Nicoletta took the shoes from Ketsia almost absently, her face lifted to the wind. She opened her arms to the earth, and turned in the four directions--north, south, east and west--seeking information. She glanced skyward, searching for the raven, studying the birds, listening to the insects. Puzzled, she turned once again toward Maria Pia.
"Do not stand there gawking, piccola. Don Scarletti has summoned the healer once again. You did not come. I waited, but you did not answer the call." Maria Pia sounded impatient.
Nicoletta began walking slowly, thoughtfully, toward her, swinging her shoes absently. 'There was no call, Maria Pia. There is no one sick at the palazzo."
"You must be mistaken. He sent word that he wanted the healer and her assistant to return." Maria Pia put her hands on her hips, scowling fiercely at Nicoletta. "Why are you carrying, not wearing those shoes?"
Nicoletta didn't appear to hear her. "There is no illness, Maria Pia, and no injury. I do not know why the don has summoned the healer, but it is not to attend the sick."
The color drained from Maria Pia's face. "Are you certain? You know?"
"I know. There are no disturbances. I feel nothing of consequence. I would know. I have never been wrong, not even as a bambina, and I have grown much in the last few years."
Maria Pia cleared her throat noisily and made several not-so-subtle gestures toward Ketsia with her chin to remind Nicoletta they were not alone. "I was there when his servant arrived. He said to come at the first opportunity."
Nicoletta whistled softly, a sound that had Maria Pia gasping anew at the young woman's wild, unbridled ways.
"You do not see?" Nicoletta asked. "Look at his order. 'At the first opportunity.' He did not command the healer's presence as he would if a member of his household was ill. He sent for the healer in such a way that she could complete her work should she be aiding some other who is ill. He has not summoned the healer because her skills are needed. He has another motive."
Maria Pia devoutly crossed herself repeatedly. "He has found us out!" she wailed. "He knows we deceived him. Our lives will be forfeit."
"He could not know." Nicoletta pointed out calmly. "He may suspect, but he cannot know. It's possible this is a test."
"Your disguise did not work." Maria Pia sounded fearful, and for the first time she looked her every decade.
"Not with Don Scarletti," Nicoletta agreed, unruffled. "But we made no false claims outright. He cannot condemn us. There was no dangerous deception. I altered my appearance, that is true, and praised you as a healer but how can he prove peril or malice in such things?"
"Don Scarletti does not need proof, Nicoletta," Maria Pia said hopelessly. "Remember who he is."
"I do not think he has called the healer to condemn her and her young assistant to death. What does it matter to him if we use the illusion of servitude to protect me?"
"You are the one who heals, Nicoletta. Even as a mere bambina, you had the gift. I can aid you, and I have some experience, but I am not able to cure as you can. I do not even understand what it is you do or how you do it."
"The don does not know that I am the healer, Maria Pia," Nicoletta said firmly. "He cannot know. Perhaps this is a test. He may be suspicious and is hoping we will do something to give away our secret."
"He has set a trap for us." Maria Pia let out her breath slowly. The thought of her and her precious Nicoletta coming under the close scrutiny of a man as powerful as Don Scarletti was terrifying. "Perhaps it is time to send you away from here," Maria Pia ventured reluctantly. "We knew this could happen."
Nicoletta stood very still, recognizing the faint hint of resolve in Maria Pia's voice. She rarely used that inflection, but when she did, she meant business. "We do not know yet, and I will not let him drive me away from my home without even knowing. Perhaps we should turn the test back on him," she said thoughtfully.
"Nicoletta!" Maria Pia was used to Nicoletta's defiance of convention, but defying a man as powerful as Don Scarletti was suicide.
"We know there is no one sick enough at the palazzo that you cannot care for alone. Take our neighbor, old Mirella, with you. She will enjoy being frightened by and later gossiping about the experience. Besides, she has accompanied you many times in the past delivering bambini in the villaggi. You can easily claim to have more than one assistant. The don did not say which of your assistants you were to bring. Should he ask about me and why I did not accompany you, tell him you wished me to rest my leg another day or two." Nicoletta suddenly began to laugh. "Don Scarletti left us a way to slip out of his noose. He thought mere women would be easy to trap."
