“If they have only one course of action, that should be an advantage for us,” Giovanni said.
Demetrio gave Giovanni a patient look. “Unfortunately, they can predict our goals as easily as we can predict theirs. We must go to Cuore, sooner or later; they know that.”
“We can't lay siege to them,” I said. “Well, I suppose we could, if we had to. We'd need thousands of dancers, though, to take shifts—”
“No, I agree,” Demetrio said. “We should avoid a siege if we possibly can. With your cooperation, Generale, I'd like to besiege them indirectly.”
“What do you mean?”
Clara spoke. “The famine in Verdia disrupted Cuore's usual food supply. They've been supplementing it by purchasing grain from a country across the sea, bringing it in on ships. If we attack those lines of supply, this will deprive the Circle and Fedeli of food, and possibly augment our own supplies.”
“Can we starve them out that way?” I asked.
“No,” Demetrio said. “Many from court have fled or will soon, so there will be fewer people to feed from existing stores. But it will weaken them—and frighten them. Possibly enough to force them out from behind their walls to confront us directly.”
“We'll be happy to cooperate with that effort,” I said. “Tell me what you'd like my troops to do.”
Demetrio outlined the precise routes where the grain was carried. I wasn't certain I understood, but Giovanni nodded enthusiastically, so I was fairly sure he'd be able to help me out with this later. “In addition,” Demetrio said, “please think about any ways that you might draw the Circle out, or the Fedeli. You were a spy for several months, were you not, Generale? If you know of anything that we can use toward that end, be sure to let me know. If the Lupi don't have the manpower, we'll work with you.”
“I'll try to think of something,” I said.
“Very well,” Demetrio said. “We'll be in touch. I'll go discuss the new information with my adjutant.” Demetrio clasped my hand, bowed to the Emperor, and left the room.
“You must be tired from your trip,” Clara said to me. “I assume you'll be staying for a few days?”
“For tonight at least,” I said.
“We've made up some guest quarters for you. Would you like a chance to wash and have something to eat?”
“Yes, I'd appreciate that,” I said. I wanted a chance to talk alone with Giovanni.
“Michel can show you where your quarters are,” Travan said. “Generale Eliana, I'd appreciate it if you'd join me for dinner. I'd like a chance to talk again.”
“I'd be honored,” I said. With any luck, Clara and Placido would not be invited.
Back in our room, I closed the door and turned toward Giovanni. “Why doesn't Placido like you?”
Giovanni looked up, startled. “The Emperor greets you with a kiss, the First Generale of the Imperial Army salutes you as an equal, and your first question is about Placido's stupid grudge?”
I set my pack and violin case down on the cot. Our quarters were spare and we were sharing a room, though a curtain had been provided for modesty. Michel had gone to get some water for us to wash with. “I don't have any questions about the Emperor or Demetrio that I'd expect you to be able to answer.”
Giovanni laughed and unlaced his own pack, taking out a slightly cleaner shirt. “Placido never liked me.”
“There's got to be more to it than that.”
“Really? I'd expect you to be able to understand that sentiment, even sympathize. Oh, all right,” he said, laughing again at my infuriated expression. “I'll tell you the story. Placido's a few years older than me, and bigger than me, as you may have noticed. When I started at the university, we met at one of the taverns and he took an instant dislike to me—I can't imagine why, but some people do. Anyway, he pushed me around a bit—spilled my wine in my lap on purpose and insulted me. I challenged him to a duel, and he disarmed and thoroughly embarrassed me. I found out later this was all to impress a lady.
“So. I spent every waking moment for the next three months working on my swordplay. My best friend, Antonio, tutored me. We both did so poorly in our studies that we were nearly sent home from the university in academic disgrace. After three months, Antonio said I was ready, so I went to the tavern, picked up Placido's wine, and threw it in his face.” Giovanni had a faint wicked smile on his face, remembering. “Placido drew his sword, naturally. We took it outside. I disarmed him before he landed a blow and gave him the thrashing of his life.” His smile faded to a look of resignation. “This was perhaps not the best strategy to win his friendship. Which probably made things more difficult for you and Michel in Cuore. I'm sorry. That wasn't a consequence I exactly had in mind when I threw the wine in his face.”
