“So Julia told you to come here looking for me?!” I exclaimed.

Luigi Manriolo didn`t answer. It wasn`t the right time for it. We made our way to the Piazzetta over the narrow flagstones between the wall of the house and the menacing black abyss of the canal. The wide stretch of water to our right was suddenly empty – no one wanted to get to the teeth of unknown sea monsters. People panicked. I saw some passersby pushed into the water in the chaos. So Manriolo held my hand tight while making his way along the wall.

I still couldn't believe it. Julia had sent him here! She was worried about me, my only friend... Pulling us Pulcino from the boat, Mariola could only roll his eyes and shrug in response to my questions.

“You`ve heard yourself that I came from Ariminum. Roberto d'Este is also from there. Was it so hard to guess?! I'm his servant, by the way.”

Actually, I'd only seen Roberto once, so how was I supposed to know his servants?! Venetta was the perfect place for different people who wanted to start their new life there. A port city, crowded with people from all over the world, where a man who was not afraid of risk could easily find a new face and name. Luigi Manriolo seemed a typical adventurer to me, a person who came to Venetta to try his luck and start everything from scratch.

Darkness fell over the city, dissolving the outlines of facades and roofs. The iron-grey sky was full of dark clouds. A heavy, dense mass of water heaved in the stone grip of the embankment. The water level in the canal became higher. Oily waves stubbornly pushed their foreheads into the damp, mossy slabs.

“If the water is high, we're all dead,” Manriolo muttered and dragged me away. «Hurry! We need to get to the dock!”

“Why?” I shouted.

I could see the light far ahead in the gap between the houses. Finally, there were the outlines of two columns with motionless griffins, that spread their wings over the city. Only in the west was the sky still looked warm. The clouds, illuminated by the sun, were like golden-red embers.

I was already out of breath. We were crowded with people, so I had to hold the wounded Pulcino under my cloak, and with my other hand I held tight to Luigi's fingers. My legs were still weak after my adventure in the crypt. Through the roar of the crowd came Manriolo `s voice. He shouted something about a ship.

“Do you have a ship?!”

Finally, we reached the Golden Palace. There were fewer people there, but the wind from the sea blew upon us, whipping up the hem of my cloak and leaving a taste of salt on my lips. The long arcades of columns stretched away in rows, lost in the darkness. Upstairs in the Palace two windows glowed crimson, the rest looked like black blind spots. Somewhere in the dark echoing rooms there was the body of don Soranzo. Had anyone mourned him? The dark space between the Palace and the Procuracy, usually silent at night, was now filled with a rushing crowd. The square was noisy. The moon had risen, and its razor-sharp light cut openwork shadows on the facades.

Luigi, looked at me quickly and leaned me against a pillar, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

“Do you have a ship?” I asked again.

A smile flickered on his face, invisible in the darkness.

“Actually, it's not mine, it's don Ricardo's. We will leave Venetta on the Fair Ferroniere.

I staggered back behind a pillar.

“Are you going to take me to Ricardo's?! In that case, thank you, but I'd rather get out on my own.”

Manriolo managed to grab my cloak.

“Calm down, you little fool, Ricardo is not there. And the captain has a deal with signor di Goro.”

With Alessandro?!

While I was trying to gather my thoughts, my companion dragged me into the crowd again, skillfully making his way among the people, and I made no further attempt to escape. One name, Alessandro, made me obediently follow him, although I completely ceased to understand a thing. How come that they were in collusion with Manriolo?

When we reached the docks, all questions froze on the tip of my tongue. The sea looked terrible. The surface of the lagoon, normally smooth as glass, was now all crumpled and rippled. In my ears the wind whistled, the waves rushed to the shore, like a hundred of crazed vallucos with foamy manes. They banged their chests against the mooring posts, pounced on the rocks, as if they were trying to bite off pieces. The air was filled with salt mist, and the lights of Spinalonga came and went in the distance. Shouts could be heard from boats and longboats desperately trying to reach the shore. Some of the boats capsized, and men's heads flashed among the frothy ridges. As I stared at the lagoon, I stumbled and accidentally bumped into a woman who was standing like a pillar across the road. I apologized, but she didn't move, staring out to sea. Probably some fisherman's wife. The wind was tearing at her half-shawl, her serge skirt was soaked to the knees, the comb was ready to fall out of her disheveled hair – but she did not notice anything, crumpling the ends of the shawl. Who was she trying to see in the lagoon? Her husband, her son, maybe?

