They didn't have to wait long for a small, swift courier boat to come running back with the news that a pirate fleet was approaching.

The admirals sent the courier on with word for the Maestro and the Council before they set sail to meet the pirates. That word ran through the town, and when Gianni realized that his soldiers were virtually the only ones who weren't down by the docks waiting with bated breath, he called for fifty volunteers to guard the bridge to the mainland and sent everyone else off to wait and hope and pray with the rest of Pirogia. The hours dragged by, and people began to curse beneath their breath-but there wasn't a single echo of cannon fire, nor a trace of gunsmoke in the sky, for the navy had done its job well and attacked the pirate fleet far from the city.

Dusk fell, and people began to go home, dispirited and worried-but sausage sellers appeared, hawking their wares in the midst of the crowd, and a few enterprising wine merchants realized the chance to rid themselves of some of their worst vintages, so most of the crowd stayed, sipping near-vinegar and bolstered with meat that was best not studied too closely, waiting and hoping but growing more and more fearful by the hour, then by the minute.

Finally, hours after darkness had fallen, a shout went up from those who waited out by the headland, a shout that traveled inward to the watchers on the quays.

"Ships! Sails!"

But whose? Impossible to tell, when all they could see was moonlight glinting on canvas in the distance-and the gunners stood by their cannon in the harbor forts while Gianni barked commands, and his brand-new soldiers marched forward to stand at the edge of the quay, hearts thumping so loudly that the crowd could almost hear them, halberds slanting out, waiting for sign of an enemy. The civilians gave way, letting themselves be elbowed back, more than glad to yield place to the soldiers in case the ships were pirates.

Then a shout of joy went up from the headland and traveled inward. As it reached the quays, three ships rounded the headland, their standards clear in the torchlight from the forts, the emblem on the one intact sail huge enough for all to see-the eagle of Pirogia! Then the citizens recognized the ships of their own building, and a shout of joy went up and turned into mad cheering that seemed as though it would never stop. The soldiers waved their pikes aloft, shouting in jubilation too.

More ships followed them, and more. The first of them glided up to the quays, and weary but triumphant sailors leaped over the side, elbowing their way through soldiers who laughed with joy and clapped them on their shoulders, cheering them on as they plowed into the crowd in search of sweethearts, wives, parents, and children.

Last from the last ship came the rear admiral, leaning heavily on Gar's arm. A reddened bandage wound up across his chest to his shoulder, but he was smiling bravely, and the light of victory was in his eyes.

"A surgeon, a surgeon!" Gar cried. His uniform was blackened with gunpowder, rent with sword cuts in a dozen places; he had a bandage around his left arm and another about his head-but he seemed clear-minded and able.

The surgeons took the admiral away, and -Gianni ran up to clap Gar on the back and wring his hand, crying, "Congratulations! All hail the hero! A victory, Gar, a fabulous victory!"

"My men's, not mine." But Gar was smiling, his eyes alight. "But it was a fabulous battle, Gianni! I wish men could turn away from war-but if there have to be wars, they should be like this!"

"Tell me how it was!"

"We left the harbor with the morning breeze to waft us out to sea. A mile out, the fore admiral, Giovanni Pontelli, led half of our forces further out, past the horizon, while the rear admiral, Mosca Cacholli, led the rest of us on southward, following the coast, to meet the pirates as far from Pirogia as we could. With the wind at our backs, we made good time, and the breeze was beginning to turn toward sh.o.r.e when we met the pirates off Cape Leone. Admiral Cacholli hove to and gave the command to begin the bombardment. You know how I insisted the cannon be placed, Gianni-all on the deck, covered by canvas in case of storm, but none belowdecks, or the crew would be truly deafened by the sound, roasted by the heat, and suffocated by the smoke. Well, it wasn't much better on the decks, but all my gunners can still hear their orders and none died of smoke-though I think the sun's heat may have been just as bad as any on a gun deck. Still, my cannoneers pulled the canvas off their guns, loaded, and fired. The whole ship swayed with the recoil, but I had also insisted the ships not be too high, so they didn't capsize, and my crews proved the worth of their drill, because no one was crushed by the guns as they rolled back. Cacholli staggered the fire, so that as one ship fired, another was reloading and a third was taking aim, and we loosed a round every minute or so."