I raised my wineskin in salute. “There was another consequence you didn't foresee.”
“What was that?”
“Having learned what you knew in three months, you were well prepared to teach me to fight—quickly.”
“True enough! I hadn't thought of that,” Giovanni said. “Well. You know that it was university scholars who made the connection between magery and what happened to Verdia. To suppress the knowledge, the Circle had the scholars responsible, along with their students, framed for heresy and executed by the Fedeli. Antonio was one of those students. And so I joined the reformers.”
Giovanni's face was distant, but his eyes were soft. “Placido sent me down to Ravenna to get rid of me; he knew the commander had a reputation for being brutal, and hoped I'd open my mouth at the wrong moment and get myself killed.”
“Some days I'm surprised you didn't,” I said.
“Yeah, well, Placido probably figures I opened my mouth and got Jesca and Beneto killed. You know, the lady Placido was trying to impress the night he bullied me was Jesca, can you believe that? It didn't work. I think she may have gone to Ravenna to get away from him.”
“I could believe it,” I said.
“Anyway, that's why Placido can't stand that I'm a generale of the Lupi. Even the fact that I'm your second doesn't make up for it. I'm sure he hates you, too, but Travan likes you so he has to work a little harder at hiding it.”
Michel knocked on the door, and we let him in. He had heated the water slightly, so it was tepid instead of freezing. “How on earth are Clara and Placido surviving hardships like this?” I asked, dunking my face and hair and then rubbing them dry as quickly as I could.
“They each brought a couple of servants,” Michel said. “I'm sorry. I could go heat it more—”
“No, don't be silly; we'll manage.” I took out a comb and started working it through the tangles in my hair. It was a good thing my hair was short. “So tell us everything, Michel. Did you have any close calls getting down here?”
“A few,” Michel said. “But we got through all right. Travan is a good man, and courageous. He could be a good leader.”
“That's a relief,” Giovanni said. He had stripped to the waist and was splashing water on himself.
“We had about a week alone once we got here,” Michel said. “Then Placido found us, and Signora Clara.”
“How many others are here?”
Michel shrugged. “At least thirty, I think. There will be more once a proper supply line is set up. Right now the hardships down here deter all but the most … ambitious.”
“Or those on a mission,” I said. “Have there been any attempts on the Emperor's life?”
“One,” Michel said. “We identified and executed the assassin.”
“Is there anyone else here who could serve as a bodyguard?” I asked.
“Some of Demetrio's soldiers,” Michel said. “I didn't take down that first assassin alone, you know.”
“Michel, I think you should stay here instead of returning with us to the Lupi,” I said. Michel's face fell, and he started to protest. “The Emperor needs a bodyguard he can trust completely. I think at this point he knows he can trust you, yes?”
Michel nodded unhappi
ly.
“But also, Michel, we need someone here who can counteract Placido's and Clara's influence. You're doing that already, aren't you?”
“Maybe,” Michel said. “Sort of. But—”
“The Lupi need a voice here, and it can't be me,” I said.
“What about Giovanni? He's got more experience with this sort of thing.”
Giovanni made a choking noise.
“I'd sooner send Isabella,” I said.
“Hey!” Giovanni said. “I can be much more diplomatic than Isabella.”
“Michel,” I said, “you're the right person for this. The Emperor likes you and trusts you—and I like and trust you, and I know you'll do fine.”
“But I'd rather serve you,” Michel whispered.
“You will be serving me,” I said. “By serving Travan.”
Placido and Clara—to their immense consternation, I suspected—were not invited to dinner with the Emperor. Neither was Giovanni. Travan and I dined alone, with Michel standing watch at the door. The food was very simple, just soup and bread. Travan ate distractedly, soaking his bread in his soup and telling me about his journey here.
