Matteo awoke to find Bianca Falier in the dining room having breakfast with his mamma.

"Oh, my dear, how happy I am to see you," his best friend's mother addressed him as he entered with the intent of only giving the pair a quick greeting before setting off to the palace jails. "You must talk some sense into that foolish son of mine at once."

Matteo didn't know what Simone had gotten himself into now, but he certainly had no plans to pull him out of trouble today of all days. He had more important matters to attend to, ones that he wasn't even sure how he'd fallen into at this point. Because in the middle of the night, Matteo had unexpectedly convinced palace guards of the false suspicions around Giovanna's husband's return from battle. Yet no matter how hard he pressed his credentials as the procurator's son, he still couldn't get assurances of how long they'd hold him. Making sure that Stefano Visconti was away long enough to hide the sick plague doctor was now his top priority. Finding an appropriate punishment for how he had treated his wife was for another time.

"I'm sorry, but—" he began while grabbing an apple from a china bowl before kissing his mother's cheek. His stomach still hadn't quite returned to its robust self, but he knew not eating also wasn't a solution.

"Why is it that once a man is forbidden from something, all he wants is that and nothing else?" asked his mother, cutting him off before he could finish making excuses.

As much as he wanted to avoid the resulting conversation—for such statements always seemed to end in heated discussions about the sordid doings of the Venetian upper-crust—Matteo's interest was undeniably piqued. Pulling out a gilded chair, he took a bite of the apple and sat. "Very well. You have my undivided attention. Why is it that I need to speak with Simone?"

"You haven't heard? I would have thought he'd have shared the news with you above all else," said Signora Falier, pushing her empty plate away before dabbing the corner of her mouth with a fancy napkin. "But then again, it's quite obvious that after how her father supposedly behaved in front of the Great Council, we would at once stop Simone's planned marriage to that Delfini girl."

Matteo leaned forward, inadvertently knocking a silver spoon to the ground. "Their betrothal is broken?"

"Are you not listening, Matteo?" snapped his mother. "The boy is inconsolable!"

"I am listening, hence my confusion," he said, bending down to retrieve the errant silverware. "Because as I recall, Simone was not overly fond of the idea of marriage so having it halted should have been a time for relief not sadness. So what has changed?"

Signora Falier looked at him with puckered lips. "You're a man. You tell us."

He had no answer, and that was how two beautiful women entrapped Matteo Barozzi into changing his plans. Foregoing a visit to the holding cells deep within the Republic's new prisons just a few steps away, instead he took a gondola north to the Cannaregio district.

It was an area Matteo knew well, although not many places within the islands had eluded him. With its reputation for high-stakes games and pleasant society, however, Simone was undoubtedly a more frequent visitor to the Ca' Calergi.

Classically inspired columns and trefoil embellishments separated its three stories that looked onto the Grand Canal where two sets of French doors welcomed visitors arriving by water. Another side abutted a smaller waterway used for deliveries, while the rear of the large building overlooked a private garden courtyard. Its interior boasted of lavish, early Baroque-style decor that was also the envy of most of the city.

Met at the door by a servant, Matteo was automatically relieved of his cloak, handed a goblet of wine, and escorted upstairs. Separate parlors existed for discussing business or politics over the best Tuscan prosecco and Portugese brandies and for enjoying harpsichord and operetta pieces in the company of enchanting women, but the most space was devoted to the art of gambling.

Card games like reversis, faro, cribbage, and conquian all had their respective tables both in private saloons and dispersed within the great ballroom, but the most popular by far was trappola.

Invented in Venice a century earlier to be played between two persons, the trick-taking game of strategy used a pack of thirty-six cards including four face cards, a two and the numbers seven to ten with suits for swords, batons, cups, and coins. The highest combinations after a set of exchanges won, and the roles of the dealer and opponent reversed.