"Well, the pirates just weren't expecting anything like it. It was a horrendous noise, even over two hundred yards of water, and they had never faced such a rolling bombardment. We sank a dozen of their ships, for they turned broadside to fire at us, and their long galleys gave us excellent targets, while our little caravels, with so much s.p.a.ce between them, gave them very little to aim at and less to hit. We couldn't hear their cannon because of the din of our own, but we saw their shot splash into the water in front of us-in front, between our ships, behind us, and every place except on our ships themselves. Simply put, their gunners couldn't even hit us!"

"Not a single one?" Gianni asked, eyes wide. "Well, one of our caravels lost its mast and three deck hands; I could swear the shot hit by accident! But no matter how good our bombardment, it wasn't enough to decide the battle by itself, because there were three of them to every one of us, and the rest pressed on through the bombardment to grapple us. We turned and ran, and the pirate galleys fell farther and farther behind with every minute. The sea heaved beneath us, our little ships bucked and seesawed like horses, and the waves broke over our bow and drenched us with salt spray-but we were sailing against the wind, tacking, and the pirates had no idea how to do that. Oh, they furled their sails, but the wind still blew against them, and their oarsmen had to strain to make any way at all. Those oarsmen must have been new slaves pressed to learn to row in a week! Try as they might, they fell farther and farther behind us, and when we had distance enough, Admiral Cacholli turned us for another broadside and another, chewing their fleet to bits. Finally the pirates gained some modic.u.m of sense and sent a wing to row up on our flank while we bombarded, so when we turned to run again, they came down from seaward with the wind behind them, and grappled us."

Gar's eyes glittered. "Then was the test of my marines, and they surpa.s.sed those poor farm boys forced to masquerade as pirates as thoroughly as a warhorse surpa.s.ses a child's pony! The 'pirates' came over the side with their scimitars waving, but my marines met them with a line of halberds. They ran the first wave through, then chopped the second wave in chest and hip. As they tired, they fell back and left the third wave of pirates to the second rank of marines, who stabbed and chopped as well as the first. But the pirates' officers drove them on with lash and blade, and they came over both rails in such numbers that my marines had to drop their spears and lug out their swords. Then it was man to man and blood and steel, each on his own. Three farm boys came at me all at once, yowling like demons and chopping as though their swords were axes. My blood sang high, for it was kill or be killed, so I tried to forget that they were forced to it and lunged, running the first through and ducking so that his body slammed into my shoulder. I straightened and threw him off as I parried his mate's slash, then stepped aside to let the third stumble past me-but I put out my foot and let him fall, even as I parried the second's slash again, then beat down his blade and ran him through."

"Then, incredibly, there were none more at me. I looked about and saw two of my marines back to back, beleaguered by a dozen plowboys-poor fools, they didn't realize that only six at a time could do any good, and they were getting in each other's way. I caught one by the shoulder, yanked him back, and stabbed him through the other shoulder, then turned to catch another by the arm and send him after the first. He tripped and went down, and another marine stabbed as he fell. I caught another and another, wounding each as he turned-but by the time I'd uncovered my two marines, they had slain all six of the men within reach. We turned and went looking for new quarry."

"That was the way of it. My marines went through the sea robbers' ranks reaping death until the 'pirates' began to throw down their arms and cry for mercy. Then my captains managed to rein in their sailors as I called back my marines, and ordered them to lock the pirates in the holds of their own ships."

"But that was only the flank," Gianni said, his eyes wide.

"Only the flank, but they delayed us long enough for the main body to catch up with us." Gar nodded, his face turning somber. "There were half a dozen ships in the center of their line who were the real pirates, and they grappled and boarded.

Then my boys died-one of each five, as we learned when the battle was done-but each took half a dozen pirates with him, and those who lived took ten and more.

One huge brute came at me, all mustaches and leering grin. I parried his slash, but he kicked at me; I blocked the kick with my shin and thrust at him, but he was quick enough to catch his balance and slap my sword aside with his blade. I leaped back, but not quite quickly enough, and his cleaver took a slice off my armthere . . . " He nodded at his wound. "I bellowed in anger and thrust before he could recover, ran him through like the pig he was, and turned just in time to see another like him chopping one of my lads through and yowling with delight as he did. The whole view darkened with redness then, and I leaped in to catch him by the hair and shave him gratis. I would have bandaged the cuts I made, but there was no point, since he'd lost his head." Gar shook his head in selfdisgust. "But I let my heart carry me away there, and turned from his execution to see three of his smaller mates coming for me with swords waving, howling like the north wind. I ducked and stabbed upward, running one through just under the breastbone as I caught up the butcher's scimitar from the dead man. I cut with it at the man on my left, and he skidded to a halt to block with his own as I parried the blow from my right, then swung my rapier about and ran the man through.