Manriolo smelt the air, and then turned to me.

“I don't know how, but you've got to stop it!” he shouted in my ear, trying to shout above the raging sea and the excited hum of the crowd behind us.

I got angry. As though I could change something!

“Why don`t try it yourself?!”

I was taught how to summon those-who-live-under-the-waves, not to send them home.

There was no boat on the dock, only a few pieces of wreckage dangling in the surf.

“That guy... almost landed. I'm going to help him!”

I had to shout as the noise around us was intolerable, but I couldn't help but ask.

“How do you know signor di Goro?!”

“He helped me out!” Luigi shouted back, his eyes fixed on the approaching boat. Not all the words reached my ears, but some of them did.

“...he knew I didn't poison anyone!... he knew… in the evening... during the celebration... he watched me like an eagle!”

“Did Alessandro help you hide?”

Manriolo turned to me.

“Signor di Goro hid me in the attic of an innkeeper he knew and advised me not to be seen in the city unless I wanted to be a pawn in the patrician games. I broke my head trying to get to you! I tried to call you to church, and I crept up to the house at night − all to no avail!”

We were distracted by the unfortunate fisherman, who could not get out of the foam cauldron the lagoon turned into.

“Hey!” he shouted, waving his arms.

Manriolo caught the end of a thrown rope and wrapped it around the mooring post. The first thing the fisherman did was cross himself earnestly in the direction of the Cathedral. Luigi shouted something to him, accompanying the words with violent gestures, but the man could not understand what he wanted from him, and seemed to be poorly aware of what the world he was in.

“You need a boat? Now?!” he asked stupidly, looking at us with his mad eyes. When Manriolo handed him a bright silver coin, the fisherman stepped back.

“Do you want to go there? Are you crazy?”

However, he did not dissuade us. Shaking his head, he scooped up the money, threw the oars to the ground and disappeared into the crowd, probably fearing that we might change our minds.

“Don't worry, we won`t drown,” Manriolo muttered, pushing me into the boat. I doubted, however, that we could reach the ship. You have to be really crazy to plunge into that boiling brew!

Suddenly there was a deafening crash, and the ground shook under our feet. A new wave of panic swept over the square. From where we stood, it was impossible to make out what was going on. I caught a glimpse of something black and shiny rising high above the yellow flares of the torches. The boulders and small stones spattered in all directions. As I recalled, the main town square, paved with red brick, once rested on two Islands. A hundred years ago there was a canal in the middle, which was then filled up and paved. It looked like the water was trying to make its way again.

“Hurry!” Manriolo grabbed me in his arms and threw me into the boat. The ground shook; the gryphons above, in the moonlight, spread their wings as if they were ready to fly when the old pillars fell. Pulcino shivered under my cloak, clawing at my chest with his claws. He was terrified. Me too.

This time the rope was not needed – my companion had a special harness with him.

“Grigio, Grigio!” he called.

Manriolo`s face now looked concentrated, slightly detached. That expression was familiar to me. That was a face of chiamati when we called someone.

There was a low, impatient whistle over the side. A black, smooth head emerged from the foam. Where did you go? valluco seemed to be saying. Luigi put the harness on it in an instant, passing the straps under its fins.

So he really cheated during the race! an inappropriate thought flashed through my mind. Valluco was our only hope now.

The Fair Ferroniere was in the port of San Nicolo, as she was too heavy to be loaded in the Venettian lagoon. We had to cross about four leagues of churning, growling sea, ready to crush the frail boat like a nutshell. Pure madness!

