Irenicon (28 page)

The general looked at Levi with much the same hostility he’d shown the notary. “How did you secure your release?”

“I escaped, General,” said Levi, awkwardly dropping his hand.

“Escaped. Not the first time you’ve left a Concordian prison in one piece. Not many are so fortunate. Come in, Colonel. I wish to congratulate you privately.”

Levi swallowed. Telling Sofia he’d be back in a minute, he turned and entered the tent just as an old man shuffled out. Distracted, hugging a book to his body, he stumbled. Sofia caught the book and held his arm as he regained his balance.

“Good catch, Sister!”

“I’m not a nun, Father,” she said quickly as she handed him the book, but he barely heard as he hurried on his way. Sofia remained outside the tent for an hour. She wasn’t eavesdropping—the general’s roaring was impossible
not
to hear. She was pleased to hear Levi defend himself at last.

“
Concord
killed Harry, General, not me—and not you, though I see you’re still intent on blaming us both.”

When Levi came out with a red face and set mouth, Acuto called after him, “Colonel! You’re coming to the negotiations tomorrow. I need that clever tongue for once.”

Levi saluted frostily.

John Acuto’s glare fell on Sofia.

“What are you looking at?” she said.

“Colonel, who’s this?”

“My name is Sofia Sca—”

“Nobody. She escaped with me.”

“Another spy, then? Nice to know I’m important enough to merit two.”

“Say that again, Methuselah—” Sofia put her hand on her dagger.

Levi rested a restraining hand on her shoulder. “I can vouch for her.”

“That’s supposed to comfort me?” said Acuto. He looked down at Sofia. “What can you do?”

“I’m good with a knife. I’ll show you if you like.”

Levi saw the guards watching Sofia; she hadn’t taken her hand off her dagger.

“She means she’s a cook, General.”

Acuto snorted. “Fine, fine. But you taste everything she prepares first. If I’m to be poisoned I want to take my assassin with me. Best teach her manners too.”

As Sofia and Levi made their way to the mess tent, she saw that the soldiers weren’t in the same condition as their neatly arrayed and polished equipment. Every man bore scars from past campaigns as well as wounds still fresh from Tagliacozzo.

“I’d like to teach
him
some manners,” she fumed.

“I hope you
can
cook,” said Levi.

“Don’t worry; I grew up looking after myself. But why not tell him who I am?”

“Sofia, if you wanted to be that person, you would have gone back to Rasenna.”

She was stung for only a moment. “Answer the question.”

“Condottieri aren’t knights, they’re businessmen,” said Levi, still tense. “Your name could make you a commodity.”

They found the giant hard at work in front of a range of boiling pots.

“Yuri, got you a new assistant. Sofia, everybody’s sick of Russky food. Maybe you can mix it up a little.”

Yuri wagged a spoon in Levi’s face. “The peoples are loving my cookerys. I get many compliments to it.”

“I thought you were a soldier,” said Sofia.

“Why do you think this?”

She pointed to an old scar on his neck. “That’s an arrow wound, so is that, and you didn’t get those”—looking at the fresh stitches—“from peeling vegetables,” she said.

“You have smarts like Levi,” said Yuri, “but not to be so sure of vegetables, especially asparagus, very sneaky!”

“Everyone’s a soldier here,” said Levi. “Cooks, surgeons, even priests. John Acuto runs a tight ship.”

“I am hearing he’s giving you some welcomes.”

“The old man’s gone crazy!” Levi exploded. “He’s seeing conspiracies everywhere—”

“But maybe there is one.”

“I
know
there’s one—but I also know the real problem: times are changing; things are getting harder.”

The giant nodded. “Maybe.”

“Acuto said you’d escaped Concord before,” said Sofia.

“He’s just being sarcastic. I was a hostage for a time, about five years ago, when the Hawk’s Company still worked for Concord, when Concord still returned hostages.”

“Back home, they said John Acuto betrayed Concord.”

Yuri slammed a tomato into mush. “This is big lie!”

“Relax, Yuri,” said Levi. “That’s what all Etruria thinks. It wasn’t like that, Sofia. Concord double-crossed us. We had a Contract with them, so at the start of each season we’d provide hostages—pretty standard; contractors don’t have great reputations for fealty, after all.”

“You don’t say?”

“Anyway, that year I was one, and so was Harry.”

“That’s an Anglish name.”

“Harry Acuto. John Acuto’s son.”

“Brave fighter,” said Yuri.

“And a good friend,” said Levi quietly. “I was released. Harry wasn’t—Concord’s way of canceling our Contract, I guess. Since then, the Hawk’s Company only takes Contracts from Concord’s enemies.”

“Was good policy, for a while,” said Yuri.

“I bet. Dying men spend freely,” said Sofia.

“Now everyone’s broke, and the general’s still wary of me just because I lived and Harry died. I told him that Concord had known of our plans, and it just made him more suspicious.”

