'Lorenzo, my lord. Lorenzo Utrelli Da Lomatra!'
'Yes, quite…' The boy had the innocent, doelike eyes of a pet fawn unaware that it was being massaged with marinade. Prince Mannicci heaved an unhappy little sigh. 'Yet, you must ask yourself, Lorenzo, just why you feel such a device to be useful?'
'Think of it, my lord. We could use my fall-breakers as a safety device… say, for the riders of hippogriffs.'
'But our hippogriff riders are already provided with magical protection for such a case.' The prince indicated an overflying squadron with a pained wave of his mace. 'A one-use ring of feather falling, in point of fact…'
'But at massive cost, my lord! Think of the savings offered by a mechanical device.'
The lad's mechanical device seemed to require a huge amount of silk, a fact which rather negated any claims to cheap production. Lorenzo felt his audience's interest waver, and desperately flicked on to other plans.
'Wait, my lord! If the sciences of the air don't interest you, then perhaps the study of heat? Surely a man of your education will be interested in this.' Lorenzo turned a gaze so powerful and full of fire upon the older men that they involuntarily fell back. 'I have here a design for a drill that uses heat to bore a hole through steel!'
Gilberto Ilego leaned forward with a look of cold concentration on his face. Lorenzo immediately stumbled onward with his inept sales technique.
'You see, my lords, the combination of these two chemicals creates an intense blaze of light. This light, I intend to focus using lenses like… like…' The boy's thoughts instantly conjured up an image of a short, freckled girl. '… like the lenses used in eye spectacles! This produces a beam of light-of heat-which can melt even the toughest steel.
'Imagine the benefits to industry, my lords! Handgun production would cheapen; we could use fire beams to drill holes into pure steel bar-stock! Smoke powder weapons would surely come into their own. We can use the beams to scribe delicate engravings… perhaps even to cut the finest mechanical parts…'
Captain Ilego viewed the drawings with a frown.
'And does this chemical combination reliably work?'
'Um… essentially. Essentially, yes!' The boy cleared his throat. 'The problem of explosion is a minor fault at best. Given enough funding, I am sure I can overcome the obstacles.'
A logical mind in a potential son-in-law may have been an advantage. An addled mind might be even more so; Prince Mannicci narrowed his eyes, measuring the possibilities.
As Mannicci sank into thought, Ilego flicked a calculating glance between his prince and the Lomatran boy. Blade Captain Ilego handed back the boy's drawings with a cool, predatory smile.
'Since Lorenzo is here with an ambassadorial mission, my lord prince, I'm sure his experiments can be encouraged for the duration of his stay. We can find him a workshop, perhaps. A place outside the city walls…'
'No. I believe we shall house him well within our palace. We might have business with him yet…'
'Oh! Oh, thank you, my lord!' Lorenzo flicked a glance toward the palace balcony, drawing in an inspired, dizzy breath as he helplessly searched for words. 'I shall not disappoint you.'
'Do as you like, boy. But no chemicals, and no jumping off any towers.' Not until he had safely married Miliana. 'We'd never explain it to your ambassador.'
'Oh, thank you, my lord! Thank you!' Lorenzo bobbed up and down like a toy spider on a string. 'M-my gratitude is… it's…'
Unable to think of proper superlatives, the boy could only open out his hands, finding out too late that Prince Mannicci had taken his chance and ridden fast away. Lorenzo scarcely noticed; looking over the troops, he saw a scrawny figure leaning over a distant balcony; a figure with a bored expression half hidden behind gleaming glass and a towering, pointed hat.
Lorenzo's thoughts were jarred by a cool hand descending upon his arm. Gilberto Ilego looked down at the boy with a reassuring, though somewhat crocodilian smile.
'Five hundred, I think.'
'My lord?' Lorenzo's mind wrenched itself from a dizzy flight through a vague and rosy fairy land. 'Five hundred?'
'Five hundred gold ducats. It should keep you supplied with experimental equipment during your stay.' Ilego drew a scented handkerchief from his belt and passed it under his nose. 'My bursar will honor any notes that you may write.'
Stunned, Lorenzo could only stare up at Ilego in utter awe. The Blade Captain turned his horse about and saluted with a wave.
'May your experiments prove to be a profit and a delight! Do avail me of your progress from time to time. After all, we are brothers, you and I. Intellectually speaking…'
The horse reared back in a splendid caracole, pumped the air with its hooves, and then was gone. Standing alone beneath the dusty olive tree, Lorenzo threw out his arms, shook his drawings in delight and felt his spirits soar.
Finally, a patron who knew the value of true science! No longer would Lorenzo be hounded out of house and home by angry relatives and enraged cleaning staff. Sumbria would be his launching place. After this, the whole world would remember the name Lorenzo Utrelli Da Lomatra!
In the Valley of Umbricci, in a sighing stand of grape vines beside a mountain stream, war-horses pawed the soil while armored riders sipped lightly at the local wines.
The Blade Council of Colletro prided itself on its sophistication and elegance. Twenty-one Blade Captains had come to coolly supervise the handing over of the campaign spoils. The gentlemen made a gay pretense of absolute disinterest, commenting on the savor of the local vintages, while behind them the fruits of two years hard campaigning were casually tossed away.
Sumbrian heralds came to take formal acceptance of signed articles of peace. The cheese platter came out in perfect timing to interest the Colletran nobility. Hardly sparing a glance toward their enemies, the Colletrans complimented one another on their armorers and tailors, or stared up at the clouds and languidly predicted rain.
From the black shadows of the mountains, another figure came: a man mounted on a sour, high-stepping hippogriff with feathers of charcoal-bronze. The hippogriff hissed at a noble's horse, baring its serrated beak in spite. The horse instantly retreated like a whipped cur, spilling its rider's wine across an immaculate silk tabard.
The hippogriff's rider wore a light armor of black, velvet-covered steel. While his hostile mount spread its wings and kept the other animals at bay, the rider slipped off his barbute helmet and savaged the assembled nobles with his gaze.
Almost ignoring the man's entrance, Colletro's Blade Council continued with its wine and cheese. Curbing nervous mounts, the riders refreshed their glasses and finally bid their colleague a good day.
'Ugo Svarezi, why how good of you to come.' A young, slim Blade Captain let his words drip with practiced irony. 'We have so missed your refreshingly innovative conversation.'
Faces quirked up into wry, venomous little smiles. For his part, Svarezi ignored the voices all around him as he would scorn the prattle of brainless little birds. Coldly leaning forward in his saddle, the man turned dark eyes toward the valley floor.
'Three villages, a salt mine-and now the Sun Gem, too. The pride of Colletro, tossed into the dust. For fear of a few sword cuts, Colletran honor is pawned.'
Svarezi's speech was met with looks of amused, defensive scorn; his voice rang harsh from shouting across endless parade grounds-a voice more fit for a fishmonger than a courtier. Prince Ricardo, dark, lean, and polished by a lifetime of diplomatic maneuvers, laid an armored hand upon the arm of an angry colleague and turned patient eyes to his rebellious captain.
'The laws of war, Blade Captain Svarezi, work for all of us. This year, Colletro has lost; next year, our armies shall triumph again. You must learn to see these minor setbacks as merely part of a larger game.'
'A game.' Ugo Svarezi turned to reveal a battered, savage face with skin as pale as carrion bone. 'A game has an end. This-this yearly posturing has no purpose except its own continuance. To preserve the game, you have lost sight of its final goal!'
'Ah.' The prince held out a hand and felt it filled with a chilled glass of wine. 'And what, pray tell, is our unremembered goal?'