The seahorse jerked forward and we pushed off. The waves were hitting the nose of the boat, enveloping us with streams of spray, but Manriolo somehow managed to keep the balance and avoid all the obstacles in our way. I huddled in the bottom of the boat, hugging Pulcino close to me. The gull's little heart was pounding beside mine. And so, when now we can hope that our trip would end well, a dark stinking arch suddenly appeared right before my eyes. Crooked elbow-length teeth flashed in the moonlight. A sudden current caught us, whirled us around, and dragged us inside, right into the stinking wet darkness. Manriolo cursed and fell to the bottom of the boat, pulling strap and rising the nose of the skiff into the air. Scooping up the water, we turned sharply.

“That was a baggyjaw,” I breathed after a while, managing to detach my hand from the gunwale, which seemed to be dented by my fingers.

Having missed us by a hand's breadth, the monster now flowed past like a slimy brown river. It did not follow us. The baggyjaw had eyes on the top of its head, so that when he opened its bread slicer, he saw. He just rushed forward, devouring everything in its path. There was still plenty much fish in the big sea. Behind us panic spread across the lagoon. I didn't look back. There was a hot lump in my throat, and it was hard to breathe.

Soon between the stratified clouds and the turbid rolling billows of turquoise, there appeared a band of Ditto island. We did it! It was a little quieter here. Grigio quickly drove us to the right place, and soon the boat braked, illuminated by the stern lights of the Beautiful Ferroniere. Three masts rose high into the sky. The Ferroniere was a three-deck carrack with rounded sides and a high superstructure on the bow and at the stern. Manriolo shouted and waved his hands until sailors who were on duty on the deck noticed us.

“What were you and signor di Goro talking about?” I asked.

“He helped me because he needed a clever man to help some people out of the city,” Luigi replied, catching a rope thrown from above. “When I realized it was you, I was on the cloud nine. It all worked out well afterwards.”

I guessed Alessandro had long suspected me. And still tried to save! I looked back to where the city lay hidden behind the Islands, choking in the dirty white foam of the furious sea. What if the water rose before the guards descended into the crypt?! What had I done? I should have stayed there! Stay with Sandro − and come what may!

Luigi took me by the shoulders and pushed me toward the rope ladder.

“No, no, no, my friend. I promised to get you out, so I will. By the way, you could thank me for not betraying your maiden secrets to signor di Goro! He's a serious man. He seems so polite, but sometimes he looks so icy-cold – the confessions flow from your tongue like ink from the tip of a pen!”

Two sailors helped us to the deck and escorted us to the waist deck. There was a stout, plump man who might have been a League captain. In the light of the lanterns I could see only his imposing black whiskers and his eyes glaring fiercely from under his hat. As Manriolo and I approached, the captain put his hands on his hips, his big thumbs tucked into his belt.

“Here you are at last! We`re leaving at dawn. I hope this damn thing calms down by the morning!”

As if in answer to his words, the wind hit and the deck lurched and slipped from under my feet. Manriolo twisted like a cat and managed to hold the shrouds, catching me with the other hand. The helmsman and the mate, swearing at all, leaned on the steering oar. The ship turned with a groan. A torrent of white foam swept across the deck, ready to carry us away into the depth. In the dip between the waves we could see an ugly head of the baggyjaw. It was as if the abyss itself smiled at us with its bared teeth. There were shouts, some of the sailors rushed into the hold, some offered to lower the boats.

«What the hell boats!” the captain's voice boomed over the panic, reminding me of the roar of waves on a pebbly beach. “In such a mess we will sink faster than the soul will fly out of the body!”

Manriolo looked at me, pleading. And then I made up my mind.

“All right, I'll try.”

He smiled and held out his hands. I thought he was going to give me one last hug, but instead Manriolo wrapped a rope around my waist and tied me to the mast. This was a good precaution, for the slippery deck was constantly shaking. Something seething, blind and murky raged overboard.

“In bоса al lupo, chiamati ,” Luigi said.

Very suitable parting words indeed! I closed my eyes, trying to get away from it all – the dizzying pitching, the panicked shouting and swearing, the chilly discomfort of wet clothes, the stiff rope digging into my back... If I wanted to talk to the sea, I had to forget about my own anger and fatigue, there was enough of it already! In the heavy breathing of the sea there was a long-simmering rage. Don Arsago's insistence angered those-who-live-under-the-waves. They felt it as if someone had been pounding long and hard on their locked door. No wonder they were angry…

“You can't do it! You're just a piece decoy, a stupid piece decoy, good for nothing!” Scarpa's grumpy voice came from a distance.

