The morning sun peered cautiously through the thick curtains, too shy to disturb their rest. Ricardo and Alessandro were sitting in the dark living room. They were both tired as hell. Neither of them went to bed since they got to Granacci`s house. There was a decanter of wine in front of them but it didn`t make any good after what happened at night.

“Who could do it?” Ricardo asked for the hundredth time, as if the walls could give him the answer.

“We were all there. So that could be any of us,” Alessandro said. Yesterday's incident left him derailed a little bit though he tried to stay calm.

It was shameful for a nobleman who carried a weapon to use poison. However, signor di Goro had long been convinced that men of honor were a real rarity those days. He personally would not trust a cat to a half of the men from don Arsago`s surrounding. They were all yes-man, longing for the Count`s favours.

Ricardo jumped up in annoyance and started walking back and forth, trying to vent his anger.

“I bet that was that scoundrel Manriolo! No wonder he disappeared so suddenly! First he tried to drown Enrique, and then…

Alessandro smiled.

"Well, I wouldn't let Enrique drown,” he said leniently. “But as for don Arsago…” he became serious again. "If it wasn't for Julia…”

“That`s right,” Ricardo shivered. “She saved his life this time.”

“Have you been to the island?" Alessandro asked, changing the subject.

His friend looked away.

"Well, I was the day before yesterday," Ricardo answered reluctantly. “I haven't seen the abbess, if that's what you mean. She had a vision, you see, so it was strictly forbidden to disturb her. The old woman saw a tower full of birds. A seagull tower. If you want to know my opinion, those sisters are completely mad. A flock of seagulls came the island to spend the night – and that made them all fell into religious ecstasy at once. What a nonsense!”

“A seagull tower…”

Such a strange name. But it really rings a bell. What if…

"Wait a minute,” Alessandro said. “There were some rumours about that place. Do you remember the old manor house on the Brenta, not far from the Fusee? The house was left and boarded up long ago. The tower stands right by the river, and there are always lots of birds there…”

Ricardo smiled scornfully.

“An abandoned house always has a scary story. And there are dozens of such towers in the district – with and without seagulls. That really makes no sense.”

“Forget it,” signor di Goro ran his fingers through his hair. He really felt exhausted but duty called.

"Actually, I`m here to deliver a message. Donna Arsago begged Julia to accompany her for a few days. You know that Enrique is going back to Patava, don`t you?”

"Of course, I do. I'm supposed to accompany him. Hope the guy didn't have a big fight with his dad, did he?”

“Not for the first time. It might give him the jolt he needs and make him get down to business at last.”

"Besides, it's safer that way," Ricardo agreed. “Whoever is trying to kill Arsago, he's here, in Venetta now. Everyone is waiting like rats for Soranzo to die.”

“So you don't mind if Julia stays with donna Arsago? There will be other girls, signoritas Sacketti and Sanudo.”

“Not at all. On the contrary, it`s just most welcome now. I'm afraid my sister will be lonely here without me; donna Assunta is not much company for her. I'll tell her to get ready.”

“I can tell her myself, if she is at home."

“She on the terrace with… with that creature,” Ricardo shrugged nervously and poured himself another glass of wine. "Go if you want. I try not to come there without a good reason.”

***

I was sitting on the terrace, wrapped in a thick cloak though the sun had already risen and its warmth was making it really uncomfortable under a dark cloth. There was a wooden dish with fresh fish in front of me. And six stone tiles away there was a pitch-black stinking shelter of paurozo with the end of the rattly chain sunk in the darkness. Yesterday the distance was eight tiles. Every time I risk getting a step closer. Pulcino thought I was crazy so he closed its eyes and ignored my calls saying he was very busy. Paurozo didn`t appear though I could feel her hunger in my head. As well as disgust, pain and rage. I'd leave, but something was still bothering me.

"Tasty fish," I tried to tempt her. And received a vivid image of my corpse with the throat ripped. The mossy tiles of the terrace were all stained with blood. Well, thank you, that was a chilling one. And while I was trying to collect my thought again, a wet webbed paw shot out of the darkness, grabbed the fish and disappeared. I could barely catch a glimpse of a yellow-eyed triangular face in the opening. The wet skin glistened and there were bloody sores around her mouth. So that was the reason why she was hiding.

I got on my feet to I study the post to which the chain was attached. The thick fastening ring was recently shiny-new, but now it was all covered with blood-red dots of rust. In one place the metal even began to crumble. Paurozo had sharp teeth and poisonous saliva that could erode anything, so the chain and ring had been made of a special spelled alloy. Even touching it would cause the predator a big pain. But that didn't stop her.

