Starling (108 page)

“Please,” Cass whispered. “It is imperative that I attend.”
Octavia shook her head. She pulled a pair of spectacles from her
pocket and rested them on her nose. Then she plucked a quill and
some ink from a drawer, and began to compose a message. “I’m going
to send word to Signor Dubois that none of my girls will be attending
his party,” she said. “After what you have told me, I do not want them
near him ever again.”
“You cannot,” Cass said, desperation rising in her throat. “I
mean, wouldn’t that simply draw suspicion to you and your house?”
Octavia paused, midsentence, and a small blot of ink formed on
the parchment. “Why on earth would you risk facing Joseph Dubois?”
“There is a book,” Cass said. “Filled with so much evidence
against both Dubois and the Order that even the Senate would have
to find it sufficient. Why, the Doge would probably demand that the
entire group be tried as heretics if he saw what was written in the
pages.” She paused to catch her breath. “I promise you, Octavia, if I
can get into Palazzo Dubois, I can find it.”
Octavia looked at her without speaking. She removed her glasses
and methodically polished them on the fabric of her skirt.
“If you will consent to let at least a couple of other girls attend, I
will do my best to watch out for them,” Cass continued. “They heard
the same story you did—they know the danger. Please let me ask
them, and only those willing to attend with me will go. Just don’t
cancel altogether.”
“All right then,” Octavia said. “But I hope that you are correct,
and that this book puts a stop to all of this immortality madness.
Ever since you disappeared, everyone has been on edge, waiting for
the next girl to vanish. I simply wish for my courtesans to no longer
be in danger.” Octavia set the partial letter to Dubois off to the side
and began a new message. “Dinner is probably ready. Please tell the
other girls I will join them in the dining room directly.”

Cass nibbled at a plate of poached salmon and herbed potatoes, but
then excused herself to go lie down as soon as possible. The countless
questions were wearing her down. The girls of Palazzo Dolce deserved to know everything about what had happened to their friends,
but each time Cass spoke, she worried she might give away her real
identity.

No evidence of her fight with Piero remained in her little fourthfloor room. Someone had raised the candelabra back up to the ceiling, made the bed, and mopped up the spilled water. The basin sat
neatly on the washing table again, as did a simple blue dress she recognized as belonging to Flavia. She must have left it there for Cass.
Latching the shutters, Cass slipped out of the borrowed novice habit
and into the blue dress. It was a bit short and the sleeves barely covered her elbows, but it felt good to be in clean clothes. She sat on the
bed, her fingers sliding beneath her pillow. The page of equations
was still there, seemingly undiscovered by whoever had straightened
the room. Cass pulled it out and unfolded it.

Was it possible that her blood could really make an elixir of eternal life? Was the secret hidden on this page among the unfamiliar
symbols? Cass didn’t know, but she believed strongly that immortality was, and should be, reserved for God.

She went to the dressing table and lit a candle. With trembling
fingers, she thrust the parchment into the flame, watching in satisfac