The Drawing of the Dark

'Why should it be on the house?' the Irishman demanded testily.

'Hmm?' Bluto reluctantly turned away from watching his men sponge out the bore. 'Well, for God's sake, I saved your life, didn't I?'

'When?'

'You forgetful bastard. A month ago, when you were attacked in the forest.'

'You nearly killed me,' Duffy said. 'And it was you being attacked, not me.' -

'Here, what are you apes doing?' the hunchback shouted at his assistants. 'Give me that.' He pushed the gunnery men away from the cannon and seized the sponge-pole himself. 'Three turns left and three right,' he told them. 'Or maybe you want a stray spark still in there when you put in the new powder, eh? Idiots.' His assistants grinned apologetically and shuffled their feet.

Duffy shook his head and strode to the stairway that would take him down to the street. Truly a single-minded hunchback, he thought.

When he reached the pavement and looked up from his boots, he groaned inwardly. Oh hell, he thought, it's the Englishman, Lothario Mothertongue. Can I duck out? No, damn it, he's seen me. Hello, Lothario,' he said tiredly to the tall blond man who was walking toward the stairs.

'Hello, Duffy,' boomed Mothertongue energetically. 'I've come to inspect the artillery. Give yon hunchback a bit of advice on the placement of the guns.'

Duffy nodded. 'I'm sure he'll be grateful.' Mother-tongue had been 'inspecting the artillery' daily ever since

s arrival in town a week ago, and Bluto had twice had be restrained from shoving the man off the wall.

'I'll

tell you something, Duffy, in strictest confidence.'

Mothertongue said more quietly, laying his hand on the Irishman's shoulder and glancing up and down the street. Duffy knew what he was going to say; he'd been saying it for days, in strictest confidence, to anyone who'd listen to him, and Duffy himself had heard it twice already. 'Certain authorities...' He winked mysteriously. '...have called me back from quite a distance to defeat these Turks, and I intend to do it!'

'Good, Lothario, you do that. I'd like to stick around and talk, but I've got an appointment.' He performed a smile and walked past.

'Quite all right. I'll be seeing you tomorrow.'

Yes, Duffy thought glumly, I suppose you will. The damned bock is drawing everybody like a lighted window in a storm. Well, he told himself, see it through two more nights and you'll be square with old Aurelianus - you promised to be here Easter, and that's tomorrow. After that you can honorably decamp; take Epiphany and leave the city before they lock all the gates against the Turks.

Children were skipping past him, shouting, 'Vikings! We're going to fight the Vikings!'

Give 'em a boot in the backside for me, kids, Duffy thought wearily.

When he stepped into the warmth of the dining hail a white-haired old man stood up from one of the tables. 'Mr Duffy!' he said cheerily. 'You made it here alive, I observe.'

The Irishman stared at him. 'Why, it's Aurelianus!' he exclaimed. 'I didn't recognize you behind the eye-patch. How did that happen?'

Aurelianus fluttered his pale hands. 'It's nothing. I didn't lose the eye, just injured it during a scuffle in Athens, two days.. .I mean two weeks ago. Yes. I'll be able to throw away the patch before long.' He waved at his table. 'But join me! We've much to discuss.'

Duffy sat down. A few moments later Anna bad set two capacious mugs of beer on the table, and he sipped his gratefully.

'Oh, sir,' Anna remarked to Aurelianus, 'there have been some very weird gentlemen asking for you lately. A tall man who appears to be from Cathay or somewhere, several black Ethiopians, a copper-skinned man dressed all in feathers -The old man frowned, then laughed softly. 'Ah, the Dark Birds are here already, eh? I'm afraid I shall have to disappoint them this time around. Steer them away from me if you can, will you lass?'

'Aye aye.' Before returning to the kitchen she rolled her eyes at Duffy behind Aurelianus' back.

'The girl tells me Werner isn't here,' said the old man. 'He's off somewhere, the guest of.. .did she say a poet?'

'Yes,' assented the Irishman almost apologetically. 'It seems our innkeeper can whip out the verses like nobody on earth since Petrarch. I haven't read any of it, thank God.'

'Poetry-writing.' Aurelianus sighed. 'At his age.' He took a long sip of the beer and thumped the mug down on the table. 'In any case,' he said, turning to the Irishman with a comfortable, if twitchy, grin, 'I trust your trip here was easy and pleasant?'

Duffy thought about it. 'Neither one, I'm afraid.'

'Oh? Oh!' Aurelianus nodded understandingly. 'You glimpsed, perhaps, some creatures of a sort one doesn't usually run into? Or heard odd sounds in the night that couldn't be attributed to wolves or owls? I thought of warning you about the possibility, but decided -The Irishman was annoyed. 'I'm not talking about glimpses or night-sounds. In Trieste I met a man with goat's legs. I was escorted through the Alps by a whole damned parade of unnatural beasts. Dwarfs saved my life. Flying things that called to each other in Arabic, or something, destroyed a caravan I was travelling with.' He shook his head and had another sip of beer. 'And I won't bore you with an account of all the plain, everyday men that tried to put arrows and swords through me.'