THE VILLAGE WAKES LIKE A BEAST WITH A HANGOVER, ITS STREETS STILL WET FROM LAST NIGHT'S RAIN, MIST CURLING AROUND ROOFTOPS AND ALLEYS LIKE THE FINGERS OF SOMETHING HUNGRY. CHILDREN SHRIEK IN THE DISTANCE, CHASING ONE ANOTHER THROUGH PUDDLES THAT GLIMMER WITH REFLECTIONS OF HALF-BROKEN LANTERNS AND THE OCCASIONAL GOAT, LOST AND CONFUSED. EVERY STEP ECHOES, EVERY SHOUT BOUNCES OFF THE COBBLESTONE, TURNING THE SQUARE INTO A LIVING, BREATHING ENTITY, SOMEHOW BREEDING CHAOS AND GOSSIP IN EQUAL MEASURE.
MARTA, THE BAKER'S NIECE, FLAILS ACROSS THE SQUARE, HER SKIRT STUCK IN A MUDDY PUDDLE. "WHO STOLE THE HONEY?!" SHE SCREAMS, POINTING AT NO ONE IN PARTICULAR. OLDER WOMEN WHISPER, THE WORDS SLITHERING BETWEEN CRATES AND BARRELS LIKE SNAKES: "DID YOU HEAR ABOUT CARMELA? SHE WAS SEEN WITH GIUSEPPE NEAR THE RIVER. SHE THINKS SHE OWNS THE TOWN!" THE WORDS SPREAD, WILD AND UNCHECKED, HITTING EAR AFTER EAR, MAKING SOME SCREAM, OTHERS LAUGH, AND A FEW SECRETLY PLAN REVENGE.
GIANNI CLIMBS A PILE OF SACKS, DECLARING HIMSELF KING OF THE SQUARE. HE SLIPS. ORANGES EXPLODE LIKE VOLCANOES. PASSERSBY SCREAM. DOGS BARK. A CHICKEN FLIES INTO A CRATE, TOPPLING TOMATOES INTO A SPLATTER OF RED AND MUD. SOMEONE SLIPS. SOMEONE ELSE TRIPS OVER THE FIRST SOMEONE. EVERYONE YELLS. THE AIR TASTES OF CHAOS, SWEAT, AND THE SCENT OF WET EARTH.
ELENA STANDS ON THE TERRACE OF THE NEW FARMHOUSE, HER EYES SHARP, TAKING IN EVERY DETAIL. LUCA'S HAND BRUSHES HERS, A QUIET REMINDER OF HIS JEALOUSY, HIS PROTECTIVENESS. "THEY'RE CELEBRATING AGAIN," HE WHISPERS. "MARCO AND ISABELLA. THEY'VE GOT HALF THE TOWN IN THEIR POCKETS." ELENA DOESN'T SPEAK IMMEDIATELY. SHE IS CALCULATING. HER MIND JUMPS BETWEEN SCENES LIKE A SWIFT HAWK, NOTING WHO IS FIGHTING, WHO IS LAUGHING, WHO IS SECRETLY WATCHING. "SEE THE BAKER'S SQUARE?" SHE SAYS SOFTLY. "THE ARGUMENT THIS MORNING IS A DOOR. MARIA AND ANTONIO HAVE A DEBT. THEY DON'T KNOW IT, BUT WE CAN USE IT."
LUCA NARROWS HIS EYES. "ONE WRONG MOVE AND MARCO WILL EXPLOIT IT. HE'S SUBTLE."
ELENA SMILES, A CURVE OF STRATEGY. "SUBTLE IS EASY TO BEAT IF YOU KNOW WHERE TO PUSH. WE START SMALL. CRATE OF APPLES, A SPILLED BASKET, A WHISPER HEARSAY. LITTLE THINGS BUILD CHAOS. LITTLE THINGS BUILD US CONTROL."
MEANWHILE, IN THE SQUARE, FABS AND LORENZO WRESTLE WITH A STICK, THEIR SHOUTS MIXING WITH THE CRIES OF A TODDLER FALLING INTO A PUDDLE. MUD FLIES LIKE ARTILLERY. A GOAT RUNS AMOK, HITTING CRATES, KICKING ORANGES, SENDING TOMATOES INTO THE AIR. A WOMAN YELLS. A MAN SWINGS HIS UMBRELLA. SOMEONE TRIPS. SOMEONE ELSE SNATCHES A LOAF OF BREAD. THE CHAOS IS ALIVE, BREATHING, HUNGRY.
MARCO AND ISABELLA SIT IN THE VILLA, TOASTING TO "VICTORIES" THAT ELENA AND LUCA KNOW ARE TEMPORARY. MARCO'S EYES FLICKER. HE SENSES THE TERRACE ABOVE. HE DOES NOT KNOW WHO IS THERE, BUT HE KNOWS. ISABELLA IS TOO BUSY SMILING AT THE TOWN'S GOSSIP. MARCO'S HAND LINGERS ON THE EDGE OF HIS GLASS, FINGERS TIGHTENING. HE THINKS, CALCULATES. HE'S PLANNING, QUIETLY, NOT SUSPICIOUSLY, AND YET THE THREADS OF BETRAYAL ARE ALREADY WEAVING.
