After the Downfall

Hasso wished he had a compass, to give him a precise bearing on where that bridge lurked under the water. Nobody here had any idea what a compass was. If he could float an iron needle in a bowl of water … But he had too many other things to worry about right now.

Velona marked off the bearing as best she could. Hasso decided it would probably serve; they weren’t very far from the Aryesh. “Go on,” she urged him. “See if there are any more.”

He wished she were urging him on while they were doing something else, but he saw the need for continuing with this. That need might not delight him, but he did see it. And working magic had a fascination, and an astonishment, all its own. He didn’t think he’d been so delightfully surprised since the first time he played with himself.

And … “I’ll be a son of a bitch!” he muttered. Damned if the rod didn’t jerk up in his hand again. Chanting the charm over and over, he fixed the precise direction. Again, Velona marked it.

He found one more bridge after that, or thought he did. Part of him – a good bit of him – still wondered whether this wasn’t some kind of delusion. But even in his world dowsers could – or claimed they could – find water. Maybe there was something to it.

Velona had no doubts. As soon as the spell was done, she plastered herself against him tighter than a coat of paint and gave him a kiss that curled his ears and made steam come out of his hair. Before he could sling her over his shoulder and carry her off to their tent – the first thing that occurred to him, even if she didn’t weigh that much less than he did – she broke free and called for the artisans. After a moment, regretfully, so did Hasso.

The men came up with astonishing haste. Hasso didn’t flatter himself that his shouts had much to do with it. When your goddess yelled for you, you went to her first and then wondered why she wanted you. (Hasso sometimes wondered why Velona still wanted him, but in a much more pleasant way.)

“Follow these bearings to the river, one by one,” she said, pointing at the lines she’d laid out. “When you get there, probe under the surface. You’ll find hidden bridges in each place. Tear them up.”

They saluted, clenched fists over their hearts. “We’ll do it!” they said, and hurried off. Hasso hoped they weren’t going off for nothing, not least because he would look like a jerk if they were.

They must have found what they were looking for, because that evening King Bottero summoned Hasso to dine with him. He hadn’t done that since Hasso’s striking column slammed through the Bucovinans in the first – and, so far, only – big battle the two sides had fought. Bottero poured wine for Hasso with his own hand. “You see?” he said expansively. “I told you you could do it.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Hasso said, which was an answer as useful here as Jawohl, mein Fuhrer! had been back in the Reich. And it wasn’t even a lie this time around. Bottero did say so, and he was right.

“Why did you have any doubts?” the king asked. “If Aderno said you had the power, you did. Aderno may be a pain in the fundament sometimes, but he knows the difference between a snake and its cast skin.”

“No magic in the world I come from,” Hasso said. “Hard for me to believe anyone has it.” He jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “Extra hard to believe I have it.”

“Well, you do,” Bottero said. “Get used to it. The artisans came back all excited about how you knew exactly where to send them. They said you made their work easy. One of them asked why our regular wizards couldn’t do so well.”

Hasso winced. “They shouldn’t say that.” He didn’t want the regular wizards angry at him. Maybe he could work a little magic, however crazy that seemed. But he wasn’t a pro, and he knew it. If somebody who was a pro decided to turn him into a prawn, he didn’t know how to defend himself or fight back.

A pretty young Grenye woman brought in a platter of pork ribs and roasted parsnips. The robe she wore was so thin, it wouldn’t have kept her warm long outside. The king ran his hand up her leg. Was her smile forced or real? Was she glad to be getting off as easy as this, or did she hate him for groping her – and, no doubt, for taking her, too? Hasso had no way to know, which might have been – surely was – just as well.

He concentrated on the food. After a while, he asked, “How far to Falticeni, your Majesty?”

“We’re getting there,” Bottero answered. “Pretty soon, the savages will have to fight us again. We’ll whip them, and then we’ll go on and take the place.”

The woman stood by the king, waiting for anything he might want – for anything at all, plainly. “Should you talk with her here?” Hasso asked.

“Why not?” Bottero asked. “She knows how to say, ‘Yes,’ in Lenello, and that’s about it. And she’s not going anywhere anyhow. She’s hot enough to keep around for a while.” He fondled her again, then asked, “You want her to suck you off? She’s good.”