Demon Knight

them in the Don Ramon Company itself, but theories never won wars. Men did, good men. D'Amboise, Simonetta, and della Sizeranne had all accepted his invitation and were marching north with their troops. When they arrived, he would have to warn them that he was out of favor in Florence. He was certain that none of them would choose to serve under the don.

As Antonio and his recruits departed, Chancellor Campbell arrived with Brother Bartolo and Sorghaghtani — plus, of course, Chabi, who swirled down from the sky and flattered Toby by choosing his shoulder to perch on. She gave the back of his doublet a token of her affection, too. These were the Company's Intelligence Arm, but their subdued manner as they settled round the table told him that they had no significant news to report.

'Well?' Toby demanded. 'It is almost April. The roads are dry in the north. The passes are open. Which way is he coming?'

Hamish grimaced, making his narrow features seem almost wolfish. 'I don't know! As of five days ago, there was still utter, absolute, outright nothing. I'm sorry, Toby. Demons, I'm sorry! I'm doing everything I can!'

'You expect me to shoot you? If you don't know, you don't know.'

Hamish had posted agents at the mouth of every Alpine pass to talk with travelers. Doubtless they reported what they had learned as promptly as they could, but all of them were stationed at least five days away from Florence and some even farther. The first word to arrive might be a report that Nevil's army was already entering Italy.

Hamish sighed. 'You want a guess, I'll give you a guess. It's going to be the Brenner again.'

'Well, we know that country. Why the Brenner?'

'Because traders are going north and almost none are coming south. Either there's a dragon eating them in there, or Nevil's shut off the north end of the pass. And the only reason to do that is to hide an army.'

'Or weather,' Bartolo remarked gently. The friar's face was still as round as a full moon, but it had lost much of its old jollity. 'Bad roads in Austria, floods on the Danube. And the Tyroleans may not be cooperating.' Tyrol had been horribly mauled by Schweitzer. The survivors could not stop another army, but they could tear up the road and throw down bridges.

'So what have you learned?' Hamish demanded grumpily. 'Tell me where Nevil's mustering, and I'll tell you what passes he'll come by. What about the Swiss?'

The fat man spread his fat hands in a sort of shrug. 'My correspondents north of the Alps report no massing of troops. Either Nevil has decided to wait until later in the year, or he is masking his movements with gramarye.'

Toby looked to the inscrutable shaman. He wondered how the girl — he had concluded that she was little more than a child — how she managed not to cook inside that monstrous heap of cloth. Every day she rearranged the beads and lace and replaced some of the dangling vegetation. She moved panels of cloth around, too. It was a strange way to change one's clothes, but she was the strangest person he had ever met.

'Well, Sorghaghtani? Can the Fiend hide a whole army?'

'How many demons does he have? Is there anything you cannot do if you have enough demons?'

'Are you telling me I have to plan on fighting an invisible army?'

'Even if he can hide from the friar's clerks, how can he hide from spirits, Little One? Can he hide from Chabi, who sees all?'

'Do you keep watch on the passes?'

'You think an owl can fly so far?'

He was adjusting to her maddening speech, in that it now annoyed him only about half the time. This was one of the times, but she obviously meant that the Alps were beyond her range.

'Maestro Fischart once spoke of putting a demon watch on the passes.'

'Who will give me the demons?' she snapped. 'Even if he did leave a casket full of them in the adytum, what are their names, mm? Who will tell me that?'

Toby shook his head. However skilled Sorghaghtani was, she could not compare with the baron for raw power. She was now very popular with the men, because she would accept no fees for healing and could cure the Spanish Pox just by playing her drum. Tutelaries assigned severe penances for the pox. Her evening consultations always drew long lineups outside the adytum.

'And the Swiss?' Hamish asked again.

This time the friar's shrug was even larger, a huge heaving of meat. 'Like the Tyroleans, they will harass the Fiend as much as they can but cannot hope to deny him passage.'

Toby growled in frustration. 'Will they join in the battles, though? Will they even come to the conclave?'

This time Brother Bartolo just shrugged.

* * *

The prince had belatedly given permission for the conclave to proceed, beginning on the first of April. Arrangements were Arnaud Villars's responsibility, and before Toby had read a third of the papers Hamish and Bartolo had left for him, in stormed Arnaud in a typical frenzy, tearing his beard. It was amazing how that furry jungle survived his continual tantrums.

'Money!' he roared. The dieci were already behind in payments. That was to be expected. Veteran mercenaries were surprised when their pay wasn't in arrears.

'Prices!' he howled. Horses were going for more than five hundred florins. The cost of wheat, of barley, of wine…

'The conclave!' he screamed. The darughachi had invited every knight and archer and man-at-arms in all Italy. The villa would not hold them, there was no place to feed them, and the Company was expected to pay for everything…

Toby listened sympathetically because being a scratching post was part of his job. The big Gascon was merely venting his frustration on a target he could not damage instead of taking out his feelings on his subordinates. The last time this happened had been two days ago, and then Toby had assured his treasurer of his continuing support and confidence and reliance. This time, for a change, he waited until the fires had died down a little and then laughed. Arnaud fell silent and began turning purple.

'Pardon me, old friend! I've seen you worked up too often. Oftentimes I've talked you out of strangling people — haven't I?'

'Certainly not! Well, maybe. Once or twice.'

'More than that. You always tell me that the world is about to end, and you always solve the problems on your own. Always! Now, what are you going to do this time?'

Glowering, Arnaud began to list the measures he was planning to take, such as moving tents to Cafaggiolo for sleeping quarters. He had hardly begun when—

'Ah, there you are, Constable Longdirk!' The countess swished into the courtyard in a haze of russet-and- purple silk.

The men exchanged fraught glances, then rose and bowed low.

'I need a word with you, Sir Tobias — alone?' That aloneness would not exclude Lisa, of course, who had come scowling along at her mother's heel in a yellowy green robe and was illuminating the courtyard like a goddess.

Realizing that he was gawking at her, Toby swung his attention back to her awesome mother. 'Pray speak freely, my lady. Treasurer Villars understands no English.'

He registered his folly as soon as the words were out, for the countess had had dealings with Arnaud, and he, being a Gascon, spoke better English than Toby did. Fortunately, he never did so from choice, and the countess's failure to react showed that he must have forced her to converse in French. She dismissed him from consideration.

'Constable…' She did not presume to sit, so everyone remained standing, but she was displaying an uncharacteristic lack of confidence. 'Constable, tell me how you expect… how you see events unfolding in the next few months.'

'Months? I cannot see months, my lady. I expect the Fiend's armies to invade Italy within two or three weeks. Armies loyal to the Khan will oppose him and, hopefully, will deal with Nevil as we dealt with his flunky Schweitzer.'

The lady was not pleased. She squeezed her lips together. 'Under whose leadership?'