Eric Flint - This Rough Magic

Eneko Lopez pursed his lips and thought a while.

"Chernobog is a great threat. On the other hand… the cunning of these magicians, whoever they are-is almost worse. I suppose this fight is against Emeric and his minions first. And we need four for the cardinal points. But…"

"But me no buts, man of God," said Manfred, firmly. "I'll have Klaus on watch. If we get a chance again like today where we can maybe get Emeric and Aldanto… we'll sally. Speed and steel. We can get away with it at the moment. The captain-general isn't playing the role he was since his wife got herself into trouble."

Being a fugitive hampered Fianelli's movements, thought Emeric, studying again the latest reports his agent had sent through. But the man was capable and had found a safe hideout. So. It was time to destabilize the military structure of the enemy from within. Fianelli had mercenaries still on his payroll.

The commander must die. And so should this Benito Valdosta. He'd become an icon in the Citadel. A symbol. Well, he'd be a dead symbol, proving how long Emeric's arm was.

Only a flicker of movement in the window saved Benito. He rolled just in time. The crossbow bolt was buried to the flight-feathers in the bed. Benito stared at the bolt. Felt his neck; looked at the broken glass; got up and went over to the mirror. His neck had a fine cut from the touch of the barb.

A crossbow was slow to reload. By the time the bastard in that tree reloaded, Benito was going to be shoving his rapier right up the place the would-be assassin deserved it.

But by the time he got there…

There was no one in the tree. No one anywhere around. In fact, there might just as well never have been anyone there at all. Except for that crossbow bolt in the pillow.

Ten minutes later, Benito, crossbow bolt in hand, was in Manfred and Francesca's chamber.

"Manfred. I worked with him for years. This," he held up the bolt, "stinks of something Caesare would organize, if he didn't do it himself. He can't fly, so this must be something a hireling did. But I'll bet it was at his orders. He and his master know we found them. Now they're out to kill me, personally. Well, I won't sit still while they do it. And I don't care what you say about it."

"You could be right," said Francesca. "Indirectly, at least. It would have been Fianelli who gave the actual order, though, not Caesare. He's still somewhere in the Citadel, and his three goons have evaded capture also."

She turned to Manfred. "My dear, you are going back to living in a Koboldwerk shirt, now that they seem to be turning to crude assassination. You're a target, too."

Manfred rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Look, Benito, I understand what you're getting at. But…"

"But this fortress is flue-full of conspirators, spies, and traitors. I don't know who, or what, to trust-sweet Jesu, man, what can I do if I can't even be safe in my own bed?"

Manfred winced. Benito kept going while he had momentum. "Aside from anything else, out there, they seem to have sorted out the treachery problem. I'm safer running with Erik than I am here. Besides, if we get the chance I want Aldanto's head." He knew what his voice sounded like, and he moderated it before Manfred decreed he was too emotionally involved to go safely. "Look, it might not be Aldanto, but all the signs point that way, and I agree with Eneko. Get rid of this assassin, this agent of Chernobog-whoever, or whatever he is-and we'll get rid of half the menace."

"Will you let me finish?" asked Manfred irritably. "What I was trying to say is the story of your exploits getting in and out of this place is now common property. You can bet your last penny that Emeric has had a full report. You can bet you're being watched. You can also bet that Emeric has done his damnedest to make sure you don't use those ways again. We've seen the beach patrols. The small-craft screen. It's a lot harder. The chance of you making it into the slave encampment, never mind out again, has vanished."

Benito shrugged. "I'll have to think of something else then."

"What I was going to suggest is that we do this the old-fashioned way. Von Gherens and I were just saying we are letting the enemy have too much leisure to do what they feel like. Those causeways are basically both repaired. We're going to lose what advantage the water gives us when they are able to attack in large numbers at will. We thought we might use one of these misty mornings we've been having to damage their little causeway, and make Emeric concentrate on defending his siege camp more. From this side, as well as Erik's side."

Manfred grinned. "So what do you say, young fellow? Get you on a good horse and have a little gallop. I won't promise to take you to the other edge of Emeric's camp, but in the chaos, mist, and few nice little fires… We'll dress you up as a Croat horseman and you should get yourself to the far side and out easily enough. It'll beat this swimming or sailing, eh?"

Benito groaned.

"It sounded like a good plan to me," said Manfred, a little defensively. "Given the mist and the fact that there hasn't been a sally except in response to an attack, they won't be expecting it. Von Gherens was just saying their entrenchments on the Spianada are too central. Emeric wanted the space to marshal his cavalry, no doubt, but it'll work in our favor."

"It's the horse part I was groaning about. I fall off the damn things."

Manfred chuckled. "There had to be something you weren't much good at."

"I can't dance. And Marco says I can't cook, either."

Francesca gave a little snort of laughter. "But a little bird told me you can change diapers," she said mischievously.

Manfred stared incredulously at Benito and then burst into laughter.

Maria listened to Benito in silence. Her expression grew more severe as he talked.

Then she stood in silence, looking at him for a while. Finally she said: "I don't suppose anything I say will stop you."

"No. I just stopped by to say good-bye, and to see Alessia and Umberto. I had to stop and see my favorite baby."

Maria shook her head. "Have you ever even touched another one?" She sighed. "Wait here. I want you to take something with you."

She came back a few minutes later with a wheel-lock pistol. "Kat gave it to me. You take it with you. And promise me this. If you get close to Caesare, blow his guts out before he gets too close. Remember, he'll mislead you with his talk. Don't give him a chance. And don't miss."

Clinging to the saddle, Benito cursed all horses. There had to be a better way to travel fast overland. Had to be!

Chariots. Or cutting canals everywhere. Or… anything. Trained giant serpents such as there were reputed to be in far-off Africa. Or dragons, as in far-off Qin. Or flying carpets. Anything but an idiot animal that went up and down in order to go forward.

True, the gallop hadn't been as bad as he'd expected. True, too, a grinning Ritter had had to haul him back upright when he'd started that slide down the side of the horse during the charge. But-like the raid on the Hungarian camp-it had been pretty successful.

The Hungarians were totally unprepared for those inside the Citadel to take the offensive. The men had settled into the humdrum of siege. Cannon fire every now and again. Daytime arquebus fire to slow down any signs of repair work on the walls. Otherwise sit around. Sleep if you could. Play dice. Eat. Keep a weather eye behind for an officer. The assault would come, when they had to go in and face enemy fire, but for now… the worst you had to fear was a work party or being part of the outer perimeter guards and patrols. That was dangerous. This was just military routine.