Eric Flint - This Rough Magic

The tintinnabulation in his ears could still be from the explosion, he supposed. Then Svanhild turned her head, and smiled at him, the stars overhead reflected in her eyes, and he knew that it wasn't. It was the sound of his own heart.

Francesca cocked her head sideways. "So why are two moles not better than one? It would seem logical to me. Does one never use more than one mole? I seem to recall that more than one mole was used in the siege of Acre, yes?"

Falkenberg assumed an oratorical stance. "It does depend heavily on the position, the number of forces at your disposal, and the ability of the defenders and the attackers to provide sufficient artillery cover. For instance, if the defenders cannot split their resources and you have plenty of munitions and manpower, the more moles the better. But a mole is no small task under fire. Emeric no doubt thinks he will pincer any attempt to sally from the main gate and attack or destroy his moles. Here, however-well, there are sally ports on the northern and southern sides and Emeric has relatively few men for such a siege. Making concerted use of both moles would be difficult. Once his forces are on this side of the channel they're directly below the walls. Either they must get inside those walls, fast, or they're going to be killed, easily, from the wall tops. Emeric will need to provide his troops with heavy covering fire just to get them across the mole. And for that he needs more cannon than he's got-and lighter cannon. Those forty-eight-pound bombards are so inaccurate they're as likely to kill his own men if he tries to use them for that purpose."

Falkenberg was now pacing back and forth slowly, like a lecturer. "We've been counting his lighter field pieces. He hasn't got what I would judge was enough for a worthwhile two-pronged assault. Which means he's going to have to rely on arquebus fire; which, in turn, means he'll have to build forward revetments or trenches on the Spianada-that open area in front of the fortress-and those will be under the Citadel's guns. That, in turn, will take a substantial number of his men out of the attack force, which, in turn-"

"Stop, stop!" said Francesca laughingly. "Enough. I'll never dare question Falkenberg's military assessment again."

"Even if he's wrong," said Von Gherens, sitting and rubbing his foot, "it is easier to go ahead, do it his way, and die if need be rather than listen to him explain it all to you."

He swiveled his head, transferring the sour gaze onto Manfred. "Prince, I've met lighter carthorses than you. I understand, since you explained it me, that you want me to keep my mouth shut when you stand on my toes. But my toes would certainly prefer it if you just said 'Shut up, Von Gherens.' "

"I'll cough," said Manfred. "Or can I stand on Falkenberg's toes for you, my love?"

"He seems to have stopped, anyway."

Falkenberg rubbed the scars above the empty eye socket. "I was just getting into my stride," he grumbled. "I wish young Benito was back here. That boy had a positive talent for understanding siege-craft. Reminds me of me. I started younger than he was, you know."

"I think you were born in armor, which must have made it damned uncomfortable on your mother," Manfred replied. "He's riding for Venice by now, to make this siege a thing of the past."

"I hope so," said Francesca, grimly. "I think this fortress is far more likely to fall from within than from the effects of one, two or even three moles."

Sophia started, when she saw the back of Nico's head above the chair. Usually her husband was in bed by now, not sitting in the salon. They slept in well-separated rooms, and he was seldom in hers, these days.

Fortunately, she'd already removed her cloak, so she quietly dropped it on the floor behind a settle-it would be difficult to explain why she'd been outside at this hour-then gave herself a quick inspection. The dress she wore was unremarkable enough. What was under it wasn't, but then she had no intent of letting him or anyone else see that. Her maids had been dismissed already. She was getting quite good at undressing without them.

"Good evening, my dear," she said casually.

The captain-general swiveled his head, looking equally surprised to see her. He had obviously been so deep in thought he had not even heard her entering the room.

Probably been thinking of something really complicated, like what he'd had for supper. Sophia had no high opinion of Nico's brainpower. But then, what woman wants an intelligent husband anyway? A husband with money, power, prestige and prospects was more important.

Lately, she'd begun to realize that he had less of all of them than she'd thought.

He smiled rather abstractedly at her. "What are you doing up at this time of night, Sophia?"

"I might just ask you the same question, husband," she said archly, gliding toward him.

He yawned. "I've given orders that the guard are to call me when this prince goes wandering about. I don't trust him. He's undermining my authority among the men."

That won't be hard, Sophia thought sarcastically. Her trafficking with the guards who let her in and out of the fortress, unofficially and for small bribes, had given her an insight into his real prestige.

But all she said was: "And?" with an enquiring tilt of the head.

"I was called to say he was up on the inner battlements." He looked furious, in the petty way of a child. "The fellow just happened to be there when a huge explosion went off behind enemy lines. And he says he knew nothing about what his man there was planning. Ha!"

He rose, came over, and put his arm around her. "So what are you doing up, Sophia?"

Dangerous moment. The truth-

I sneaked out of the fortress to see a Satanist with whom I sacrificed a black cockerel, and then he painted fertility sigils around my nipples and vagina, before I performed certain acts on him with my mouth and then later on myself with a polished piece of vine-root in a pentacle pointed with black candles.

– was not going to be well received.

"I heard the explosion." She hadn't noticed it, but he plainly had. "I was worried, so I dressed and came looking for you."

"It's fine, dear," he said, patting her reassuringly. "Just some saboteurs attacking the Hungarians."

Best to distract him. "It's so comforting that you're in control," she murmured, leaning into him. "You're so manly!"

She felt his chest swell under her hands. "Yes, there's nothing for you to worry about." His own hands were starting to wander.

Sophia stroked his chest, calculating for a moment. Her cloak was dropped just in front of the cabinet in which the brandy decanter stood. She certainly didn't want him going that way for a nightcap!

No help for it, then. She successfully managed to lead him to her bedroom. She blew out the candles in the fancy girandole, making everything dark, since there was no way to remove the insignia now.

The painted sigils felt hot, and so did she. For the first time in at least two years, she actually enjoyed sex with her husband. Not the sex itself-Nico was as clumsy and oafish in bed as the cavalry captain Querini-but what surrounded it. The knowledge of her duplicity, her sin, inflamed her.

Afterwards, as they lay in the warm darkness, she realized she could take further advantage of the now-rare moment.

"So why are you so suspicious of this prince? He could further your career."

Her husband snorted. "He seeks to ruin it, more likely! He is close friends with Petro Dorma. You know my father was a close friend of the late Doge, and also with Ricardo Brunelli, who was seen as the Doge-in-waiting. Casa Dorma's ascension has been a severe blow to us. The prince controls a sizable cavalry force, but the Knights will not take orders from anyone but him. He's refused to hand them over to me."