by Eric Flint
Pierre barked a laugh. The Emperor's face darkened a little.
"Well, yes," admitted the most powerful man in Europe. "The last time a Holy Roman Emperor visited Rome he may have left some residue of ill will. Seeing as how he sacked the city. So I felt a certain modesty and discretion would make for better diplomatic results. I have got to bring this damn Petrine-Pauline feud under control. Down to a simmer, at least." He brought hard eyes to bear on the three priests who hoped to found a new brotherhood of struggle against a rising Satan. "As I'm sure you will agree, under the circumstances."
Eneko nodded. "As to that?certainly. But… Your Majesty, it's simply dangerous."
The Emperor's laugh sounded like a lion's roar. "Oh, nonsense!" He slapped a meaty hand on the even meatier shoulder of the man riding to his right. "Here I have my nephew, who quite recently"?the ferocious old man couldn't keep the pride out of his voice?"broke the back of a Svear demon. You saw it yourself, Father! And to my left?"
Another meaty hand slapped a shoulder which, though sinewy rather than massive, sounded more like iron than flesh. "The finest scion of Clann Harald!"
Eneko smiled grimly. "Who, on the same day?unless I'm badly mistaken?gave Chernobog himself the worst headache of his life." He raised his hands in a little gesture of surrender. "I suppose you're right, Emperor. With such an escort, you probably don't have much to fear from highwaymen."
"I'd say not," murmured Diego. "In fact… I'd feel a little better myself, having them accompany us."
"Done, then!" pronounced the Emperor. "You will provide us with still more in the way of disguise?pilgrims going to Rome?along with your own convivial conversation, of course. And we will keep the odd ruffian from pestering you."
Pierre nodded solemnly, in the sage manner of peasants everywhere. "Well said. Ask any Savoyard. It's always best to have a second string for your bow."
THE PIAZZA SAN MARCO
Venice slept. The last celebrants had gone home. Dawn would be here in a few hours, but for now the great winged lion looked out over a sleeping town. Well, nearly.
Kat and Marco stood in each other's arms at the base of the Lion's column, looking out at the moonlight on the dark water of the lagoon.
The moonlight cast a great winged shadow over them, and the piazza that is Venice's heart. Like a shield.
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