“Well, the bloody fool didn’t carry them openly, did he? You might have just shoved them under your doublet and we’d be done with it. You should have worn them out that night with the fool’s motley.”

“Just send your man Rodrigo to fetch them and we will be done with it. You said he goes to Belmont.”

“Rodrigo knows that throwing daggers are the weapons of a cutpurse or a circus clown, not a proper soldier. I will go myself. Let us hope Brabantio didn’t keep other souvenirs of his revenge. I would wear a hand of steam if I could slap the old man’s ghost for his pigheaded plans and puzzles.”

“Puzzles that seem too clever to solve. Even if Bassanio beats the lottery of the chests, how do we know we can bring the rest of our plan to fruition?”

“You’re right, he does seem a bit thick, even if only to be a senator.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean even if he succeeds in marrying Portia, she does not inherit as long as Desdemona’s husband stands in her way. And when we conceived of this plan, you were to be general of the navy, but with Cassio as Othello’s second in command, even that ambition is far-reaching.”

“Then Othello has to go, and Cassio with him. The Moor would not be general at all, but for the stunning defeat of Dandalo, his predecessor, so shall I ride the Moor’s defeat to my command.”

“You would have Othello lose a war so you can take his place? There is so little left of the navy that another loss will give you nothing to command.”

“No, I’ll not use weapons of war to take down the Moor, for even as I know I am Cassio’s better as a soldier, so does Othello’s skill exceed my own. No, the weapon to bring down Othello comes presently up your stairs.”

There were footfalls on the stairs, a single man ascending the floors.

“Rodrigo?” Antonio went to the door and held the bolt. “But he’s an idiot!”

“Hold your base slander, Antonio. Do I disparage your friends?”

“Well—” Antonio threw the bolt and swung the door wide for Rodrigo. “Yes.”

“Come, come, good Rodrigo,” said Iago. “I was just telling Antonio of your affections for the lady Desdemona.”

“You told him? I still wear the shame of it.” Rodrigo shielded his face from Antonio’s gaze with his hat.

Iago took the taller man’s hat and tossed it in the corner, then put his arm around Rodrigo’s shoulders. “Antonio is our friend. And there is no shame where there is no defeat, good Rodrigo. I tell you, you shall yet have your Desdemona.”

“But she is married to the Moor, and they are away in Corsica; by what means can I win her now? I am lost.”