Eric Flint - This Rough Magic

"It's infuriating, mistress," snarled Bianca Casarini. "And I don't have any choice-I have to hide Fianelli's men from the Venetians, even if it's in my own house."

Elizabeth laughed. "Having three louts lounging about your house would try the patience of a saint. Which you are certainly not." The countess cocked her head sideways. "I assume you've taken steps to bring them under control."

The last words served to ease some of Casarini's foul temper. "Oh, yes. One of them-Papeti's his name-has been lusting after me for some time. So now he thinks he's succeeded-and the one whom I did seduce is furious about it. The right two words from me, and they'll cut each other up."

"And the third?"

Bianca shrugged. "He's just a slug. Seems interested in nothing much beyond sleeping, drinking and eating. I haven't bothered with him, since I need to keep my magics to a minimum. I have to be careful here, mistress, sharing a small island with Eneko Lopez and his damned priests. They can't do much because they're afraid to work without their wards. But they're still accomplished adepts, especially Lopez."

"Yes, I understand. Well, that should be enough. My plans look to be coming to fruition. For the moment, just stay out of sight."

Before she'd even had time to finish erasing the traces of the ritual, Bianca heard a ruckus erupting in the rooms downstairs. A brief one, but very loud, ending in a cut-off scream.

"Those idiots," she hissed, hurrying from her bedroom. "They'll make the neighbors curious."

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Bianca saw that her "two words" wouldn't be necessary after all. Papeti's body was lying on the floor, bleeding all over the tiles. Saluzzo, red-faced, was crouched over the corpse cleaning his knife on Papeti's blouse.

He hadn't even heard Bianca arrive. The Florentine's eyes were fixed on Zanari, the third of Fianelli's thugs. Zanari was standing in a nearby archway, with a very nervous look on his face.

"She's my woman," Saluzzo growled. "Don't forget it, or-" Angrily, and despite having already cleaned the blade, Saluzzo drove the knife into Papeti's ribcage again. The corpse jerked under the impact.

Saluzzo spotted Bianca then. Leaving the knife stuck in the body, he rose and took two strides toward her.

"Paulo, what-"

Saluzzo was a powerful man. His slap sent her sprawling on the steps. The next slap, on the back of her head, dazed her.

Fortunately, perhaps, since the pain when he seized her by the hair and began dragging her up the stairs would have been considerably more agonizing otherwise.

"Bitch. I'll teach you!"

By the time they reached her bedroom and Saluzzo flung her onto the bed, Bianca had recovered her senses. Furiously, she began muttering the words that would destroy the man. Saluzzo didn't even hear them, he was so consumed with anger combined with lust.

Before she finished the incantation, though, Bianca had suppressed her anger. The situation, she realized, was ideal for a different use of magic. Someday, she might well have to flee her house in a hurry-a task that would be made considerably easier if Saluzzo remained behind to attack her pursuers with demonic fury.

That, of course, would require turning him into a demon-the shape of one, at least-which could be done, under the right circumstances.

These were the right circumstances. Rage and lust, combined, were the key raw ingredients.

"I'll teach you to fool around with anyone else," Saluzzo snarled. He'd already hoisted her skirts and forced her legs apart. Now, he slapped her again and started untying his breeches.

"Paulo, please!"

Another slap. "Time for your lesson, slut."

The period that followed was unpleasant. Even painful, toward the end, as Bianca's murmured incantations began effecting the first transformations of Saluzzo's form. But Bianca had been through worse in the past, and would face still worse in the future. Immortality, as the countess often remarked, had its price. Many prices, in fact.

Fortunately, Saluzzo was raping her on the bed-still better, on a bed in the upper floor of her house, almost twenty feet above the soil of Corfu. Had he been assaulting Bianca on the ground itself, her magics would have drained away. The more so, since the sort of transformation she was carrying out on him was closely connected to earth magic. It was not quite the same as making a golem, but close.

"What's the matter, Eneko?" asked Francesca, leaning forward in her chair. "You look suddenly ill."

"You cannot sense it?" The priest's voice was brittle; his temples held in both hands.

Puzzled, Francesca shook her head. "Sense what?"

"The magic. That is a hideous spell being used. The one who uses it-it's the female, this time, not Fianelli-is reckless beyond belief. I'd never dare use a spell that powerful here on Corfu, without wards-not that I'd ever use that spell anyway-because…"

He croaked. Surprised, Francesca realized it was the sound of strained laughter.

"Of course, I imagine she's not concerned with the danger of attracting demons. Since she's one herself, in all that matters."

Magic was something Francesca knew very little about. So she focused on what, to her, was the key point. "You're sure it's a woman? Not Fianelli?"

Eneko raised his head slowly, staring at her through eyes that were nothing much more than slits. "Oh, yes. There's a succubus-of sorts-loose in this fortress, Francesca. And she's even more dangerous than Fianelli. More powerful, at least, when it comes to magic."

Francesca leaned back in the chair, her lips pursed. "A woman. Could it be Sophia Tomaselli?"

Before Lopez could respond, Francesca raised her hand. "Yes, Eneko, I know the fetish she placed in Maria Verrier's house was a fake. But perhaps that was just a subterfuge-a way to protect her from charges of practicing real witchcraft, in case she ever got caught." Francesca chuckled, throatily. "It's the sort of thing I'd have thought up."

Eneko's smile was thin. "At a rough estimate, Francesca, you are eighty times more intelligent than Sophia Tomaselli. But it doesn't matter. You forget that Pierre went to see her in her cell, after she was arrested. The Savoyard's the best witch-smeller I've ever met. He says, quite firmly, that while the Tomaselli woman is evil enough, in a multitude of small and petty ways, she's got no more demonic power than a carrot."

Francesca must have looked a bit dubious. Lopez's smile became still thinner. "Please, Francesca. I have learned not to second-guess you when it comes to intrigue and espionage. Please don't try to second-guess me when it comes to magic. Whoever the female is, it is not Sophia Tomaselli."

Francesca spread her fingers in a gesture that, subtly, indicated assent. More precisely, that she was beating a demure but hasty retreat.

"I wouldn't dream of questioning you, Eneko!"

The two of them laughed, abruptly.

"Still," Francesca continued, "I think we should start with Sophia Tomaselli. We should question Morando again also, of course, but I doubt he'd say anything. If this mysterious woman-"

"Female, Francesca-not 'woman.' Trust me. The distinction, if you understood it, would be even more important to you than to me."

" 'Female,' then. If this female is an accomplice of his, at this point he'd never tell us. Even that she exists, much less her identity."

"Why? He seems eager enough to tell us everything else."

"Because Morando is expecting he'll be executed, when he's returned to Venice. A traitor's death, too, his legs broken first." For a moment, she glared. "Thanks to those idiot men! That includes you, Eneko! A lesson: Never tell a man you're going to execute him, if there's any chance he might still have information you want. You just eliminated any motive for him to keep talking."