Several hours later, Basilio returned from the morgue. He said there had been no water in the lungs of any of the washed-up bodies. Although there were no obvious wounds, the mouths, throats, and gullets of the men showed signs of inflammation, as if they had been burned. Most likely, the murderer had pretended to be a fellow sailor and poisoned them, he said. “Poisoned…,” Connie muttered grimly. The word always brought to mind Daeg Gallus. “Very likely it’s the work of those scoundrels,” Randolph said, having evidently reached the same conclusion. Assassination by poison was their specialty. “But why go after a merchant ship?” They now knew the cause of the shipwreck, but not the reason, which was even more important. Why would the criminals go to the trouble of killing all those people just to sink a ship? “Firecrackers, I reckon,” Randolph answered. “Firecrackers?” “Yes. They can be used for gunpowder. That’s probably what they were after.” “Gunpowder…” That was an unsettling word. “If they search the sunken cargo, they probably won’t find it. I bet it’s already been transported off the island.” Basilio knit his brows. “But I can’t see why they sank the ship so close to the island,” Randolph continued. “It’s awful to say this, but if they’d sunk it in the middle of the ocean, they wouldn’t have had to worry about evidence or witnesses.” “No, if a ship scheduled to return to port disappeared without a trace, the Maritime Bureau would investigate,” said Daniella. “And if the case was deemed suspicious, the Security Commission would be notified, and they might look into purchase records in Melvina. On the other hand, a shipwreck is treated like an ordinary accident.” In other words, the boat had been sunk near the port to suggest an accident rather than a more sinister event. But Basilio still looked unconvinced. “I understand that they wanted the firecrackers. But why go after Antonio? And it’s strange that these Daeg Gallus people would still be hanging around the island after getting what they wanted.” “Can you think of anything they might want other than the firecrackers?” “Honestly, I haven’t the slightest idea… But if they were trying to kidnap Antonio to threaten me, it must have to do with the Maritime Bureau. I don’t work there anymore, but I’ve still got plenty of connections.” Until the previous year, Basilio had been a maritime commissioner—an important position in the Maritime Bureau. “I don’t know what they want me to do so badly they’d go that far, but we should probably check the records of boats leaving and entering the port over the past few days.” “In that case, let’s go to Cyon now,” Randolph said. Then, seeming to remember something, he stopped and turned slowly to Connie. Though his face was as blank as always, she could somehow tell that he was studying her mood. Now that she knew who the criminals were, even Connie wasn’t so optimistic as to suggest going back to the festival to lift their spirits. She wanted to go with Randolph, but then she remembered the trial that evening. To break the awkward mood, she said instead, “Please take care while you’re out.” Randolph nodded solemnly. “I’ll come back before the trial starts.” “There’s no chance he’ll manage that. You hear me, Constance? Not a chance.” “Scarlett, be quiet.” Connie flopped sulkily over the coffee table in front of the sofa. She knew it was bad manners, but she was the only one left in the drawing room, so she wasn’t too worried. Lucia had left a little earlier, pushing Ulysses out of the room even though he insisted he was fine. Antonio had followed, looking worried. “I really don’t feel like going to that trial right now… Maybe I’ll skip it…” “You’ll lose by default.” “I don’t care. I agreed on impulse, but I doubt Gregorio really wants to go, either.” “What do you mean?” Scarlett asked, looking caught off guard for once. Connie didn’t notice. “You and Basilio both said Gregorio was suing me only to draw attention from the shipwreck. Given that everyone on the island knows about the trial, don’t you think he’s already achieved his goal? Why bother going?” she asked. “His goal…?” Scarlett echoed, resting her finger on her chin pensively. Then, a moment later, she murmured, “Oh, so that’s it,” and looked down at Connie. “We don’t have time to loaf around, Connie. We’ve got to get out of here.” “My stomach is starting to hurt. There’s no way I can go to the trial,” Connie said, rolling over on the sofa. Scarlett snorted. “You idiot, I couldn’t care less about the trial.” “What?” Connie’s eyes popped open. “You don’t care?” “No. We’re going to get that freight back.” “…Freight?” Connie asked, bewildered. “Yes, freight.” “You mean the freight that Daeg Gallus stole?” “Yes, that freight.” Connie was even more confused. Had Scarlett of all people forgotten the conversation that just took place? “But they said it was already taken off the island.” Randolph and Basilio had agreed that must be the case. Scarlett narrowed her eyes in amusement. “No, it’s still here. It’s in the Canal Grande.” Silence. After a full thirty or forty