Eric Flint - Much Fall Of Blood

" And if there is no fleet in Dniepr bay? What becomes of our bargain then?" asked Admiral Doria.

"We will honor them," said Petro. He knew that Venice was unlikely to prove forgiving if this was indeed a false alarm. Doges had been unseated before, especially as a result of costly and unsuccessful military adventures. But he would honor his bargains. He could only hope that whoever came after him had the common sense to abide by it also.

He had great faith in Eneko Lopez, however, and did not think that this would turn into a false alarm. Besides, there were several other reports from Venice's agents, both in the Black Sea, and more particularly in Constantinople. This just added a final bit of weight to those reports.

Suddenly Admiral Doria began to chuckle. "I foresee that you will have great problems with my old enemy, Admiral Douro."

Petro coughed. "We have taken some small steps in that direction. A fast galleass has been dispatched. I have recalled a young and very able commander from Corfu."

Enrico Dell'este turned to him sharply. "Benito! What do you wish to do, Petro? Put hot coals down Admiral Douro's breeches? Benito nearly drove him mad in the Arsenal."

"Well, yes, but he has habit of getting his own way," said Petro Dorma. "Benito fights to win. He will not let things like petty rivalries stand in his way. And the sailors who sailed with him before, will, it appears, follow him to hell and back. If he says that the fleet will sail under the Genoese flag, then not many men will disagree."

Admiral Doria raised his eyebrows. "This is young Benito Valdosta?"

Duke Enrico nodded. "My grandson." There was more than a trace of pride in his voice. "He is something of a hooligan. But a good leader of men."

"And my brother," added Marco, a little defensively.

"I have heard of his… ah, adventures." Admiral Doria sounded a bit dubious.

"He is a great deal more respectable these days," said Petro Dorma, smiling. "Although not everyone believes that. It's quite a reputation to try to live up to. So we like to keep him out of the way on a nice quiet island until we need him."

Elizabeth Bartholdy was in a towering rage. Whip in hand she stood astride the dwarf's recumbent body. "You fool! How could you let him escape?"

Ficzko whimpered.

"Answer me!" she shrieked. But he was beyond answering anyone. The only footman that remained cowered back against the wall. The others had all set off on foot after the horses. The remaining footman looked as if he would very much like to join them.

As abruptly as Elizabeth had lost her temper, she recovered it. She turned to the footman. "Put him in the carriage."

Gingerly he picked the small man up.

"On the floor, not on the seat," she said. "Then go and procure me a private chamber in that inn. I will need nine candles." She did not explain what she would need the candles for. But then, as he had been in her service for some years, he could probably guess.

In truth, she was more furious with herself than she was with her little henchman. She had heard them playing their vile music in Buda. They masked themselves well by pretending to be gypsies, but she knew them for what they were. She should have realized that it was some kind of spell. A summoning of some sort.

Why had he been so proof against her magics? He had seemed the simplest of men, yet somehow he had resisted her. That was extremely unusual. She had not wished to use the full force of her powers on him. But next time… Next time, she would bind him. Both with physical chains and with the spells of binding, of lust, and of her other strengths, pain and blood. Now she must perform workings in order to track him.

The footman returned. "The chamber has been prepared for you, My Lady. I could only get you tallow dips. This is a poor place. It is all they had."

She tossed the whip back inside the carriage. She was aware of watching eyes peeping around the coarse drapes. They would have watched her beat the dwarf. They would suspect what she was going to do in that chamber, and they would perhaps balk at her demand for a suitable sacrifice. She cared little for their knowledge of her activities. Such small and poor folk could do nothing to her. Yes, her activities here would feed rumor, but that already existed. She had the power and the influence to override any consequences it might cause-and the rumors also sent her recruits.

She reached into the carriage. A little blood would do for a minor working. She would just have to summon a suitable sacrifice. She drew her hand across Ficzko's back, which came back sufficiently red. She muttered a minor cantrip. That would keep him loyal, despite the beating. The dwarf was useful to her. He was one of her oldest cohorts, entrapped by desperate feelings of inadequacy both about his size and his sexual prowess. He had been a willing and, indeed, an eager participant in her activities. He enjoyed the power. Perhaps that came from being so small.

In her other hand, she took the cushion that Vlad had been leaning on. An item of clothing would have been better, but she had to make do with what was available. Then she went inside to the low-beamed room and drew the drapes. She had no need of light to set up the circle of tallow dips, and to prepare to call the inn's cat. She stationed the footman at the door. She could open a window for the victim.

Later, while she washed her hands in the basin she had had the footmen fetch-the little brute had scratched her-she pondered the information that she had gathered. The direction scarcely surprised her. The distance did. And so did the fleeting image of a vast gray wolf. It occurred to her then, that they too had betrayed themselves. She had hoped-indeed all of Count Mindaug's researches had led her to believe-that Vlad would be the perfect bait for the ancient creature that she wished to entrap. If anything, the changers had proved that. Now all she had to do was to catch him and hold him. It was a game of cat-she looked at the body of the sacrificial animal-and mouse. She would enjoy that. And she might even enjoy playing with the little mouse for a while.

They were games that she had had more practice at than anyone else. She had had more time to perfect them. Her hands crooked briefly into claws. Yes, she would enjoy playing with them and she would make the game last; tease them with pain and with hope, even though they had no chance of escape. As for the lupines and their powers, she must get Count Mindaug to research the problem. He had managed to bring the greater part of his extensive library with him. Elizabeth had always disliked books, preferring to follow her researches with assistance from the bargain that she had made, but she would acknowledge that there was value hidden in those dusty tomes. She just preferred someone else to extract it.

Unlike Count Mindaug, she could think of nothing more dull than that vast repository in Alexandria although it did sound as if she would enjoy the rest of that city. One day she might even go and visit the fabled jewel of the Nile delta. Later, when she had finished this current business.

Maria was standing outside on the battlements of the Castel a Terra-it was one of little Alessia's favorite walks-when she saw Manfred and Erik come up the hill from the newly anchored galleys. They were not hard to recognize. White blonde heads such as Erik's were rare, and so were people of Manfred's bulk. She smiled and took the now sleepy child back to their apartments in the vast castle complex.

She had been very sad to leave the house that she had shared with Umberto. But practicalities had dictated. The house was part of the living given to whoever was in charge of the little Arsenal. Spare houses were few in the citadel. It would have been unfair to deprive the new master sent out by Venice. Yet there were ample accommodations in both the Castel a Terra and the Castel a Mar. The governor traditionally lived in the Castel a Mar, but that had a tunnel that led into the caves in which the island's age-old Goddess temple was hidden. Benito, she was sure, had engineered matters so that all the possible apartments in the Castel a Mar were either more inconvenient for his work and ill-suited to Alessia's comfort, or were occupied by people whom she would have felt guilty to have him evict.