by Eric Flint
She carefully set down the enchanted ink pen that Themis had given her on the rack next to the inkwell. And stood, shaking.
Location: Royal Chambers
Time: 10:04 AM, May 15, 1373
“Majesty,” Constantine Korolos said, “Lady Tiphaine de Ragneuel is here to see you. She says it’s important, and she has her papers with her.”
Constantine was a fan of Theodore Meliteniotes, and therefore not a fan of astrology, no matter what some ancient titan had to say on the matter.
Queen Helena, on the other hand, had found Tiphaine’s horoscopes to be useful. The family had used astrologers for generations, stretching back to the founding of Constantinople. Probably to the founding of Rome. They were part and parcel of the life of a noble.
“Show her in, Constantine, and stop pouting.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Constantine said, pouting even more fiercely.
“Thank you for seeing me, Your Majesty,” Tiphaine said as she walked in. “I was doing a comparison scan of the horoscopes of . . . well . . . the . . . ah . . .”
“Speak, Lady Tiphaine. Between you and your husband, you have demonstrated your use—and loyalty—to the empire.”
“Genoa is going to attack Constantinople,” Tiphaine said. Had she known it, at that very moment Domenico di Campofregoso was stepping into the council chamber, crumpled note in hand.
She had to explain. For something like this, even people who believed in astrology wanted confirmation. That took time. But the upgrading of the navy was already underway, because they knew that if they wanted to keep the Turks out of northern Byzantium, they had to control the Marmara Sea, the Dardanelles, and the Bosporus. And it would help if they had a presence in the Black Sea and the Aegean Sea.
The ongoing debate in the Byzantine government was whether to enchant the ships and whether to arm them with rockets and, if possible, cannon.
Even as that debate was ongoing, Manuel was having purpose-built gunboats built in Thessalonica.
The problem was that Byzantium was looking at perhaps fifteen to twenty ships of war, whereas the Genoese fleet was likely to number upwards of seventy warships and the famous Genoese archers, supported by another twenty or so merchant vessels.
It was looking to be a fairly one-sided battle if the Byzantine navy didn’t pull a rabbit—or better yet, a dragon—out of its hat.
When the crown went looking for rabbits these days, they went to the French delegation.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Well, there are the powder mills,” Roger McLean said. He, Bertrand, Emperor John, Andronikos, Wilber, two more of John’s military advisers, and Annabelle with a phone link to Pucorl were seated at a large and brand new round table. There was room for twenty and a gap in the ring directly across from the emperor to let servants in to serve wine and food. At the moment, the servants were absent, though there were flagons of wine and loaves of bread placed on the table.
“And what good do tons of your black powder do us?” Andronikos complained. “Yes, yes, I know the rocket carts have been useful in land battles, but I am still unconvinced that they can be safely used on ships. Ships are flammable things.”
“And the ones on the receiving end of the rockets are exactly as flammable, but won’t be prepared for the rocket fire,” Wilber said. “And we can harden the rocket boats against the back flash.”
“And the venturi?” Andronikos asked. “You say they are absolutely vital. The heavy brass venturi that cost the price of a good horse and take a week to make. Even if we can put them on ships, we don’t have enough of them. We need to negotiate with the Genoese. A major battle, even if we win it—which is not certain, or even likely—will leave our navy crippled. And how are we to face an attack from the Turks?”
John agreed. Andronikos would travel to Genoa as quickly as might be arranged and he would take a phone, so that he might consult with the crown.
Tiphaine, with her horoscopes, wasn’t in favor of the idea. She had a vague sense of disquiet, but even her horoscopes suggested that Andronikos would make an agreement with Genoa.
Besides, Andronikos had done well in the fighting against the Ottoman Turks. Over the months since the French delegation arrived in Constantinople, in a series of carefully planned battles—taking full advantage of Bertrand’s experience, Roger McLain’s years of wargaming and studying the warfare of the ages, the use of Tiphaine’s horoscopes, and the phones—they had managed to defeat the Ottomans in detail, one battle at a time. Almost one unit at a time. Never letting them mass their forces and, in the words of Nathan Bedford Forrest “hitting them where they ain’t.”
