Eric Flint - This Rough Magic

Sleep while you could. Even in the front trenches, a good two thirds had been in dreamland. The night workers on the causeway were already pulled back. The sea-mist was blowing and swirling. It would burn off in an hour or two, having given the cracked, dry earth no relief.

The mist swallowed sound quite well. The Knights' scouts had advanced cautiously, on foot, with their trumpets in hand. Seventy or so yards back, the Knights, a hundred of them, had come forward at a walk. They'd been able to get right onto the causeway-and the scouts off the far side-before the trumpet had called them to charge.

Yes, it had all gone well. Benito hoped the retreat had gone just as well. He hadn't stayed around to find out.

Instead he'd discovered the two drawbacks to Manfred's plan. The one was that he was still very close to the Hungarian camp and it was now full daylight and the horse was a lot more in control than he was. The other drawback was trotting. Now all he had to do was find Erik without the two downsides killing him.

He decided the best thing for it was to abandon the horse. He must be at least a couple of miles from the camp now.

A shot boomed from a nearby hillside.

Benito abandoned the horse by falling off into the dry broom. Up the hill he saw two Corfiotes scrambling for cover. Lying there, trying to catch his breath, Benito decided that the Croat's headgear had to be the next to go, before he was killed by own side.

Falkenberg came running in. "Leopoldo's been shot! A crossbow again."

Manfred's chair fell over as he sprang to his feet. "Damn! We should have expected this." He started heading for the door.

Von Gherens blocked his way. "Not without plate armor. And that Koboldwerk mail shirt. And Francesca, he's to stay away from all windows until we find this crossbow man. Leopoldo may live. Benito was lucky. Next time we may not be so lucky."

Francesca nodded and steered the prince back to a chair. "It's left a power vacuum, Manfred. The captain-general hasn't been near his office for two weeks. He's just abandoned things. Commander Leopoldo has been running the defense of the Citadel since then."

"And much better run it has been," Manfred said grimly. "You say he's not dead?"

"Well, not yet. He's being taken to the hospital."

"Is he conscious?"

"He was a short time ago. Cursing ferociously, in fact."

"Go there, Von Gherens. Get him to appoint a successor, if he's compos to do so. One of his junior officers will fill the post on seniority otherwise. And that may be a poor idea right now."

Von Gherens came back a little later. "The opium seems to be making him think clearly," he said with a wry smile. "He's just nominated Falkenberg to fill his shoes."

"But Falkenberg isn't part of the Venetian forces," protested Francesca. "The captain-general is bound to kick up a fuss."

Eberhard of Brunswick cleared his throat. "You could second him to the service of Commander Leopoldo, Prince. That would be completely legal."

The one-eyed Falkenberg grunted. "If this means I have to take orders from Tomaselli, forget it."

Eberhard smiled. "Well, technically you'd be taking orders from Leopoldo, as you would have to be seconded directly to his service. And Leopoldo would be taking orders from Tomaselli. We could persuade him to be too ill to pass them on. Of course this does presuppose Leopoldo staying alive. If he dies, it is another matter."

"You really could have trusted me with the sword, Benito," said Erik. "I would have given it back to you. I think."

Benito blinked. Svanhild was definitely giving Erik a sense of humor. Which was strange, as Benito didn't think she had had much of one to share. Perhaps it was just that the Icelander was so much happier.

"I needed it, Erik. Otherwise I'd have trusted you. Truly. But there is someone I have to deliver the sharp end of it to."

"And who would that be?"

"A mutual friend who had a crossbow bolt delivered to my pillow a couple of days back. A blond fellow with excellent classical features that the girls all admired. At least, they used to. I'm not sure what he looks like after all he's been through."

Erik's head shot forward like a snapping turtle. "Aldanto! He's here?"

Benito nodded. "And he hasn't changed except for the worse, either. He's joined up with another old friend that you've met before. With your old tomahawk."

The look in Erik's eyes was something that gave Benito a shiver. "I want him."

But Benito was not about to back down this time. "You'll have to stand in line, Erik. I've got a claim on behalf of my mother, my brother's wife's family, and Maria. Not to mention myself. And this time I intend to get him. If I fail, he's yours."

Erik looked speculatively at Benito. "He doesn't play by the rules, you know."

"I know.

"So should we play tag with him?" asked Erik, with a foxlike look. "I'll find out where he is. Our network of informers is unbelievable, especially since your jailbreak." He grinned at Benito. "Your status on this island is at a level that'll never survive the reality!"

The middle-aged man looked about nervously. "You're sure we can't be seen or overheard?"

Caesare Aldanto shook his head. "The dog would have detected anyone, Ambrosino. He can smell out the smallest trace of life over as much as two hundred yards. And we simply cannot be seen through the solid walls of the olive-press. You are satisfied with what you have heard from Count Quatrades?"

Giuliano Lozza's uncle nodded. "Yes. I was surprised, to tell the truth."

The empty-eyed blond shrugged. "Why? King Emeric wants an income off the lands he conquers. He'll need vassals who understand local conditions, local peasantry, and how to get the most out of them."

Ambrosino's eyes were wary. "I would have thought he would have given the land to his own nobles, Signor Aldanto."`

"There is enough. And as you have seen, Count Quatrades is well treated." If Aldanto sounded indifferent, it was for a good reason. He was.

"And protected?" Ambrosino asked sharply. "The peasantry have become violent. If there is one thing these peasants should never have been allowed, it is encouragement to rebel. To take up arms. The Venetians have planted and nurtured a seed in this war that will be impossible to put back into the seed-pod. I've said as much but they don't want to listen to me."

The Magyar captain who had accompanied Aldanto laughed coarsely. "King Emeric has a way of dealing with that. There are always more peasants."

"Nonetheless. I want that estate in the Ropa valley, but I also want a full-time guard of least twenty men stationed there. And five thousand ducats." He raised his chin; clearly, he was not going to be bargained down.

Aldanto nodded. "We have brought the gold. The bags are behind you, on that press-shelf."

Greed overrode the man's nervousness. He looked into a number of the bags eagerly, spilling gold pieces.

"We have had engineers from the army repairing the villa on the estate," said Aldanto, smoothly. "You could go there now, if you can tell us where to find Hakkonsen. Or the girl."

Ambrosino snorted with contempt. "You'd need a lot of men to take Hakkonsen in that spot. It's got three ways out, and he has good lookouts. Hakkonsen is planning a raid on Trembolino in two nights. You could ambush him."

"And why is he going to attack Trembolino?" asked the Magyar captain suspiciously. "That's where we are based!"

"I believe," said the middle-aged man slyly, "that they wish to kill a certain blond man. A man they call Caesare Aldanto."

The empty eyes gazed at the Corfiote aristocrat. "Why?"

"It appears that they want to repay some old scores with you, milord," he said, picking up every loose ducat and carefully putting them back where he had gotten them.