She turned with a stranger, a small man with a pointed black beard. He had a brilliant smile and jet-black eyes.
Behind him in the circle-
Chapter Sixteen
Liviapolis – Assassin and Kronmir
He sat on the edge of the privy shelf, reassembling his weapon. The crossbow could be taken down into eighteen parts, all made of steel, which he laid on the dirty white wool of his hood. He could wind it by turning a screw built into the stock; he could wield it one-handed, and loose it with a thumb catch mounted atop the weapon. It had been made by a master in Etrusca, and the bolts it shot were tipped in steel. The bow itself was a length of steel spring as big as two spread hands, and it had, in addition to masterful construction, a hermetical device that assisted the user in turning the loading screw.
He cleaned the water and the mud from every bit of the shining steel and oiled it with fine whale oil.
When he was done, he cocked it carefully and engaged the safety on the massive nut that held the string, and then placed it in the tinker’s basket on his back. Despite a year of training to use it, he felt real fear in carrying it cocked and loaded, against his back.
But his whole life was about managing fear, so he unbolted the door to the privy in which he was hiding, pulled heavy oiled-wool mittens over the chamois gloves on his hands and settled his basket on his back.
He was very cold, and he knew he was being hunted.
Kronmir was waiting, exactly where he said he’d be, under the arch of the ancient aqueduct just as the bells rang for five o’clock. The assassin was a little surprised to hear the sounds of cheering from the Great Square – so loud that they easily carried the mile and more to where he stood.
Kronmir wore a festive Christmas hood and a long robe like a merchant, but the wreath of berries on his head was the safety signal and the assassin approached him with confidence.
‘Christos Anneste!’ he said. It was the greeting for Easter, not Christmas – a final signal that guaranteed that all was well.
‘Christos Anneste!’ echoed his contact. ‘You missed.’
The assassin paused. ‘I beg to disagree. I shot him from very close, and I saw the bolt strike home.’
Kronmir rubbed his chin. ‘He’s jousting. He appeared and bowed to the princess not half an hour past. I gave up on his death and left the square.’
The assassin bit his lip. ‘I suppose you want me to try again? But I have used my contact and my plan. The next attempt will be amateurish by comparison.’ He fingered the amulet that Kronmir had given him. ‘You will get me out?’
‘The best magister in all of the Empire made that amulet. We’ll get you out.’ Kronmir nodded. ‘He has to dance in public. With the princess.’
The assassin shook his head. ‘His men are everywhere. And they’re looking for me. You think he won’t be covered like a blanket? Crowds only protect you when no one is looking for you. And I don’t have a second persona – this tinker is all I have.’ He coughed. ‘I’m sorry. I do not mean to make excuses, but everything about this job has been wrong from the attack on the palace. We shouldn’t have failed then, and I shouldn’t have failed tonight. It is as if God is against us.’
Kronmir nodded. ‘I agree. But I generally do what I say I will.’
‘Aye. As do I.’
The two men allowed their eyes to meet. The assassin shrugged. ‘Very well. If you can get me out, I’ll have another go.’
‘Our next rendezvous is at the Silver Stag Inn on Saint Katherine Street. I have a system prepared to extract you from the city. It may not be me meeting you at the inn, so your sign will be a wreath of golden laurels and the password is “stasis”.’
The assassin frowned. ‘He must have a hermetical aid. My bolts should have dealt with that. Any thoughts?’
‘Most hermetical aids take time. Shoot him from much closer.’ Kronmir shrugged. ‘I am like a student lecturing a master.’
The assassin shook his head. ‘I am murdering a man who seems for the most part good – and doing it at Christmas. And I have already failed. I’m not happy; I much preferred slaying tyrants in Etrusca.’ He handed Kronmir a small tube. ‘This is for my partner, in the event of the worst. Listen – you have been a fair employer, protecting me all that time while I healed up. We will be grateful, however this comes out.’
‘That’s good,’ Kronmir said. ‘Because if this goes badly, I’ll have to move to Etrusca.’ He slapped the assassin on the shoulder. ‘Go and get him, and all this will seem like nerves tomorrow.’
The assassin shrugged. ‘If it is so easy, why not deal with him yourself?’
Kronmir bowed. ‘It is a fair point. If you wish to withdraw, I will not feel you have broken our condotta.’
For the first time, the assassin smiled. ‘Now that was fairly said.’ He stretched his back and patted the side of his basket. ‘I’ll get him. I always feel this way before I drop a man. Some feel the sag after the kill – for me, it’s before. Bah, I talk too much.’ He inclined his head. ‘Be well, whoever you are.’
‘And you,’ Kronmir said, and walked off into the snow.
Liviapolis – The Red Knight
When the snow was swept away, the citizens of Liviapolis began to dance. They turned and swept around, with many a leap, and many a fine ankle displayed under a richly embroidered hem. Women wore hoods, here, in winter, and the men wore fur hats very different from those the Albans wore, and the dancing was different – more athletic. Women leaped while they turned, and landed on one foot. Men jumped, feet slashing high to touch their hands and back down in time to land.
Ser Michael watched it, hand in hand with his Kaitlin whose belly was very big and who still wanted to dance. At her shoulder was Ser Giorgios and his bride. The two Moreans had taught them all the figures.
It was like Alba, and yet very unlike, and Michael was lost in a torrent of thoughts – lost, and yet very much in the present. He leaned over and kissed his wife.
‘Is the Captain very much hurt?’ she asked.
Michael grimaced. ‘I think he’s badly hurt and hiding it,’ he said, and gnawed on his glove a little.
‘They’re coming back to the starting figure,’ Helena said. She put a gloved hand on Kaitlin’s back. ‘I hope that I carry mine as well as you carry yours,’ she whispered.
Kaitlin laughed. ‘Lanthorn’s are built for making babies,’ she said.
Her husband laughed in his glove and turned away. ‘In so many ways,’ he whispered to her, and she slammed an elbow into him so he slipped on the ice.
The Red Knight appeared among them while they were laughing. He beamed at Kaitlin and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘The very image of fecundity,’ he said.
She curtsied. ‘I’ll assume you are trying to be nice,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go and dance with the princess? Look! She’s waiting for you.’
Ser Michael met his Captain’s eye.
‘Just so,’ he said, and went to face the princess.
‘He’s not very nice to her,’ Kaitlin said. ‘Yet she’s mad for him. Look at her. Will he wed her, do you think?’
Michael pulled her by the hand. ‘I don’t think so, love. There’s things you don’t know. I admit I don’t know much either.’
‘He doesn’t exactly have anyone else,’ Kaitlin said, and laughed. ‘I’m a terrible gossip. But laundresses know these things.’
Michael led her down the steps from the lady’s pavilion to the dancing in the square. ‘It’s politics. There’s always more to it – but she isn’t mad for him. Far from it.’
‘Oh,’ said Kaitlin. ‘How sad. I’m in love, and I’d like everyone else to be in love, too.’
Michael grabbed her and lifted her in the first figure of the Morean Christmas dance, and she let out a squeal. ‘You’ll injure yourself – I weigh the earth!’
He smiled and kissed her and she turned and was off into the dance.