by Eric Flint
Byzantium had a new hero, rumor claimed.
Not the emperor or the princes, not the admiral or the foreign general. But the daughter of one of the oldest noble houses in Constantinople. It was she, not the royal house, who tamed a kraken and brought it into the service of the Eastern Roman Empire. The daughter of a senatorial family.
Reports had been made to the emperor from the watchers on the wall and in the towers, and from the French delegation, who had held up the girl for praise. The peasants were thrilled. Those who believed, anyway. And that number was growing because they wanted to believe.
Location: Royal Chambers, Constantinople
Time: 9:32 AM, July 16, 1373
John V Palaiologos’ feelings on the matter were mixed. He was pleased that the Genoese fleet was stopped, at least for now. He was less pleased with the mob crediting that feat of arms to a girl who was of noble blood, but not of his family.
“She will be the mob’s darling and that will give all the senators ideas.”
The rank of senator was no longer an official rank in Byzantium, but the traditions were still there. And a threat to his rule might well come from such a house. “Better if she had been an out and out peasant. The mob would still howl, but it wouldn’t lead to anything.”
“I know, husband,” Helena said. “But we have no choice. We have to trot out the fatted calf for the girl and her whole family.”
Location: Genoese Flagship at Dock, Kadıköy
Time: Mid-afternoon, July 16, 1373
The new admiral, Giorgio Cabrini, picked up the flagon of red wine from Genoa and gulped it down. It was from the vineyard of a friend, and a good wine. In other circumstances, he would have sipped and savored each nuance of the flavor. Now he drank it down in a single gulp and knew he had been a fool.
“Tell me again.”
The spy bowed deeply. He was blond with blue eyes, and a Turk. He had worked for Murad for years and would work for whichever of Murad’s sons eventually took the throne. In the meantime, he was making ends meet by selling his information wherever he could.
“Yes, lord. The ships were sunk by an enchanted kraken which was controlled by a young girl. A virgin, they say, who was involved in some vile pagan rite to call the creature to her. The kraken placed gunpowder bombs under your ships. It was going back to the barge to get more of the bombs.”
“So if I had attacked, we would have lost a few more ships, but only a few.” He stood and threw the flagon across the room. “But now they will see us if we start to move, and I will lose eight, mayhap twelve, ships before I reach Constantinople. And even once I get there, I will keep losing ships, as long as that monster controls the mouth of the Bosporus. We have to find a way to get rid of that monster.
“Now leave me. I have to think.”
Location: The Jane, Sea of Marmara, off Constantinople
Time: 11:20 PM, July 19, 1373
Roger sat in the wet seat, because there wasn’t room in the cabin for him and Aurelia and Aurelia wasn’t going to let him take the Jane out without her. Especially not on a salvage operation from which she was hoping to get a true twenty-first century phone. Roger’s phone was waterproof. All their phones were. Besides, that protection was augmented by the demon, so even if Clausewitz couldn’t call home from the briny deep, he was probably still safe. It was only a matter of finding him. That would be done with the Jane’s external speakers and mike. They could call out and hear underwater.
The water was already up to Roger’s knees and rising as they went deeper.
“Do you feel anything yet?” Aurelia asked.
“Cold sea water,” Roger complained. “Why?”
“Because,” Jane said, “we’re getting close to where we found you.”
Roger twisted around in his seat so that he could see the screens, looking around as he did. It was creepy back here. The Jane’s internal workings were a compromise between the internal organs of a giant squid and the mechanical components of a submarine. So Roger’s jump seat was surrounded by leather tubes and sacs that looked and acted like the guts of a giant squid.
In the screens, Roger could see the bottom. Sea bottoms are mostly mud, but with the occasional rock, and in the distance a piece of hull, bow down, stuck in the mud. And it was a busy place. Fish, actual squids, and sharks were busily consuming the bounty the sinking ship had delivered. Human bodies held down by armor were being eaten by the coyotes of the deep.
