"Men!"
     On that single word, uttered as an expletive, a woman enters the bookshop with the chiming of the door closing behind her. She enters as a whirlwind, the force of her personality carrying her forward, patent leather and polished metal heels sounding upon the marble. Cosimina the heartless, Cosimina the wicked, Cosimina the witch has arrived.
     Well. One of the three, though she would undoubtedly acknowledge truth even where it is not in those titles that have been given her, with a slanting cool smile and tip of her head to send spiraling corkscrew curls slithering and bouncing against her cheeks and the nape of her neck.
     Right now, she is not so cool, not so detached, allowing her irritation to show where there are no customers visible, no prying ears save the one for whom the words were meant. And the cat; the eternal voyeurs of the world, cats. She can relate.
     "Albizzina, I have brought you a bottle of that wine. They had one bottle left. I have also brought a litany of complaints, but that can wait. Have you got any penguin feathers? Old Mother Giulana asked for some, and even I do not know why, nor where to tell her to go." Cosimina shoulders her shawl more firmly around her, stepping between the rows and towards the counter, black eyes seeming the darker. "I am interrupting, I am sure. How are you?"

     She sits where she most often sits, at the counter to the back of the store, the cat upon the counter with her, and a large tome outspread upon the glass. The tome -- Giovanni diSpiriti's treatise on elementalism and it's place in the modern world, circa 1436. Her hair has been ironed straight, black, with her black eyes she is the essence of Venice, glorious adornment, wizened features behind her eyes. Yes, those years that have not left marks
     Albizzina does not lift her eyes, but she lifts her cup of cappuccino for a sip, her legs crossed, her bangled hand reaching out to stroke the silver puss. "Good, it is a good day for wine. But then, when is it not a good day for wine," her measured voice issues out, easing its way among the dusty tomes, masks and other magical doodads.
     "So what has he done now?" For who else could it be than Paolo? "And ...hmm... penguin feathers. I do not think they have such. I thought it was down. I may have a bag of king penguin down, fuzz really. I hear there's quite the calling for it in Madagascar... but you are welcome to go through the back stores and take what you need..."

     "That is true. Wine is always good. I shall miss it." Cosimina sets down her basket, smoothing back her curls from one immaculate cheek and leaning both palms down upon the counter. "As for what he has done, what do you think he has done? You do not know already?"
     A dark eyebrow arches at you - you're slipping. Or the gossips are. Cosimina straightens, planting both palms on the small of her back with a sigh. "I imagine that king penguin down will do admirably - I suspect she asked only to see how resourceful I can be. As if I do not have work enough to do."
     Cosimina's expression is brooding as she glances back to the door, eyebrows drawing together as if she expects Paolo to walk in at any moment. "I am pregnant, Albizzina. As I am sure that you know. I am to go to the doctor tomorrow. He is going with me; he insists. Business is good, then? I have been run off my feet after the visitors. It has been a good time for accomplishing my work - I believe I may have hit upon a stratagem."

     "Business has been okay," she admits. "But I've never really worried for business. I sell some. I read the rest. Sometimes I refuse to sell," her black eyes lift and settle on you with a slight smile upon her lips. "Just to be contrary. I have never concerned myself with profit. I live simply. I have no man. I have no children..."
     She turns a page...
     "Pregnant. I had not heard," she blandly responds, one arched brow, delicately plucked, lifts. "You know I do not peer into the future. Nor into the past. Nor at any threads, at any time." Albizzina looks to you. "I am a reformed fate witch. I only do parlor tricks for children at festivale."
     "So... pregnant..." She murmurs, thoughtfully. "Will it be the boy he has longed for from you? Hmm... longing. Paolo is very astute at longing. At having, not so much..."

     That gets a scowl, and Cosimina folds her arms over her chest with a lift and settling, a spreading of her shoulders. "You are contrary indeed, wretch," she mutters. "Peering you might or might not do, but I rather wonder if there is not something else that you yet do."
     She glances down at the book open in front of you, then back to your face. "Reformed. Ah, yes. We, the wicked few - it is a wonder that Rosalie has not sent the emissaries of the Church to my door. Though I suppose she does not wish my return fire, as it may be." Her arms uncross, one hand to her hip, the other up to touch her earring and then tap a graceful, manicured fingertip against her cheek.
     "It will be twins. Paolo does not know his own strength. Or, of course, someone - meddled. I think Paolo right now is longing more than ever for that gold that you and he are always looking for, and has not had time to stop to long for anything else."

