Demon Knight

prince should, usually in the company of the new suzerain and his future bride. The Florentines drew comfort from their leaders' courage and resolution, not dreaming that their city had become the Fiend's primary objective. There was no word of Don Ramon and the Company cavalry, but the dieci never asked why he had disobeyed orders.

Under the best conditions, seven leagues a day would grind down the toughest, best-trained army very quickly. Nevil was famous for forced marches that left a trail of dead men and horses by the roadside. When his western army reached Lucca and turned aside to advance up the Arno, he struck with the eastern force down the old Roman road through the Apennines. Toby had been wrong on only one detail — the Fiend did not destroy Bologna. In his haste to close the trap around Florence, he left it intact.

The Chevalier was reported to have died of his wounds in Milan, but he had never been relevant. Sartaq made no move to replace him.

* * *

As the last day of April dawned, Toby came limping back to Giovanni's inn, which now acted as the Company's casa. From long habit he shared a room with Hamish, and let him have the bed. He himself seemed to have no time for sleep at all anymore. He had been up all night and most of the previous night, supervising the final preparations. As he stripped and began organizing a shave, he was so tired that the world would not stay in focus.

Hamish duly sat up and rubbed his eyes. 'I've seen you before somewhere, haven't I?'

'Not recently. Do you happen to remember my name? It seems to have slipped my mind.'

'Genghis Caesar.' Hamish yawned, stretched, scratched, and reached for his shirt. 'Don't throw away that water. Anything happen in the night?'

'Half a dozen scouts disappeared. Got too close and were eaten by demons, I expect. He'll be here before noon.' Razor in hand, Toby turned to peer at his friend. 'As of half an hour ago, the Siena road is still open. Nevil's trying to cut it; he's got a column of light cavalry heading across country to San Gimignano. He thinks they're masked by gramarye, but Sorghie found them. They're not there yet, so why don't you go while the going's good? I'm sure Sartaq will make a break for it and take Lisa with him.'

Hamish leaned back on his elbows and studied his friend with a curious expression. 'Do you think I'd do that?'

'No. But I wish you would.'

'Well I won't. And I don't think Sartaq will, either. Or Marradi. You've got the people convinced that Florence can hold out indefinitely. You're the famous Longdirk, who's never been beaten. Everyone's persuaded you have something up your sleeve, that Naples and Milan and the others are marching to the rescue.'

Nauseated, Toby went back to shaving. 'I never told anyone that! It's Sartaq, spirits forgive him! Keeping up morale is one thing, but holding people here for no real purpose when the city is doomed — that's criminal!'

'Have you said that to anyone but me?' Hamish pulled on his hose.

'Of course not. It would cause a panic. But I don't tell lies, either.' He couldn't if he tried. His face would never deceive a blind horse.

Hamish chuckled. 'Doomed, you say?'

'Doomed. I don't lie to you, friend.'

'Toby!' Hamish had to be very excited for his voice to squeak like that. 'Be serious! You do have something up your sleeve, don't you? It's the amethyst, isn't it? You've learned Rhym's true name!'

Toby forced himself to turn and look him in the eye. 'No. No true name. Nothing up my sleeve. I swear.'

Dawning belief made Hamish's lips curl back in horror. 'You must have! I've never known you to obey stupid orders before!'

'I'd never promised to obey them before. This time I did. I have no choice.' Toby went back to shaving, having to stare at that failure peering at him out of the mirror.

'Toby!' Even squeakier. 'We've been friends for years. You can trust me!'

'I do trust you. Hamish, I swear I have no secret plans. I can see no way out of this. Nevil is going to sack Florence. We are going to die. That is the honest truth, upon my soul. I'd prefer you didn't tell anyone else, please.'

After a moment's silence, Hamish said, 'I won't breathe a word until after the wedding.'

Toby almost chopped off his nose. 'That's still on?' He had forgotten. This must be the last day of April.

'Yes, it's still on. And we're both invited.'

'Well!' Toby said. 'Why not?'

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Toby Longdirk was a military genius, but he had some curious limitations. For weeks he had been striding around Florence, organizing the defenses to resist a siege, grinning all the time as if this were tremendous fun, laughing away fears, winking knowingly when asked what was going to happen. Then he professed surprise that people trusted him to work a miracle! He had complained to Hamish a thousand times that he was a lousy liar, when in fact his face was less scrutable than a badly eroded Etruscan terra-cotta funeral monument.

But he did have something up his sleeve. He must have something up his sleeve! Hamish could not believe otherwise.

Now he insisted that Lisa's wedding had to be a diversion, a decoy. The Marradis, he said, having made grandiose preparations for a royal marriage and convinced the whole city that it would go ahead as planned, would vanish before the first guests arrived. Sartaq would flee with them, and it was just to be hoped that they would have the grace to take Lisa and her mother and not abandon them to the Fiend's ghastly spite.

Hamish disagreed adamantly. He had been prying, as was his wont, and although all his efforts had failed to win him a single word with Lisa, he was personally convinced that the Magnificent was going to do exactly what he said he would do — marry Lisa and remain in Florence. Prince Sartaq was not going to sneak out any back doors either. Nor were the priori. The truth was that all those men were just as much under Longdirk's spell as the lowliest weaver. If comandante Longdirk was not worried, then neither were they. Toby had an astonishing air of permanence, an indestructibility that inspired absolute faith. The Fiend's armies were closing in on the town — by nightfall they would have it in their grip — and Pietro Marradi was going to get married regardless.

Hamish was not going to miss the wedding. This would be his last chance ever to speak to Lisa, probably his last chance ever to see her. The Fiend and all his horrors were not going to stop that.

'You'd better catch some sleep,' he said. 'You look as if you haven't shut your eyes in days. You're out on your feet.'

Toby shrugged. 'I'll sleep some other year. Food and then duty — but if nothing goes horribly wrong, I'll come to the wedding, I promise.'

After they had eaten, they went their separate ways.

* * *

Just before noon, the Fiend's army came to Florence with bugles and drumbeats, dust and glitter, men and horses streaming down from the hills. Fiesole was burning, and the city gates had been closed. Another column of dust to the west showed where the army from Lucca was hastening up the Arno to join in the siege. The mood in the streets was one of shock and denial. No one had expected this, or not so soon. Even Hamish, who had been privy to all the intelligence reports, had trouble believing that it was really happening.

When he went back to the inn to change, he found Toby there already, having another shave. If he opened his eyes wide he would bleed to death, but apparently he intended to keep his promise.

What could be more reassuring to the citizens than seeing their betters whooping up a celebration and ignoring the nonsense outside the walls?

* * *