As expected, Matteo found Simone in the lively ballroom where paintings lined two walls, a row of windows stood on the third, and heavenly frescoes adorned the ceiling. Chandeliers made from sparkling Murano glass and holding dozens of flickering candles hung above two and four-person tables that dotted the cavernous space, creating an atmosphere of opulence and mystery even in broad daylight.

With his friend in the middle of a hand, Matteo stood just out of sight and quietly sipped his wine while waiting for the game to end. Although the day was young, Simone already had a nice stack of winnings on his side of the table. His opponent, however—an older, Moorish man with a grey-speckled beard, a gold filigree baldric across his chest, and a large pearl hanging from his ear—had a stack of coins three times as large.

After a long deliberation consisting of rearranging his cards several times, Simone discarded the hand face up on the table. Matteo could see why. He only had two Kings that were of any value; he would have done the same. The Moor immediately dealt nine new cards, which Simone scrutinized just as intensely only to end up shaking his head to indicate declining a second opportunity to switch.

Matteo's pulse quickened as the Moor picked up his own nine cards. Without regrouping them, he only needed a few seconds to decide. Nodding to Simone, he silently called for the first trick.

Simone placed the King of Batons most likely hoping that the single, higher card was no longer in play, but he was out of luck. The Moor quickly placed the Ace of the same suit and took the trick, setting the next one with the Cavalier of Batons. As all of the potentially winning cards in the suit had already been revealed, Simone had no choice, but to put down the eight in his hand.

So the Moor took that trick, too.

They continued to alternate leading tricks and dropping similar suits in the hopes of winning the cards with the higher value. All throughout, Simone's opponent continued to dominate even if none of the tricks turned out to be particularly competitive. There were no threes of a kind, much less any fours, and the only bonus played was Simone taking the last trick. This gave him six points, but the Jack and King the Moor took from him earned eight points and gave him the win.

"Another round?" Simone asked as his opponent stacked his prize of fifty ducats into neat little columns.

"If I may," Matteo interrupted, finally stepping into view. "There's something I'd like to discuss."

"My friend! How marvelous it is to have you here," Simone exclaimed as he stood and embraced Matteo. "You know Siraj al Ameda, do you not?"

Matteo nodded respectfully to the Moor whose merchant ships brought goods into Venice from all across the Mediterranean. "By reputation rather than collegiality. Good day to you, signore. I am Matteo Barozzi."

"It is my great honor, Signore Barozzi. And I too know of you, as my nephew Giacomo serves in your father's house."

"Is that so?" Matteo asked with unhidden surprise. He had always assumed the boy was an orphan without any family.

"Not through blood of course," al Ameda added in a likely attempt to clear up the confusion. "He had stowed away on one of my ships years ago, and we formed an unlikely bond. Although he now has found a useful life, I care for him as I would for family."

An uncomfortable paused formed as none knew how to respond. Thankfully, the Moor continued, "As you have important matters to discuss, I will take my leave. Good day, signore."

"Don't go losing my money to Grimani all at once now," Simone quipped as al Ameda scooped the ducats into a coin purse.

The Moor looked up with a smile. "I'm afraid this only makes up half of what I owe him!"

The trio laughed and al Ameda took his leave. At Simone's insistence, Matteo sat.

"You don't normally come here at this time of day," Simone said as he shuffled the deck.

"And you have come here much too often lately," Matteo replied, emptying his goblet.

Simone's hands stopped, and he smirked. "Is that why you're here? To save me from the evils of gambling?"

With a scoff and a shake of his head, Matteo leaned back. "Not at all. How you choose to spend your time and your father's coin is your business. But your mother told me some news today—"

"That I am now a free man?" Simone didn't let him finish. "Yes, it is true. Is it not wonderful?"

Matteo crossed his arms. "She believes that you're heartbroken and that you want nothing more than to have your engagement to Clara reinstated."

Simone laughed and tucked his hair behind his ear. "Of course she does because that is what I told her."

Matteo leaned forward again and frowned. "Why would you do that?"

Simone also leaned over the table and whispered, "Because that is what she wanted to hear."