seconds, Connie’s eyes went wide and she said, “It is…?!” “It is.” Scarlett’s answer came easily; she wasn’t teasing Connie. But if the freight was in the Canal Grande, that meant— Suddenly, Connie had a flash of inspiration. “I know,” she declared confidently. “The boat with the freight has been constantly moving around…!” “You idiot,” Scarlett retorted. “If a little boat like that kept moving for days on end, the boatman would be dead by now. Anyway, didn’t you hear Daniella say that any boat off its established route would immediately be reported?” “Oh…” “That aside, there’s a perfect place to store the freight without anyone getting suspicious.” “That’s impossible. If they left it in one place for days, someone would surely notice.” “Are you so sure? I’m certain you saw it yourself. Do you remember?” “I saw it…?” “Yes.” Connie thought back on everything she’d done since arriving on El Sol. The courthouse, Fanoom Shrine, the fountain plaza. There was nothing in any of those places resembling freight—or so she thought. “Remember when you met Gregorio Vecchio?” Why was Scarlett mentioning him all of a sudden? His image popped into Connie’s mind. The ivory hair, like Carlo’s. The high-strung expression. She’d only seen him for a moment, but she couldn’t forget the chilling look in his eyes. They’d been at— “…Mezzaluna Pier.” Scarlett smiled smugly. Connie had been on the vaporette, on her way to Fanoom Shrine. But what had Gregorio been doing there? “B-but wait a second…” Connie was still confused. In the canal under the bridge, lots of gondolas had been anchored to save viewing spots for the Muro di Luche. All of them had enclosed chambers so their noble passengers could travel incognito, and the seats were surrounded by black awnings so no one could see inside. It was true that a large piece of freight stored in such a boat might go unnoticed. But Connie still had questions. Namely, why would the criminals do something like that? Anyone could access the water under the pier. She didn’t see why they would risk someone discovering the freight there. “Why would they do that?” she asked. “After word got out about the shipwreck, all sorts of people were coming and going at the port. They needed to hide the freight somewhere until things calmed down. Doesn’t that seem like an ideal spot for temporary storage?” “But didn’t the investigation end days ago? Wouldn’t they have taken the freight off the island already?” “I don’t think so.” “How can you be sure?” “Because they can’t move it.” What did she mean? Connie furrowed her brow. “Don’t you remember, Connie? None of those gondolas had people in them.” “Right.” Connie had asked why they weren’t stolen if no one was guarding them, and one of the passengers on the vaporette explained that the forcolas of anchored gondolas were locked to prevent anyone from moving them, requiring a key. “But how do you think people leave after locking their boat?” Scarlett asked. “Huh?” Connie hadn’t thought about that. No one was on the gondolas, but she could hardly imagine the gondoliers swimming home in the canals. “Well, I suppose they must come in two boats,” she said. “They leave the one with the awning and use the other to get back.” “That’s my guess, too,” Scarlett agreed. “Then what do they do when they want to move the anchored boats?” “Come back with an extra gondola, climb onto the anchored boat, and unlock the forcola.” Scarlett smiled, then whispered in Connie’s ear, “The criminal lost the key.” “That’s ridiculous!” Connie said, assuming the other girl was joking. But when she looked up, Scarlett’s amethyst eyes were staring right at her. She’s serious, Connie realized, gulping. “Why do you think that…?” “Because Gregorio Vecchio is suing you.” “What?” “It wasn’t a distraction after all. It’s obvious if you think about it. If Gregorio Vecchio was really trying to avoid paying damages for the shipwrecked boat, he could have simply threatened anyone he wanted to shut up instead of doing something as roundabout as suing you. Of course, that would never occur to a good boy like Basilio Fargo.” “Th-then why would he sue me?” Connie managed to ask. “He has a reason, of course.” “A reason…?” “Yes. What do you think it is?” Connie thought back to the complaint he’d sent. It was full of arguments about why he was a victim, but there was only one thing he clearly asked for. “…The gondola.” He wanted the gondola they’d stolen from Carlo Vecchio back. Come to think of it, that’s all he wanted from the start. “Very good, Connie,” Scarlett said, smiling as if she were praising a slow student. “This is just a guess, but I think the key to unlock the forcola is hidden in that gondola.” Connie’s mouth dropped open. “No!” “Shall we have a look?” Scarlett asked, pointing to the entrance hall. Connie followed her there, where a staircase spiraled upward in the central atrium. The long wooden boat with its raised ends hung proudly among the white marble statues. It looked completely out of place, of course. “But wait, if Gregorio had the key, that must mean—” “He’s probably with Daeg