     "Ah yes, Doge Pesaro's Treasure. It is a pity I shall find it before him. He shall be heartbroken." The cat stretches and Albizzina turns another page in the tome. "With Cesare no longer looking for it, I fear I shall find it before anyone. My great great great great grandfather, and his ancestors, would be so pleased."
     She sets the book aside finally, to face you squarely and with the respect due to you. "I promise... if you are pregnant it is not by any artifice of mine. Nor could I imagine anyone other than you plucking such strings. What would be the point? Putting Paolo in the poorhouse? No, perhaps the blame rests on his shoulders," she smirks, "...or some other part of him...and not on magic. I hope it was pleasurable at least. Twins. It must have been an extraordinary night."
     There is a pause. She looks at you, she lifts her cup. An eyebrow tilts upward and she sips her cappuccino. "Paolo ... longs for something, but it is not gold. Though he complains much. All Venetian men complain. It is in their nature."

     "I did not. I had no intention of becoming again with child just yet - in a year or two, perhaps, but the matter has been taken out of my hands." Cosimina looks slightly out of sorts about it, at that, and she moves to lean a hip against the counter with a sudden sigh, one hand going to her belly. "They will be a handful. They fight already within me, though they cannot yet move, so unformed are they."
     She straightens again, then scowls. "Oh, Paolo is a passionate man. You know this. I know this. Is there anyone in the Old City who does not?" Two wives, three children, two more on the way. He hears of it constantly, and she too, though from a different perspective.
     Cosimina places her hands back on the small of her back, straightening and leaning back. "Paolo longs for another son. If I am feeling generous, perhaps - but right now I feel anything but generous. That fool shows up under my window, he keeps me awake, he does not know anything. He sees only what he wishes to believe. But," her voice softens slightly, "he was not unhappy about the children. It will keep him busier. That is good. Good for him, good for Venice. And yes, I am sure he complains much - about me, I imagine? Certainly not the sainted Rosalie."

     "Actually, Rosalie drives the man to the taberna," she rolls her eyes. "She makes him miserable. Always with the money issues. She should go to work. It is the modern age. But she refuses. I find the whole thing boorish. Despite his lack of humor, he is an honorable man. It is only for Damiano that he stays...and the boy is a dear boy."
     She takes another sip of the cappuccino, a hand straying to the silver furred cat. "Paolo is a man, he will always long for sons. And he loves the children. When we speak, it is Genevra this, Genevra that. Damiano this, Damiano that. The newer one, Rosa-Maria, he says he can barely hold her. Always she is crying for her mother. Rosalie has skill, but I wish she would put it to more use. An elixir can be poison as well as it can be salve."
     Albizzina sets her cup aside and stands. "You should not have coffee perhaps, but I have tea. Would you like a seat? You are having twins," she grins, "...you should take care with your feet. Are you not ...at least... a little happy, Cosimina? Twins. You are giving him more than any other woman has ever given him..."

     "Ha. You are saying that to soothe me, but I am aware of how crazy I make him. I do it deliberately, after all." Cosimina rolls her own eyes, then settles with a forward lean, elbows on the counter. "She should work, yes - if not to make things easier, then for the children. The children come first, of course, always. It does not matter which of us is the mother, does it? They do not ask to be born, we bring them into being."
     Another roll of the eyes, an expressive shrug. "Paolo may long all he likes. I will examine the threads and in the end, do what is best for him, not indulge him. You should see him when he comes to me after being with her, Albizzina. Ai, if she could, she would make him grow fat! Fat and lazy, not a care given to the future. I do not begrudge him handsome meals, but he cannot slow his pace. If he does, he will sink. And we with him."
     There is a pause as she regards the seat you have vacated, then a combined shrug and nod - why not? "I do not think that it is yet an issue, but thank you. My back is aching today - I was up late last night, writing. I should not have done so, but I seem to find it necessary to indulge myself more when I am with child than at other times. I am sorry to hear that the new one does not yet love him, but I blame that Rosalie. For all her skills, it is poison that she drips everywhere that she goes - poison apples with a sweet coating, but poison nonetheless. Always, she thinks of herself and not how her selfishness affects that man, or her children, or Venice itself; I do not expect her to love or like me or even Genevra, but I cannot abide a woman who poisons her children. Ptah!"
     A hand goes up as she lowers herself onto the seat with the mimed spitting, and she leans forward with chin uplifted, eyes half-lidded. "Tea, please," Cosimina agrees. "And thank you. And happy? I am ... a little. It is easier between us, when I am with child. We both may pretend then, you see, that we do this for something other than Venice. He must pretend more than I, perhaps, but it is a relief. I may even perhaps not make him sleep on the sofa when he visits me, while I am still carrying."