“So the Fedele says to Michel, ‘Why are you two traveling together?’” Travan said, imitating the priest's squirrelly, suspicious voice. “And Michel says, ‘He's my elder brother.’ And the priest's eyes get narrow, and he says, ‘I heard you say last night that he was your friend. And now he's your brother?’ And Michel slings his arm around the priest's shoulder and kind of takes him aside and says, ‘Look at him, Father. Would you want to admit to being this man's brother if you didn't have to?’”
I laughed.
“This story gets better every time,” Michel said from the doorway. “I'm starting to feel sorry for the priest. Are you going to tell her I ended up having to bribe him?”
“Granted, but you bribed him to overlook horse theft; he never suspected what was really going on.”
“So how is life here?” I asked. “Not exactly as comfortable as the enclave.”
“Oh,” Travan shrugged. “My bed is soft enough and my stomach is full. This is exciting. Frightening, but exciting. It's strange to have people currying favor with me instead of trying to threaten me. I think I like it.”
“Have there been any serious threats?”
“One,” Travan said, and told me about the assassin.
I nodded. “Your Highness, I was originally planning to take Michel back with me to the Lupi, but it's clear you need an experienced bodyguard. Would you be interested in having him stay with you on a permanent basis?”
Travan's face lit. “Yes,” he said simply. “I've been dreading losing Michel.”
“You have to promise to listen to his advice,” I said. “He's been my adjutant as well as my bodyguard, and I don't want that going to waste. Even if Clara and Placido think he's an ignorant peasant.”
“Of course I will listen to him,” Travan said. “He's been my first and best friend since I left Cuore.”
I gestured to Michel and he came over. His feet dragged, but his face was solemn and resigned. He touched his heart with his fist and held his fist out, saluting me. “On my honor, I swear I will serve the Emperor as I have served you,” he said. He turned to face the Emperor, and offered him a salute as well. “On my honor, I swear I will serve you with all my loyalty until you release me from my vow.” He knelt and bowed his head.
Travan touched Michel's shoulder lightly. “Stand, Michel; you never have to be formal with me. I accept your service, and I swear I will respect and value your loyalty.”
Michel stood, meeting my eyes. They were oddly guarded now, and a little hurt. I hated to lose Michel— but I'd hate even more to bury Travan before we could take Cuore. Michel would understand someday.
When I returned to my room, I opened the door to find Clara sitting on my cot, talking with Giovanni. “Giovanni and I were discussing the supply line,” she said.
“Specifically, what supplies we need most urgently,” Giovanni said. “Food, of course. For us and for the horses. What else would you say?”
“Proper tents,” I said. “With tent poles. Weapons for the volunteers that will be coming.”
“You're quite certain that you will get additional recruits?”
“Our faith is stronger than magefire,” I said. “That's a pretty strong indication of whose side God is on, isn't it?”
“Indeed,” Clara said.
“Also, it's midwinter—farmers can afford to join our army now. In fact, if they send a son to join us, it relieves the pressure on their winter food stores. But mainly—God is on our side.”
“Have you thought about how you will keep out spies?” Clara asked.
“We can't keep out every person who might be a spy,” I said. “We assume that some of the Lupi are spies and take steps to minimize the damage they could cause.”
“New recruits are supposed to have someone vouch for them,” Giovanni said. “We're more wary of people who've come from towns. Most of the Lupi are farmers.”
“How can you tell whether someone comes from a town?” Clara asked.
I held up one hand, palm out. “Calluses.”
“But that's not going to be a completely reliable test,” Clara said.
“There is no completely reliable test,” I said.
“Well,” Clara said. “As you try to think of ruses to lure out the Circle, I'll try to think of ruses to sort out the spies. I'll let you know if I think of anything.”
“We'd appreciate that,” I said.
Clara rose. “If you think of other urgent supplies, let me know in the morning. I'll see what we can do.” She turned back at the doorway to look at me. “I was a little disappointed that your friend didn't come with you, Eliana—the dancer. Lucia, is that her name?”