Then I turned to my left and caught the fool's next slash, scimitar against scimitar, and ran him through with my rapier."

"So it went. We paid a high price in blood and life, but we cleared all the real pirates from our decks, then boarded their ships and slew the few who were left, throwing their bodies to the sharks. They'll be in blood frenzy all along this coast for weeks, so bid everyone to forgo swimming."

Gianni shuddered. "But the rest of the fleet?" Gar's eyes glinted again. "While the false pirates were struggling to reach us, Admiral Pontelli had been sailing past them on the other side of the horizon. Now when they grappled, he swooped down on them with the wind at his back, hove to, and fired point-blank at their rear. It was a fearful carnage, they tell me, and the foolish false pirates had jammed themselves too closely for no more than a few of them to beat their way clear with their oars. Indeed, they did more damage to one another than the admiral did, ramming into their own ships and breaking each other's oars-and oarsmen," he added darkly. "When they'd sorted themselves out, our ships grappled them one by one, and my marines made me proud of their training again. They lost only a dozen and were disgusted with the work they had to do, for they were fighting untrained plowboys again, who surrendered quickly enough, though, and we locked them in their holds as we had before. Then we set prize crews to each ship-they should be sailing into the harbor before dawn. They have to go slowly, for they've no oarsmen and only skeleton crews, but we've doubled the size of our fleet!"

"A fabulous victory!" Gianni cried. "But how can you be so sure that the false pirates were peasants forced into service?"

Gar grinned from ear to ear. "Why, because when our admiral struck the sword from the hand of their admiral and bade my marines seize the man, he cried, Unhand me, lowborn sc.u.m! Know that I am the Conte Plasio, and worth more than all your ragtag horde put together!"

Gianni stared in disbelief, then broke out laughing, slapping Gar on the back. But his mirth slackened and died when he heard the wailing from the back of the quay.

"I said we lost men," Gar said, his face darkening, "marines, but sailors, too. It was a great victory, and cheaply bought, when you see how many we sank and how many we won-but we did pay a price, and there'll be many who mourn this night."

Gianni stared toward the sounds of grief, suddenly realizing how real the war was-that it was more than some gigantic contest, some game lords played to relieve their boredom. Their playing pieces were living human beings, and their play ended in tragedy.

"The philosopher told us that eternal vigilance is the price of freedom," Gar said softly beside him, "but he forgot that vigilance must all too frequently end in war, and those who say it's better to die free than to live a slave must think long and truly before they say it."

Gianni heard, felt the question sink deep within him-but heard the ring and the hardening of instant certainty, too. "I hope I won't have to pay that price, Gar," he said, "but I will if I must."

"Yes." Gar nodded. "After all, you've come near to paying it twice, and that without even having a chance to fight to stay free, haven't you? At the last, the question is not whether or not you'll die, but how."

The day after the battle, the courier boats came back-three that first day, two the next, and five more on the third. All the other merchant cities, after furious debates in guildhalls and councils, had finally seen that they must fight or be ground under the n.o.blemen's boots. With the three cities that wavered, news of the navy's victory against the lords' thinly disguised fleet turned the tide, and they, too, cast their lot with Pirogia. Their amba.s.sadors met in the Council Hall, and with ponderous ceremony signed a Charter of Merchant Cities, agreeing to fight together under a strategy devised by Pirogia. That was all they would promise, and only for the duration of the war; peacetime details would be thrashed out when (and if!) peace came. But it was enough to make the Pirogians jubilant again-and to bring Gianni the most splendid dream of his life.

The circle of light appeared amidst the darkness of sleep, and Gianni braced himself for another encounter with the cantankerous old Wizard, but the expanding circle of light showed not floating hair but swirling veils, and it was the Mystery Woman who undulated before him, not the grim old face-and her gyrations were more p.r.o.nounced than before, slower, more rhythmical, more enticing. There was an aura about her, an aura of desire-not his, but hers.