✽ ✽ ✽
Themis noticed Roger’s presence with a mixture of pleasure and concern. Poseidon was greedy. Once something came into his realm, he wanted to keep it, with little regard to whom it properly belonged. The question on Themis’ mind was how intense was Poseidon’s desire to keep her in his realm.
That question was answered almost immediately.
The sea currents started to pick up into a whirlpool. Charybdis has arrived, Themis thought. Charybdis was a child of Poseidon who followed her sire in a feud with Zeus and got turned into a sea monster. She caused whirlpools in the seas of the netherworld and, apparently on her father’s instructions, was now in the natural world doing the same thing.
Themis appeared with her hand on the sword. She couldn’t breathe water, for water was Poseidon and at the moment she and Poseidon were having a vigorous debate, as it were. Also, she couldn’t pick up her sword and walk out of the sea onto the shore of Constantinople.
That would be cheating.
She could, however, stand on the ocean floor and use her sword to cut the current. Which made no sense in the physics of the natural world, but worked fine against magically generated currents.
✽ ✽ ✽
The Jane was jerked by a strong current, then stopped. In the distance, visible to Jane’s left eye and so on her left screen, Themis stood on the bottom of the bay, sword in hand.
“Well, I guess we don’t need to pick up the sword after all,” Aurelia said.
Then Themis’ other hand made a “come here” gesture.
“Guess again,” Roger said.
Jane, using jets and tentacles, made her way to Themis and reached out a tentacle. Themis placed the sword in Jane’s tentacle and Jane brought it to Roger.
Whatever Aurelia thought, Jane wasn’t going to challenge Themis in any way.
The moment the hilt of the sword rose above the surface of the water in the Jane, a tiny little Themis appeared on the work table of the Jane’s cabin.
The Jane’s cabin had the pilot’s chair, two screens, a mike, speakers, and a fold down work table that worked a lot like a table in a twenty-first century airplane. It was, however, larger and had places for pencils and paper.
Now it also had a tiny little sonarman’s station where Themis sat and put on a set of earphones. “Jane, ping Clausewitz, please.”
Jane used her external speaker to send out a sonar ping.
They found Clausewitz and two of the demon-lock rifles. Not, as it happened, Roger’s, which had a uniquely long barrel and gold engraving.
As they were returning to the docks, Aurelia asked Themis, “Is Poseidon going to be angry?”
“I’ll have a talk with him, dear. And Charybdis as well.”
“So what was with the earphones and the sonar station?”
“Squid, and therefore kraken, lack the sonar of whales and dolphins. So I was using twenty-first century technology. For the few moments I was running the sonar, there was an actual computer as powerful as all your computers and phones together at the sonar station.” She looked over at Aurelia. “No, greedy. I am not going to leave a part of myself in the Jane to be her computer.”
Location: Constantinople, Crassus Docks
Time: 12:10 AM, July 20, 1373
Roger climbed the ladder to the dock with Themis on his back, and that was all. While Themis was put in his hand, his phone and the rifles were given to Aurelia by Jane.
Aurelia climbed the ladder behind him, phone in her belt pouch and two rifles slung over her shoulder.
“I’d like my phone back,” Roger said. “Thanks.”
“It’s not your phone. It’s mine, duly salvaged. So are the rifles,” Aurelia said.
“Clausewitz isn’t an it. He’s a he. You can’t salvage people, and demon or human, he’s people.”
“Maybe so. But unless you gave him the phone, the phone is property, and I salvaged it. Ask Themis if you don’t believe me.”
“Salvage laws amount to finders keepers,” Themis said, “at least at this time. But Roger does have some claim to recompense, in all justice.”
“Will you mediate then, Themis?” Aurelia asked.
“If Roger agrees?” Themis lifted an eyebrow.
“Yes, certainly.”
“Then first I will hear from Clausewitz, for he, in justice, has some say in this.” There followed a communication that was impossible for the humans to follow. It was in binary and demonic.
“Would you let Clausewitz remain in the phone but still maintain his right to leave?” Themis asked.
Aurelia almost agreed, but Themis held up a hand. “Consider carefully and speak the truth.”
