This Rough Magic

'True,' said Francesca, in an absolutely level voice that conveyed as much by its evenness as her normally expressive tones did. 'Unfortunately, the Senate did not vote the captain-general a budget to allow siege provisions for the people of Kerkira. Or so my little Greek informant told me.'

Manfred bit his knuckle. 'Are you telling me this ass is planning not to feed them? They outnumber his troops, oh, nine to one, and he's not going to feed them?'

'Fortunately the podesta prevailed on him that this would be foolish. They'll be issued a ration. Smaller than the Venetians, of course. There is no love lost between the locally stationed Venetians and the Greeks.'

Manfred shook his head. 'How do you find all this out so quickly, Francesca? Here we are sitting on a powder keg waving slow-matches and I thought it was quite safe!'

She smiled demurely. 'It is because I am just a woman, and not a soldier.'

'You're not ever going to let me forget that, are you?' grumbled Manfred. Insofar as a man could grumble while grinning.

She chucked him under the chin. 'No. But I am also not going to let you forget that many more fortresses fall by treachery than by strength of arms. And this fortress, with its divided populace, is probably in more danger than most.'

Manfred's eyes narrowed. 'It sounds like the captain-general is going to have to go. That could be difficult.'

'It's difficult from more than one direction. The Corfiotes themselves reciprocate the feelings the Venetians have about them. They won't cooperate unless their lives are in direct danger.' Francesca smiled gleefully. 'To think I thought I would be bored during this siege! Manfred, between Eberhard and myself, we will manage the captain- general and keep an eye on the locals. The actual commander of the garrison is quite young, but a better soldier, apparently. Relax. Erik wouldn't be any good at this sort of thing anyway. He might as well go and look for his Svanhild.'

She looked consideringly at Benito. 'You, however, would probably be very useful here, because—'

She broke off, cocking her head a little. 'What is happening out there?'

They went out, following the people who were streaming to see what the commotion was about.

The strait was full of sails. Emeric's cannon and the rest of his army had arrived.

 

Chapter 40

Capitano Da Castres pointed out something else, glumly, quietly: a hulk under tow. 'My dapper friend Bortaliscono won't be going to comfort my wife after all.'

Benito realized the implication of the burned and battered remains of the great galley. Those messages would not be getting back to Venice by sea. Of course, there was still a chance that the other vessel might have escaped and headed for Rome. But Benito had his doubts of Capitano Selvi, who, if he had managed to evade the blockade, was probably halfway to the Arabic emirates or the Khanates by now.

He turned to Manfred. 'If Erik is going to go . . . this means he has to go tonight.'

Manfred nodded. 'True. By nightfall, Emeric's men will already be getting those cannon into action. By tomorrow night, they will keep up the bombardment. Sneaking out thereafter will be nigh impossible. I'll go and talk to him.'

'Also, I think I'd better go with him.'

Manfred shook his head. 'Francesca wants you here.'

Benito took a deep breath, and began his plea. He knew he would have a very limited time to convince Manfred of what he needed to do before it was too late to do it.

'I believe I can get a message back to Venice, Manfred. Francesca is capable of all of her schemes without a little guy like me. I'd rather stay and fight. I'd rather go out with Erik and organize guerillas. But I believe my duty to Venice, to Petro Dorma, is to get back to Venice. Magicians can send word to the fleets, warning them. Venice itself can prepare to relieve Corfu. I believe I've got an idea of how it could be done, without going through the Balkans.'

Francesca nodded and smiled. 'If you could do that, it would be worth more to us than your skills in fraternizing with lowlifes would be.'

'Ha. How come I can't do the fraternizing with lowlifes while Erik is away?' protested Manfred, assuming an expression of hurt. 'I've got years of experience!'

Francesca smiled. 'Because as a leadership figure we need the people, all the people, to look up to you.'

'Spoilsport!' muttered Manfred. 'Mind you, Benito mentioned an option I hadn't even thought of: Eneko Lopez.' Manfred grinned. 'Maybe we can keep your low-life fraternizer here after all. If the clerics can send magical word, the taverns of the Citadel will not have to lose such a valued customer.'

* * *

Eneko Lopez shook his head tiredly. 'No. Magically we are hamstrung. We have tried, repeatedly, together and separately, to invoke the guardian archangels of the cardinal points. One simply does not respond. The angels did . . . once, for a minor magic. Since then we have failed.'

Eneko sighed and rubbed his eyes. 'I do not know what magical knowledge you have, but this is fundamental. We must operate behind our protections. As well for a knight to go into battle having forgotten to armor himself. Still, we ventured on a harmless minor spell to see what would happen. A blessing on the flowers around the church. Magic has a feel to it, Manfred. This was like wading through thigh-deep mud. There is something here, about this place . . . not so much opposition to us, as a simple resistance. In the end, the magic we worked was words. Merely words, nearly without substance.'

'Chernobog?' asked Manfred, thinking of the terrible powers they had defeated in Venice. 'Or something like