The decina posted on Rasenna’s walls was as pointless a gesture as the decrepit battlements. They heard before they saw the solitary horse race out of the mist.
The Herald pointedly halted within arrow range and proclaimed: “Burghers of Rasenna, Concord approaches. Prepare Tribute.”
As there was only one possible answer, he scorned to wait, turning immediately and returning to the mist. Rasenna held its breath as the double gates were raised. There was a long silence, worse than a scream. Mothers in every tower prayed and hushed their fractious babes. The Wave’s thunder still sounded in the town’s nightmares, and now they were coming: the Flood Makers.
Proudly wearing the gonfaloniere’s chains of office, the Doctor left the Signoria. He found them on the bridge.
“Bracing morning, Captain! Sofia, I’ve been waiting to tell you the good news. The wedding’s off!”
“Valerius is dead.”
The Doctor smiled as if it might be a joke, then took a step back. “
Madonna!
What have you done?”
“Valerius killed Marcus,” said Sofia.
“No, no—that was Valentino Morello.”
“Why would he?” Giovanni asked.
“Because he’s mad, because he hates Concord. When the bridge came under my protection, the boy was a convenient alternative.”
Giovanni shook his head. “Concord’s just an excuse. The Morello only want to rule Rasenna, like you, Doctor. You knew from the start the bridge could help you consolidate your power and contrived a strategy of tension to make me seek your protection.”
“Nobody made you do anything.”
“The Morello had nothing to do with Frog’s murder.”
Sofia looked at Giovanni, then at the Doctor. “Say it’s not true!”
“It was necessary,” the Doctor said, walking toward her. “I wanted to protect you from all this.”
“By murdering your own?
Burning families?
Protect me from
what
?”
“People like me, I suppose,” he said softly. “What now, Captain?”
“If Concord doesn’t have a culprit for both murders, they’ll take Rasenna apart brick by brick. You can blame the Morello for Marcus’s death but not for Valerius too.” He took a breath. “Take me.”
“What are you saying?” Sofia cried.
“Say Valerius’s blood is on my hands—mine alone.”
The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully and looked at the engineer. “Could work, I suppose. You’ll confess to Luparelli?”
“Giovanni, no!”
“Yes, I will.”
“Good boy!” The Doctor laughed and grabbed him. “That makes everything so much easier. Sofia, return to the workshop.”
“They’ll kill you!”
“Do as he says, Sofia,” said Giovanni. “I know what I’m doing.”
He was certain now why he’d been sent to Rasenna: only he could prevent war. The rest were either powerless to stop it or mad enough to want it.
As their steps echoed across the empty piazza, the Doctor tried explaining himself to his silent prisoner. “I only want to protect her.”
“As do I, Doctor.”
“If you mean that, you’ll confirm every word of my story. Trouble is, that little bastard was General Luparelli’s son, so there’s no telling what he’ll do. Play your part and there might still be a town for her to inherit tomorrow.”
Looking down at the Herod’s Sword she had given him, Giovanni said, “I won’t contradict you.”
In the bloody aftermath of the celebrations the players fled Rasenna, abandoning their stage and props. The Doctor picked up the Morello puppet and deftly made it dance a tarantella. He laughed and threw it aside when he heard the distant rumble. “Here they come!”
While the first wave of infantry was still squeezing through the north gate, the cavalry rode ahead though the streets and thundered across the bridge without ceremony.
The Doctor glanced at Giovanni. “It’s done its work, Captain. Congratulations.”
The cavalry passed unchecked though Piazza Luna to the single straight road that led to the southern gate. Though the legion sent to confront the Hawk’s Company was Concord’s smallest, it was vast beyond the Doctor’s comprehension. He thanked the Virgin that he was not John Acuto.
The Doctor ordered Sofia to return to the workshop, so she did exactly that.
“Bandieratori, flags up!”
The students looked at her uncertainly.
Secondo said, “Doc ordered us to stay put.”
