This Rough Magic

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.

She led him to the cliff. The hagfish had broken away part of the concealing tree, and Benito could see the cave. 'I can go with water-flow. You will have to climb up there.'

The limestone was wet. The handholds and footholds were tiny and rounded. It didn't matter a damn to Benito. He kicked off his boots, and began to climb. Reaching the cave, he wondered for a moment just where to go. The cave was dark. But then he realized that all he had to do was follow his ears.

A hundred heartbeats later he was holding and comforting a small, cold, wet child against his wet but exertion-warm body. 'Why in hell didn't you dry her?' he snapped at the two nymphs.

'We don't know much about human babies.'

'What sort of gratitude is this?' demanded the other crossly.

Benito sighed. 'Look, I'm sorry. I thank both of you. Now I must dry her, warm her up, and find her mother. What was she doing here?'