Gallus.” That meant he had no intention to use the firecrackers in the festival to begin with, but instead planned to illegally channel them to the organization. The firecrackers had been purchased in Melvina according to plan, and just before the boat arrived at the port in El Sol, Daeg Gallus operatives had attacked it. They obviously anticipated the investigation by the Maritime Bureau and stashed the firecrackers somewhere, after which they only needed to get them off the island. Up to that point, the plan seemed to be going fine, but when Connie and Scarlett stole the Vecchio gondola, everything went haywire. Daeg Gallus must have been in an uproar. “Coincidentally, Ulysses said he was attacked by the man in the black cloak near the bridge. Perhaps the man was guarding the freight there.” “Guarding it?” “Yes. Ulysses was wearing a mask with the Fargo family crest, and the gondola in question is here at the Fargo residence. Maybe they decided to kidnap him on the spot, thinking the impudent duke’s son might have caught on to them.” In other words, the failed kidnapping might have been the unplanned result of mistaken identity and happenstance. Connie inspected the gondola. One end was fitted snuggly with a crimson velvet love seat, with an ottoman made of the same material set nearby. She checked on the built-in display shelf and took the lid off the ottoman to look inside, but she didn’t see a key. “S-Scarlett?” When she looked up hoping for help, Scarlett snorted. “They would never hide it somewhere so easy to find.” She crossed her arms and surveyed the boat. “That seat is suspicious. Connie, take that off.” She was pointing to the cushioned bench of the love seat. “…Um, Scarlett? Have you heard the term ‘property damage’? It’s a crime.” “I can do whatever I want with my own possessions, can’t I? Hurry up. Or should we let Daeg Gallus do whatever they please?” “Don’t come crying to me if we get in trouble!” Metal fittings were screwed into the wooden base of the cushioned seat. Connie pulled up hard, and it came off neatly. Underneath was a cavity filled with blankets, tools, the anchor, and rope. “—Found it.” A brass key was hanging from the claw of the anchor. That had to be it. “What did I tell you? Now that we have the key, let’s hurry over to Mezzaluna Pier.” “But what about the trial?” It was starting in a few hours. They might not have time to get to the bridge and back. But when Connie mentioned this to Scarlett, the apparition shook her head. “We don’t need to go. We’re supposed to bring the gondola to the courthouse as evidence, right? That means Gregorio will be there for sure. Now’s our only chance to outmaneuver them.” “B-but if I’m not there, they might guess that something’s happened, and when they realize they won’t be getting the key back, who knows what they’ll do…” This wasn’t just a nasty noble they were dealing with. It was a man involved with Daeg Gallus. “Miss Connie?” A child’s clear voice cut through the tense atmosphere. Looking around in surprise, Connie found Lucia O’Brian standing behind her. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing.” She glanced down apologetically, then looked Connie straight in the eye. “I’ll go to the trial,” she announced. Connie stared at her, dumbfounded. “That way you can go look for the freight without worrying about it!” Snapping back to reality, Connie shook her head vehemently. “No, Lucia, it’s much too dangerous!” “There’s nothing to worry about! I’m not that smart, but I’m good at bluffing!” “B-but I couldn’t let you do that!” Scarlett sighed. “Lucia, please come here.” The two of them began whispering together. “Miss Scarlett, you’re a genius!” “You needn’t bother stating the obvious.” Despite her words, Scarlett seemed pleased by the glint of respect in the girl’s eyes. Left out of their circle, Connie watched, perplexed. After a moment, Lucia ran back over to her. “Everything will be fine, Miss Connie!” She thumped her chest confidently and put on a broad smile. “After all…,” she said, as if she was revealing an important secret. “I have the goddess of luck on my side!” “I hope Lucia’s okay…,” Connie muttered, glancing back at the mansion for the hundredth time. She and Scarlett were heading not toward Mezzaluna Pier but toward the port where Randolph and Basilio had gone. This was because there was no gondola to use at the Fargo residence. Well, strictly speaking there was an extra, but Marco—who seemed like the type to go along with their reckless plan—wasn’t at home. He’d apparently gone with Basilio and Randolph as their gondolier. And without a gondola, Connie couldn’t move around on the canal. This meant she would have to ask Randolph and Basilio for help, and so she was walking to a pier, where she could catch a boat to the port. Incidentally, Scarlett’s mood had plunged the moment she learned they couldn’t take a gondola and go out on their own. It seemed she’d been looking forward to taking the wind out of Randolph’s sails by showing up with the freight. Once they’d left the district filled with upper-class mansions, they