Into The Darkness

11 Maybe we can take care of that." Frontino got out the bag in which he'd stored Martusino's clothes and effects, and took from it the burglar's belt pouch. He and Bembo divided up the silver and the couple of small goldpieces they found inside.

"I get the odd coin," Bembo said, scooping it up. "Pesaro's going to want his cut, too." Frontino nodded. That was how things worked in Tricarico.

Dragons spiraled high above Tirgoviste harbor - above all the harbors of Sibiu - keeping watch against Algarvian attack from the air or from the sea. They reassured Commander Cornelu whenever he looked up into the heavens. No doubt mages behind closed doors also probed for any disturbance in the ley lines that would mean an Algarvian fleet was setting forth against the island kingdom. But, because the mages were hidden away, Cornelu had to assume they were on the job. The dragons he could see.

Today, he couldn't see them so well as he would have liked: mist and low, thin clouds made them almost disappear. The weather, which wol only worsen as autumn gave way to winter, would make it harder for dragons to give early warning and would put a greater burden on the mages shoulders.

Cornelu frowned. Magic was all very well, but he wanted the eyes in the sky to be as effective as they could, too. Seamen who took chances: did not often live to take very many. That held equally true for fishermen, in sailboats, sailors in cruisers skimming along the ley lines, and leviathan riders like himself.

Musing on the wisdom of taking few chances, Cornelu tripped on a cobblestone and almost rolled down the hill into the sea. Tirgoviste ro ily f wift rom the shore; some of the bright-painted shops set on hillsides showed noticeably more wall on the side nearer the Narrow Sea than on the other.

A wine merchant had a QUITTING BUSINESS banner stretch across his window. Cornelu ducked in to see what bargains he migh up. Sibiu was a merchant kingdom; lying where it did, it could scarce be anything else. The scent of a bargain fired Cornelu's blood hardly than the scent of his wife's favorite perfume.

He found few bargains in the wine shop, only empty shelves. "Why did you put the banner up?" he asked the merchant.

"Where am I going to find any more stock?" the fellow answered bitterly. "Almost all I sold were Algarvian vintages, and the war's blazed our trade there right through the heart. Oh, I can get in a few bottles from Valmiera and Jelgava, but that's all I can get: a few. They're expensive as all getout, too - expensive for me to buy, and too expensive to sell very fast. Might as well pack it in and try another line of work. I couldn't do worse, believe me."

"King Mezentio would be lording it over us if we didn't do something about him," Cornelu said. "We almost waited too long in the Six Years' War. We don't dare take that chance again."

"You can talk like that - King Burebistu pays your bills." The wine merchant's scowl was gloomier than the weather. "Who will pay mine, when the war cuts me off from my source of supply? You know as well as I do: nobody."

Cornelu left in a hurry. He wished he'd never gone into the shop. He wanted to think of Sibiu as united in the effort against Algarve. He knew that wasn't so, but thinking of it as being so helped him do his job better.

Getting his nose rubbed in the truth had the opposite effect, one he didn't want.

He hurried down the hill to the harbor. Gulls scavenging garbage from the gutters rose in mewing, squawking clouds as he strode past them. He hoped none of them would avenge itself on his hat or the sleeve of his tunic. As if to give that hope the lie, a dropping splashed on to the cobbles only a yard or so from his shoe. He hurried on, and reached Commodore Delfinu's office unbefouled.

After the two men exchanged salutes and kisses on the cheeks, Cornelu asked, "Sir, have we had any better luck in getting leviathans into the Barian ports?"

Glumly, Delfinu shook his head. "No, and we've lost more men try ing, too, as you will probably have heard." When Cornelu nodded, the head of the Leviathan Service went on, "The Algarvians have Imola and Lungni as tightly locked up as if they were virgin daughters. They keep dragons in the air over them all the time, too, so we can't learn from above what they're doing, either."

"Curse them," Cornelu said. Dragons above Tirgoviste were one thing, dragons above the ports the enemy had taken for his own some thing else again - something onunous. Cornelu took a deep breath. "If you like, sir, Eforiel and I will cross the strait and see what they're up to

– and, if you like, put down some eggs to keep them from doing it, what ever it is."

Delfinu shook his head again. "I am ordering no man across the strait to Lungri and Imola. I have lost too many. The Algarvians are not so skilled in using leviathans as we are" - pride rang in his voice - "but they have become all too skilled at hunting them down." The pride leaked away, to be replaced by chagrin.