“Yes,” I said. “Lucia.” Her name still felt strange on my tongue, after the months in Cuore where I couldn't speak it.
“I heard she is a long-time Redentore—perhaps one of the people who started the revival of the Old Way.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“I'd very much like to meet her.”
“I will relay your invitation when I return to the Lupi,” I said.
“You might consider sending her here,” Clara said. “For her safety, when the Lupi leave the wasteland.”
“Lucia is a soldier, like the rest of us,” I said, bristling a little without meaning to.
“Very well, then,” Clara said, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Good night.”
When the door closed behind her, I turned to Giovanni. “Why the interest in Lucia? Did she mention Lucia earlier?”
Giovanni shook his head, his lips tight.
“You have a theory?”
“She wants to know, for future reference, who can be used against you. Who you care about. She'd heard Lucia's name, and made a lucky guess. You confirmed her suspicions—you care for Lucia.”
I shuddered. “You think Clara would hurt Lucia to get to me?”
“Only if it's to her advantage,” Giovanni said. He met my eyes reluctantly. “You know Clara better than I do. What do you think?”
I thought about the cross Valentino found in his room. “I think you're right,” I said. I pulled off my boots and crawled under the blankets of my cot. “If she ever hurts Lucia,” I added as I arranged the blankets, “I'll have her head for a paperweight.”
Giovanni smiled. “You'll have help getting it.”
∗ ∗ ∗
I was in the Great Cathedral in Cuore; it was a festival day, and I was surrounded by hundreds, maybe thousands of people. But instead of rose-petal incense, I smelled lamp oil and scorched metal. My stomach turned. “I have to go,” I said quietly to the people sitting near me, and they moved aside to let me out.
As I reached the center aisle, I saw that Bella was chained to the Great Altar, her robe ripped open to bare her skin; the man in black stood beside her, humming quietly under his breath. “In Her name,” he said
, lifting a knife that glowed like an ember.
I realized suddenly that they thought Bella was me. I could stop this—if I turned myself in, I could free Bella, but I would have to take her place. I stood frozen in the aisle, unable to speak, unable to run, and then I heard Bella's scream of agony, and smelled burned meat—
“Wake up, dammit.”
Giovanni's face glared down at me by candlelight, and I realized that my face was damp with sweat and tears. “If you're going to have nightmares, can't you have quiet nightmares? Sit up.”
Shaking, I let Giovanni help me. I saw a red glow and cried out involuntarily, then realized that all I saw were the embers of the fire. I covered my face with my hands, trying to control myself and hating my weakness. “I'm fine,” I tried to say, but my voice squeaked.
“I'll get you some tea,” Giovanni said, but first he sat with me for a moment, his arms around me, steadying me. “You really need Lucia here; she's better at this than I am.” He stroked my hair for a moment, then stood, still steadying me. “On second thought, I'll get you some wine.” He poured me a cup. “It's not hot— sorry—but trying to find tea just now seems like more trouble than it's worth.”
I sipped the wine. “It doesn't matter,” I said. “I don't really want either.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Giovanni asked.
“No,” I said.
When I was calm, I lay back down, and Giovanni went back to his own bed.
“I could never do it,” Giovanni said. “I could never have endured what you endured.”
“You could do whatever you had to do,” I said.
Giovanni didn't answer. I blew out my candle and lay staring into the dark.
I got up at dawn and went outside to practice my violin. I was still shaken from my nightmare, as well as my reaction to it. I hated bad dreams—especially when they showed my weakness to anyone sleeping near me. Lucia slept beside me and had learned to recognize the signs and shake me awake early, so that I didn't disturb anyone else, but I felt bad enough about waking Lucia. I suspected this one had been triggered by my conversation with Clara—the feeling that I was being outmaneuvered in some way that I couldn't even guess at. Or maybe it was just that seeing Clara reminded me of being in the enclave.
Turning the Storm Page 19
