This Rough Magic

'Well . . .' Pierre began, then nodded. 'You know, you're right. But we did weaken him considerably, and this may be all he can mount.'

'We weakened his instrument, Pierre,' Francis pointed out. 'We never touched Chernobog himself. He can always get new instruments.'

'My thought exactly,' Lopez replied, with a frown. 'So why this halfhearted try at stopping us?'

'Because we aren't as important as we think we are?' Pierre replied.

'Your humility is appreciated, Pierre, but—' He thought a moment. 'But Chernobog would assign an importance to us out of all proportion to how we actually rate in the Lord's grand scheme,' Lopez said firmly. 'We hurt him. We hurt his mortal vessel, physically, and we hurt his pride—and pride, as you well know, Brothers, is highly cherished among the dark ones. No, I think there must be another answer.'

'He's dividing his attention?' Pierre hazarded into the silence.

Eneko nodded. 'I think it must be. He is confined to a mortal vessel, and has limitations imposed by that confinement. At the moment, something is occupying his attention that is far more important to him than we are.'

Francis snorted. 'Well, I, for one, am going to consider that a blessing!' He turned and strode off up the road, leaving the rest to follow.

But it was Pierre who voiced precisely what was troubling Lopez, as he nudged his mule with his heels, and sent it after Francis.

'If there is something more important to Chernobog than we are, what is it?' he asked aloud. 'Why haven't we heard anything about it, and why haven't the Grand Metropolitan's seers gotten any hint of it?'

'Why, indeed?' asked Lopez, and sent his mule after Pierre's. 'Whatever it is, I fear it will come from a direction that none of us can anticipate.'

 

Chapter 16

'She's beautiful! Oh, she's so cute!' Kat peered into the crib at the baby.

Maria yawned. 'She's asleep. That is beautiful enough for me right now.'

'She's so tiny! Oh, look at those little fingers.'

Maria snorted, but fondly. 'You should hear her yell. There's nothing tiny about her lungs. She yelled almost the whole way here to Venice, on the ship. Then I took her to see Umberto's sister to talk about the christening, and the baby screamed at her. You're lucky. Umberto's sister didn't seem to think much of being bellowed at. I thought she'd refuse to be a godmother, and Umberto particularly wanted her to be.'

'I insist on being one of her godmothers,' said Kat loyally. 'And whether he likes it or not, Marco is being the godfather.'

Maria smiled. 'You're not losing any time putting your foot down, are you?'

Kat smiled back. 'Start as you mean to go on. When and where will the ceremony be? At the Chapel at St. Hypatia di Hagia Sophia?'

'We haven't arranged it yet. Father Pasquari, the priest who married us, has died since. But we just need a small place. There'll only be a few friends.'

'I'll talk to Marco,' said Kat firmly. 'We have a wedding to arrange. Let him arrange this. He's very good friends with Brother Mascoli of St. Raphaella.'

Maria smiled. 'That's a canalers' church. He's a good man, is old Mascoli.'

The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea. Small, intimate, and none of her friends would feel uncomfortable, as they might in St. Hypatia's.

'Marco will arrange it.'

* * *

Petro Dorma blew across his steepled fingers.

'Of course a desire to please the Holy Roman Emperor must be a major factor. But . . . well. I'd have to clear a couple of great galleys. It's not just the entourage, Manfred, it's the horses, and at such short notice. The merchants are going to howl. The Republic of Venice is not like the Empire. The Case Vecchie are all engaged in the trade. I wish you were prepared to take carracks instead.'

When Manfred and Erik and Eberhard had been admitted to the Doge's private working chambers earlier, he'd been delighted to see them. 'You've arrived in Venice just in time for Marco and Kat's wedding!'

Now that they were asking to hire vessels to transport them to the Holy Land . . . he looked as if he'd just drunk a large draft of vinegar.

'The Outremer convoy leaves in less than three weeks. Even deck-space is bespoke.'

From the corner of the room a stocky young man spoke up. 'What about the four galleys that are in the Arsenal, Petro? The ones that are going to Cyprus? They should be finished by the end of March.'

Manfred recognized the lad; it was the hooligan who had taken part in the raid on the Casa Dandelo slavers, which Manfred and Erik had participated in. The one who'd been in jail for supposedly killing the priest. Manfred had been properly introduced to young Benito Valdosta as Dorma's ward after Venice had been rescued, but now, suddenly, the connection made itself clear. Then he'd been dressed like a beggar-brat. Now he was dressed as a Venetian noble. But a twist of expression as he'd looked at Manfred had let him place the face.

Petro nodded. 'It's an idea.' He turned back to Manfred. 'Would you consider remaining on in Venice for a