Bravely done, Gianni Braccalese! Her voice was warm all about him; he could have sworn he felt breath in his ear. You have done well and wisely to persuade your father, and the merchant cities have listened to your reasoning! The league is formed, and it is your doing, O my brave one, all yours!

Gianni bathed in every word of her praise-indeed, he felt it as caressing all over his skin-but honesty made him protest, It was Gar's idea first, and my father who brought it to the Council!

But the arguments your father used were yours, and it was you who pressed him into making the demands again! Oh, you are brave and worthy and valiant, and all that a woman could want! She swam closer, closer, and her face remained shadowed, even though the veils stilled and dropped, and the glory of her figure shone in a wondrous rose-hued light. Gianni gasped and felt his whole body quicken, aching for her-and discovered that he had a body in this dream, a body far more muscular and unblemished than his real one, naked and fairly glowing with his desire for her.

And she was there beside him, taking his hand and laying it upon her breast, then moving it gently to caress. Mechanically, he continued the action when her hand stopped, staring in fascination and awe at the glorious curves of breast and thigh and hip. Some lingering scruple screamed at him that this was wrong because they weren't married, but she must have heard and breathed, No. Nothing is wrong, in a dream for you have no control over your dreams, and therefore can have no guilt, they do with you as they please. And she did indeed seem to be doing with him as she pleased, caressing his body too, wherever she wished-and more clearly, wherever he wished ... Oh, be very sure that you have no control over this dream, she a.s.sured, for I do, every instant. Come, do as I wish, for you can do nothing elseyour only choice is to fight your desires while you do as I please, or to fulfill those desires, as is only right, very right, perfectly right-in a dream. Dream with me, Gianni, for there can be no guilt and no sin here, and the only wrongness is to refuse the gift of pleasure thus given.

It was true, her words rang true within him, and Gianni threw away all scruple and inhibition, giving himself over fully to her and her wondrous dreambody, and the pleasure vouchsafed him. He who had never lain with a woman but always dreamed of it, dreamed now in earnest, and learned the ways of lovemaking to their fullest in the depths of his sleep.

CHAPTER 14.

There was one aspect of war, at least, that Gar had not had to teach the people of Pirogia. The merchants, and especially the Council, had always had a very healthy interest in the events that happened in and around the other cities-who was buying what, who was selling what, who was in league with whom, who was marching against whom-so the fishermen and the peasants had all known, for many years, that the Council of Pirogia, and some individual merchants, would pay well for information of all sorts. Gar had not had to point out to the Council that intelligence about enemy troop movements was worth even more than general news, and much more hazardous to obtain; the Council had doubled, then tripled, the price of its own accord, and several peasant families who had been burned out by soldiers recovered the whole worth of their farm and livestock just by telling their tale to the officers of the Council. Indeed, that was how the news had come that had panicked the merchants into authorizing the gathering of the army.

Even so, Gianni found it hard to believe that even the peasants whom Gar had persuaded into going out and seeking information again and again, and who brought back hair-raising tales and became amazingly adept at gathering information, could have brought back as much as the giant knew, or brought it as fast as he learned it. He also noticed the new medallion Gar wore pinned over his heart, but a.s.sumed it was just a sort of last-ditch armor.

Nonetheless, Gar did tell his officers and the Council that the other merchant cities had already fortified their walls and were training their own armies. That surprised no one, but how could he have learned it so quickly? How could he have discovered that many of the lords had taken their men back to their home cities to punish these insolent upstarts? Above all, how could he have known it a day or two before spies came back to confirm it? Nonetheless, it was apparently true-- and when the number of peasants fleeing into Pirogia suddenly increased fivefold, Gar told them the aristocrats' army was near. The next afternoon, when that army appeared on the ridges across from the city, Gar a.s.sured them it was only twothirds the size it had been.

Whatever its size or condition, Prince Raginaldi knew his one chance when he saw it, and sent a troop of cavalry charging down the slopes and across the seaside plain to catch up with and pa.s.s the last of the fleeing peasants, to capture the land bridge and causeway.