Sitting back, Matteo shook his head and pouted at his friend. "You . . . You good for nothing bastard," he said with a wry smile. "Your mother sent me here to console you, all the while there is nothing to console."

Simone raised an eyebrow. "Well, there you have it. Everything is in order: you have done your duty, I am not desolate, and my mother can now be pleased rather than angry that I am spending the day here. May I?" he asked, nodding to the thoroughly mixed deck of cards.

"I have business—"

"And I have lost an opponent thanks to you."

Matteo sighed. Simone should have been grateful he'd interrupted a losing set, but he wasn't going to say it out-loud. And what would one hand hurt?

"Very well," he said, signaling to a waiting servant for a refill of the wine.

With his goblet once again full, he waited for Simone to deal the first round of cards, but a figure over his friend's shoulder caught his eye. The old man was sitting alone at a table, staring into the distance. There was a slight back-and-forth movement to his torso as though he was moving to a rhythm only he could hear.

"Who is that?" Matteo asked.

Simone finished placing the last card on the table before he looked up. "That man there? That, my friend, is our host."

"Vittore Calergi?" Matteo asked with unbridled surprise. A rich noble by even Venetian standards, his family was said to have descended from Cretan aristocracy stretching back to a tenth-century Byzantine emperor. He had purchased this grand palazzo from the Marquis of Mantua decades earlier, turning it into one of the most exclusive gaming parlors in the islands.

"Aye," Simone confirmed, tapping the table to indicate that a wager needed to be placed.

Matteo placed five ducats down. "What is wrong with him?" he asked as Calergi picked up his own deck of cards in front of him and began to deal to a partner who wasn't there.

"His mind has become feeble in old age," Simone answered, matching the pot.

With the game ready to begin, Matteo quickly scanned his hand. The cards were good enough and he didn't really care whether he won or lost, so he shook his head to decline an exchange.

Simone shrugged and began to scrutinize his own cards.

Matteo continued to watch Calergi, who was now visibly mumbling to himself. "Poor bastard."

Simone looked up. "Indeed, but a lucky one, too. A few weeks hence, he'd wandered out of the palazzo and disappeared for three whole nights. His son had already called lawyers to draw up inheritance papers, sure that the old man was somewhere at the bottom of the canals," he said before falling silent again as he rearranged his hand. His manner of play was nothing if not infuriating, especially for those short on patience.

"And?" Matteo prodded, intrigued by the tale.

Simone frowned. "And what? You see that he's back and quite alive. Of course, he didn't come out of it completely unscathed. Guardsmen have been searching for a pack of wild dogs in Canareggio ever since. Apparently they did a fair number on his arms."

"Wild dogs? On the islands?" Matteo repeated the information quizzically because the concept was absurd. There was no way on or off Venice except by boat. Any and all animals had to be specifically brought on and were also as easy to capture. If they hadn't been found already, then perhaps they never existed at all.

Discarding his hand face up on the table, Simone dealt himself another nine cards before answering. "It is neither my nor your problem, now is it? Oh, and three Aces," he happily declared.

Matteo glanced back at his hand with the knowledge that his opponent already had twelve points before they even started placing tricks. Getting ready to pick what he'd put down first, his hand froze on the seven of Cups as a blood-curdling scream rang out.

Across the ballroom, Vittore Calergi stood from his seat and had forgotten about his lonely game. Instead, his eyes were wide, his teeth were bared, and his arms were flailing. It was an incredible sight, and one that wouldn't have been believed if there had been no witnesses.

Although two servants rushed into the room and attempted to reason with the old man, it was no use. He pushed them away as he continued to scream, yell, and even growl. Several people at other tables in the immediate area also jumped to their feet and backed out of the way, while the servants regained their wits. Ignoring propriety toward their employer, they forcefully detained him before leading him away.

When everything was quiet again, Simone cleared his throat to get Matteo's attention. "It's still your turn. Are we going to play or not?"