The Black Opera
“Conrad considered that for thirty heartbeats.
Tullio’s “Vaffanculo!” was over-ridden by his own English-learned: “Fuck it up the arse backwards!”
Tullio broke the following silence. “You game to try again, Signore Paolo?”
“Of course.” Isaura lowered her chin, having successfully tied her linen cravat. “I planned to go back out—it was getting late for a lone woman, even with your friends accompanying her… Shall we?”
Conrad stood up, not realising until then that he had sat down on the coach like... a sack of meal. “You’ll be recognised!”
“That’s a risk we have to take.” Isaura-Paolo got in just before Tullio. “We need to know, brother. Where the King’s gone—if he left—or if that’s just a cover-up story, and he’s sick or assassinated.”
The enumerating of possibilities was numbing. Conrad reached for his great-coat and hauled it on, knowing the double-breasted coat and a low-crowned hat would leave him anonymous to all except very bad luck.MoreLess
Tullio’s “Vaffanculo!” was over-ridden by his own English-learned: “Fuck it up the arse backwards!”
Tullio broke the following silence. “You game to try again, Signore Paolo?”
“Of course.” Isaura lowered her chin, having successfully tied her linen cravat. “I planned to go back out—it was getting late for a lone woman, even with your friends accompanying her… Shall we?”
Conrad stood up, not realising until then that he had sat down on the coach like... a sack of meal. “You’ll be recognised!”
“That’s a risk we have to take.” Isaura-Paolo got in just before Tullio. “We need to know, brother. Where the King’s gone—if he left—or if that’s just a cover-up story, and he’s sick or assassinated.”
The enumerating of possibilities was numbing. Conrad reached for his great-coat and hauled it on, knowing the double-breasted coat and a low-crowned hat would leave him anonymous to all except very bad luck.MoreLess
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