But Gar knew the importance of that chance, too, and had sent his soldiers out that morning to hurry the laggards and warn then that the city wouldn't wait for them. Even the most stubborn had finally abandoned their carts and their goods and fled to the city, riding pillion behind Pirogian cavalrymen-and the last of them cleared the land gate a good quartermile ahead of the prince's army. Two swift-footed volunteers followed the refugees back along the causeway, lighting fuses as they went-and as they ran through the inner gate, the first explosions shook the island. Turning about, they watched spellbound as a huge geyser rose up from the lagoon, scattering bits of the causeway in all directions. Then another section blew, and another, waterspouts marching across the strait toward the inner gate, each shaking the ground beneath it, each with a shorter and shorter fuse.

"Back! Away!" Gar called, and the army took up the cry with him, herding people away from the gate. Protesting, they withdrew, truculent but disturbed by the soldiers' concern-and discovered the reason, when bits and shards of stone and wood showered the piazza, striking down the gateway itself.

Finally, the last of the explosions died, the last of the deadly rain of shards and sc.r.a.p fell and ceasedand the whole city watched in deathly quiet as the waves roiled where the causeway had been, and the hors.e.m.e.n a half-mile distant shook their fists and shouted in frustration. Everyone stared; everyone realized how completely cut off from the mainland they were-and everyone realized that the siege of Pirogia had begun.

It was indeed a siege, and could only be a siege, for the inland lords had no idea how to manage a navy. They conscripted every fishing boat they could get; they brought down riverboats while the city men sat and watched-and laughed.

Finally, the lords loaded a hundred picked soldiers onto the craft and pushed out from sh.o.r.e.

They were halfway to Pirogia, and the soldiers were c.o.c.king their crossbows and nervously readying their halberds, when six of the Pirogia's caravels came sailing out from behind each side of the island, sailing against the seaward breeze.

The lords' conscripted fishermen saw, and began to paddle frantically, trying to speed boats that already moved as fast as they could with the wind filling their sails. But the captains shouted, and the caravels shifted tack and glided down onto the ragtag fleet like falcons upon a flock of pigeons. A few of the lords'

soldiers shouted defiance, raising c.u.mbersome muskets to rest against the gunwale, then firing with a huge flash of powder and thunder of noisebut the horses took fright, as did the fishermen, and the musketeers hadn't realized what recoil would do in a boat. Over they went in a flailing of horse legs and soldiery arms-and troopers cried out in panic, unable to swim. The fishermen, at least, had the sense to swim back and cling to their overturned boat, but the Pirogian sailors, laughing hugely, tossed ropes down next to the soldiers, who caught them and let themselves be fished out like so many bedraggled, wet dogs.

Some other ships, with quick-witted fishermen for captains, furled their sails and tried to dodge the caravels by running oars-but the soldiers, unused to such gyrations, teetered and shouted and lost their balance, knocking one another overboard. In one boat, the fishermen saw their chance and turned on the few remaining soldiers with their oars, tipping them over, knocking them out, then rolling them over the gunwales and rowing for all they were worth toward Pirogia and freedom. The others, slowerwitted, more merciful, or more loyal to those who paid them, turned their boats back to haul the soldiers aboard-and were themselves hauled up short by the caravels' grappling hooks. Marines dropped down into the smaller boats, and the fight between dripping soldier and seawise marine was brief. Even so, a few marines died, but each caravel took its score of soldiers prisoner. Then they turned back to Pirogia, leaving a scattering of wreckage behind them-but most of the boats, intact, drifted behind the caravels, lashed to lines as prizes. A few soldiers' bodies washed up on the beach that evening, but by that time, ninety-six of their surviving comrades were grumbling around fires in the cellar of the Council house, which was hastily fitted out with bars as an improvised but very effective prison.

But Gar looked out over the scene of their triumph and shook his head. "The prince is saying, 'Never mind-they must feed a hundred more, and Heaven only knows how many peasants fled to them in the last few days. Their food cannot last long.' "

"He doesn't know that the refugees are swelling the ranks of your army," Gianni said.

"But their wives and children and elders are not," Gar reminded him, "and even our soldiers must eat. Is the prince right, Gianni? Will our supplies disappear like a morning's frost?"

"I saw frost when we wandered in the mountains," Gianni said thoughtfully, "but I had seen a rain of plenty before that, and all my life." He pointed toward the bar. "There comes your answer, Gar."

The giant looked up and saw a caravel tacking in against the offsh.o.r.e breeze.

"Wine from the southlands, grain from the northern sh.o.r.e of the Central Sea,"

Gianni said, musing. "Pork from the western sh.o.r.es, beeves from the eastern ...