“Get up or they’ll burn Rasenna down around us!”
“But the Doc said—”
“Your loyalty is to the Scaligeri,” Sofia snapped, struggling to sound imperious and not desperate. “If you love Rasenna, follow me.”
Mule stood. “Let’s go!”
Secondo held on to his brother’s sleeve. “His orders were explicit. The first rule is obedience, remember?”
Mule turned to Sofia. “Maybe we should—?”
“Secondo was the one who did Frog,” she said loudly. “Weren’t you?”
Secondo looked around. Now the students were focused on him. “Shut up, Sofia!”
“Make me.” She glared at him—and Secondo keeled over suddenly, whacked in the back of the head by his twin.
“How’s that for explicit? Bandieratori, you heard the Contessa. Let’s move!”
The last cavalry squadron halted in the piazza and divided to form a guard as the infantry crossed the bridge.
“Doctor Bardini, it’s been a long time.”
The Doctor smiled solemnly. “General Luparelli.”
A dozen years had passed, but the Doctor easily recognized the boy he had taught in the man. Another cherub, like Valerius, but grown large, with scrubbed pink skin bulging between joints of polished armor.
“That’s what these swine call me, Doc, but you can always call me Luparino!”
“Yes, I remember.”
“
Madonna
, I remember it like yesterday. I remember I didn’t want to leave at the end of it.”
“You wanted to be a Rasenneisi.”
“The things that matter to young men! I became worried that Concord wasn’t on the side of the angels. Now I’m certain it isn’t, and it doesn’t bother me a bit, ha! Ah, wonderful time for me, wonderful. Expect Valerius is just the same.”
“Well . . .”
“Of course he is. We’ll let the infantry pass before we get down to it, shall we?”
The Doctor smiled fixedly.
The din of the legion’s passage disturbed even the Baptistery’s silence.
The water in the glass trembled. Knowing her end was close, the Reverend Mother had expected the final vision—but not its violence. It had her now, and she understood at last how great the power flowing through Rasenna was: so much larger than the squabbles of the Families, more important than the coming war. With an effort of will she put her imminent death aside: ego’s huge powers of distortion could prevent her from
seeing
, and one life was a small matter, after all. The water began to boil. The vision clarified and fell
The engineer
The horse
The arrow falling
Water
Sofia screaming
Two men hanging
Dreams are not to be commanded by dreamers, but she must be sure who was hanging here . . . She’d expected resistance, but the vision shifted easily enough. It was something Water needed her to see.
She saw Quintus Morello and Doctor Bardini before the glass shattered.
After a moment, she turned to her acolyte. “Lucia, I’m relying on you now. The Virgin will give you grace.”
“Don’t leave!”
The nun leaped up. “I must—it wouldn’t do to keep Death waiting.”
After the extensive supply train came the archers and gunners. Two units broke off and assembled beside the general.
“Now, Doctor! I recognize a man with a problem, so let’s see if we can fix it once we get business out of the way. I have Tribute and two Concordian lads to collect, one of whom I’m rather attached to, ha ha!”
“General, the Tribute is here in full.”
Luparelli gestured to an aide to take the chest. “Received with thanks. It’s no small amount for a small town—business must be good. Perhaps we should raise it next year, ha ha! And the boys? So sorry to rush—I’d love to catch up, but you know, the situation down south with these damn condottieri. It’s like trying to delouse a whole country! You understand.”
“Perfectly,” the Doctor said. “The boys, it grieves me to say . . .”
Finally Luparelli began to realize that something was seriously amiss. “Bardini,
where
is my son?”
“He is dead, General. Both of them are dead.”
Luparelli staggered and looked around dazedly, then back at the Doctor, as if he had misheard. After a long moment he shook his head and bellowed, “But this is treachery! Gunners!”
As the soldiers leaped to surround them, the Doctor pulled Giovanni to his side and started speaking quickly. “General, please! Let me explain! This is the man—this traitor—he is the one who murdered Valerius.”