came to a wide canal. “…I wonder if Lucia’s okay.” “Oh, be quiet. She’s fine. Unlike someone else I know, that child has a quick mind and the luck of the devil—oh!” She clicked her tongue. Apparently, something had caught her eye. “Scarlett?” “Don’t look, but there’s an unmarked gondola over there. They’re watching us.” Connie flinched but managed to keep herself from looking, though her expression tensed. “There are several people in the boat,” Scarlett said. “They don’t look like Daeg Gallus, but…I’ll bet they’re hoodlums hired by Gregorio. Let’s skip the boat and walk to the port.” “W-wait, I don’t know how to get there!” Connie had been on the island only a few days and had no sense of how it was laid out yet. “How many times have you looked at that map in Sena Rilifarco’s book? You mean to tell me you still haven’t memorized it?” “Um…have you?” “Obviously.” “Wow.” As usual, Scarlett’s memory was supernatural. “But you made fun of me for using a map that’s hundreds of years old…” “I did, because tourist spots from back then would be moldy ruins by now. But the streets on the island have hardly changed. Since they’re so narrow, they haven’t been repaved or rebuilt.” She must have been telling the truth when she claimed to have memorized the map, because she guided Connie toward the port without mishap, issuing a confident string of left-theres and straight-heres. “If you turn left at the end of this street, you should be on the road that leads to the port.” They’d left the main road, but there were still lots of stalls around, and everyone they passed wore a mask and fancy dress. It seemed Carnival was truly celebrated throughout the island. Just as they were about to turn the corner of a sparsely populated street, Scarlett whispered, “Wait, that man—” Connie followed her gaze past the corner to a man in a black cloak. “That’s the scoundrel who tried to kidnap Ulysses.” “Are you sure?” “Completely. His mask and costume are identical… Let’s turn around.” But when Connie spun on her heel, she glimpsed a familiar group of thugs and groaned. It seemed the men from before had left their gondola behind to follow her. They were peering around as if searching for someone. Scarlett clicked her tongue in irritation. “They haven’t spotted us. Look down and keep walking.” “O-okay.” Connie walked timidly forward. “Just a little farther…” Connie held her breath and passed the men. They didn’t seem to realize it was her. But no sooner had she let out her breath in relief than one of them said suspiciously, “Hey, could that be ’er?” Scarlett shouted, “Into the alley to the right! Then run as fast as you can!” Connie took off sprinting. She could hear the man shouting “Stop!” behind her. Her heart was pounding. Waving both arms frantically, she screamed at Scarlett, “What do I do…?!” “I’m trying to think!” Scarlett snapped back. A second later, she shouted, “Keep going straight! You’ll come out on Mille Street!” “M-Mille Street…?” Connie panted. She’d walked there the day before with Randolph. It was where she’d eaten skewered clams and fried whitefish and seen the puppet theater and— “You remember the pier there, don’t you?” —And where she and Randolph had ridden the pedal boat. After a while, the pier on the canal came into view. The same stout boatman was hawking his services. “Why, if it isn’t the young lady from yesterday. And where’s your beau? …You’re sweating buckets. So you’re training to be a racer after all, eh?” “No…!” Connie planted her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. Drops of sweat dripped from her chin onto the ground. Meanwhile, Scarlett was eyeing the rope tying a boat to the pier. Her eyes flashed, and the loose knot around the stake undid itself. “Constance!” Connie wiped her sweat, took a deep breath, and jumped into the boat. “I’m sorry!” she yelled. “I need to borrow your boat for a minute!” “You what?” She leaned forward, grabbed the helm, and started pedaling. “I promise I’ll bring it back later!” “…What?! W-wait!” She heard vague shouting but ignored it and pedaled desperately forward until the voice faded away. Soon the boat was far from the bank. “That went well,” Scarlett said. “…I never imagined that hellish training session would come in handy……” After pedaling for a while and making sure the men weren’t following her, Connie slumped over the helm. Life was so unpredictable. To cheer herself up, she said, “Right! I’ll just keep going till I get to the port. Scarlett, tell me the—” She was about to say “way” when she realized Scarlett was staring at something behind her. “Huh?” “I don’t think that will work.” “…Huhhh?” Suppressing the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, Connie looked slowly over her shoulder. A boat was bearing down on them with frightening speed, white spray flying around it. It wasn’t a gondola, of course. It was a vaporette, though smaller than the one she and Randolph had ridden. “How did they get one of those…?!” “I don’t know. It must belong to the Vecchios’ company. But our boat can make sharper turns. If we go down a narrow