Eric Flint - This Rough Magic

"But sir, we still have some cannon to spike!"

"Believe me, Nico. They won't be using them for a while anyway. Look at that rain. This place is going to be fetlock deep in mud soon. And this rain will cover the retreat beautifully, eh, Thalia?"

She smiled at him, eyes like stars. "Good for the olives, too."

She was a jewel past price.

The cannonball must have hit the house, because even in the cellar they felt the impact of it. Flakes of black paint fell from the ceiling. Alberto looked owlishly at Benito. "I believe I'll have that second drink after all. No sense in dying sober."

In Benito's informed opinion, if the next cannonball came right through into the cellar in two heartbeats' time and hit Alberto… he still wouldn't die sober. Yet he'd suffered Benito's rough surgery stoically. The wine might have helped. They hadn't eaten much in the last while and a little wine went a long way.

"Air holes, but no view," grumbled Benito, passing the bottle over. "No wonder the woman went mad in here."

"You ask me she was mad to start with," said Alberto phlegmatically. Once he'd got over his shock the big man had rapidly reconciled himself to staying down here for a while.

Benito hadn't. He'd been pacing the cellar like a caged animal for the last while. Being pinned down would kill him as surely as bullets or swords, he decided.

"Alberto. I'm going to have a look outside."

In the temple cave, Alessia stirred. The rock beneath her moved slowly, slightly, readjusting from the terrible stresses that had been put on it and were now washed away. The crack that split the holy pool healed. Water, rising from a deep artesian flow, began to drip slightly faster. And, as the rains beat down outside, faster still. The drops became a trickle and the trickle became a stream. The clay bowl overflowed. The pool filled up.

The healing and the magic in this place affected other things, too. Alessia woke up. She got to her knees; then, waving her arms for balance, stood up. It was no great height. She took little swaying baby-steps forward.

And fell into the pool.

Another baby might have drowned. But this child was hemmed in by certain protections. She sat up, wet through, and screamed. And screamed. She wanted her mother.

She wanted her mother NOW.

And if her mother is not there to care for her-she just has to touch running water to call me or my kin to help.

So had the undine Juliette stated at her christening. Alessia hadn't understood the words at the time, of course. Nor would she have now. But in a pinch, the new baby-sitter would do. He was big and warm and smelled nice.

Not like Mother. But nice. Familiar.

Benito had eased the trapdoor up very cautiously, ears straining for the sounds of danger. Instead he heard a peculiar drumming noise. He couldn't place it at first. It was a long time since he'd heard rain on the roof.

"Hey, Alberto!"

"What?" asked the big scuolo man, warily. He'd bet Alberto had the late Sophia's wheel-lock at the ready.

"It's raining out there! Not just raining. Bucketing it down."

"No! After all this time!"

"I'm going out."

"You'll get wet," said Alberto with a laugh.

"Yeah. But so will anyone else. It's nearly as black as night out there."

"I'll stay here and look after the wine. I can't run and you'll probably need to."

Benito realized very shortly that "rain" was an understatement. It was as if the heavens were trying to catch up on the whole dry winter in one fell swoop. Even in a final assault on a beleaguered city, troops would be reduced to seeking shelter in this. He stalked up the narrow street, seeing no one. Benito felt he could hardly have seen someone across the narrow street, it was sheeting down so hard.

And then he realized he was seeing someone after all, walking toward him. As he turned to shrink back against a doorsill he realized this was a very strange someone. The woman wasn't wearing any clothes, except for a crown of water lilies. And even in this light, her hair was green. In spite of his attempt to hide she obviously knew where he was, and beckoned imperiously at him.

"You! Your daughter needs you. Come."

"Who are you?" he said warily.

"I am the Crenae of the spring within the hill. And your daughter wants either her mother or you. Our kin promised we would help if she was in need. Besides, she is nearly shaking the holy mount with her screaming. Nothing we can do will comfort her."

"Er, I'd help. But you've got the wrong person. I don't have any daughters."

The cold rain was soaking Benito. It didn't seem to perturb the nymph. "Yes you do," she said firmly. "Juliette examined your blood."

"Alessia?" The rain was getting in his eyes. "She's my daughter?"

"She certainly isn't your son!" snapped the nymph. "Now come. We must go to the cliff on the side of the Castel a mar. She is in a cave there."

Benito's mind groped at the thought of Alessia as his daughter. He'd thought-Caesare-

Suddenly it all clicked into place for him. The timing-Maria's sudden determination to marry Umberto-

And, the truth was, the baby didn't look in the least bit like Aldanto. In fact, now that he thought about it…

He pushed it all aside for a later time. "Got a place I can climb the inner wall in this?"

"The gates are open. The people of the city have pushed back the attackers."

"What? I must go and tell Alberto!"

"Your daughter needs you, now. She is very young and very unhappy. I have left my sister with her, but she is screaming the place down."

Benito shrugged. "Let's go, then. I'll send someone for him."

On the way to the gates, the rain slackened off slightly. It looked to be a mere lull in between waves of heavier downpour, but Benito realized the Venetians were making the most of it. Troops were marching down to the outer wall, set on doing what repairs they could. Ordinary people were hastening to their homes and lodgings to see what the Hungarians had left. Benito was pushing against this tide when a wet-haired, red-eyed woman grabbed his arm. Benito hadn't even recognized Maria's friend Stella without her permanent smile.

"Signor Valdosta!" Her face was a map of misery. "My Alberto? You haven't seen him? Even, dear God, his body…"

He squeezed her shoulder. "He's fine. He's got a broken leg, that's all."

Stella simply dissolved on his shoulder, clinging to him. "Where is he? I'll murder him! I've been so worried. So unhappy-"

"I hid him. Now look, he doesn't know what's happened out here and he's scared and has a pistol. For God's sake, don't get yourself shot getting to him."

She nodded. Her smile was back in full-force. "I'll call. He'll recognize my yelling at him, for sure. Where is he?"

"You know the house that guy was using for his orgies with the Case Vecchie women? The fake magician, Morando? I know you went and had a look."

She nodded. "I even got a peek into the cellar, where they did… that stuff."

"Well, we hid out in that cellar. The trapdoor is closed and it has been mended. It's in the passage. And as I said, for heaven's sake, be careful. He's armed and scared."

She kissed him. "Bless you, Benito Valdosta! I will be careful." She started to hurry with the tide of people.

He grabbed her shoulder. "Uh. Stella."

"Yes," she turned.

"He's also a bit drunk."

"I'll break his other leg for him!" she said, with cheerful savageness. "And you'd better go and find Maria. She'll be worried sick by now."

"Will you come on?" said the nymph, tapping her foot impatiently. Benito realized, as he hadn't in his preoccupation, that no one else seemed to notice his strange escort. Well, Marco said that the undine Juliette had done much the same thing to the audience in the church at Alessia's christening.