“Impossible!” he scowled. “
We
sent this engineer—”
“The boys discovered that he planned to betray Concord,” the Doctor said and, as the general started to look even more confused, added, “He intended to collapse the bridge with you and your troops on it, and I’m ashamed to say our gonfaloniere colluded. The boys came to me for help; I was skeptical, but I knew if Valerius said it, it must be true. I begged him to let me confront the engineer, but he was too brave, General, and his bravery’s reward was this traitor’s dagger. Ask him: he bears the Empire no love. I’d have hung the dog myself if I had the right to execute citizens. General, the Bardini are—”
“Shut up,” Luparelli snapped, and turned to Giovanni. “Captain, is any of this true?”
“I am responsible for Valerius’s death,” he said evenly.
Luparelli calmly removed his iron-coated glove and struck Giovanni with it.
“Uggh!”
he cried involuntarily as the metal cut his cheek.
“Damn you!” Luparelli shouted. “My little angel never harmed anyone! Why would you do such a thing?”
The Doctor, hugely relieved that Giovanni did not respond, gave a hopeless shrug. “I’ve heard rumors, General. A quarrel—a girl.”
“
Madonna!
It doesn’t take long to go native, does it? Like father, like son, I suppose. What of the other boy?”
Feigning reluctance, the Doctor solemnly pointed to Palazzo Morello. “My student was murdered by a traitor. The Morello murdered their own.”
“How many?” Gaetano asked from the darkness.
The palazzo’s door was opened a crack, and Valentino peered out of it.
“I see a cavalry squadron, archers, gunners—and the Doctor, pointing this way. I told you he would blame us. Still with me, Brother?”
“Till death.”
Seeing General Luparelli’s indecision, the Doctor chose his words carefully. Much depended on them. “The engineer will tell you how I defended your bridge with my men”—he held up his four-fingered hand—“with my own blood. Think how the Morello hate you, General! To murder a student under their supervision, in their territory.”
Luparelli said. “No doubt you’ve got some recommendation.”
The Doctor bowed his head sorrowfully. “Rasenna can know no peace while such crimes go unpunished.” He looked up suddenly with gleaming eyes. “Exile them!”
“It was me,” said Giovanni.
“What did you say?” said Luparelli.
“I killed them both.”
“Shut up!” the Doctor hissed. “Pay no mind, General. It’s a lie.”
“No Rasenneisi shed Concordian blood,” the engineer repeated.
“I said shut up!”
The General looked at the Doctor with suspicion and was about to speak when a soldier called his attention to the crowds filling the side streets around the piazza.
“This begins to resemble an ambush, Doctor. Who are these men?”
“The bridge crew,” the Doctor said incredulously.
General Luparelli glared at him and grabbed his chains of office. “I don’t remember Rasenna so democratic! You’re gonfaloniere
now, aren’t you? So talk to them before I do something you’ll regret for the rest of your very short life.”
In all the Doctor’s calculations, the Small People had never been a factor. “Go home,” he said, but his voice barely carried. “Rasenneisi, this is Signoria business. Return to your towers.”
Pedro, bearing the Vanzetti banner as their Standard, had never felt so proud of his father. He knew what it had cost Vettori, that it might still break him, yet he took the risk.
Fabbro, seeing the Concordian guns up close, was less sanguine. “This is crazy!” he muttered.
“Think of all he’s done for us,” Vettori said. “We can’t abandon him.”
“But Vettori, they’ll kill us!”
“If we stay frightened, we’re slaves.”
“That’s business. There’s calculated risk and there’s suicide.”
“I’m not a slave anymore. Decide for yourself, my friend.”
Fabbro looked again at the Concordians and pushed his way back though the crowd to the prudent ignominy of safety.
The door of Palazzo Morello widened just enough for a slender figure to step out. Draped in his old ambassador’s cloak, Valentino Morello trotted across the piazza as if oblivious to the commotion, as if today were any other day.