Aurelia considered and spoke the truth. “I would prefer to call my own demon. Nothing against Clausewitz, but I captain a submarine, and an expert in submarines is what I need. Having said that, if Clausewitz is unwilling to leave the phone, I will accept him.”
Roger listened and realized that he wasn’t going to get his phone back. Not unless Aurelia did something really stupid.
There was another brief bout of computerized demonic, then Themis smiled. “That’s a clever notion for a puck, Clausewitz. Roger, my sword.”
“Wait a sec,” Roger said as he handed over the sword. “You’re not going to pull a Solomon, are you? The phone won’t do anyone any good cut in half.”
“No, nothing like that.” Themis took the sword and cut a pentagram into the wood of the dock. It was a small one, only big enough to hold the phone. “It is my ruling, should you agree, that Aurelia shall receive the phone, but make fair payment to Roger for the better part of the loss he suffers.”
Aurelia swallowed. “What is a fair value? My family is rich, but not that rich.”
Themis named a figure. Aurelia gulped again, and started to shake her head, but Themis added, “To be paid out over time. You can search the seafloor for other things of value to pay your debt, child. I would not promise you something, then beggar your family to pay for it.”
“Then, yes, I agree.”
“Roger?”
“If you say so.”
Themis pointed at Aurelia. “Place the phone in the pentagram.”
Aurelia did and Themis began to chant. From the phone rose a figure in smoke. The shape formed a young man in a blue uniform with red epaulets. He looked to be from the late eighteenth century. He bowed formally to Roger, then stood back up and turned into smoke. When he re-formed, he was a gray-haired man in a twentieth-century navy rear admiral’s uniform. He saluted Aurelia, and said, “Admiral Rickover, at your service, ma’am.”
Then he flowed back into the phone.
“He is the same familiar spirit, but now he is called as the father of the American submarine service, perhaps the greatest expert in submarines ever,” Themis said.
Location: Royal Palace, Constantinople
Time: 2:00 PM, July 25, 1373
John V stood on the top step of the royal palace as Aurelia Augusta Crassa and her whole family walked up the steps to bow before him. And the crowd roared. Gaius was looking smug, Sedonia was looking disapproving. The brothers, Leonitus and Marcus were looking resentful. John might be able to work with that.
They reached the step two below the top and all but Aurelia stopped. She took one more step and curtsied. John nodded and stepped forward, then turned to the servant, who opened the oaken box inlaid with bronze. He reached in and took the golden laurel crown from the box and placed it on her head. As he did so, he bent down and hissed in her ear, “Don’t get above yourself, girl. This will pass. The mob will forget, but I won’t.”
She looked like a frightened bird, and that was good. He stepped back and raised his arms to the roar of the crowd.
Location: Genoese Headquarters, House in Kadıköy
Time: Mid-afternoon, July 26, 1373
The horse piss they served here didn’t compare to real wine, but Giorgio Cabrini drank it anyway. This part of the fragmenting Ottoman Empire was, as of now, Genoese territory, but it was still a long way from home. He listened as his captains complained, and considered. There was also word from home that Venice was planning to send a relief force to support the Byzantines. They wouldn’t send a fleet to fight against the Muslim Ottomans, but let their fellow Catholics try for a little advantage and . . .
He shook his head. He knew the political realities. It wasn’t about defending the faith. It never had been. And in spite of a growing faction in the Catholic church that wanted to burn the witches and new pagans who were popping up all over Europe, it still wasn’t official church policy to burn those wizards and scholars who dealt with creatures of the netherworld.
Then a new thought slipped in. That was the Catholic church. The Eastern Orthodox church was taking a harder line. And the only thing protecting the French delegation from being burned by the Eastern Orthodox church was their diplomatic status.
