MARCO
THE ALLEY STANK . Marco could feel the damp soaking into his tunic as he pressed his back against the wall, trying to seem like part of the shadows. He cursed himself. How could he have been so stupid? He knew if he stayed out after dark they might find him.
Bare feet made muffled slapping sounds on the flagstones.
“Which way did he go?” someone hissed.
Marco held his breath.
“I think he went that way,” someone answered, and the footsteps receded.
The boys chasing him had the advantage. They had driven him into a part of Venice he didn’t know well. In the daylight he might have had a chance. But in the dark he’d lost his way in the maze of alleys and courtyards and sotoporteghi, and anyone who might have helped him was inside, their doors locked and the shutters closed tight across the windows.
That’s where his aunt and
