The Drawing of the Dark
Page 45

'Here.' The wizard fished one from a pocket and tossed it spinning through the air. Duffy caught it, and lit it at the stern lantern.
The ship was moving now, and Duffy sat down in the deep shadow of the high stern, so that all the wizard could see of him, until the ship rounded the nearest bend and passed out of sight beyond a stone arch, was the tiny ember at the head of the snake.
* * *
Epilogue
October Fourteenth
It was clear that Suleiman was preparing an attack. Through the dawn mists von Salm, from his perch in St Stephen's spire, could see across the plain the gathering ranks of mounted Janissaries and the milling mob that was the akinji. Inside Vienna's walls the soldiers, their breath steaming as they trotted from the barracks, gathered about the points where the wall had been crumbled by mines. Frightened women peered tearfully from windows, priests hurried from regiment to regiment dispensing general blessings since there was no time for individual confessions, and dogs, puzzled and upset by the air of tension, huddled under carts and barked furiously at everyone they saw.
Merlin stood on the wall at the northeast corner and smiled a little sadly. The west wind had resumed and gained strength all through the night, and it blew his white hair into his face now as he lifted the massive sword and laid it in one of the battered crenels.
Merlin leaned in the wide notch and stared moodily down at the surface of the muddy Wiener-Bach. So long, Arthur, the magician thought. I wish we'd had a little leisure in which to talk, this time around. And so long, Brian Duffy, you disagreeable old Irishman. You were a lot of trouble, more than I expected, but I liked you. Werner never did.. .poor Werner, who succumbed to his wound this morning at about the same time you were casting off in Bugge's ship. Oh, and you were right about Zapolya, by the way. They found a bloodstained rope hanging outside the wall somewhere near the southern gate. I suppose he's on his way back to Hungary now.
'Good morning, sir,' said a portly sentry in a stern tone, edging past the thin wizard as he walked his rounds.
'Hm? Oh, good morning.'
He sighed and looked up at the patch of dark clouds in the east that was giving way before the fresh wind. Yes, he thought, in spite of all the setbacks and reluctances, you two did what you were called on to do. You saved the beer, and therefore the King and the West. This Turkish attack this morning can accomplish nothing; it's the last desperate blow of a defeated opponent who is determined at least to leave as much ruin behind as he can.
Merlin picked up the old long sword with both hands, stared at it as if to fix it in his memory for a while, and then tossed it spinning end over end toward the water below.
He turned and ambled thoughtfully toward the stairs. I guess I'll be leaving for England in about a week, he calculated. I will leave the brewery once again in Gambrinus' capable hands.. .and there are things at home that could bear a bit of meddling with. Perhaps -
The sentry came puffing up. 'What did that mean?' he gasped.
Merlin was puzzled. 'What did what mean?'
'That sword you just dropped into the Wiener-Bach -didn't you watch it fall?'
'No.' The magician smiled. 'What did I miss?'
'Well, I couldn't see it too clear through the ground mist, you know, but I'll swear that a hand rose out of the water and...' The sentry paused, scratching his nose and frowning.
'Go on,' prompted Merlin politely. 'A hand...?' The wind was twitching his hair again and he shook it back out of his face.
'Never mind, sir,' said the sentry stolidly. 'It was a fancy, I'm sure. I haven't been getting near enough sleep -these days.'
The wizard smiled sympathetically. 'Few of us have.' He walked past to the stairs and stepped down them to the ash-dusty street. From the southeast the Turkish cannons began firing, but the wind blew most of the sound away, and to Merlin it sounded like nothing but plodding footsteps receding away in the distance.