No, Gar, we won't starve. Far from it and that ship bears wool, too, or others will, and every goodwife who has fled to us can card and spin and weave. That ship will take our stout Pirogian cloth back to trade for more food, and will also bear dishes and gla.s.sware from the clay and sands of our islands. No, we won't starve .

An explosion echoed from the mainland, and they saw a ball flying through the air, straight toward the ship. They held their breaths in an agony of suspense, but the ball splashed into the sea, raising a geyser and rocking the ship, but not harming it. Gianni breathed a sigh of relief. "I didn't know the lords had a cannon that could shoot even that closely."

"Neither did I," Gar replied. "Did any of the lords buy a gun from your armories?"

Gianni frowned. "Not that I know of-and surely no one would have been foolish enough to sell one of the cannon made with the secrets of your new ideas!"

Gar grimaced. "I don't like the idea of keeping knowledge to ourselves, Gianni- but for once, I must admit secrecy is wise, at least until we have won this . .."

The cannon thundered again, and another ball climbed into the sky. Again they held their breath, but as the shot rose to its peak, Gar relaxed. "Too high."

Sure enough, the ball pa.s.sed right over the ship and splashed up a spout on its far side. They could hear the sailors' cheers, though faintly at this distance.

"They're safe." Gianni relaxed as well. "No cannoneer could hit a ship at such a distance-but for a minute, I thought he could."

"He can, and he will," Gar said grimly. "He has their range now, and the next ball will strike home. Can you signal to the men on the ship?"

Gianni stared up at him in alarm-but before he could turn and run to the signal flags, another shot rang out. He and Gar both watched, holding their breath, as the cannonball arced upward, speeding toward the ship, and sailors struggled to spread some more canvas, hoping against hope that they could outrun the shot ...

It smashed into their side just above the waterline; the ship rocked, water poured in, and the caravel began to list toward starboard. They could faintly hear the captain shout, and the crew ran for the longboat. The ship shuddered, swinging over so the deck stood at a sharp angle; sailors skidded and fell overboard.

"That one boat can't hold them all," Gar snapped, but Gianni was already sprinting away to send out boats from sh.o.r.e.

Even so, he came too late-a dozen small craft were already springing out into the bay. He watched as they grappled the struggling men from the waterand as the distant cannon boomed, its ball arcing high toward the small craft ...

Gianni called out, but other men were shouting aboard the boats, and they all pulled away from the wreck quickly. The ball splashed down, showering them with spray and capsizing two. Their neighbors quickly rowed over, hauled out the men, and righted the boats-but two dead bodies floated in the water. Another boat, arriving late, hauled them aboard; then all the small craft dashed for sh.o.r.e as the cannon boomed again. Another ball splashed down, far from the boats near the wreck.

Gianni turned, face flaming with anger, to see Gar coming up. "They didn't have to do that, Gar! Shooting down the ship I can understand-it's war, after all. But to fire on rescue boats is foul!"

"But just the sort of thing the lords might think of," Gar pointed out. "They mean to punish you, after all-and they also mean to make sure you won't try to save the cargo. I think you might say they've made that clear."

"Very clear--and that ends our confidence about not starving." Gianni gazed out at the sinking ship, feeling his heart sink with it. "What can we do about it, Gar?"

"Where there is one gun, there could be more," the giant said slowly, "but if they had more, they would have used them-and if more than one gunner has the knack of firing so accurately, the others would be firing, too."

Gianni looked up with a gleam of hope in his eye. "Are you saying that if we can destroy that one gun, we can stop worrying?"

"If we also capture that one gunner," Gar confirmed. "It's not a sure thing, mind you, but it's a good chance."

"Then it's certainly worth taking! But why capture? Killing him is easier and less chancy-and after that shot at the boats, I don't see anything wrong with it! We'd rather capture him if we can, I suppose, but--"

Gar interrupted. "I want to talk to him, Gianni. I want to discover where he learned to shoot so well."

"But to capture him, we'll have to go ash.o.r.e!"

"Exactly," Gar agreed. "How else did you think we could destroy that one cannon?"

Gianni would never have thought of painting his face black. Wearing all black clothes, yes, and a black head scarf, so he and his men would blend into the shadows-but face paint, never. It didn't help that Gar made it by mixing soot with a little bacon grease. Gianni decided that secret raiding was not a job of good aroma.

