By the time they had circumvented the harbor, both Matteo and Giovanna's breathing was ragged from the effort and their cloaks were damp thanks to the gently falling rain.
"What now?" she asked as they huddled behind a barrel on the corner of an adjacent building, which gave a perfect view of the ship from the opposite angle. "They're still loading. Surely we can't go inside."
Matteo nodded toward the back of the warehouse. "There," he said, focusing on a tall ladder propped against the wall and leading to a small opening on top. "That can get us into the loft, which is more likely than not free from anyone's attention. From there, we can safely spy on the activity below. Come."
He scuttled out of hiding, leaving the girl no choice, but to follow. She caught up with him even before he was halfway up the rickety ladder, and soon they were standing under the exposed beams inside.
"Ugh. What is that stench?" Giovanna whispered the exact question that had come to Matteo's mind as soon as his feet hit the dusty planks.
Breathing through his mouth, he did his best to answer. "It's probably just the raw hemp used to make ropes that has gotten damp, moldy even," he lied, knowing full well that the excuse could no way explain the rotten odor. "You'll get used to it quickly. Now ssh." He placed a finger over his lips to shush her before motioning with his hand to follow.
After tiptoeing to the edge of the platform, they carefully got on their hands and knees before fully lying on their bellies. Down below, a lantern at the door illuminated enough of the space to make out men carting wooden crates out one-by-one. Although they had been at the work for quite a while, there were still several dozen more piled up in a dark corner among looped coils of chain, overstuffed sacks of hemp, and folded piles of sailcloth.
"You must keep still," Matteo hissed through gritted teeth when Giovanna stirred beside him, making the floorboards creak.
She stared at him in surprise. "I didn't move a muscle," she muttered under her breath.
A chill ran down Matteo's spine, and the horrible feeling that they weren't alone crossed his mind. He dismissed the thought just as easily. It was probably just a rat searching for a late meal.
"The ship will not bear any more weight, Don Grimani," said a man from below, diverting his attention. Craning his neck, Matteo saw the Turk in the doorway, standing next to the Doge's son.
"Unacceptable! I need all of this to be moved tonight," Nicco said, crossing his arms.
"Unless you want it to end up in the bottom of the lagoon, you'll allow me to do it in two trips," said the Turk with a respectful—if not quite derisive—bow.
Matteo could practically feel Nicco's rising anger as the swindler's fingers forcefully dug into his upper arm. Realizing the wisdom in his ship captain's plan, the young Grimani would surely relent.
"Do as you must," Nicco finally huffed before abruptly turning.
When he had gone, the Turk made an odd hand gesture in Nicco's direction, sticking his thumb between his index and middle fingers while maintaining a closed fist. He also laughed, only stopping when one of his men returned with an empty cart. After receiving instructions in a tongue foreign to Matteo's ears, the sailor stowed the cart, picked up a discarded ladder and looked toward the rafters.
Matteo pulled his head down. Scooting backward while remaining as stiff as a board, he was thankful to see Giovanna doing the same. When the top of the ladder thudded against the loft's edge just an arm's length away, his breath hitched and his heart began to race in his chest.
What to do?
If they stayed and the sailor ascended, they'd be discovered, and there was no good answer to explain the reason for their presence. Yet if they jumped up to attempt an escape, there was just as much chance of being apprehended.
Matteo turned and looked at Giovanna. She returned his gaze, desperately searching his eyes for guidance. Taking a deep breath, he steadied his palms against the ground in preparation for pushing himself up. His elbows shook against his sides in nervous anticipation, but the tell-tale footsteps on the rungs never came. Instead, only the growing pitter-patter of rain on the roof echoed as the light below went out and a heavy door slammed shut. The clanking of an iron key in the lock confirmed that they had been truly left alone.
Matteo exhaled a sigh of relief. "That was too close for my liking."
