“He is at the Citadel, Lieutenant,” said the soldier, recognizing Iago’s rank from the crest on his dagger. “The general’s second, Captain Cassio, is just round the corner. I’ll fetch him for you and he can take you to the general.”

The soldier rode off and a minute later Michael Cassio stepped out of a white stucco building across the street and strode across the sunbaked pavers in his high boots to meet Iago. They exchanged salutes. Cassio was taller, younger, more handsome and clear of eye than Iago, the very model of a gentleman soldier, with such a bright and open nature that I shivered to see him standing guileless and unguarded before Iago, who, with the rise of his scar-broken eyebrow when he smiled, revealed the inner turning of gears grinding deceitful plots.

“Good Iago, you have news from Venice? Another attack on the city?”

“Nothing so dire,” said Iago. “But I am tasked by the council to deliver my dispatch only to Othello and his lady.”

“Desdemona,” sighed Rodrigo, casting a wistful gaze to the clouds.

“His lady?” said Cassio. “Then this is not news of war?”

“You will know at Othello’s discretion, Captain, but I am bound by orders.”

“Quite so.” Cassio tossed his head toward a great stone-and-plaster fortress that loomed over the town. “The Citadel is a short walk. I’ll take you myself. I’ll send a cart back for your things.”

“Pardon, good captain,” called Jessica, in her best boy voice. “Could you spare a moment for a word with this holy sister of mercy?”

I had retreated to the edge of the dock by a great mooring post. I peered out into the harbor, looking not at the ships and birds diving overhead, but for a shadow beneath the turquoise waves, and there, perhaps three hundred feet out, she swam. I closed my eyes and looked for the blue patterns of her thoughts, but there were none. Spare this one. Leave him his head, I thought. Not this one. Could she hear me? For Cassio’s sake, I hoped so.

“Yes, Sister?” said Cassio, stepping up beside me.

“Act as if nothing is out of order. Iago must not see you react. I am simply asking for shelter for myself and the boy,” I said in my own voice, undisguised.

“What?”

I stepped back from the edge so only Cassio could see my face, then raised my veil, winked, grinned, and held my finger to my lips to signal silence.

“You know me,” said I. “I am the fool Pocket.”

“You stood for Othello before the council.”

“I am here to help the Moor again. I must see him, but on our lives, Iago and his friend cannot know my true identity. Do you trust me?”

He nodded, just a twitch.