     "And you are so sure he is pretending? I have never known Paolo to be much of an actor..."
     It is a trailing smirk as she heads to the back room. She speaks to you from there as she puts the kettle on. "Perhaps you should take his actions for their face-value meaning. Perhaps, he is happy to have you with his children. Perhaps, there is even emotion there, Cosimina. I can tell you this, though Rosalie baits him, she does not keep him. She comes here, you know, for her rosehips and her books. She complains that he does not sleep in her bed..."
     She appears from the back room after another handful of minutes and takes her perch upon her stool behind the counter. "He works himself ragged. He does it for all of us. He does it for his families. I am convinced he keeps her only because he fears that his son will be heartbroken if he leaves them. The baby Rosa... she is so young...and always with her mother. She does not know him enough to miss him. But Damiano..." She shakes her head, finishing her coffee and setting her cup aside. "...he is a dear boy, serious like his father. Sometimes too serious, like his father."
     Albizzina glances to the backroom, listening for the kettle. Not just yet. "She is selfish. She does not have to concern herself with Venice. She can live anywhere. Her magic is not of this place. But we who are woven into Venezia's soul? What recourse do we have but to sink, swim or rise with the fate of this City?"

     "Pah. You do not see him with me, Albizzina. He is not acting. We both acknowledge that what we do, we do for Venice. I would worry if he changed his tune at this time - it would just be the happiness of my pregnancy making him sing." Cosimina props an elbow forward on the counter, looking down along her nose at the book open there. She raises her voice so that you can hear her as you walk away.
     "Where does he sleep if not in her bed? I did not think that they had a place so much the larger than the one I have with Genevra. And that," she sighs, "is another burden, and one which is regrettable. We will need a new place, a larger place. Though I keep him busy, I had not intended to do that. I do not truly wish to move, you know - for as little as Genevra and I hold onto, we enjoy it there. But there is not room enough for two more children, even infants. Genevra's room is not so large, nor is my own. He will have to dip into his savings, and I into mine, but we will have to move..."
     She straightens as you return, tilting her head to one side. "I do not know Damiano. I do think that he and Genevra should meet soon, and I want Paolo to be the one to introduce them." Cosimina's dark eyes find yours as she speaks, candidly, openly in a way that she would not show Paolo. "Genevra is a sweet girl - a little spoiled, perhaps, but not too spoiled. She is not quite as strong-willed as I, though she is not weak; but I want her to know her brother before she becomes interested in boys. Especially as I am told Damiano is so very like his father, by you and by others - I want there to be no confusions, no mistakes, and I think it best that Paolo handle the entire matter. Rosalie would likely take it amiss if I were there and she were not, and I know that I would take it amiss if she were and I were not."
     There is a glance to the kettle and then back from her as well, and then she shrugs. "She is selfish," Cosimina agrees, "and I do not think that she loves him. If she did, she would understand that he is woven into Venice, as are we. I cannot imagine Paolo anywhere else. He would die; there would come a night when the moon rose overhead and whatever foreign place he found himself in, he would be drawn to the water's edge, and then beneath. Even Rosalie should be able to see that, with or without examining threads. And that would seal Damiano's end as well - for her children, if not for him, she should be more generous of spirit." She laughs a little. "Ah, I am a one to talk. I consign my daughters to follow in my footsteps, after all."