It wasn’t all sunshine and roses, though. As the Turks collapsed, the Bulgarians were getting feisty. They hadn’t declared war, or even done more than a couple of raids that could be blamed on outlaws, but if the Genoese hit Constantinople, they could be counted on to grab off as big a chunk of Byzantium as they could manage.
Location: House of Gaius Augustus Crassus, Constantinople
Time: 2:00 PM, May 17, 1373
Theodore was conflicted. He knew astrology was nonsense. He had fought most of his intellectual life to separate the science of astronomy from the superstition of astrology. But Tiphaine de Raguenel had presented the twenty-firsters with a revised horoscope that suggested that Andronikos was going to make a deal with Genoa all right. A deal in which he gave the Genoese the secrets of gunpowder, rockets and demon summoning, so that they could replace their rowers with enchanted galleys which rowed themselves through the sea magically.
And there was no way that John or Helena were going to listen to such predictions, because Andronikos, whatever his flaws, was still their son, who they loved in their way. And because their first loyalty was to themselves, their family, not Byzantium. So it was with decidedly mixed feeling that he informed his compatriots that Byzantium was about to be betrayed—or at least might well be betrayed—by Andronikos, and they had to prepare.
His compatriots weren’t thrilled to hear it. But they, especially Gaius, had a lot more trust in Tiphaine’s horoscopes than he did. They weren’t happy, but they were convinced. The only question was what to do about it.
Location: Docks, Constantinople
Time: Mid-morning, May 18, 1373
Aurelia Augusta Crassa, the seventeen-year-old daughter of Gaius Augustus Crassus, turned to her maid and said, “Give it to me.”
The maid reached into the canvas bag she had been lugging and pulled out a chunk of lamb. She handed it to her mistress, with a disapproving sniff. The maid was forty and as much watcher as servant.
Aurelia grinned at the maid. “I doubt the kraken will try to seduce me, Mags.” She took the three-pound hunk of lamb and tossed it into the water, next to the Joe Kraken. She wasn’t used to feeding ships, but the family was desperate. Most of the family’s wealth came from shipping. The investments in shipping were arranged through cut outs and cooperatives, but the income from shares in over fifty trading ships was all that truly separated their old aristocratic family from a family of butchers or bakers. A war, especially a sea war, between Byzantium and Genoa could ruin the family. And the only ship that had sunk a Genoese warship was this little barge.
“Thank you, miss,” came a voice from the ship.
“Is someone on board?” Aurelia shouted.
“No. It’s only me.” A tentacle rose from the water and pointed at the stern cabin on the barge, then sank back into the water. “Would you like to come aboard?”
✽ ✽ ✽
Joe called Pucorl and got permission to invite the young woman aboard. Pucorl wasn’t one of the humans, and certainly wasn’t one of the twenty-firsters with their loose ways. He was a proper demon and becoming a proper demon lord. He knew how it was done, and expected those demons who served him to report and get permission. Themis or no Themis, demonic emancipation was a long way off. As long as Joe was in this body, he was Pucorl’s to command. He could leave, but he liked the body.
With permission, Joe invited the young woman aboard and they had a pleasant chat. She wanted to know if he knew any other kraken. He knew a few. Kraken were fairly social creatures and shared information on the dangers and joys of the undersea life they shared.
“But you don’t go underwater.”
“Yes. That’s one of the disadvantages of this body. A proper kraken body could live and work, hunt and play, from the deepest undersea caverns all the way to the surface. But Pucorl needed a barge to carry him around.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Aurelia had an idea. It was a little vague, but it was an idea. What if they made, or had made, kraken bodies and had them enchanted? The problem was she didn’t know how to build a kraken body, or what a kraken would want in a body. And she didn’t know how to control the kraken after they made it. She thought about riding it, like you would a horse, but she would drown as soon as it went under the sea. But then she realized that she was sitting inside Joe Kraken. She wondered if they could make a kraken body that would work underwater, but still have a place for her inside it.
