"Well, you have your answer. Caesare Aldanto is here, indeed. And he is possessed by the Black Brain, Chernobog."
The priest sighed. "This calls for more than we four can do. This calls for the Knights of the Holy Trinity. Perhaps true steel and faith can destroy this thing as magic cannot."
Benito took a sideways glance at the man. He appeared in earnest. There were times when Benito wondered whether the intense Basque cleric was in the real world or not. "There is a siege out there, Eneko. A whole army between Aldanto and the Knights."
"If he is destroyed, Chernobog will be one factor removed from the siege." Lopez sounded earnest—but also resigned. After all, how was even a single Knight going to slip out unnoticed?
Benito shook his head. "I wouldn't mind doing it, Eneko. But it is a question of how."
"If it means going outside the wall, then it must be done," said Lopez.
"Fine. You tell Manfred to let me go. He's already forbidden me to try. I haven't said I am going to listen, though." He paused. "You know, there is one Knight out there already. Erik Hakkonsen. And if he knew Aldanto was alive, and worse, a minion of Chernobog—"
He let that percolate into Lopez's mind. "Still, you have to talk Manfred into letting me go over the wall or I can't tell him."
Eneko sighed. "I will. If in that brief encounter I divined it right, then he is seeking something in countryside. Erik could perhaps deal with him. Ideally, I should like to be there. While this is a perilous foe—like all slaves, it would lack most of the strength of Chernobog. It would still be very dangerous. Certain relics could limit it. That medal of yours, for instance."
Benito looked down. "And to think I nearly didn't tie it to my belt when I was disguising myself as a slave."
"It is a sailor's talisman. It might just be what kept you afloat," said Francis.
* * *
Mindaug noticed that the Grand Duke was distinctly short of breath. And that his jowls beneath the mask were almost gray. He hardly seemed to hear the news that the Venetian Atlantic fleet had been forced to retreat from the pillars of Hercules.
He wondered what had just happened, but knew that he would never learn. Jagiellon would never, ever tell a subordinate about anything that had given him so much as a moment of weakness.
* * *
Manfred rubbed his chin. "Getting out there . . . Well, Eneko. You have a spy—no, two, you say—with some ability at black magic to catch. Who is more important? And can your companions do it without you?"
Eneko Lopez pursed his lips and thought a while.
"Chernobog is a great threat. On the other hand . . . the cunning of these magicians, whoever they are—is almost worse. I suppose this fight is against Emeric and his minions first. And we need four for the cardinal points. But . . ."
"But me no buts, man of God," said Manfred, firmly. "I'll have Klaus on watch. If we get a chance again like today where we can maybe get Emeric and Aldanto . . . we'll sally. Speed and steel. We can get away with it at the moment. The captain-general isn't playing the role he was since his wife got herself into trouble."
* * *
Being a fugitive hampered Fianelli's movements, thought Emeric, studying again the latest reports his agent had sent through. But the man was capable and had found a safe hideout. So. It was time to destabilize the military structure of the enemy from within. Fianelli had mercenaries still on his payroll.
The commander must die. And so should this Benito Valdosta. He'd become an icon in the Citadel. A symbol. Well, he'd be a dead symbol, proving how long Emeric's arm was.
Chapter 82
Only a flicker of movement in the window saved Benito. He rolled just in time. The crossbow bolt was buried to the flight-feathers in the bed. Benito stared at the bolt. Felt his neck; looked at the broken glass; got up and went over to the mirror. His neck had a fine cut from the touch of the barb.
A crossbow was slow to reload. By the time the bastard in that tree reloaded, Benito was going to be shoving his rapier right up the place the would-be assassin deserved it.
But by the time he got there . . .
There was no one in the tree. No one anywhere around. In fact, there might just as well never have been anyone there at all. Except for that crossbow bolt in the pillow.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Benito, crossbow bolt in hand, was in Manfred and Francesca's chamber.
"Manfred. I worked with him for years. This," he held up the bolt, "stinks of something Caesare would organize, if he didn't do it himself. He can't fly, so this must be something a hireling did. But I'll bet it was at his orders. He and his master know we found them. Now they're out to kill me, personally. Well, I won't sit still while they do it. And I don't care what you say about it."
"You could be right," said Francesca. "Indirectly, at least. It would have been Fianelli who gave the actual order, though, not Caesare. He's still somewhere in the Citadel, and his three goons have evaded capture also."
She turned to Manfred. "My dear, you are going back to living in a Koboldwerk shirt, now that they seem to be turning to crude assassination. You're a target, too."
Manfred rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Look, Benito, I understand what you're getting at. But . . ."
"But this fortress is flue-full of conspirators, spies, and traitors. I don't know who, or what, to trust—sweet Jesu, man, what can I do if I can't even be safe in my own bed?"
Manfred winced. Benito kept going while he had momentum. "Aside from anything else, out there, they seem to have sorted out the treachery problem. I'm safer running with Erik than I am here. Besides, if we get the chance I want Aldanto's head." He knew what his voice sounded like, and he moderated it before Manfred decreed he was too emotionally involved to go safely. "Look, it might not be Aldanto, but all the signs point that way, and I agree with Eneko. Get rid of this assassin, this agent of Chernobog—whoever, or whatever he is—-and we'll get rid of half the menace."
"Will you let me finish?" asked Manfred irritably. "What I was trying to say is the story of your exploits getting in and out of this place is now common property. You can bet your last penny that Emeric has had a full report. You can bet you're being watched. You can also bet that Emeric has done his damnedest to make sure you don't use those ways again. We've seen the beach patrols. The small-craft screen. It's a lot harder. The chance of you making it into the slave encampment, never mind out again, has vanished."
Benito shrugged. "I'll have to think of something else then."
"What I was going to suggest is that we do this the old-fashioned way. Von Gherens and I were just saying we are letting the enemy have too much leisure to do what they feel like. Those causeways are basically both repaired. We're going to lose what advantage the water gives us when they are able to attack in large numbers at will. We thought we might use one of these misty mornings we've been having to damage their little causeway, and make Emeric concentrate on defending his siege camp more. From this side, as well as Erik's side."