Florence, 1470

Something hit her leg, small and hard.

Enna brought a hand over her ankle, as if the gesture might soothe the pain that shot up through it.

The giggling stopped all of a sudden then, the kids burying their hands into their pockets with an innocent casualness that would have fooled the Devil himself.

She stooped to retrieve the little object that had hurt her: a pebble.

"What did I recommend about the sassaiola*?"

They gazed distractedly at one another without so much as a whisper that acknowledged her question.

"It ain't to be played indoors!" Enna pouted, resting her hands on her hips in the scarce attempt to give herself an imposing air. "Do you want me to report your misbehaviour to the spedalingo and have you left without dinner?"

The children went wide eyed and shook their heads vigorously.

"Alright." Enna resumed her lesson, showing them how to draw an R, so did the kids, watching her careful movements. But someone caught her attention—rather, the absence of someone.

"Where is Benedetto?" Enna asked with a furrowed brow. The lad was usually so quiet as to be hardly noticed in the midst of his brasher companions.

One of the toddlers lifted his shoulders in reply, still tossing the pebble back and forth between his friends. "Dunno. He dinna come to bed last night."

"What?" Enna felt like a blow to her guts had left her winded. Working against the lump in her throat, she managed to say, "Has any of you seen Benedetto since dinner, last evening?"

The kids fell silent, the same dismay they read in Enna's eyes mirrored in theirs.

That heavy stillness stretched for the span of several laboured breaths, until she added, "Are you sure? Did you see or hear something weird last night?"

No one dared look at her.

They were frozen.

Guilty.

Enna knew they had witnessed more than they admitted, but were too scared of the dark creatures to talk about it, let alone defy the monsters. The children simply hoped this evil wouldn't harm them, that hiding under the blankets would keep them safe.

Hiding hadn't worked for Bice, though.

Enna was done pretending everything was fine in the Spedale.

With rage and sorrow and indignation clouding her judgment, she let her footfalls lead her through the white hallways, towards the spedalingo's headquarters. The rasping of her light shoes on the marble floors barely a distant echo in her hears, where her voiceless accusations screamed, Enna ran into a man she had already met a couple times.

"What are you her for, lass? Should you not be working in the kitchen?" His thin, dark eyebrow sketched a high bow that met his retreating hairline.

She had no idea who he was, or what kind of position he fulfilled; she had only seen him around with the secretary of the spedalingo. "I'm in need of pointing out a situation to the director. Is he around?"

The guy gave her a lethargic once-over, only to try dismissing her with a jerk of his chin. "Go back where you belong, lass. Men have better things to do than wasting their time with futile complaints."

Enna grinded her teeth until it hurt, however she reined in her spirits. "This is all but futile. I must urge upon meeting him immediately, messere*."

The man snorted, crossing his arms over his prominent belly. "Let us hear, then. Tell me what you need to tell."

"I want to speak to whom is in charge," Enna insisted.

"Hence you shall not speak at all," grinned the other.

She had never cared to learn the female art of leashing herself in front of men of a superior status, but Enna managed it nonetheless for the second time that day. "Why, I need to bring to the attention of the spedalingo an unpleasant turn of events that I reckon poorly handled." There, it was out now. Clear and sharp—maybe too clear and sharp.

"And what would the matter be?" The man didn't look offended, although she had just explicitly questioned the competence of the hospital's personnel, himself included.

"The matter, ser*... Excuse me, what do you call yourself?"

He scratched the thin layer of hairs veiling his chin, and said, "Lapo della Rotonda."

"Ser Lapo, why, I've marked the sudden absence of a few children in the hospital. As you might be aware of, I'm educating some of them, and I care to know what befell them."

"Children have gone missing, you say." The face of the man was a mask of apathy, and it made Enna's insides churn. "No one else reported as much. Might, by any chance, be that they simply got tired of your teachings?"

She would have gladly scratched the scornful smirk out his face with her jagged, dirt-encrusted nails.

"I suppose," she hissed. "Though, I do not believe they would have fled the institute entirely... only to escape my lessons. They have not come back for their cots, nor for food. You must see this is upsetting!"

"Upsetting!" ser Lapo barked. "There is still a lot you got to gain knowledge of, lass. These stray dogs come and go as they please, who can keep count?"

"That would be your job, if I'm not mistaken," Enna argued. "Furthermore, my greatest concern has to do with the circumstances surrounding the disappearances. The kids are not willing to share much, for they are greatly scared of the consequences, though I've managed to have them admit the presence of uncanny creatures inside the dorm rooms. I wonder how it is possible that someone snuck in unnoticed—"

"Someone snuck in unnoticed?"

It was really wearing her nerves down, the annoying manner ser Lapo washed his mouth with her own words.

"You are just a nipper yourself if you truly believe this nonsense. They're childish things! Fantasies!"

"So, you mean they are making everything up?" Enna sneered. "I witnessed myself what became of one of them. These children are being mistreated, they get seriously damaged, and either you are too much of a fool to have a clue about it, or you don't care at all!"

The man's face turned the shade of a red sweet pepper as his thunderous reply gurgled up his throat, "You are done insulting myself and this institute. If you are clever enough, lass, take heed of my advice and go back to your place, or you shall find your foul mouth shut by a piss-smelling cock in the bleak alley where I'll make sure to drop you."

That was the end of their conversation. Enna knew better than to counter and recognised her time to make an exit—her mind as sharp as her tongue.

This was not he end of the story, though. She might have lost a battle, but the war was still unfolding.

She needed to find Bice again.

That same day.

Author's Note

The sassaiola was a game played by children of all ages, especially during the period of the Carnival. It consisted in throwing stones, putting on a battle.

Messere was a title reserved to eminent people, more often to judges and notaries. Here, it is used with a certain degree of sarcasm.

Ser is a contraction of messere.