Giovanna nodded, the outline of her body just a vague silhouette in the darkness. "Perhaps, but your plan appears to have worked. And lucky for us that Nicco has much more unlawful goods than Hakan's ship can carry," she said, slowly standing. "But what was the purpose of placing the ladder here, I wonder."
Matteo also rose to his feet, sweeping dust from his clothes. "That I cannot say. Perhaps they'd knocked it over and were putting it back to leave no trace of ever having been here," he said before adding, "Which is quite fortuitous for our purposes, but first it would be helpful if we could see."
"I noticed a lantern on a hook earlier," Giovanna said, already moving to find it. "Here it is."
A brief clatter followed as she removed the sturdy, glass paneled dome from its place. Holding it by the ring-shaped handle, she offered it to Matteo. He took the lantern before placing it on the floor at his feet. A small drawer on the bottom offered flint, steels, and char cloth. With their assistance and a few well-executed strikes, the candle inside was soon lit.
"Ah, that's better," he said, closing the door to shield the flame. Picking up the glowing lantern, he stood and extended his arm to inspect the long loft. What he saw in the far corner made him gasp.
"Should I go first or—" Giovanna's question ended abruptly, replaced by her scream as she also caught sight of the unexpected scene.
Matteo threw himself at her and clenched a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The group who had until then been huddled together with their backs to the duo began to stir.
He'd been right; they hadn't been alone all this time. But never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined the bizarre spectacle that was now unfolding.
"Stay quiet," he whispered to Giovanna as he uncovered her lips, even as he kept his eyes on the dozen—perhaps more—men and women across the loft. "And no sudden moves."
She nodded, but a whimper escaped her throat when the first of the group turned around.
Dirty, disheveled, and plainly not right, each slowly looked around with glazed-over eyes, but ultimately fixated on the lantern's light as though they were moths drawn to a flame. Low grunts and moans escaped their cracked, gray lips, while their bodies slouched unnaturally.
"We mean no harm," announced Matteo, hoping there was a reasonable explanation for the unusual gathering even if deep down, he knew it was unlikely. "And we were just leaving so—"
Loud grumbles and jerking movements from several within the crowd signaled their disapproval.
"You must extinguish the candle," Giovanna murmured as she scooted closer and grabbed his arm for protection. Her body trembled against his, and it brought him a strange comfort to think that she felt just as terrified as he did.
Taking a small step backward, Matteo dragged her with him as one of the slovenly men began to move closer. "No. We need to see the way out," he said in a tone as low as he could manage, but even that caught the ear of a woman in a torn skirt, revealing that she only wore one shoe. "Step slowly toward the opening," he instructed, all the while nudging Giovanna to a safe escape.
The decision meant they'd have to forego looking into Nicco's crates, throwing away their only such opportunity. Even though he had no idea who the people they faced now were or what they wanted, the intuition that earlier had told Matteo that they weren't alone in the loft was now screaming at him that this was the right choice and to get out as fast as possible.
Although Giovanna obediently scooted sideways, each small gain took an eternity compared to the advance made by the strange horde, and against his better judgment, Matteo grew impatient.
"Go! Run!" he finally yelled, pushing her toward the opening. "Get down the ladder as fast as you can. I'll be right behind you."
"But—"
"Now!" he cut her off as the pack became louder and more animated, turning even more primeval than before in their demeanor.
Taking heed, Giovanna rushed to the side wall and threw her leg over the sill. To give her more time, Matteo took a few steps forward and waved the light around, hoping that it would be enough of a distraction.
But instead of retreating or even calming, the group grew increasingly wild. If at first their agitation had been slowly building the way an animal gradually wakes from hibernation, then now they had ample energy to attack. The looks on their snarling faces and their unfocused eyes were unmistakable. Knowing he also had to get to the ladder and out of the building if he wanted to stay alive, Matteo rushed after Giovanna.
The lantern in his hand would only be an impediment, but he also couldn't leave the flame burning in the tinderbox of a building. The few seconds he needed to open its glass door and blow out the candle seemed enough until his trembling hands lost their grip.