Aurelia Augusta Crassa wasn’t a member of the French delegation. He started to smile, but the smile died. The girl was the darling of the mob. John wasn’t going to risk the anger of the mob by punishing the girl, no matter what the church said. Then he did smile. “Rodrigo.” He waved the spymaster over, then leaned over and whispered in the man’s ear. “Find a way to let Emperor John, and especially Empress Helena, learn that their son was on the flagship. Perhaps a prisoner or guest. But on the ship when the girl sank it.”
“Wasn’t he already dead when the Cyclops went down? That’s what I heard from the survivors we picked up.”
“No, only wounded.” Giorgio smiled grimly. “Make sure it’s told that way. Wounded by a bullet from their French guns, but still alive until he was drowned, or perhaps eaten, by Aurelia Augusta Crassa’s pet kraken.”
Rodrigo was nodding and smiling. “I will see to it, my lord.”
Location: Royal Chambers, Constantinople
Time: 4:00 PM, August 2, 1373
Manuel II was back in Constantinople, but not by choice. Well, mostly not by choice. He tried not to show his grin. He had a “date” with Lakshmi later this evening. For right now he was stuck in this family dinner. Servants brought in baked quail, garum with honey and steamed vegetables. He leaned against the edge of his couch and used a fork to spear a bit of meat and dip it in the garum and honey sauce, then took a bite.
Mother’s majordomo, Constantine Korolos, came in and made a gesture. Mother’s face went still, and she stood up, went over, and whispered with Constantine for a few moments, then came back. She didn’t return to having dinner. Instead, she ordered the servants out of the room. She put both hands on the back of her couch and said. “It’s confirmed. That little bitch killed Andronikos.”
“He was with the Genoese then?” Manuel asked.
“That’s not certain, and I don’t believe it, no matter what the French astrologer claims,” Mother said. “He could have been a prisoner. You know how fast the Catholics are to lock up our family on the least pretense.”
Manuel did. He also knew that Andronikos left their father in captivity in Venice a few years ago, instead of paying the overdue debt that was his ransom. Manuel knew his brother. Manuel even loved his brother. But he didn’t trust him. Not anymore. He couldn’t say that, not here, not to his grieving mother and father. And he didn’t even want to. Andronikos was his big brother and he had grown up worshiping him. Now he was gone, and as much as Manuel knew it was war and in no way the Crassa girl’s fault, he was still angry at her for it.
He also knew he had to be careful here, because his mother was in no state to be hel
d back by justice.
Manuel looked over at his father, and knew that John V Palaiologos wouldn’t be swayed by reason either. His father’s face was pale and bloodless. Guilt, not rage, but it would have the same effect. And that effect would be disaster. The girl was the darling of the mob and a senator’s daughter to boot. If they killed her for nothing but risking her life to save Constantinople, the mob would rise up against them with the senators—what was left of them—leading the march. “First we must discredit her,” he said. “We can’t act until the mob turns on her.”
“What do you mean we can’t act?” his mother hissed at him. “The little whore killed my son, and you say she will escape justice because the mob worships her and her demon submarine.”
“Only a short delay,” Manuel said, casting about in his mind for something they could do. Some preparation they could make. Something, anything, for his mother to do other than order out the royal guards to murder a teenage heroine and her whole family. “The church,” he said.
“What about the church?” his father asked.
“Patriarch Kokkinos has been wanting to condemn the demon-following French since they arrived, and we have been holding him in check. Well, the Crassus family aren’t French diplomats. Let him know that we consider her fair game and he will raise the mob against her. Then we can do what we choose.”
“It’s a workable plan,” Father said. “You do well to keep your head through all this, my son.”
But his father didn’t sound pleased. It sounded as though he thought Manuel’s restraint was a betrayal of his brother.
Manuel excused himself and went to his rooms.
Location: Guest Quarters, Magnaura, Constantinople
Time: 7:00 PM, August 2, 1373
Lakshmi took one look at Manuel and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Manuel looked around, then back at her and said, “I don’t really feel like dancing right now, much less learning twenty-first century dances.”
“Right,” Lakshmi said. She waved Liane over and whispered something, then grabbed Manuel’s arm and led him out of the hall.
As they left the hall, a band started playing a song he’d never heard before.