Maria Pia took her time thinking over Nicoletta's plan. The branches overhead swayed gently, making the leaves glint silver in the sunlight. They could smell the ocean, fresh and salty. The breeze was beginning to pick up, bringing a fine spray of mist with it.
Ketsia stayed very quiet, but her fingers were wound tightly in Nicoletta's skirt. Her eyes were wide, and her lower lip was trembling. "Nicoletta cannot go far from us, Maria Pia," she said. "What would we do without her?"
"It will work, Maria Pia. It will allay his suspicions," Nicoletta said. "A man such as the don will not continue to waste his time on something so insignificant. He will accept you as the healer, believe you have several assistants, and soon his busy life will continue, and--poof!--we will be gone from his thoughts." Nicoletta's dark eyes were twinkling in anticipation. "I know it will work. He had curiosity, that is all, but it is fleeting, soon to be lost amidst more important matters of state."
Ketsia was nodding in agreement. "Do not make Nicoletta go away, Maria Pia. I do not want her to go."
"Neither do I, piccola. I will go to the palazzo with Mirella while Nicoletta rests her leg. You will watch over her and make certain she does not dance around. I do not wish to utter a lie, may the good Madonna watch over me." She made the sign of the cross. "Nicoletta must rest her leg," she decided piously. "She is really not nearly as healed as I would like." She fixed Nicoletta with a stern eye. "I will take no nonsense from you, bambina. You must rest while I am gone. I will not get on the bad side of the good Madonna."
Nicoletta raised an eyebrow, her expression innocent.
"I did not know the good Madonna had a bad side, Maria Pia."
Outraged, Maria Pia erupted into a barrage of scolding, even going so far as to deliver a rap to the young woman's behind. Ketsia backed away, frightened by the unexpected display from Maria Pia, but Nicoletta stood her ground, smiling and slipping her arms around the old woman. "Scusa, Maria Pia. I am so ignorant, I am uncertain what is causing you distress." Her dark eyes were alight with mischief.
Maria Pia firmly pushed her away, blessing her several times in the process. "If I did not see you devoutly at your prayers, Nicoletta, I would fear for your soul. You have more knowledge than is good for a woman. Go to your bed and stay there while I attend the don."
"I can rest up here, Maria Pia," Nicoletta pointed out. "The fresh air will aid my healing, and I can continue to do my work."
Maria Pia took in her disheveled appearance and sighed. "You were not working, Nicoletta, but flitting around again. No good can come of your continuing such behavior. I intend that you marry soon. I have noticed Cristano looking at you often."
Ketsia giggled but kept her gaze resolutely on the ground, not daring to glance up at Nicoletta, who had stiffened and was standing very still.
Nicoletta's dark eyes flashed with sudden fire. "I will not marry Cristano or any other." She enunciated each word carefully. "I will not, Maria Pia. Do not think you can change my mind. Such a match would be a death sentence for me."
Maria Pia was silent while the wind tugged gently at their clothing. She sighed softly. "Piccola, I have done you an injustice. When you lost your madre, you were so inconsolable, you spent all your time in the wilds. You were so little and sad, we were all afraid of losing you. Do you remember those dark days? I would sit beneath the trees with you and up on the cliffs, many times
all night. You did not speak for weeks at a time. You did not seem to feel the cold or the rain. I had to force you to eat. You took risks with your life, climbing crumbling cliffs and exploring caves just before the tide rushed inside. The wolves would howl, and you would not flinch. I would see their glowing eyes and try to persuade you to return to the villaggio, but nothing frightened you, and nothing could assuage your grief. We allowed you to mourn in your own way, but I am not certain it was for the best. You were only five summers, but you were separate from us even then."
"I have always been separate," Nicoletta pointed out gently. "I am ever aware I could bring morte to the entire villaggio. It is a terrible burden hanging over my head. I know the little ones are taught never to speak of me to outsiders or if an outsider is near. It is a burden for them also. I cannot change that I am different. I did not want to be different, but I accept that I am. I try use my gifts for the good of others, and I light candles to the Madonna that it is right to do so."
"You are a treasure to us, Nicoletta." Maria Pia laid a hand on the younger woman's arm. "To me. You are a good girl, and the Madonna knows that."
