not going to give up on his self-appointed task.
First—tell Caesare, so that Aldanto didn’t kill the stranger, thinking he was a threat. That was easiest done in the morning, before Aldanto was completely awake and thinking.
Marco had planned his approach carefully the previous morning, waiting until Aldanto had gotten his first glass of watered wine and was starting his second before accosting him.
“Caesare,” he started hesitantly, “there’s something you should know.”
Before Caesare could do more than look apprehensive, Marco had plowed onward. “That man I told you about? The one in the marshes? The one that helped Benito and me?”
Aldanto nodded slowly, putting the goblet down on the table and absently running a hand through his tangled golden mane.
“He’s here in the city,” Marco said shortly. “Hiding out in that rundown building of Gasparsi’s. I’ve seen him.”
Aldanto didn’t move, much, but he went from sleepy and a little bored to startled awake,