     "It is not a condemnation, the life of the Fate Witch. We... the descendants of Oracles past," Albizzina states. "I have turned my face from the glass, put down my cards, but that does not mean I put aside my City. Venezia needs us all. It would be easy to wave the hand and say: It's Fate, there's nothing we can do. But you and I know... Fate is flexible. As bendable as liquid..."
     The kettle sounds and she heads to the backroom again. "Damiano is a well-mannered young man. Very studious. Very good in school, I hear. He works in the shipyards after school, learning the trade already. He is... a dear young boy. And I think you should meet him." She curls a cat-like smile. "You would see much of his father, perhaps... you would learn something, hmm? By looking at that face so young."
     She brings you your tea, offering the cup to you. "Here, amica..." Friend. "And you are right, Rosalie is selfish. She is willful. She makes her potions, she births other women's babies. She seeks to birth her own, but Paolo is... well, he is no fool, no matter how much I like to pick on him." Albizzina grins. "It is a guilty pleasure, it is my chocolate, to pick on him. He sometimes has no sense of humor, I do not need to tell you this. He complains to me... because I am not one of his women. He tells me he sleeps in his boat many of the nights. Rosalie only wants to lay with him to have more children. Not because she desires him. He does not put up with lies easily. So... but... clearly," a smirk, "...he is visiting you. However cruel you are... you are... at least...honest..."

     "Honest? Me?" Cosimina laughs at that. "You and I both know that I lie to him as I must, Albizzina. Not about all things. Only about myself. It is required of me. He might find the way himself - moonlight is always the most indirect. But he does work hard, and for that he has my thanks, and the thanks of all of Venice who know well enough to thank him."
     She shifts restlessly, taking the tea from you, hands wrapped around the mug and lifting it to her face to inhale the scent, the steam. "Ahh. Grazie. If he is so unhappy with Rosalie, then he should leave her. His son cannot be happy, if he is intelligent; he must know what lies between his parents. But that is ultimately between him and his son. I do not speak of Rosalie when he is in my bed, save briefly, and never in front of Genevra. The children do not need to be hurt, and if Paolo is fool enough to have married her, then he does not need me to point out his error."
     She sips the tea comfortably, features sharpening for a moment. "I imagine that I will meet Damiano eventually, but it is for Paolo to decide. I am not in a hurry. What am I to say? He is young - eight, nine years old. Should I then explain that I am his father's other wife, and no doubt the source of much of his mother's bitterness? What does one say to one so young, Albizzina? I do not know. I do not even know what to say to Paolo, half the time; I open my mouth and let my thorns do the rest of my work for me." Cosimina halfway smiles, then. "The fool hardly noticed that I brought him lunch, you know. He thinks that I light my candles for my lovers and not for him. It is amusing. Sad, hateful, but amusing."

     "Well, he is a man," Albizzina points out. "He is jealous. Spiteful. Ill-tempered. Rash. Jealous," she says again. "Impatient. He has testicles. This is his fate, not drawn by us," Fate Witches, "but by God Himself." Her hands come up. "What may we do, but bring them lunch and light candles. In his heart, he probably does not begrudge you your men, he has after all another woman. But that doesn't mean he will not be a man and be jealous and think that you, who push him so much, do not care at all for him. Which is, in part, what you yourself have created, no?"
     Such a litany! She could be a nun with such a litany...
     "Well, I think he would if he knew that he could. With the Church, with his son. I think he feels caught in between. And... you know...perhaps it is better to be between two beautiful women who might care for you a little bit than to leave the one only to find out that the other doesn't care for you at all. It is safe, even if it is not comfortable. And men... despite their heroism... do like safety. From time to time."
     She smiles from her stool, her legs crossed the one over the other, in her pencil pants looking like a dark Kim Novak. "I think Damiano and Genevra should meet. I think it is a pity that the family of three and more could not be a family. It is difficult, even in the best of circumstances, but yes... I think it best they meet and understand their relation to one another before," a curl of a smile, quite feline, "... nature begins to work her own magic..."

     "Oh, of course I have created it - it was required of me. Is required. He has to find the way himself, Albizzina. Neither you nor I can show him anything. And besides, if he does not figure it out on his own, what good is he?" Scathing tone. Cosimina sips her tea.
     "If he is happy being safe, then I do not begrudge him it. I am just tired, Albizzina; ignore what I say. These two are already drawing on my life's blood." The witch closes her eyes, one hand lifting to rub the back of her neck slowly. "Damiano and Genevra should meet. I will talk to Paolo about it tonight, if I see him then, or otherwise whenever I next do."
     The dark eyes open, then, both eyebrows lifting scornfully. "You cannot imagine that I would ever agree to live under the same roof as that woman! But yes, the children should meet. For myself, I will content myself to provide the meal - it will go best with food, don't you agree? Food always provides something. And I will give Genevra strict instructions - I do not want, she has more than Damiano and Rosa-Maria, I do not want her to make Damiano feel that their father has favored one over the other. So she will need to behave. Have you heard, she has begun her lessons?"

