"The woman you tried to tell me about?" Cinquedea asked.
"The same."
"Then you have my apologies for not believing you. Still, what is that to do with us? Can these creatures swim?"
"I don't think so."
"The city is full of churches and priests," Signora Petronilla said. "Such evil cannot survive there long."
Cinquedea leaned over and muttered something in his grandmother's ear.
"Really? A bishop?" She shook her head and tutted. "Still, my men are not soldiers. Why should I throw their lives away?"
"I'm not asking for aid of that kind," Mal said. "I need knowledge. The creatures are most likely holed up somewhere, awaiting nightfall; my friends and I can lay siege to their lair and destroy any that emerge, but the city is too large to search before sunset. I need to know where to look."
"And that is all you need?"
"One more thing. We need as many clear glass flasks and bottles as you can lay your hands on."
"Then you have come to the right place. Marco, speak to your uncle about getting Signore Catalin the things he needs. You, my boy–" she beckoned to Mal "–sit down and tell me everything."
? ? ? ?
They returned to the embassy later that afternoon to find Coby and Parrish waiting for them in the storeroom. A couple of dozen squat terracotta jars waited by the gondola dock, their stoppers sealed with wax.
"Lightwater?" Mal asked.
Coby grinned. "Every last demijohn in the skraylings' possession, almost."
"Almost?"
"We let them keep a couple for their own defence."
"Do you know where the devourers are?" Parrish asked.
"I believe so. According to Signora Petronilla's informants, they were last seen at the eastern end of the Dorsoduro district, just before sunrise. Since there's no way to leave except to double back or take a boat, it seems likely that they found a bolt-hole in some untenanted building or perhaps even a church."
"Even so, how do we find them?" Coby said.
"Follow the trail of bodies," Ned said with a ghoulish grin.
Coby pulled a face.
"Ned has a point," Mal said. "These creatures may be cunning, but they have made no attempt to hide their trail. Perhaps they are unfamiliar with cities; their native land, if you can call it that, is open moor. That is likely why they survived so long in the Peaklands."
"When do we make our move?" Parrish asked. "We surely want to have them surrounded well before sunset."
"I have arranged to meet Cinquedea in Campo San Vio at 5 o'clock."
"Will that give us enough time?"
Mal looked round at their worried faces. "It has to."
The square was already emptying by the time they arrived. Open to the water on two sides, it felt exposed to view but nonetheless safer than the suffocating closeness of most Venetian streets. Coby, Ned and Gabriel waited in a nervous huddle whilst Mal spoke to Cinquedea. The Lacemaker's grandson had brought the promised glass bottles, most of which had been rigged up with string handles around the necks. A few passers-by paused to stare at them as they unloaded the crates onto the fondamenta, but most were too busy hurrying home before it got dark.
"I hope to God Mal knows what he's doing," Ned muttered. "You should have seen those scars on his brother's body. Looked like a lion had tried to tear him in two."
"You're not helping," Coby said. Her guts felt like they were trying to find a way out of her belly by themselves.
Gabriel put his arms round both their shoulders and kissed each of them on the temple.
"We survived everything the Huntsmen and their lackeys threw at us, we'll survive this," he said.
"Aye, and this time we're fighting on the Huntsmen's side," Mal said, striding over. "Come. One of Cinquedea's gang thinks he knows where the devourers are."
He led them eastwards, through a dog-leg alley and over a bridge into a little square hemmed in by a canal on the nearest side and buildings on the other three. Ahead and to the right, small houses stood close-shuttered and silent, crosses hastily daubed on their doors for protection. To the left, blocking the view of the Grand Canal, stood a palazzo about twice the size of Berowne's house, with a walled garden in front. A vine had grown up the palazzo fa?ade, reaching for the sunlight, and now half-covered the row of arched windows that marked the piano nobile.
"Ca' Dario," Mal said. "It used to be rented out to the Turkish ambassador, but it fell into disuse owing to the war between Venice and the Empire. No one's lived there in a generation."
"And you think they're in there?" Coby stared up at the building, imagining dead eyes staring back at her from the leaf-framed darkness.
"The gate is rusted up," Gabriel said. "Doesn't look like it's been opened in years."
"They wouldn't go in that way. See, along the wall?"
At the far end of the wall where it turned a corner to run alongside the canal, some of the stone coping was missing, and on either side of the gap fresh white score-marks stood out like wounds. The marks of enormous claws.
Several of Cinquedea's men had joined them in the square. Two started filling empty bottles with lightwater, and the rest went from house to house with these makeshift lanterns, offering them to any householder who dared to answer their knock, and hanging them up outside the doors and windows that remained shut. Soon the little square was as brightly lit as the skrayling compound, though the blue and yellow lanterns combined to cast an eerie underwater light on the fa?ade of the palazzo.
Cinquedea came over and bowed to Mal. "We have fulfilled our side of the bargain, and more. Now, if you will excuse us, we have to return to our families, before…"
He jerked his head towards the darkened building.
"I understand," Mal said. "Thank you."
Cinquedea snorted. "You can thank me in the morning. Good luck, and may the saints watch over you this night."
He beckoned to his men, and they departed without a backward glance. Coby swallowed past the lump in her throat. They were alone now, with a dozen deadly creatures just waiting to come out and slaughter them all.
"Charles and I will go inside," Mal said. "Ned: you, Hendricks and Parrish will wait here and pick off any that try to flee back into the city."
"No!" Coby grabbed his sleeve. "You can't, not just two of you. It's too dangerous."
He took her in his arms. "This is my fault, love. I have to mend it."
He kissed her forehead, and she swallowed against the tears pricking her eyes. She clung to him for a long moment, not wanting it to end.
"One last thing," he said. "Wear this for me."
He held out Sandy's old spirit-guard.
"No, I cannot–"
"Please. I don't know what those creatures can do in this world, but you need this protection more than I." He looped the necklace behind her head and fastened the catch. "Be sure to wear it under your shirt, next to your skin."
She nodded, quite unable to speak. He bent and kissed her lips, and she melted into the embrace, cursing herself for all the times she had pushed him away. At last he withdrew, and wiped her tears away with a rough thumb.
"Go then," she whispered. "And may God be with you."
"And with thee."