“There are no people in the Perto Veto,” he said. “Only vermin. Even if someone here bothered to tell the tale, no one would listen.”
“A pity,” a new voice said. “For this tale shall have an interesting ending.”
“Cazio!” Austra cried.
Anne didn’t look—she could not take her gaze from the tip of Erieso’s sword, and she knew Cazio’s voice well enough by now.
“And who in the name of Lord Ondro are you?” Erieso asked.
“Why, I’m Cazio Pachiomadio da Chiovattio, and I’m the protector of these two casnaras,” he said. “And this is turning out to be a fine day, for I have someone to protect them from. I only wish you were not so clearly cowards—it cheapens my joy. But, no matter.”
Anne heard steel snick free of leather.
“Caspator,” Cazio said, speaking to his sword, “let’s us to work.”
“There’s six of us, you fool,” Erieso said.
Anne heard a quick motion behind her, a gasp, a gurgle.
“You count poorly,” Cazio said. “I make only five. Anne, Austra, come back. Quickly.”
Anne did as he instructed, nearly brushing Cazio as he slid past her, his sword held out in a level guard.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
Now the women were cheering. The fellow Cazio had already run through was dragging himself pitifully off the street as the swordsman engaged Erieso and the rest of his men. Anne wasn’t fooled by Cazio’s bravado, though—five were too many, even for him. As soon as they surrounded him . . .
But he showed little concern, fighting languidly, almost as if he were bored. He danced in, out, around, and for a moment actually had his opponents standing in a clump, all defending themselves at the same time.
But then their advantage sank in, and they began to flank him. Cazio parried one attack and did a strange sort of twist, binding up his opponent’s blade and forcing the point out to the side, where it pricked another of Erieso’s men. At the same time, Cazio’s point drove hard into his original target’s shoulder. Both men cried out and backed away, but neither seemed mortally injured.
“Za uno-en-dor,” Cazio told them, “my own invention. I—”
He broke off to parry a furious attack by Erieso, then quickly ducked a thrust from another quarter. He scuttled back, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid a third thrust, which hit him in the left shoulder. Cazio grunted and grabbed the blade to hold it there, but didn’t have time to run the fellow through, for they were all converging on him again.
“Cazio!” Austra cried in pure anguish.
Then a bottle struck one of the men in the head, bursting his ear into a red mess.
Anne looked to see who had thrown it and discovered around thirty men of the neighborhood standing behind her, armed with knives and wooden clubs.
One of them was Ospero. He flicked his thumb at Erieso.
“You there!” Ospero grated. “What do you want with these girls?”
Erieso’s lips tightened. “That’s my business.”
“You’re in the Perto Veto, pretty boy. That makes it our business.”
Erieso’s able men had withdrawn to stand near him. One held his ear, and blood flowed between his fingers. Anne suddenly felt as if she were caught between a pair of lions.
Erieso’s face worked through several expressions before he finally sighed. “That one, the one with red hair. She’s betrothed to Prince Latro, but the stupid little catella is smitten with this fellow here and ran off. I’ve been sent to get her back.”
“Is that so?” Ospero said. “Is there a reward for her return?”
“No.”
“Then why would you be so stupid as to follow her down here?”
“My honor demands it. I promised to get her back.”
“Uh-huh. Prince Latro, eh? The same Prince Latro that put the tariff on our fish, so he can sell his cheaper? The same Prince Latro that hanged Fuvro Olufio?”
“I know nothing of these things.”
“Then you don’t know much. But I’ll tell you this—if cutting off my nose would bring pain to Latro da Villanchi, I’d do it gladly. He’ll get his girl back. From us. In pieces.”
Erieso’s face reddened even further. “You won’t do that. The prince’s wrath would be terrible. He would have the meddisso send troops here. You want that?”
“No,” Ospero allowed. “But we’re modest, down here in the Perto. We don’t much care if we get credit for this sort of thing, only that it happens.”
“But how will you—” Erieso’s eyes widened as the men suddenly surged forward. “No!”
He turned and ran, and his men ran with him.
Ospero laughed as he watched them vanish from sight. Then he turned back to Anne, Austra, and Cazio.
“He was lying, so I guess there is a reward for you,” he said to Anne. “I think you’d better tell me what it is, and I think you’d better do it now.”
As if to emphasize his point, Ospero’s men drew nearer.
8
The Basil-nix
I’m going to die, Leoff thought. It seemed a slow thought, as everything seemed slow, and limned in a peculiar golden light. He could see everything about the man who was approaching him all at once. His hair was light, cut in uneven bangs. It was too dark to tell the color of his eyes, but they were set wide on his face. His jerkin was open almost to his belly. His ears stuck out. He had a rag tied around his head.
And there was the sword, lovely as a viper in the moonlight.
He’d meant to run, but when he looked up and saw how close death was already, he knew he didn’t want it in the back.
Then something came sailing past him, another shard of moonlight, and it hit the man high in the chest. That stopped him. He yelped and looked down. Something metal hit the ground and sang a perfect note. It seemed to hang there, undergirded by a strange set of harmonies.
“Damn,” Gilmer said.
“Silly bugger,” the man said, lifting his sword again. “I’ll have your testicles for that before you die.” But then he hesitated.
The singing Leoff had heard hadn’t been in his head. It was there, below the wall, a spine-chilling sound. It was only reluctantly that he recognized it as men screaming—or crying out, at least, at the tops of their lungs.
The man with the sword was standing just next to the edge, and he looked over.
Then he tried to join the song. His mouth gaped, and the cords of his neck stood out like wire. Finally, he simply collapsed.
“What?” Gilmer started forward to look, as well, but Leoff tackled him to the stone and lay there, trying to hold him down.
“Don’t,” he gasped. “Don’t. I don’t know what was in that box, but I know we mustn’t look at it.”
The man with the sword had fallen so his head was turned toward them. Even in the moonlight they could see that his eyes had gone to ash, just like the eyes of the other dead in Broogh.
There was still shouting below.
“Don’t look at it!”
“Cover your eyes! Let Reev and Hilman get it.”
“It didn’t get them all,” Leoff whispered.
“What didn’t get them all?” Gilmer asked.
Leoff noticed that the old man was trembling.
A stronger, more commanding voice rose over the others: “That came from the wall. Someone’s still in there. Find them. Kill them.”
“That means us,” Leoff said. “Come on. And don’t look!”
The two men scrambled down the stairs and back into the silent town.
“How long will it take them to come around?” Leoff huffed, as they raced over rough cobblestones.
“Not long. They’ll come in by the south gate. We’d better hide. Come on, this way.”
He led Leoff through several turns, across the square below the bell tower, and up another street.
“I wonder how many it got, whatever it was?”
“No telling.”
“Shsst!” Gilmer said. “Stop. Listen.”
Leoff did, and though the sounds of his breath and heart cloyed in his ears, he could make out what Gilmer had stopped for—the footsteps of several men approaching the spot where they stood.