“That’s how condottieri think, all twisty like noodle.” Yuri dangled a string of pasta.

“Concord wants you to fight among yourselves. That’s how the swine work,” Sofia said.

“Well, it’s working,” said Levi. “I’m beginning to think we should have stayed and taken our chances with the buio.”

CHAPTER 56

The first
official
day of Contract negotiation was something all condottieri looked forward to. Most towns, relieved to have secured champions, would hold celebrations at which the Contract brokers could play at being chivalrous knights to the rescue. The company could also expect lavish quarters for the duration of negotiations.

Strange, then, said Levi, to find Ariminum’s gates closed that morning, and stranger still, after they were grudgingly opened, to ride through streets that were empty but for barking Strays—empty, though Ariminum was a busy, wealthy town. The reason for this shabby reception was obvious and disconcerting—their hosts were telling them they were unwelcome.

The Sala dei Notari, a lofty chamber of wood-carved dignity, had been built on an inhuman scale, with everything a few inches too high, all a little too large for the stony-faced Signoria, men who faded beside the decorative banners, shields, and ribbons covering
the walls. John Acuto and his colleagues felt, as was intended, out of place and inferior, like petitioners begging for debt relief rather than the city’s saviors.

Before the session came to order, Acuto glanced over his negotiating team, appraising his three wise men’s loyalty, a game he played with everyone these days.

Scarpelli’s face was, as usual, a mask, polite and blank. The Dwarf, now treasurer, was innocent and guilty both at once—he owed his inglorious title to his obvious ambition as much as to his strange proportions. He always did what was asked of him, but still Acuto distrusted him—maybe it was the covetous way he stroked a banner that hung within reach or the way his yellow skin shone like old fruit. Hardly good reasons not to trust the man.

That left Levi, whom Acuto had once considered a protégé. Since Harry’s death the distance between them had been insurmountable, though Levi had attempted to bridge it. Acuto followed his gaze and saw Levi was studying the carved town mascot looming over the proceedings; the griffin looked about as sympathetic as the beak-nosed doge of Ariminum glowering down at them beneath it.

The general’s massive frame perched awkwardly on a small stool. He assumed his discomfort, like the other slights, was intentional. Well, let them play their games. The foundation townsmen built their courage upon was ignorance—ignorance of how easily buildings burned, how little strength it took to tumble walls and how much could be lost in a moment. So let them have their pride so long as in the end he had their money.

The Moorish notary brusquely called the session to order, and the general rose to speak. “My Lords, long has Ariminum been famous for pride and prudence and wealth; I must now add hospitality to that list. Today the urgent need of Ariminum and the talents of my famous Company meet harmoniously. Let us make haste then to sign our Contract and begin what will undoubtedly be a bond of mutual advantage.”

Levi caught the general’s eye as he sat down. If they had been on winking terms, he was certain he would have gotten one now. The
old bull had been negotiating Contracts for decades. Whether the townsmen were deaf to sarcasm remained to be seen.

After a protracted silence long enough to be rude, the doge glared with bare hostility at the condottieri. “We deigned to invite you inside our walls, John Acuto, but you were
not
invited to speak. Ariminum has traditions that were old long before you stole into this country. We begin Signoria meetings with prayer, not vacuous pleasantries.” He made the Sign of the Sword and stood. “On this, the day of Saint Francis, we pray he will protect us as he protected the people of Gubbio.”

The doge suddenly interrupted his pious drone to ask, “You’ve heard of this miracle, John Acuto?”

Acuto’s smile didn’t falter. “I know the town.”

The doge continued, “Oh? Perhaps you are familiar with its recent history, but once, long ago, it was terrorized by a Wolf. The Saint came and called the Wolf from the forest. ‘Brother Wolf,’ he said, ‘if these townsmen feed you, will you promise not to kill them?’ Naturally, the townsmen’s lives were incomprehensible to the beast, but it understood a free meal. Without the gift of speech, it could only twist its emaciated body—it was starving too—in such an unnatural way that everyone understood it agreed to the Contract. Saint Francis piously went on his way, and the Wolf lived in peace with the townsfolk ever after.”

“Charming story,” Acuto said, hiding his impatience.

“You were not invited to speak!” the doge shouted.

“When the Wolf died, the townsfolk mourned it and buried it in holy ground, just like a citizen. You see, they’d forgotten that it was a beast. But a beast remains a beast no matter how it learns to twist. You will
not
be given quarters inside our walls, John Acuto. You will remain outside with your mercenaries. Expect a lengthy stay. All Etruria knows the only language condottieri speak well is Contract law, so we will
not
make haste; we will deliberate, we will parse, and if you don’t like it—”

“My Lord, this hostility is—”

“—all you can expect! If it does not please you, break camp, and we will find a Company with less vanity and more respect. The
scavengers that remain in Etruria would be happy for the work. This marriage of convenience will be brief, so speak of no ‘shared interests’—you would not be here if your private war with Concord had not beggared you, and we would not be reduced to hiring
you
, the cancer of Etruria, if Concord did not covet our wealth.”