The Doctor grabbed the general’s arm and hissed, “Here is your enemy!”
Irritated, Luparelli pulled his arm free and struck the Doctor with his glove. “That’s
enough
! You think I’m here to fight your battles, you weak fool? You don’t change—I remember it all, your petty conspiracies, your feuding Rasenneisi . . . To think I once thought you wise.”
“General Luparelli?” said Valentino. “It’s been too long.” He gave a gracious bow.
“Lord Morello? Have we met?”
Though his face was alarmingly swollen, Valentino smiled charmingly. “Don’t you recall?”
“You have me at a loss.” The General proffered his unarmored hand but grasped empty air.
Valentino’s cloak fell back, revealing a long sword, which he raised and swung.
Hot blood struck the Doctor’s stunned face, and he tripped on the stage, pulling Giovanni with him as he fell. The engineer struck his head on a step.
The general’s hand fell onto the cobblestones, and the fingers began twitching like an overturned insect trying to right itself.
“Forza Rasenna!”
Valentino screamed, thrusting the sword aloft, and there was an explosion of gold as bandieratori burst from Palazzo Morello. Valentino slashed away at the gunners left and right and was about to dispatch the general when he caught sight of the Doctor. “You stumbled, Gonfaloniere Bardini—?”
The general, stunned and hyperventilating but seeing his last chance of survival, scrambled for a fallen gunner’s arquebus.
Valentino said with a manic grin, “Allow me to right that—”
Gore rained over the Doctor as Valentino’s chest exploded.
“Forza Rasenna!”
The Woolsmen took up the cry as they advanced into the piazza. Vettori was trying to reach Giovanni, but nothing was clear in the mingling gun smoke and fog.
The archers on the other side of the piazza launched a barrage into the confusion, and as their deadly hail sliced the air, the front row, as one, dropped. Vettori was struck down with the rest. The crowd buckled, then sundered. One moment there was order and unity; the next, every man was alone, screaming and pushing for his life. Pedro dropped the Standard to protect Vettori from being trampled as Woolsmen tried to flee.
Hog Galati tried pulling him away. “You can’t say here!”
Pedro snapped his arm away. “I’m not leaving him!”
“Let me pull him out of the piazza at least.” And he got Vettori back to the alley before the second barrage fell. Then Hog coughed strangely and said, “Say good-bye now. Say good-bye—”
He stumbled back into the piazza, and Pedro saw the arrows sticking in his back as he lifted the Standard.
“Forza Rasenna!”
Hog cried as more arrows found their mark.
“Pedro, it’s us!” Vettori was gagging on blood.
“Papa?”
“It’s not them, it’s
us
,” he whispered. “The Signoria—the Small People. Don’t be afraid, promise me.”
Pedro didn’t understand, but he repeated, “I promise.”
He closed Vettori’s eyes, then stood, ready to take up the Standard, when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.
“You’re coming with me now,” Fabbro said.
The Doctor left Giovanni where he lay and ran to the general, avoiding swords, arrows, and banners. In the thick of the melee, Luparelli was sitting in a shallow pool of blood, patiently trying to reconnect his hand to his wrist. The Doctor tore up a Morello banner and bandaged his wound, then dragged him to the Signoria’s loggia, where the fighting was less intense.
The mist burning off as the sun rose higher revealed the true disparity between Morello and Concordian. The Concordians had regrouped after the initial surprise attack and had now taken the offensive. Their victory was certain; disorganized bandieratori, no matter how athletic, could not leap walls of pikes or dodge arrows or arquebus fire. Gaetano held them back outside the palazzo until the bombardment became too intense, when he ordered the Morello to retreat and had the door closed and barred.
Once Luparelli was on his feet again, he marched unsteadily to the palazzo to take charge himself. The Doctor trailed him obediently, smiling contentedly—in spite of all that had gone wrong, he
had
succeeded!—but his grin faltered when he spotted the dark line of Bardini flags assembling across the river. Luparelli saw them too and pushed him toward the bridge.
