Eric Flint - This Rough Magic

"I don't want to go back there, Umberto," Maria said, knowing she couldn't tell him the real reason-that she was certain Sophia Tomaselli had put some kind of ill-wishing on the house and on him. For that matter, she wouldn't put it past the woman to try to get someone to poison them at this point. Living there just made her feel too exposed.

But none of those things would have made any sense to Umberto. "I know, it's getting colder down here. We'd benefit from living in a proper house again, but I'm scared. I won't take you there. I won't take Alessia there."

Umberto smiled. "Well. It makes a suggestion I have to make easier, Maria. I have here a letter from Master Grisini. He's not well. The honest truth is he's concerned for his wife's future if he should die. The captain-general would then reallocate his home. His wife should go back to Venice-in the normal course of events. Of course that can't happen right now because of the siege. Grisini is deeply worried that the captain-general will take a rather spiteful and petty vengeance by moving the old lady out. He could do it, too. However, the house is a very large one, and what Grisini proposes is that we-you and me and Alessia-move into the lower section. It's still bigger than our old house. The move doesn't have to be approved by anyone except Commander Leopoldo, and he's a reasonable man. If Master Grisini dies, we'll be 'sitting tenants,' the captain-general won't be able to evict us, and we can give house-room to old Mrs. Grisini until the siege is lifted and she goes back to Venice. The house is a lovely one, and Grisini is afraid if the scuolo lose tenancy of it we'll never get anything nearly as good again. He suggests we move four of the Illyrians into our old house, to stop fights with the Corfiotes down here.

Maria shrugged. "Umberto, old Mrs. Grisini isn't really in this world anyway. But if it means I don't have to take you and Alessia back to that house, fine."

"Your agent? You dared to do this without my permission?"

Eberhard cleared his throat. "Captain-General Tomaselli, while this place is a Venetian possession-Prince Manfred is not a Venetian subject. To be a bit blunt, he doesn't need permission to get his men to do anything. And he did, in fact, obtain carte blanche from the governor to get a message out. Signor Valdosta here was delivering a message to the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire from the prince. That was his primary task, which he achieved. It was done on the prince's orders and with the prince's money. The fact that young Benito is a good citizen of your Republic and did his civic duty by reporting the matter to the relevant authorities there also, and returned with ships and men, was a bonus for Venice."

He paused. "I know you see this as an attack on the Venetian Republic. But please understand: To us it is a danger to the man who is second in line for the throne of the Holy Roman Empire. By comparison, the Emperor holds Corfu or even the Venetian Republic-though staunch friends-to be of lesser value. The reason that huge imperial efforts are going into relieving this siege is the prince. Our secrecy has nothing to do with a lack of faith in you personally, it was just that this matter was purely about Prince Manfred."

It spoke volumes for the influence that the older statesman had been able to exert over the captain-general that Tomaselli did calm down. "I hadn't thought of it like that. But nonetheless I should have been consulted! The security of this fortress is my responsibility. And any route this man followed could be followed by hundreds of enemy troops. The way must be blocked!"

Benito laughed. That made him cough. When the paroxysm finished he said, "I swam the better part of a mile in two sections, I climbed a sixty-foot cliff on the seaward side of the Citadel in the dark. Next thing the Magyar will be doing it on horseback and in full armor."

Eberhard patted Benito soothingly. "He's not well, Captain-General. I'm sure he'll show your men the spot when he's up. But it would not be easy for anyone else."

"I'll take you down it personally, Captain-General Tomaselli. I wouldn't dream of letting someone else assess the security." Benito went off into coughing again.

"He's fevered. I think we must leave him to rest. Come, Captain-General." Eberhard showed Tomaselli out and on the way shook his fist at Benito, behind the captain-general's back.

Manfred and Benito restrained themselves from sending Benito off into a coughing fit again, until the captain-general had mounted his horse and was clopping away.

"It is a good thing I insisted on Von Gherens staying outside," said Manfred, his shoulders still shaking.

Benito looked at Manfred. "It's an equally good thing I didn't tell him that Petro Dorma has decided to relieve the pompous ass of his post and promote Commander Leopoldo in his place."

"What! That would solve a hell of a lot of problems."

Benito raised his eyebrows. "Really? Do you think he'd believe me? It's not as if I can prove it. Captain Di Negri has a set of orders signed by the Doge with the seal of the Republic on them… but I didn't see swimming in with them."

"I hadn't thought of that."

Maria went to the door to answer the knock. It wasn't Anastasia, the young Corfiote girl who looked after old Mrs. Grisini. She always knocked firmly, and in a recognizable pattern. A pity; she'd have loved to ask her to mind Umberto and maybe even Alessia, if the old lady was asleep. She really had to go up to the temple again. Umberto was up-and then down-and she didn't know who else to turn to. But this was a very quiet knock. Tentative.

She opened the door to see Benito standing there. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"No one's asked me into one," he said with his old impish grin. "Even the monks have chased me out."

His face became earnest. "Maria, before I left Venice for the first time, Petro said I should come and see you and offer to baby-sit. Before I left Venice this time an undine called Juliette charged me with seeing to Alessia's welfare. I'm better. But I'm still forbidden drill or to do too much exercise. So I came to do what Petro and Juliette said I must. I've come to baby-sit."

Maria gaped at him. "You can't be serious!"

Benito shrugged. "As much as I ever am. Petro Dorma's no fool, as I learned eventually. And I sort of made a bargain with Juliette. So: Lead me to it. Tell me what to do, and you go out and get some time off."

Maria held her head and shook it, as if to check that it was still attached to her shoulders. "Holy Mother! I don't believe this. Look, Umberto's not so good today, either. I've promised him I'd look in at the Little Arsenal, see how thing are going. I've, um, got another visit I really need to make. 'Lessi's asleep now. But would you stay with her and Umberto? If you mean it, that is?"

He smiled. For once, it was a smile with no overtones, no sense of anything hidden, and nothing of his mad recklessness in it. "I mean it. Like I said, lead me to it."

When Maria came back, guiltily, knowing that she'd been away for longer than she'd meant to be, she heard laughter from inside her new home. She found Benito had Umberto sitting up against the cushions in the bedroom, while he was executing intricate Venetian dance steps with Alessia in his arms.

"She's a better dancer than you are," said Maria, trying not to join in the laughter.

"She couldn't be worse!" Benito grinned. "I absolutely hated the dancing instructions that Dorma's mother made me suffer through. Marco now, he makes it look easy. Here, Maria. I think she's getting hungry."

"He even changed her, Maria," said Umberto wonderingly. "He's a braver man than I."

Maria thought Umberto was looking a great deal better than when she'd left.