This Rough Magic

when the insurgents have attacked the forces we have there.'

'But the island grows drier. Lack of water must be affecting them.'

General Krovoko nodded. 'What we really is need a safe place to rest our men. This campaign of raids and ambushes . . . it's wearing them down, Sire.'

Emeric looked thoughtful, but offered no comment.

The Magyar cavalryman pointed to the map. 'We can land men here, on the mainland, near this lake. Make a base for accumulating supplies and let the troops rest. We have more men than we need for the siege, and less than we need to hold siege and subdue the island. They'll be safe from the Venetians or even Corfiotes.'

The Narenta pirate captain muttered in his dialect. It was, by the tone, something derisive.

Emeric looked coldly at him. 'What was that?'

The pirate captain looked uneasy, but stood his ground. 'I said that would be escaping from an angry cat into the lion's den. That is Iskander Beg's land. The Lord of the Mountains will not like it.'

Emeric pinched his lips into a harsh line. 'He doesn't have to like it. I've tried to contact him, to reach an agreement with the bandit. Well, he doesn't wish to treat with me. I would have preferred to bring my men here by land, but the mountains have too many places where ambushes are easy. But the land next to the lake is gentle. With the lake behind us, the sea in front, this should be an easy strip to hold. I like the idea. See to it, General. It will act as one side to the pincer I want to work on the coastal strip. I'll leave the bandit chief to his mountains. We'll hold the lowlands from here to Montenegro in the next few years.

'Now onto other affairs. We must press the attack on the Citadel hard now. Let drought take the rest of the island.'

'We've walled and entrenched the moles,' said Dragorvich. 'The troops can move forward protected. The front wall is crumbling. Give us another two weeks' cannonade, Sire. A determined push will take the first curtain wall.'

'You can have a few weeks. I want them pounded into submission. At the end of February—or at the latest, early March—we must be in. The Venetians will doubtless make something of a push in the spring with whatever ships they have ready. We'll want at least three weeks to repair and reequip the Citadel against that attack.'

* * *

'We're down to third-rations.' It was so dry that Maria and the other horta gatherers were not finding much to gather. Winter was not the best time for wild greens anyway, but there had always been something. . . .

But with this many women, and a restricted area to hunt in, it was getting less easy by the day. The sound of the cannons was by now such a normal part of the background noise, that it was only its stopping that they would have noticed. The attack on the walls now was relentless. The Hungarians had so increased their forward positions and fortifications that they could sally and attack the walls repeatedly with relative impunity. Food ships and water carts arrived for them each day. Here inside it was relentless starvation and less in the water ration by the day. Maria's biggest worry was having milk for Alessia. Two of the other women's breasts had already dried up. Too little water. Too little food. Alessia now weighed less than she had two months ago.

Maria could not weep for Umberto anymore; she dared not waste the water on tears. What would she do if her milk dried up? It was a constant nagging fear.

* * *

'I know it's risky,' said Benito, irritably. 'But we're on our last legs here. If we actually knew when they were coming, it would make the world of difference. Come, Eneko. Please.'

The cleric nodded, wearily. 'Very well. We'll try again.'

But there was no response.

* * *

Marco had an almost overpowering compulsion to make contact with his brother. But both Mascoli and the Strega sage Du Catres who sailed with them advised against it. They had, to be precise, forbidden it utterly. Marco had insisted on going on this voyage. 'They'll need healers and food more than soldiers,' he'd said. Finally Doge Dorma had given permission for him to go. Under conditions. The first was the shield of mages who accompanied him. The second was that Kat remained in Venice, at least until the siege was lifted. Dorma made it very clear that he would prefer it to be until Marco returned.

* * *

The priestess looked at the half-almond on the altar, and wondered. There was only one candidate. She had explained everything, as best she could. She had instructed, without demanding, without, as far as she could tell, even hinting. The candidate must choose of her own free will; that was the law. But would she? Would she even see the need?

She must. She must. Or they would all die here. Perhaps, even, the Goddess, and the Cold God.

Yes. Perhaps even them.

 

 

PART XV March, 1540 a.d.

Chapter 96