Ketsia clutched Nicoletta's skirt tighter. Nicoletta brought laughter and love to the villaggio. The children adored her and followed her everywhere. "Why are you afraid, Nicoletta?" She didn't understand the conversation, but she could feel the intensity of emotion shimmering between the two women.
Immediately Nicoletta smiled at the child, her dark eyes dancing with mischief. "I have an idea, Ketsia. You should marry Cristano. He can wait until you are sixteen. It is only a few more years, and by then he might have made his fortune."
Ketsia thought it over. "He is handsome, but he is already old. Probabilmente he is already too old even for you, Nicoletta."
Maria Pia coughed delicately behind her hand. "I must go now to the palazzo. It will not do to keep the don waiting too long. Mirella will come with me, but you stay out of sight. The hills have spies, Nicoletta. The don is a powerful man, and many wish to have his favor. If he has interest in you, someone will answer his inquiries."
"You are right," Nicoletta agreed. Those who lived in the tiny villaggio depended on Nicoletta's strange gifts for a good portion of their livelihood. But they lived on land owned by Don Scarletti, and he was a good and generous protector and provider, though they were expected to work hard at their farms and crafts and to be somewhat self-sufficient. Unlike other dons, Don Scarletti did not take the lion's share of their profits, so the people were loyal to him, but they loved Nicoletta. She healed their sick, determined the richness of the earth for their crops, and she concocted the unique colors that kept the aristocrazia coming to them time and again for fine cloth.
Scattered over Don Scarletti's vast holdings were many other villaggi and farms, yet few of them held the importance to the don that theirs did. Nicoletta's villaggio was tiny in comparison to many others, but they had made a certain name for themselves and were the most prosperous of all. They were a closed group, wary of outsiders. They were all aware that other children much like Nicoletta had been born to different families throughout their history. Each of them had ancestors who had been burned in the not-so-distant past as witches or devil-worshipers, so they carefully maintained their image as a devout, pious people completely loyal to their don.
"Be cautious, Maria Pia. The don is..." Nicoletta trailed off, unsure how to put her feelings into words. She suspected the don was as "different" as she was--not in the same manner but in ways far more dangerous than the older woman could conceive.
"I have heard the rumors and have met his famiglia. I do not speak unless spoken to, and Mirella will be too frightened to open her mouth. She is much older and remembers the days gone by."
"What does she remember?" Nicoletta asked, curious. Among the villagers it was very difficult to separate fact from fiction, rumor from the truth. The Scarletti family history was shrouded in curses and dark mysteries spoken of only in whispers.
"It is said that Don Scarletti's grandfather strangled his wife with his bare hands." Maria Pia whispered the words softly so the wind could not whisk them to other ears. "Mirella knew her well, served her faithfully. She is convinced the crime was committed and the don's padre covered up the evidence. Three murders in less than two years, all women, and no one did anything."
Nicoletta had heard the dark whispers of the don's grandfather strangling his wife yet never being punished. The woman had died around the same time as Nicoletta's mother and aunt, and many believed the elder Scarletti had committed more than one crime. But the don's family had closed ranks, and no one was powerful enough to cross them. Nicoletta could almost believe such things of the eldest Scarletti; he certainly seemed to despise females. She could not imagine any woman being chained to such a terrible man.
'The good Madonna will look after us, Nicoletta, and you will stay out of trouble and out of sight." Maria Pia made it a decree.
Nicoletta allowed her smile to reach her dark eyes, lighting her face. "Ketsia will watch over me while I rest.'"
Ketsia nodded solemnly, pleased with the responsibility. She straightened her shoulders and looked quite proud. Nicoletta and the little girl watched Maria Pia begin the trek down the mountain.
Nicoletta put an arm around Ketsia's shoulders. "I wanted to look at a patch of plants I moved from the far side of the mountain. Sometimes if I move them from below, they struggle with the new elements, at first, and I must instruct them how to grow."
Ketsia's small mouth formed an O. "You talk to plants?" She looked around to make certain they were alone. Talking to plants didn't sound like something Maria Pia would approve of.
"Of course. Some of them like me to sing to them." Nicoletta winked at Ketsia. "Like this." She hummed softly, then tried to yodel.