They skimmed ash.o.r.e in three light boats with m.u.f.fled oars, one man to an oar for speed. Gar leaped out as they grounded and pulled the first boat up on the beach, lifting the prow high to make less noise. The c.o.xswains of the other boats followed his example. His men stepped out onto the sand in silence, their steps muted by the soft leather slippers with thick padded soles; cobblers had worked all day at Gar's direction, laboring into the night to make enough of them.

Gar waved his raiders forward. Knives in their teeth, they padded into the tree- shaded blackness of a moonless night.

A sentry seemed to materialize out of the darkness on their right, turning about to look, bored and weary-but the boredom vanished from his face when he saw the raiders, not two feet away from him. His pike came up, and his mouth opened to shout the alarm-but Gianni, galvanized by fear, seized him by the throat, choking off the sound. The man thrashed about, dropping his pike to struggle against Gianni's grip, but another Pirogian slipped around behind him and struck his head with the sand-filled leather bag Gar had invented. The sentry's eyes rolled up; he folded, and Gianni let go of his neck to catch him by the tunic and lower him to the ground. He looked up at Volio with a nod of thanks, then turned to follow Gar, who gave them a nod of approval, then led them off into the darkness again.

They had landed as close to the gun as possible, but the lords had been so inconsiderate as to place it well back from the sh.o.r.e. Gar led them along a winding route between groups of one-man tents, staying as far as possible from both canvas and watch-fire embers. They prowled silently through the darkness- until a sudden grunt made them all freeze. Gianni flicked a glance at the sound and saw a grizzled, red-eyed soldier pushing himself up from the ground, reeking of stale beer and growling, "Who 'n h.e.l.l is goin' aroun' . .." Then his eyes widened in alarm as his mouth widened to cry out-and the sandbag hit him alongside the head. His eyes closed as he fell back. Gianni stifled a chuckle; the man was likely to remember them all as a drunken nightmare, and nothing more. He looked up at a hiss from the front; Gar waved them on.

They padded after him through the darkness, keeping a wary eye now for sleepers underfoot-until, suddenly, the cannon loomed before them, darkness out of darkness.

Gar held up a hand, and they froze, for there were sentries, one on each side of the gun. Gianni couldn't help staring-it was far bigger than any cannon he had seen, its platform holding it at eye level. But Gar was gesturing in the hand language he had worked out before they left, and his raiders cat-footed around the huge barrel, just out of range of the watch fire near the sentry.

What it was that gave them away, Gianni never knew-perhaps someone stepped too heavily, or perhaps another stepped too close to the fire, and its light reflected off his eyes. Whatever the clue, the sentry on the far side shouted, "Enemy!" and swung his halberd. A raider cried out in pain, a cry quickly choked off but loud enough to wake the gun crew; then both sentries were howling as they struck about them with their halberds.

Gianni ducked under a swing and came up to strike with his sandbag. The halberd dropped from nerveless fingers, and Gianni caught it up, turning to meet a stumbling attack from muzzy-headed soldiers. His blade sliced flesh; the man shouted in pain, and his companions dropped back, suddenly afraid of the black- clothed demons who had appeared out of the night. The halfminute's respite was enough for the other raiders to strike down the gun crew. Gianni handed his halberd to Volio and turned to face a gunner who was dressed more elaborately than the others and was shouting for help as he held off the raiders with sword and dagger. Gianni drew his own sword, though it was considerably shorter than the gunner's rapier, and leaped in, thrusting and parrying. All about him, soldiers went crazy, yelling and attacking as the raiders fought them off desperately, and Gar shoved a canister into the barrel of the gun. Vincenzio slipped up behind the gunner as he fenced desperately with Gianni, still yammering for aid. Vincenzio swung with his sandbag and the man stiffened, eyes wide; then he crumpled, and Gianni stepped in to catch him across a shoulder.

Then Gar was beside him, flame flaring in his hands, and Gianni saw a long string of some sort vanishing into the cannon's touchhole. The big man caught up Boraccio, slinging him over a shoulder as he snapped, "Carry the wounded and leave the dead! Flee as though the devil were at your heels!" He turned and charged into the midst of the soldiers facing him, bellowing like a bull. The raiders shouted and charged after him, carrying three wounded men between them-but leaving four others already dead.