“Keep them back or I promise you, when I leave Rasenna, the only thing I will leave standing is my bridge.”
Sofia led the Bardini though the northern streets, gathering men from other towers as they marched. Reaching the river, she saw the commotion in Piazza Luna and broke into a run, crying, “Follow me!”
The Doctor was dashing toward her, waving her back frantically. Realizing the only steps she could hear on the bridge were her own, Sofia turned. The borgata had stalled on the northside.
“Bardini, hold!” the Doctor shouted.
“Traitors!” Sofia screamed, “I am Contessa Scaligeri; follow me!”
The Doctor reached Sofia. “They’re traitors
if
they follow you—can’t you see? Our enemies are being killed for us!”
Giovanni came to with the general’s horse nuzzling him. He stood unsteadily and tried to take in the mayhem: Woolsmen slain, the piazza strewn with golden flags, blood running freely between the stones. He was covered in blood—somebody else’s once more . . . once more back in the pit . . .
Was this what the Doctor had wanted all along, to clear the field of his rivals? Including the Contessa? Nothing else made sense anymore. He had been positive that he was
meant
to sacrifice himself for Rasenna, but somehow war had come on regardless. That didn’t matter now. To save Sofia would be enough—he could do that even if the world was intent on destroying itself.
Luparelli was overseeing the palazzo siege, but he recognized his horse as it went by—and its rider. “A thousand soldi to whoever hits the traitor!” he bellowed.
“Count Scaligeri ordered me to keep Rasenna safe for you,” the Doctor repeated.
“Your only loyalty is to yourself,” Sofia said, and threw her banner down.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Sofia.”
“You think you’re capable?” Before the Doctor could lift his flag, Sofia attacked: a series of chest kicks doubling him over, then a knee to the chin. He used his flag to stop his fall, pushed himself up with
a grunt, and charged at her, his flag elegantly masking a flurry of sudden jabs.
Sofia sidestepped, clawing his face as he went by. She looked back at the northsiders. “Come on, you cowards!”
“Stay!” the Doctor shouted, then touched the bloody cuts on his face. “Impressive.
I
didn’t teach you that.”
“That’s nothing. Watch this!”
The Bardini students couldn’t advance and they wouldn’t retreat, so they did what Rasenna had taught them: they waited. The fight would decide.
The Doctor defended himself against another onslaught of Water Style, knowing he couldn’t do more and hoping it might be enough: he had to stall only long enough for the Concordians to do their work.
Sofia jabbed his shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but his arm went dead and she snatched his banner away.
He jumped back and risked a glance south. “Look! Palazzo Morello’s burning—we’ve won!”
“You never understood what my grandfather meant,” Sofia said.
Secondo arrived from the workshop and joined the borgata. “What’s going on?”
“See for yourself,” said Mule coldly.
“Doc, behind you!” Secondo shouted.
“Sofia!”
Sofia and the Doctor turned together to see Giovanni thundering toward them on horseback.
“Giovanni, look out!” she screamed as a black swarm of arrows rained down in his wake.
When one sank into his shoulder, he jerked left, and obediently the horse crashed through the balustrade and they tumbled together toward the river.
“No!” Sofia screamed.
The Doctor recognized the moment to strike. He dropped her with a neat punch to the chin. He picked her up and looked defiantly at his bandieratori. A hostile army stared back.
“It was for her own protection,” he said calmly.
By the time Palazzo Morello’s doors had been blown in, most of the students had abandoned their flags. The rain of debris that had knocked Gaetano unconscious now concealed him as the Concordians rushed in. Those servants too loyal or too stupid to flee were swiftly struck down on the stairs. Donna Morello, standing beside her husband, had been prepared to kill herself in classic style, but when the soldiers broke in, she entirely forgot her purpose and rushed at them, screaming a war cry.