Irenicon by Aidan Harte Page A

matched together; no painter ever painted a knight with such an unserious smile.
    “Enough shadowboxing,” said the Doctor.
    “John Acuto sends his regards,” said Levi.
    “Please return mine. I’ve long followed the exploits of the Hawk’s Company. All Etruria has.”
    “You know of his quarrel with Concord these last few years?”
    “Men rarely admire their employer for long. I’m only surprised they haven’t reconciled.”
    “It’s no tiff,” Levi replied seriously.
    The Doctor shrugged. “I spend much time up here. When you can’t see details, you concentrate on important things. A condottiere who wants a raise picks a fight with the city employing him. If that doesn’t work, he starts working for its enemies.”
    Levi chuckled. “War is salary negotiation by other means? Doctor, you make us sound cynical.”
    Scarpelli interrupted, “It’s a mark of condottieri professionalism to remain neutral.”
    “This is different?” said the Doctor.
    “This is personal.”
    “If you say so. But come, it hardly matters what I think. You didn’t come to hear secondhand gossip.”
    Levi agreed, considering how to put it politely.
    The Doctor didn’t flinch when Scarpelli drew his sword.
    “This sword’s for hire, Bardini.”
    “I have soldiers.”
    “You need an army.”
    “A freelance army,” said Levi hastily. “Respectfully, we offer our services.”
    The Doctor smiled. “A Contract? Then this is a question for our government, not a citizen.”
    Levi said, “We have been frank with you, Doctor. Do likewise, I beg you. It’s John Acuto’s business to know who to talk to.”
    The Doctor looked at them seriously. “I’ll carry your offer to the Signoria if you prefer, but Rasenna has never dealt with condottieri and,” he said, jabbing a thumb to his chest, “as long as it listens to my advice, it never will.”
    Scarpelli grunted disgustedly and resheathed his sword. Levi tilted his head at a certain angle the Doctor recognized.
    “Perhaps,” he began, “if we make a donation to your workshop, you could represent our case in a summer light.”
    “I appreciate the offer, but again I must refuse. Condottieri are not in Rasenna’s interests, and so not in mine. What need have we of an army? We lost our war twenty years ago. I wish you success in yours, but we cannot be part of it.”
    Scarpelli didn’t bother concealing his irritation. “I thought Rasenneisi were supposed to be passionate, but you’re as sensible as an engineer. We’re wasting time, Levi.”
    “Doctor, you said you train Concordians,” Levi said. “How many?”
    “This year just one. There’s another in a workshop across the river.”
    “Formerly there were more?”
    “Many more,” the Doctor said cautiously. “Concord seems to have changed its policy.”
    “And now they are building a bridge here,”
    “You’re well informed, Colonel Levi,” said the Doctor. “Why don’t you make your point?”
    “What if the bridge is the first step in a permanent garrison?”
    “And now you reveal the limits of your information. The temperament of Rasenna is such that it cannot be garrisoned. Concord sent a podesta to govern us once; he soon left. They’ve learned since that we don’t need a garrison or podesta to keep us obedient. Our own quarrels keep us divided.”
    “Which suits you,” said Scarpelli.
    “I will unite Rasenna one day, Virgin willing. Until then, half is better than none. If we took up your offer, Concord would destroy us along with you.”
    “When Rasenna’s value stops being its workshops and starts being its location, neutrality may be both impossible and imprudent,” said Levi. “To go south, any army has to go through Rasenna, but why bother building a permanent bridge unless to lay permanent claim to the south?”
    The Doctor shrugged hopelessly as if such things were beyond him.
    Scarpelli said, “Let’s go, Levi. I told John Acuto that Rasenna was out of salt.”
    Cat leaped away