Aurelia’s mother insisted that she know the family business. While not the usual thing, this was far from unheard of among women of her class. Care for the household often included care for the household properties and income. Aurelia was interested in mechanics, but she wasn’t allowed to attend the Magnaura as her brother did, and her father was being pushy about a possible marriage to Joseph Magnus, whose family was also of the senatorial class, with important political and religious connections. But Joseph was thick as a plank and had pimples. Aurelia thought that the real issue against Joseph was the thickness, but in all honesty, the pimples were disgusting.
She and Joe, with occasional comments from Mags, discussed his life and hers. How it would be to be able to have her body designed the way she wanted, and the danger of being trapped in a body not of her choosing. The danger of being forced to marry for state, and how such threats compared to one another.
Then Mags interrupted. “The sun is near the horizon, child. You’ve spent the whole day chatting with this monster of the deeps. No offense, Mr. Kraken.”
“None taken. Drop by again. But next time bring a whole sheep, please.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Joe was on the phone to Pucorl as soon as the human females left. And his first question was, could he have a new body? One of the things that Aurelia brought up was something that he hadn’t considered before. A demon was placed in a body whether it be molded out of a part of a more powerful demon or an animal of the natural world, or—as was the case with Pucorl and Joe—a device made by mortal hands out of the stuff of the natural world. Even if it were a combination of things, like the body of Leona, for a demon that was allowed to do so, the body could be changed. Put on and taken off. Exchanged for a new one. Merlin had exchanged the cochlear implant for the computer. Granted, he left a bit of himself in the implant, but he didn’t lose by it. What Aurelia had suggested without realizing it, was the notion that Joe might have two bodies, this one and a proper kraken’s body. And when he wasn’t working—on his “time off,” which was honestly most of the time— he could have a different body. One that could sink to the bottom of the sea and wander along the seabed.
It was, Pucorl had to admit, an interesting notion. He himself wouldn’t mind having a different body on occasion, especially a human one. But he had no notion of how he might make such a body, and he was sure Annabelle wouldn’t like a Frankenstein’s monster. At least, he didn’t think she would. He would have to discuss it with Wilber and Dr. Delaflote. He would bring it up in regard to Joe, and see if any of their ideas might be applied to him.
Location: Guest Quarters, Magnaura, Constantinople
Time: 6:45 PM, May 18, 1373
Wilber picked up the phone. “Yo?” He wasn’t paying any real attention to the phone call. He was playing a first person shooter video game with Merlin, on Merlin, and Igor, using Igor as a VR headset, and he was about to step around the corner into combat.
The combination of two demons with the existent software provided a realistic experience, and one where no one died. Way more fun than running around an actual battlefield with a six-shot black powder pistol.
All of a sudden his game was gone and the van was in front of him in full armor with a cannon on the roof. “Bang! You’re dead,” Pucorl said. And the cannon fired.
“GAME OVER” filled his headset.
“Et tu, Igor?” Wilber asked.
“Sheesh, boss. It was too good to pass up.” Igor appeared next to the van. Igor was wearing green tights, a brown and green tunic, and a Robin Hood hat with a big purple feather on it, and was about four feet tall. A cross between Robin Hood and a leprechaun, but with more Robin.
“Fine. What’s up? I hope you had a reason to call.”
“Yes, I do. Joe Kraken wants a new body.”
“You mean he wants his body modified? How?”
“No. He wants a second body. An off-duty body that is closer to a squid’s body. Apparently he got the idea from a young woman of good family who stopped by to visit.”
“What young woman of what good family?” Wilber asked, even as his mind thought about the idea. There wasn’t anything he could think of that would prevent it from working. That didn’t mean it would work. Merlin had left part of himself in the implant, but that could be because the implant was part of Wilber. It could be because Wilber was unwilling to give up the magic, so it stuck. But it could also be that demons left tiny traces of themselves in their vessels every time they were put in one. They simply hadn’t gone back and examined the vessels before Merlin did. And Themis left bits of herself in the sword and the zombies, but that was because there was a whole nation that was stuck in a sword. The zombies were the same sort of thing. Little bits of her stuck in the dead bodies to restore them to something that could be moved around by the will of one of her demons. Yes, there were explanations for all of the leftover demons, but now Wilber wondered if maybe it happened every time a demon was put in a vessel from the natural world.
