The Mosaic

Chapter 16

Dedicated to @Confused_Oracle because she helped me with Italian. And also she's generally amazing. Check her out.

Alessandro didn't know how he had ended up in front of that bar. One moment he had kissed Laelia's hand in goodbye, Giacinto scoffing next to him. The next, the Greek had muttered a 'Good Night' and disappeared down the street. Alessandro was left alone under the dark velvet sky. He had looked up at the stars, felt the sea breeze stroke his cheek and had started walking.

What felt like a blink of an eye later, he stood in the middle of a narrow street, empty, apart from the drunkard swaying in the distance. A glance at the moon told Alessandro it was in reality at least an hour later. He blinked, his senses slowly returning to him.

He knew the way the orange light fell through the narrow windows. He knew the way the wooden sign swung lazily in the wind, creaking in protest. If he stepped inside, he would know the voices inside. He would know the heavy smell of dark wine and the burning note of stronger spirits. He would know the weight of the clay jugs.

And if he closed his eyes, he could still feel the arms of his friends around him. Could hear the laughter and feel the alcohol drumming in his veins.

It had been three years. Three long years. Yet the house felt just the same. Out of some self-destructive impulse, he pulled the door open, automatically ducking to not hit his head - even that his muscles remembered - and stepped inside. No one looked up. Three years ago, he would have just snatched a glass and sauntered to his friends. Even now, he looked there first: table in the corner. He didn't recognize anyone. Now he just stood in the middle of the room, lost and, if he dared admitting, confused. He had spaced out and ended up here, the one place he had avoided like the plague all these three years.

Why was he here? He turned to storm out when a hand settled on his shoulder. He jumped.

"A bit tense, officer," Lorenzo laughed, "But nothing wine can't fix. Join me?" He nodded towards a table near the counter.

No. "Yes," Alessandro said.

Lorenzo shot him a dazzling smile. He seemed popular around here, they stopped several times when one of the guests turned to slap Lorenzo's back and laugh about old jokes.

When they finally sat down, Alessandro's stomach tightened. He felt watched, eyes burning into the back of his skull, averted when he turned to check. Some of the men Lorenzo had talked to had sent him peculiar looks. Did they know him? From his years here? Or from his reputation as an officer? Had they been here that night? Were they whispering about him just now, behind his back?

"Why are you here?" Lorenzo poured two clay cups of wine.

"I don't know."

Lorenzo blinked, then laughed. "I guess we all don't. This is the haven of the lost."

Haven of the lost ... it fit the old tavern, Alessandro mused. Too good of a place for street rats and dirty hands, too bad of a place for glittering nobles. The wine was good and the food was warm, the people neither stuck up nor brute. Most of the guests were middle class, but during Alessandro's time a few nobles had found there way here - the second sons, the fugitives from the tight rules of their palaces, those looking for an honest laugh. With Lorenzo here, that apparently hadn't changed.

"Not one for many words, huh?" Lorenzo asked. "Well, cheers!" He raised his cup.

Alessandro clinked their cups together, offering half a smile.

Lorenzo downed his cup. "You don't like the wine?" He glanced at the untouched cup in front of Alessandro. "I'll order another -"

"I don't drink."