IN THE ALLEY BEHIND THE TAVERN, TWO WOMEN FIGHT OVER A STOLEN SCARF. SHRIEKS ECHO AGAINST WALLS, DRAWING A CROWD. A BABY WAILS. A DOG BARKS. A CHICKEN FLIES INTO THE FRAY. EVERYONE IS IN MOTION. CHAOS IS A LANGUAGE. IT SPEAKS IN SHRIEKS, IN SPLATTERED TOMATOES, IN MUDDY BOOTS AND ORANGE PEELS. ELENA WATCHES, TAKING NOTES, SMILING. LUCA GRITS HIS TEETH, SILENTLY SCHEMING.
THE TAILOR, SIMONE, SPILLS INK ACROSS A DRESS. "I CAN FIX IT!" HE YELLS. THE CLIENT SHRIEKS, "FIX IT? YOU RUINED MY WEDDING DRESS!" ELENA NODS. SOMETIMES, RUIN IS A TOOL. SOMETIMES, CHAOS IS A WEAPON.
A CROWD GATHERS BY THE FOUNTAIN. A MAN ACCUSES HIS WIFE OF CHEATING. SCREAMS. SOMEONE FLINGS A MUDDY SHOE. OLDER WOMEN CLUTCH PEARLS AND FAN THEMSELVES AS IF THE AIR WERE LITERAL FIRE. CHILDREN LAUGH, TOTALLY UNCOMPREHENDING. A CAT SLIPS THROUGH LEGS, SCRATCHING A PASSERBY WHO SCREAMS AND FALLS INTO A CRATE OF EGGS. EGGS SPLATTER. CHAOS REIGNS.
ELENA AND LUCA MOVE LIKE SHADOWS, OBSERVING, INTERVENING SUBTLY. A WHISPER HERE, A PUSH OF A BASKET THERE. EACH ACTION SPLITS INTO TEN POSSIBLE CHAOS CHAINS. EACH CHAOS CHAIN, CAREFULLY DESIGNED, HELPS THEM GAIN GROUND WITHOUT MARCO OR ISABELLA NOTICING.
THE TAVERN EXPLODES IN GOSSIP. PASTORS, CHEFS, FARMERS, AND MERCHANTS ALL SPEAK AT ONCE. MARCO'S NAME WHISPERS THROUGH SHOPS AND ALLEYS. ISABELLA IS OBSCURED BY HER OWN EGO. SHE DOES NOT SEE THE SUBTLE SHIFTING. SHE DOES NOT SEE ELENA'S HAND IN IT.
AT THE RIVERBANK, WATER LEVELS RISE, SWELLING SLOWLY, PATIENTLY. OLDER MEN MURMUR, "THE RIVER REMEMBERS." CHILDREN SPLASH, OBLIVIOUS. THE SHADOW OF DANGER LINGERS LIKE A WARM BREATH.
ELENA PUSHES A SIDE CHARACTER—MARIA—TO CONFRONT ANTONIO, AND JUST WHEN HE THINKS HE'S IN CONTROL, MUD SPLATTERS, BASKETS FALL, A CRATE TEETERS. THE ARGUMENT ESCALATES. THE SMALL CHAOS, PERFECTLY TIMED, SENDS A RIPPLE THROUGH THE TOWN.
LUCA FEELS HIS HEART POUND. EVERY SHOUT HITS HIM LIKE A HAMMER. HE SEES MARCO IN THE VILLA, SIPPING WINE, EYES FLICKERING TOWARD THE TERRACE. THE BREATH IN HIS LUNGS TIGHTENS. HE WANTS TO ACT, BUT ELENA SHUSHES HIM WITH A GLANCE.
THE CHILDREN ESCALATE THEIR PUDDLE WARFARE, FLINGING MUD LIKE ARTILLERY. A GOAT CHARGES THROUGH THE CROWD, KICKING APPLES AND ORANGES. SOMEONE TRIPS INTO A FOUNTAIN. WATER FLIES INTO THE AIR. THE CROWD SCREAMS, LAUGHS, CURSES, AND THE CHAOS SWIRLS, IMPENETRABLE, UNSTOPPABLE.
AT NIGHT, THE MARKET SQUARE IS RUINED, FLOODED WITH MUD, BROKEN FRUIT, AND SHOUTS. MARCO AND ISABELLA STILL CELEBRATE, OBLIVIOUS TO THE STRATEGY WORKING AGAINST THEM. ELENA AND LUCA RETREAT TO THE TERRACE, EYES SHARP, MINDS CALCULATING NEXT MOVES.
THE TOWN SLEEPS UNEASILY. WINDOWS SHIVER IN THE WIND. MURMURS OF "DID YOU SEE THAT?" AND "WHAT IS HAPPENING?" SWIRL THROUGH THE STREETS. THE RIVER WHISPERS. THE SHADOW WATCHES. EVERYTHING IS SET.
—THE BABY FALLS, THE GOAT CHARGES, THE APPLE CRUSHES, THE INK SPILLS, THE LOAF IS STOLEN.
AND IN THE FINAL MOMENT, THE EARTH SHIVERS. A LOW HUM RUMBLES UNDERFOOT. THE RIVER SWELLS SLIGHTLY. A LIGHT FLICKERS IN THE VILLA. SOMETHING MOVES IN THE SHADOWS.
THE STORM IS FAR FROM OVER.
AND AS NIGHT ENGULFS THE TOWN, ELENA, LUCA, MARCO, ISABELLA—EVERYONE—IS UNPREPARED FOR WHAT'S COMING.
THE WATCHER SMILES, SILENT, INVISIBLE, AND THE CHAPTER ENDS WITH THE SOUND OF A DOOR SLAMMING SOMEWHERE, AND THE AIR THICK WITH PROMISES OF CHAOS THAT WILL NOT BE CONTAINED.
---