preparing for war. Not officially – they lost just a year ago, after all. But some nobles are hell bent on revenge. They try to gain support from outside Genoa. Francesco Novello is a little too interested, we've intercepted a few letters. With Iacobo hinting at the Turks, I assume they have contacted them, too."

Giacinto thought about that. "Francesco Novello... Padua then? He's the only certain supporter?"

"Yes, so far," Guido inclined his head, nodding at the table, "Do you mind?"

Alessandro raised an eyebrow.

"If I take a seat—" Guido's eyes rolled back, knees giving out underneath him.

Alessandro caught him before he hit the ground. The boy's eyes were wide and feverish, glazed over with a hazy confusion. "You need to rest," He turned to Giacinto, "He needs a doctor. Now. We can question him later—"

"No. No, I'll — I'll be fine. Just, help me in that chair, would you?" Guido smiled.

The reassuring smile would've fooled the investigator, hadn't it wavered at the last moment, tensing up in suppressed pain. The boy had a grip like a vice on Alessandro's arm. The man wordlessly lowered him onto a chair.