     "She is a very bright and beautiful girl," Albizzina nods. "Which studies are these? Magic, already?" She cannot be more than seven. Is it time already? "I hope to see her more in the shop. I will send her something special for her birthday this year. It will be...what number is it?"
     "And I cannot begrudge a man for desiring peace." She chuckles a little. "Two wives is more than any man should bear." She delights in this clearly. "It is easy for me to say. I have never loved, nor shall I. That is my fate. Not even by Fate, hmm? But he... does love. And he longs. And I do not envy him..."
     Albizzina beams, resting her chin on her hands, elbows on the counter. "So... your daughter. Tell me of Genevra. Tell me of your little white wave. I know she is the apple of her father's eyes. He has a special birthday present planned for her. I will not break his secret. But it will be better than any of the stuffed toys or masks that Guiseppe shall buy for her..."

     "She is beginning to learn the meanings of the cards - the simple meanings first, of course, without the threads. And she is watching some of the others," the other Fate Witches, "when they are spinning. She can see the threads already, though not very clearly, not yet." Cosimina's pride is evident. So young, and already she has eyes. "She will be eight. She is already very pretty, though I say so myself - in a year or three, the boys, they will not leave her alone."
      Just like her mama...
     "He loves his children," Cosimina agrees, expression softening a bit, "and for that, I give him the fullest credit. He is a good father. Sometimes I wish that things could be other than they are, that he could have more time with them, since he does love them so. But Venice calls, and he must answer. The rest? It does not matter; I do not know why he longs so much, but he is a man, it is something he can do nothing for." A shrug. Easily dismissed. "He will have to work harder than ever, now, for Venice and for the money. I will do what I can, but as I told him, one cannot tug on the strings too roughly."
     "Genevra is lovely. She is perhaps a little too sweet, but time will do what will for that." On this topic, Cosimina could speak all day, it is plain, and some of the guardedness that cannot help but remain when she speaks of Paolo falls from her with the talk of the daughter. "I wish that I could protect her from all heartache, but she is as protected as may be. She is very intelligent, and in some ways, very much her father's daughter - she has a serious streak there, but there is so little temper there. She is very gay and blithe, and she loves nothing more than to make up songs while she plays in her room. Wherever she is, there is always a music in the air. She is a little too fond of Guiseppe's presents; I have forbidden him to give her any for a while. Though now that I am pregnant, he thinks I might relent; he is wrong."

     "I think the rooster will be guarding the henhouse," Albizzina mulls. "Suitors may find it hard to leave gifts when meeting such...turbulent waters. I know his way, his heart, better than he, I think. He cannot see past his own feelings, be they of love or jealousy or lust or duty. Poor Guiseppe. He should be careful. He is not so good a swimmer."
     Albizzina finds that suddenly funny. She giggles a moment, then covers her mouth with her hand, her painted nails, so beautifully done, such skill. "Genevra. Hmm... I fear she will have too much of both of you. Your beauty. His seriousness. I hear hearts breaking all over the city!"
     She lifts the tome and takes it, stepping around the counter to send it back to its spot. It floats back up, to slip itself back within its sanctuary on one of the higher shelves. Another floats down to find its place in her arms. "This is a book I have been saving for her. No, do not say you cannot accept it. It is hers, whenever you choose to give it to her. It is Juliana diNova's book of Music Theory, written in 1767. It has sheet music, theory, philosophy, passion. It should be hears. Perhaps she shall write her own one day." She brings the thick tome to you. "I can have it sent to the house if you'd rather, or you may take it now..."

