Late Summer, 1634
The bell at the Torre dell'orologio, the clock tower, struck the hour.
Conrad Ursinus gestured meaningfully at the fifty yards of tiled pavement that still separated the party from the doge's palace. "Half a minute late. You think it's better to get there half a minute late and have them think we're trying to act like big cheeses, or show up half a minute early and look like we're afraid of being late?"
Wells Turski looked sidewise at him and laughed. "With this bunch? They . . .
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- The Grantville Gazette Staff