Ketsia dissolved into a fit of giggles. "I knew you did not really talk to plants." She skipped to keep up with Nicoletta. She had to stop once to pick up the shoes that slipped from Nicoletta's hands onto the path winding up the hill.
The ocean came into view far below them. The deep blue sea was breaking on the rocks in plumes of white foam. Nicoletta paused to look at the breathtakingly beautiful vista. "You see this, Ketsia? This is what life is about. Not being closed up inside, but free like the birds all around us."
"Nicoletta, do not go too close to the edge," Ketsia scolded, mimicking Maria Pia almost perfectly. "You could fall." She tugged at the wide skirt until Nicoletta reluctantly moved away from the cliff's edge, smiling at the little girl taking her job so seriously.
Nicoletta loved her life and loved the children who often followed her as she roamed the mountains and valleys in search of the rare, precious plants she needed. She had endless patience, finding the children to be great company on her excursions. And her guardianship of the little ones aided the women in the village while they were tending the sheep or weaving cloth.
Ketsia and Nicoletta spent the next couple of hours with their hands buried deep in the rich soil. Nicoletta did talk to her plants, her soft, crooning, murmurings often making
E
Ketsia laugh helplessly. She nurtured and encouraged the drooping stalks. For some she added mixtures into the soil; others she left alone. Ketsia observed her closely, unable to discern exactly what she was doing. Although they both laughed about it, Ketsia was clever enough to know that something she couldn't see or understand was happening. The plants really did seem to respond to Nicoletta's voice and ministrations. And sometimes she did sing to them, her beautiful voice rising on the wind.
Overhead a dark-winged bird swooped low over the pair. Nicoletta lifted her head to look at the raven, a faint frown on her face. She stood up slowly, moving away from the plants to turn her attention to the wind. It whispered continually to those who could interpret it's murmurings. She stiffened slightly and caught at Ketsia's shoulder. Very quietly she put a finger over her lips to signal to the child to be quiet. "Stay right here, piccola. Do not move until I come back for y
ou."
Ketsia's eyes widened, but she nodded dutifully. No one would ever really want to defy Nicoletta. She could heal the sick; she could do things no one talked openly about. Obediently, Ketsia sank into the bushes and remained as still as a stone.
Nicoletta went back toward the cliffs, moving quickly, every sense alert. Far below she could see the figure of man moving in a furtive manner, skulking from bush to boulder, his body bent as if seeking to hide. She scanned the cove, could see no other movement, but knew something was not right. Her heart began to beat fast. The sun was beginning to set, staining the sky a pinkish orange. The sea grew angry, the water dark, waves climbing higher as they rushed at the shore and splashed at the rocks.
Her hand went to her throat protectively. Something terrible was about to happen. She was too far away to prevent it; she could only stand on the cliff watching helplessly as the drama unfolded on the beach far below her.
The wind rushed off the sea, a low, keening moan that seemed to rise into a howl of warning. She couldn't take her eyes off the scene as the sea rose up, pounding the rocks relentlessly in anticipation.
She saw him then, Don Giovanni Scarletti. He moved swiftly, fluidly, like a powerful hunter, his shoulders straight, his head up. His body rippled with sinewy muscles beneath his elegant clothing. The wind tugged at his wavy black hair, leaving it tousled like that of a small boy. Yet he looked every inch a man, ruthless and dangerous, far more powerful than any other she had ever encountered.
Nicoletta turned her attention to the fellow now crouching behind a rock. He hadn't moved at all. Don Scarletti glided unknowingly past the hiding place, his attention fixed on something she couldn't see. From off to the right, where she knew the caves were, another man emerged, calling out a greeting, a smile on his face. Nicoletta couldn't hear him, but the two men seemed to be friends. It was obvious that Don Scarletti trusted him.
She could barely breathe, and her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear its frantic rhythm. The wind whipped her hair across her eyes, and by the time she had captured it and held it back tightly, the two men were shaking outstretched hands. It was then that the one hiding behind the rocks moved. Slowly. Stealthily. He inched his way along until he was directly behind Don Scarletti. She saw the last rays of the sun glint off the stiletto in his hand. The sun plunged into the sea, and the sky went bloodred for a second time, the terrible portent of death.