“You speak candidly, my Lord,” said John Acuto.

“If you prefer the dung of hypocrisy, leave our contato, Brother Wolf. Go to the poor wretched towns that are left, if you haven’t already raped them of every soldi.”

John Acuto stood. “Candor suits me entirely, Doge. You talk of war and drape your walls with ribbons, but they are not combat banners and you are not soldiers. You think you have me at a disadvantage because bargaining is your profession. I advise you to remember
my
profession. If the Contract is not signed within a month and a day, I will break camp, but first I’ll break your walls and burn your towers. Then you’ll be the starving dogs!”

He kicked aside his stool and strode out. The three wise men looked aghast, then scrambled to follow.

The negotiators passed through the town gates attended by barking dogs. Levi studied the famous triple walls. They would be difficult to breach if it came down to it. He broke the silence. “Well, they hate us.”

“Expect friendship and you’re in for disappointment,” said John Acuto wearily. “This wretched country’s climate doesn’t suit it. Aye, they hate us. Lucky for us, they love their money more.”

The evening meal was simple, with the emphasis on nourishment and quantity over taste, but Sofia had added a feminine touch the soldiers were grateful for.

“Look, Yuri—the general’s joining us.”

“Why would he not?”

“In my town, the Families keep a distance from the Small People.”

“Do I look
small
to you? Company is not like towns is. If general don’t eat with men, men don’t elect general.”

Sofia was ladling out the stew when Acuto’s turn came.

“I apologize for my earlier rudeness, Signorina. Old soldiers see enemies where there are none.”

She shrugged. “Levi’s the one you owe the apology.”

Yuri winced, expecting an eruption, but the general just took his plate with a grunt and sat down with his officers. After the majority of the men were served, Yuri told Sofia to eat. She sat beside the fire with Levi. He and the Dwarf were already arguing. The Hawk’s Company was small enough that the Dwarf was needed for both fighting and brokering, but Levi, knowing enough about both to know the Dwarf was incompetent, could never disguise his skepticism.

The general smacked his lips. “You prepared this
l’ampra dotto
, Signorina?”

“Yes,” said Sofia coolly, not to be won over by compliments to her cooking either.

But flattery was not his aim. “Rasenneisi dish, is it not? If you originate there too, perhaps you weren’t lying about your knifework.”

“I don’t lie!” said Sofia hotly.

“Look!” The Dwarf wheezed a laugh. “The Rasenneisi Dish’s blushing!”

“I wouldn’t—” said Scarpelli.

“Oh, relax, I’m just being friendly. Anything else on the menu tonight,
amore
?”

Acuto said, “Dwarf, you may not be a knight, but try to be a gentleman.”

Yuri lifted the Dwarf by the collar until his feet dangled. “You have complainings, you come to me.”

“Let’s see if she can fight her own battles,” said Acuto.

“Suits me,” Sofia said, putting down her plate and cracking her knuckles.

Scarpelli and Levi exchanged a knowing glance. The Dwarf was embarrassed to suddenly be the center of attention.

“General, I’m not going to hit a girl—”

He came to with Sofia kneeling over him.

“Don’t try to talk. Your jaw’s dislocated.” She braced his head and pushed his chin to one side.

He screamed.

“Next time, I set it crooked.”

The Dwarf whimpered and passed out again.

John Acuto cocked an eyebrow at Levi. “Tell me again, Colonel, who rescued whom?”

“Well, she didn’t slow me down,” said Levi breezily, glad to be civilly addressed again.

Yuri sat down beside Sofia. “You teach me this moves?”

After the meal, the officers discussed the difficulties with the Ariminumese.

“The month you gave might not be enough, General,” Levi said.

“An empty threat. That overdressed griffin was right; we’ve bled every town in the Peninsula dry, those Concord didn’t get to first. We need this Contract more than Ariminum does, and they know it. I’m going to turn in. I have to write home and tell my wife I’ll be delayed another season.”

He stood and announced, “I suggest those of you with loved ones do likewise. We camp here for spring. Golden dreams, gentlemen.”

Levi watched the general lumber into the darkness. “He’s still writing those letters?”

“Still—” said Yuri wearily.

When that subject was exhausted, Levi discussed Tagliacozzo with the other captains. Everyone had a different version of the battle, but the unspoken consensus was that the Hawk’s fortune had simply run out. Their loyalty was intact, but even a stranger like Sofia could see it was shaken.

As it got dark, damp winds heavy with the last chill of winter blew in from the sea. The men sang songs of distant homes in distant lands, melancholy airs that Sofia understood, though the words were strange. Before her turn came, she stole away. She had no loved ones to write to, no home to sing of.