The lantern fell with a clank, and the fine dust blanketing the ground immediately caught fire. The approaching pack halted, mesmerized by the sight of the growing orange flames. Using the precious seconds of reprieve, Matteo climbed through the opening just as Giovanna was about to reach the bottom.
As the shrieks from inside became more frantic, he took the rungs sometimes two at a time while braving the pounding rain. Not yet halfway down, Giovanna's scream prompted him to pause and look up. Several sets of bony hands extended outward in the glow of the strengthening fire, threatening to topple the ladder if one of them managed to reach it. Matteo quickened his pace, but in his carelessness, his grip slipped and his body tumbled backward.
The ground was hard, and the forceful impact knocked the air out of his lungs. The breathlessness brought on a coughing fit that was only made worse by the rain drenching his face.
"Oh my goodness. Are you hurt? Can you stand? We need to go," Giovanna said with urgency, extending a hand as she hovered over him.
"I . . . I think so," Matteo said between coughs as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. With Giovanna's assistance, he was able to slowly also get to his feet. "The ladder. Push it aside."
Giving the instructions hurt his heart more than the sharp pain he felt every time he took a breath, but it had to be done. If those things got out into the alleys of Venice, they would leave nothing, but horror in their wake. It was likely the only reason they'd been locked in the warehouse in the first place, guarding Nicco Grimani's contraband from prying eyes better than any watchdogs could.
With the ladder toppled, they needed to get as far away as possible before the commotion drew anyone near. Matteo had left an oarsman with the procurator's personal gondola waiting at the Ponte del Purgatorio, but the closer they got, the more reluctant Giovanna became.
"You must make haste," Matteo pleaded, wrapping one arm around his aching torso as he gripped the girl's shoulder for support.
Like many times since they'd left the warehouse, she glanced back. "But the fire. I cannot help to think of what will become of those people," she said.
With his breathing still labored and his energy quickly draining, Matteo shook his head at her continued regard for others over herself. "If the fire had grown out of control, you could see the evidence of it even from here. But the rain is strong and there is only a dark plume of smoke where it once was. Fear not," he said, stopping short of adding that even if what they had encountered had perished, it was probably for the best.
Around the next corner, the gondola awaited.
"San Marco as fast as you can make it," Matteo instructed the gondolier as Giovanna helped him embark before both took their seats inside the small cabin.
Sheltered from the rain and prying eyes, Matteo made himself as comfortable as possible, nestling into the corner and extending his legs. But Giovanna remained perched at the edge of the bench even as the craft began to move forward.
"You should put yourself at ease," he said. "Even though I dare not use my father's boat past the piazza at this time of night, it is still prudent to take this chance to rest. I will of course walk the rest of the way from there with you back to San Polo."
She slowly scooted backward. "That is not necessary," Giovanna whispered, her voice trembling with either fear, the cold, or perhaps both.
Matteo reached across her shoulders and gently pulled her into his side. "It is, and I will not hear an argument against it," he said, even as his back throbbed with each small movement. Slowly leaning against the canopy wall, he took her with him until she was snuggled against him with her head resting in the crook of his neck.
"Is this all right?" she asked quietly, her breath warm against his skin.
Matteo didn't know if she was referring to his comfort or the appropriateness of their closeness, but at that moment, he didn't care about the difference.
"Yes," he said, closing his eyes and listening to the rhythmic rain on the roof and the intermittent swish of the gondolier's paddle.
"And Matteo?" Giovanna's question interrupted the momentary lull.
He smiled to himself, unexpectedly content in spite of all the awfulness that had just transpired. "Yes?"
She paused, as if searching for the right words. Finally, she spoke. "What . . . what were they?"
The question was vague, yet he didn't need clarification. For as long as he lived, he'd forever see the grotesque figures in his mind's eye. After taking a deep breath, Matteo's smile faded.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But now try to relax. We are safe. And you will continue to be as long as you're with me."