She wouldn`t be able to free herself in that way, since the chain was too thick, but she was too desperate to accept that. The old blood couldn`t tolerate living in a cage. Let the fish in the tank – it would adapt over time, but paurozo – no, never. I'd let her out somewhere far away from our lagoon if the citizens let me.

"I can't let you go," I said as clearly as I could. “Just wait two more weeks until the moon is full... and everything will happen by itself. You will be free. We both shall be free. So stop hurting yourself".

Two yellow lights light up in the darkness and then disappeared. Paurozo was breathing heavily but her stare was like a scream right into my ears. A stare full of boiling hatred. And yet a flair of chiamata suggested that her attitude towards me changed a bit. A spark of curiosity lit up in that murky dull pall of malice that clouded paurozo's mind.

Someone`s shadow fell on the tiles. That distracted me just for a moment but that was enough for paurozo to get what she wanted. The chain rattled and as I looked back, the dish had already disappeared into the hole.

“Carita!” I said with a reproach.

Well, at least she caught the fish. Not my foot.

Alessandro smiled.

“What did you call her? Carita? Which means mercy? Well, that sounds very appropriate.”

I felt better when I saw his smile. A poisonous net of paurozo`s hatred burnt and fell off in shreds of ashes at once. Finally, I could breathe deeply and taste of salt on the tongue, enjoy the smell of spring flowers and feel warm sunlight on my face.

“I can't give her freedom. Only the name.”

"That's something," Alessandro nodded his head.

That was the first thing that came to my mind. A nameless creature was easier to kill: add a drop of poison in the food and then push the unconscious body into the canal – anyone of the servants could do that. That was what don Arsago did to Joanna's dog. To him its life meant nothing, a sort of furry rug under his feet.

"I've noticed that names mean a lot here, in Venetta. They are even inherited along with the position.”

Alessandro's face twitches, as if from a painful memory.

“Was it not so in the convent?"

I remember the cool stone walls of the convent, the soft singing of the morning mass, the glitter of precious ornaments in the gloomy air speckled with bright points of candles. And the even ranks of novices moving softly on their white and gray gowns. The nuns taught us that every path is precious in the God`s eyes. The white novices were able to talk with the sea while the gray were responsible for the convent`s comfort and neatness. Impersonality was welcomed there. All the titles and mundane names meant nothing at all.

"They named me Umilta on the island. The abbess gave us new names which had to remind us about the qualities we were missing[1].

After the long stare game with paurozo it was a pleasure to feel that gray gaze of his, such benevolent and calm. Alessandro looked tired. They must have put all the guards on their toes after the poisoning. It was hard to live and expect a stab in your back every minute but having a traitor inside the house was even worse.

I suddenly thought with sympathy that, judging by his appearance, he hadn`t had enough sleep for a long time. A night owl that had to get up at the break of dawn – who could possibly bear that?

“You didn`t have friends in the convent, right?”

If it was for someone else, I would have sent such a meticulous man to Horro with all his curiosity long ago. However, Alessandro's questions didn`t irritate me. Was it about his manners? Or his appearance, maybe? When I looked at his face before, I could only see a terrible scar. Now, while my companion was admiring the morning bustle on the canal, I was surreptitiously examining him. His worn-out doublet glistened slightly at the elbows and his short hair didn`t even reach his shoulders. Alessandro had none of Ricardo`s daintiness, that cunning charisma of the other noble men of Venetta. He was just a man who was trying to do his job well and live in peace with himself. Anyone would be happy to trust him with all heart…

But I was not anyone, so I only opened my heart a little and kept it chain-locked.

“What makes you think that? I had a friend. Just one. Her name was Umilta, like mine.”

***

It was always silent in the crypt of the monastery on Terra dei Miracolo. But that silence was special. It was soft and tired, making your eyelids close and your mind daze. Above the cave-crypt there was a gallery. There were narrow cracks in the floor so even though the sunlight didn`t get there, I could see its golden finest pollen in the thick air. The silence had its own melody and the amber reflections were dancing and playing on the walls and a ceiling, creating never-ending ripple in the water. Polished columns supported the vaults of the crypt – and you could look at yourself in their dark cold mirror-surface. When the sun was high, they began to glow from within.

It smells of salt and mystery. The whole space consisted of flickering colored spots. Even the stones seemed ghostly and unsteady there. That was a place for dreams and prayers, where you could open the doors to another world. No longer a reality, but not a dream yet. That was a place where your reflection could suddenly speak to you.

“I've noticed you come here often."

“I like being alone."

"Do I bother you?”

“No. Not at all.”

How could she bother? We were the same, though she was lighter and cleaner than me. We even shared one name. She sat on the rocks beside me with her brown hair streaming down her back and her white robe glowing faintly in the cozy gloom.

Listening to the silence of the crypt together was much more pleasant, indeed.

[1] Umilta means modesty and humility