     "I have already told them that I will not see them until the infants are at least half a year of age." Cosimina's expression is slightly sour. "Which has nothing to do with what Paolo does or does not wish. I find it off-putting to see suitors look at me with pity or make offers which I will not take. They have until the end of the month, and then they must either find other women, or they must wait, or both. Some of them will leave immediately. Others," she shrugs, "will attempt to buy me away from Paolo, and from Venice. They do not understand that while Paolo and I may have a marriage only of convenience, that my children are not for sale - and neither is my commitment to Venice."
     She smiles though as you speak of Genevra. "She will break many hearts, but I am worried that she will break her own in the procedure. She is so very earnest - never would she deliberately do anyone harm, and she will feel torn between those who court her so very much. It is another reason why she and Damiano should meet - he would, I think, be a steadying influence, from what I have seen and heard."
     She glances, watching you rearrange your books, then raises her eyebrows. "She is too young for such an old book, Albizzina. She is not yet careful enough. I do not say that I will not take it, but I do not think that you should give it to her now. Wait until she is a little older, surely?"

     "You keep it for her... it belongs to her, even if you keep it in hiding for a while. Look," she opens to the front leaf. "It already has her name in it." And there it is, magically ascribed: To Genevra, with love, Auntie Albizzina...
     Albizzina relinquishes the books and makes a motion with her hand. "What is between you and Paolo is between you and Paolo. Your lovers some of them understand, some of them are more short-sighted than even Rosalie. Wanting only what they can gain of you. But..." she smiles, "... while I think your marriage is... a marriage, it is hardly one of convenience. What convenience has it given either of you? Fate... is not convenient. Nor Destiny, for that matter. No...convenience has never been the issue."
     She looks to you for a time, her teeth chewing on her lower lip. "Tell me," she says suddenly, "... if you could have him to yourself... would you have him? Do you love him, Cosimina?"

     "Very well," Cosimina relents, "I will hide it with some other things that I have hidden. That way, Paolo will not know of it either, and the surprise will not be ruined. Right now, she has too much a tendency to come home still sticky from the bakery and to go straight to her reading and her playing if I do not catch her and make her wash."
     Ah, the joys of motherhood. The dark-eyed witch lifts the cloth off her basket, swapping book for bottle and covering it again. "You are right. There is little of actual convenience. And the men, they do not understand that what we do, we do for Venice. To them, it is all about possession - they are as bad as if they were on the playground still. No, worse; one expects better of them at this age."
     The question is asked, and Cosimina goes quiet, tilting her head and looking to the door as if suspicious that Paolo might be walking in, or lurking behind a shelf, or ... something. "Do you imagine that Fate is kind, Albizzina? Of course I love him. But I may not tell him that. Everything I say and do is to goad him onwards - but also so that he does not know from me how I feel. I love him and I hate him. I hate that I love him, when he loves me not - and I will never tell him that I love him. If I were to tell him, it would all fall apart. I will not be second to any woman, no, nor will I have him have that power over me." She shrugs as if unconcerned, though the flicker of smile is forced, for once. "He must find some other window onto my heart, amica. Even if it were not for my pride. But," She scowls suddenly, "that does not mean that I give you leave to tell him! You and your matchmaking ways. It would not work; we are too different, he and I, and besides, he does not love me, for all that he desires me. Ha. Desires what is between my thighs, more like."

     "I have never known men to be convenient," Albizzina says by way of comfort, to be sure. "But they are occasionally enjoyable. But yes, perhaps it is in their nature to possess, to conquer, to rule. Where a woman may more see to Understand." She shrugs. "I do not have the answer for this. I have never been in love."
     She moves behind her counter again, once more taking her perch, her hand reaching out to brush against the silver furred puss. "Hmm.. perplexing thing, this love of yours. You feel it, but you may not speak it. He feels it, but he may not admit it. But perhaps this is what Venice needs, the two of you warring with one another. Loving, and not loving. Listening, but not hearing. I do not mean to play matchmaker. I am just the Oracle." She grins. "I may only speak. I may not advise." Always the paradox.
     "Besides, he is best when he suffers," Albizzina notes with an academic tone. "All men are. They must feel the odds against them, or unrequited affection, the hunt as they call it. The balance you create together is one of love and hate. Hate is only frustrated Love. But," her hands lift, "trust me... I shall say nothing. No one enjoys Paolo twisting in agony more than I..."