He knew that it didn’t happen normally when a demon provided a body for another demon. When that arrangement ended, the master demon took back all its substance. But that could be because . . .
“What? Excuse me. What did you say?” Wilber had missed Pucorl’s answer while distracted by demon anatomy.
“I said her name is Aurelia Augusta Crassa, the daughter of Gaius Augustus Crassus. Oh, and she’s seventeen and Joe says she’s cute.” Pucorl put a picture of her up on Igor, apparently taken by Joe Kraken and sent to Pucorl. Since Joe had a built-in radio, his eyes acted as cameras.
“Pucorl, are you trying to fix me up?” Wilber asked. “Annabelle and I are only friends.” It was true that the girl, Aurelia, was attractive. Dark hair, pouty lips, a bit of a cleft in her chin. But it was her eyes that caught his attention, dark and deep, but full of interest. A man could drown in those eyes. Seeing her, Wilber remembered her from a couple of the parties they had been forced to attend.
“No. I wouldn’t try to set you up.” Pucorl didn’t even try to make it believable. “But, well, you didn’t think of new bodies after all these months of study. So the young lady is clearly brighter than you are.”
“No doubt,” Wilber agreed sardonically. “So who is Gaius Augustus Crassus? Wait a minute . . . is he any relation to Marcus Licinius Crassus? The one that was hitting on Tony Curtis in Spartacus?” Wilber wasn’t entirely sure who Crassus was, but he’d seen the movie. It was a classic.
“You know, I’m not sure. The family is of the senatorial rank. A social thing these days, since there is no longer a Roman or Byzantine Senate.”
Wilber knew that. The Senate was had been officially disbanded a few years before they arrived in this century. But it had been a rubber stamp for at least a century before that, and not much more than a rubber stamp since the seventh or eighth centuries. Which was still a lot longer than Wilber had thought it lasted before they ended
up here.
“So what was a rich kid doing on the docks talking to Joe Kraken? For that matter, what was a rich kid doing on the docks talking to any sort of Joe? I would imagine her family would have a fit.” Wilber paused. He was, after all, a rich kid himself. And he knew rich kids. “Or was that the point? Not that I don’t sympathize with teen rebellion, but do we need the hassle?”
“She had a maid with her and told Joe that she had the family’s consent for her to be there.”
“Why?”
“Her family owns shares in a good chunk of the shipping that docks at Constantinople. There are cutouts, so they aren’t seen as merchants, or worse, tradesmen. But apparently the Crassus family is aware of where their money comes from and were looking for ways to protect their interests.”
“I am less concerned with that,” Merlin interrupted, “than with the idea itself.”
“Looking for a summer home, Merly?” Pucorl asked.
“Perhaps, Pucky!” Merlin said. “What about you?”
Wilber picked up the digital side band where Merlin and Pucorl agreed to not use those nicknames for each other. His enchanted cochlear implant wasn’t limited to all the languages of men, animals, and demons. He could speak computer too. Which he did now, sending Merlin what amounted to a spreadsheet file to run. It was about the possibility of a demonic submarine.
Wilber knew about the bends. Not much about them, but some. They happened. They had to do with nitrogen bubbles in the blood. They could be treated by a compression tank. That sort of stuff, the stuff you get from watching movies.
What he didn’t have was the particulars. The pressure at which nitrogen dissolved in the blood and the pressure at which it started to bubble. He also didn’t know how much pressure was put on a cylinder or globe as it was pushed farther and farther underwater. He had bits and pieces, or Merlin did, in his copy of Jennifer’s physics book.
Merlin would, had, filled in the hard data available from the books they had with them and it was much worse than Wilber had thought. At even ten feet underwater, you were under a lot of pressure. The sort of tank that would work as a submarine hull was probably beyond the ability of the tech base they were living in. Even if it was compression, not tensile strength.