All right. Decoy. Let it be. But the sea would hear my voice... my lullaby … so calm... so quiet…

...it would hug the rock, then back off playing; its foam paw would brush off the sand playfully; it would breathe in and out, letting the waves whisper carelessly; the rocks would be erased into the sand, but the breath of the sea would never cease; only in the water we were strong, we touched the waves and that awakened the flame in our blood which called and beckoned; that call was sweeter than the love song, the foam rumble sounded like music to my ears; the sea was as soft as a feather, but it could scrape the soul with its salt crooks; when the surf was torn to tatters, when the wind howled in sorrow behind my back, I would stand between the sky and the sea bottom, like a string of the violin being played by the sea…

I was drawn into a world of greenish, dense, undulating light. A flock of bright fish flashed like golden rain, corals and starfish on the bottom looked like a colorful carpet, fluffy tangles of jellyfish shimmered gently. Why had I never noticed how beautiful the sea was? I wanted to forget who I was, wanted to vanish into this beauty... But someone`s yellow eyes stared anxiously at me from the deep blue. Then they blinked reproachfully. And then – a flash of pain hit my face, throwing me into reality with no mercy at all. I thought I screamed.

The light was blinding even through my eyelids were tightly closed. The cry I had heard in my dreams was now piercing my ears. It was unmistakably the cry of an angry gull. Pulcino!

I opened my eyes. What had become to the threatening night sky, the dim outlines of translucent, multi-layered clouds illuminated by the moon? It was a bright day. The sharp shadows across the deck made my temples ache. Poor Pulcino was struggling in the arms of a black giant.

“Give it back!” I tried to rise to my feet. “Now!”

“Here you are, for God's sake!” the man exclaimed. I recognized Manriolo`s voice. The sun shone on his back, and his face looked almost black with a shining snow-white white thread of teeth. “I took him because he punched you in the cheek, and I was afraid he'd peck your eyes out!”

I touched my cheek and I stared at the red spots on my fingers. There was no pain. But I dreamed it was Karita who clawed me in the face! Dream and reality were mixed up so fancifully.

“You did it!” Mariola exclaimed, looking at me with some new respect. “The sea calmed down soon after you lost consciousness. We didn't expect you to wake up, though.”

I gave him a n angry look. Well, at least he untied me from the mast. I tried to get up again, but I quickly gave up. My whole body was aching. My escape, my adventure in the crypt (not to be night to remember!), a crazy race through the canals and then another exhausting “conversation” with the sea.

It was nice to sit there with my eyes closed while the world was getting back on track and completely forgot about me. The sun was stroking my cheeks with its warm hands, and high above the masts were swaying in the serene blue. Pulcino was quiet in my hands, but his fellows were shrieking over the ship side, they even managed to shout down the swearing of the captain and the ship's carpenter, who were counting the losses. We had been badly battered last night, but captain Mairano was determined to continue our journey.

“We`ll repair it when we get to Ariminum. I have a contract and the holds are full of leather and wool that won't sell itself! God forbid the Venettians shut down their ports until they figure out who's in charge and hang a couple of the fall guys on the Piazzetta.”

From his approaching voice I could guess that the captain was heading our way. I opened my eyes as his massive shadow, obscured the sun like a mountain. Why was it still so hard to keep my eyes open?

“I have no idea who you are, but signor di Goro pledged his word for you, and he never waste words!” came from above. “Besides, from what I saw yesterday, it's good to have people like you on the board when the sea gets mad again. It's settled − you stay!”

“Thank you, signor,” Manriolo answered for the both of us, helping me up. The clumps of seaweed were drying on the deck. All around, as far as the eye could see, a deep-blue expanse of water was shimmering. The calm waves were whispering softly. Like me, the sea looked exhausted... It had had a good night's fun and now was listening to itself, wondering at its new sensations.

Soon the sails flapped, the caracca turned gracefully on the gentle waves. We caught the wind and headed southeast toward Ariminum.