     "Pah." Cosimina rolls a shoulder in plain disbelief. "Must you continue to persist in this fond delusion, Albizzina? I am not a schoolgirl. I do not need to pretend that he loves me. He loves his children and that will be enough. I console myself with the knowledge that what is done, is done for Venezia. It will suffice."
     She frowns, glancing at you and sipping her tea, then setting it down. "It is what is needed, though. If he finds out the truth, I will deny it - of course. He must arrive at his own conclusions. He is an adult, is he not? But not even the water may tell him this. The water can tell him only of what it covers, what it knows. And I have been careful - I have been more than careful. You know and I know, and none else but we two know. I have not even told Genevra, though she may realize someday on her own; her sight is not so sharp yet, still too drawn into herself, I think. As for loving - I suspect that you will come to love, amica. You just are not yet ready."
     And that is the voice of the woman friend, isn't it? But it is a tolerant sound for all that. "When it is time. I do not think it will be Paolo, though. Even if you enjoy seeing him twist in agony. He ... hm, he will learn from his pain. Pain is an excellent teacher."

     "It is...perhaps the surest teacher," Albizzina remarks softly. "When one feels the smartness of pain, one seldom forgets the lesson that accompanies it." She looks to you, sits forward and smiles. "Your secret is safe with me. In truth, it is none of my business. What you think of him. What he thinks of you. Know only this... if you believe he loves you not.... Rosalie does not have his heart..."
     "She has his son..."
     Albizzina says no more. She sits back upon her stool perch and watches you. "I will soothe your wondering soul. I did not pluck the threads between you both to ...instill love or to encourage immediate fertility. So that you may rest easily. I believe.... Time knows when it is time to show itself..."

     Cosimina sighs, then nods. "I will tell you the truth, Albizzina. Yes, I love him. And ... as there are two ... I am considering allowing one to be a son. Since I know that is what you are wondering but not quite ready to ask me. I have not yet spun out their futures, to see what they would ordinarily be. I cannot allow them both to be boys, even if they otherwise would be - our numbers are too few, fewer for your own resignation. But as there are two..."
     She has not said she will, only that she is considering. But from her, that is more than concession - it is open-hearted admission, however slanted by moonlight towards trickery's illusion.
     Finishing her tea, Cosimina peers into the mug and then sets it aside. "Time? We are short on Time, Albizzina. Venice is still endangered. I have, I think, hit upon a valuable strategy; with so many rich and important people flocking to Venice of late, particularly this season, I have been concentrating on them. I have been very busy, you see. Their fates are inextricably wound into our city's. Perhaps some of them will find a way to beat back the sea as Paolo alone cannot."

     "Perhaps," Albizzina notes. Neither supporting or renouncing. "I understand the Maria Della Salute is to undergo major restoration and cleaning. This, the symbol of Venice's fortunes. As goes the Della Salute, so goes the City perhaps. I ceased plucking the strings," though she has never given a reason for her change of heart. "I... am hopeful...that I will say...."
     She smiles to you, leaning forward. "I know you do," she whispers. "It is evident to all but Paolo. He takes you at face value, your anger, your seeming disapproval, your stubbornness. He sees your men and feels each one. And that energy is turned outward into the City..."
     She rises then, legs uncrossing as she uncurls from her seat. "Venice is endangered, but there is hope. Pandora's Box was full of evils, including hope. Perhaps we should not be so optimistic. But... I refuse to accept that we are hopeless and helpless to the fate of the sea..."
     Albizzina moves to stand before you, she reaches to take your hands. "Blessings on your children, Cosimina. All new children in this City are blessings. Visible and tangible agents of this Hope. That all is not lost. That we may salvage the future. I believe it. If We believe it, it is possible... hmm? Even love between you and Paolo is possible..."

     "I refuse to give in," Cosimina agrees, accepting the pressure of your hands with a small, weary smile. "That is perhaps the hallmark of me, yes? It is Paolo's frustration, but also his salvation. So I do for him and for Venice what I can, and what I cannot do - I do not, or I hide. But there are some things that I cannot believe, and perhaps I shall be proven wrong - but," she makes a skeptical sound in her throat, "I do doubt that."
     How often is she wrong? Less often will she admit it. "I should be getting back. Genevra will want to see me before she goes to work at the bakery - it is almost time for her to choose where her money will go. And you, Albizzina? Are you sure that you are well? I could introduce you to some handsome young men..."
     But she's laughing as she says it, a genuine laugh rather than that enigmatic, mocking chuckle that Paolo is more familiar with. "I know, I know, you cannot say yes." Cosimina rises, moving to take her basket. "But if you should decide otherwise, well, Guiseppe will soon be available, you do realize. Even if he does not!"

Posted by rowan at January 20, 2005 09:23 PM