canal, I think we can shake them.” “Wh-where are we going?” To get to the port, they had to take a wide canal. Perhaps there was a more roundabout way? “To Fanoom Shrine,” Scarlett answered simply. “But we don’t have permission!” Connie shouted, forgetting about the men following her. “We’ll figure something out! Bust your way in if you have to!” “How do I do that when they have spears?!” “Just turn the rudder! They’re catching up!” “I swear…!” Connie took a deep breath. “Whatever happens, it’s not my fault!” In the end, nothing happened. When the guards in plate armor stuck their spears toward her, Constance Grail tensed and raised both hands. “C-can I please come in…?” Instead of answering, they jabbed their glittering spears closer to her chest. “Right, I thought so,” Connie muttered, giving Scarlett a glance that said, Told you so. But her all-important partner in crime just jerked her chin away, seemingly oblivious to the crisis. To make matters worse, the vaporette Connie thought she’d shaken was rapidly approaching. “A-a-actually those men are chasing me!” she tried pleading, but the eyes peering out from the slits in the guards’ visors remained cold. Behind her were Gregorio’s henchmen. In front of her were the gate guards. This must be what people meant by “between a rock and a hard place.” As a cold sweat broke out on Connie’s forehead, Scarlett sighed dramatically. “Get out of the way, Connie. I’ll negotiate for you.” Connie nodded eagerly and, with a now familiar sensation, let Scarlett into her body. A second later, Scarlett was hissing wrathfully, “I swear, you people. If you have a complaint, tell it to Cornelia Faris!” Scarlett had offered to negotiate for her, but how was that negotiating? It sounded like nonsense to Connie. She was at a loss, and the guards were looking at each other in confusion. The men behind them probably hadn’t even heard. But there was one person present who reacted to Scarlett’s words. “I never imagined I’d hear a descendant of Percival Grail say that line.” A beautiful woman of indeterminate age slipped from the shadows of a rock, where she had apparently been lurking. “What has the world come to?” said Berta Neuen with an exaggerated sigh. “Well.” She looked at Scarlett, possessing Connie’s body. “I assume the boys back there are Gregorio’s private soldiers? They say shit attracts flies, but I must admit, they look like trouble. Did you come to interfere with religious freedom, boys? If so, you’ve no right to call yourselves Solditans.” “Our business is with the House of Fargo’s guest over there. Not with the shrine!” one of the men shouted from the boat. “And the sea isn’t shrine territory anyway!” Berta shrugged. “You don’t need to shout. As long as you don’t come any closer, I’ll leave you alone. Of course, if you feel like being riddled with bullets, I won’t stop you.” Connie tensed at those unsettling words. Scarlett glanced at the rock wall, then nodded. “You have snipers, I see. So you throw invaders off with these prehistoric guards, then let the snipers take them down. How dangerous.” Did that mean they had guns? Unfortunately, Connie’s eyes weren’t good enough to see them, but she thought she caught something glinting out of the corner of her vision. Berta narrowed her eyes and looked down at her uninvited guest. “What did you come here for?” Scarlett smiled slightly, unfazed by Berta’s domineering tone. “Why, a pilgrimage, of course.” Berta’s expression did not change. She continued to stare searchingly at the visitor. After a few moments, she abruptly looked away and said, “This shrine never turns away pilgrims.” Then, glancing at the vaporette, she shouted, “Hear that, boys? This girl is a pilgrim. If you refuse to leave, I will exercise my right to self-defense against persecutors as allowed by law.” As if this speech were the signal to fire, gunshots rang out and water sprayed into the air. Warning shots. The men reversed the vaporette, looking startled. Berta watched sternly as their boat grew smaller on the horizon, and when it had disappeared entirely, she turned back to Scarlett (who to her looked like Connie). “So why did you really come?” “Because this is a place that guides the lost.” Berta frowned at the word “lost.” “Sena Rilifarco, then?” she asked. Connie finally understood why Scarlett had directed her to the shrine. The name of the travelogue was A Lost Man’s Compass. That star, called the traveler’s signpost and said to be a landmark in the night sky, still shone above this shrine. In other words, this was the place the lost man’s compass pointed to. “And why are you on a pilgrimage?” Be a pilgrim. That was the message hidden in Sena Rilifarco’s book. Scarlett seemed to be obeying those instructions. “Because I’m following her advice, of course.” Berta raised her eyebrows in surprise. Connie was confused, too. “…Her?” “Don’t pretend you don’t know. You’re too young to be going senile.” Scarlett narrowed her eyes in amusement. “After all, wasn’t Sena Rilifarco—” Abruptly, her smile vanished. “—Cornelia Faris?”
Chapter 70
22 min read