Free This Rough Magic by Mercedes Lackey, Eric Flint, Dave Freer

Francesca de Chevreuse of whom"—here he gave Trolliger a sly glance—"Hans disapproves. But no matter what Hans thinks of her capability, I have confidence in her over any other possible agent in this case."
    Trolliger shuddered. "She's capable enough. Her methods . . ."
    "Work," said the Emperor. "Even you find her attractive, Hans. Men will tell an attractive, intelligent woman things they won't tell us; they'll do things for her they would not consider doing for us for any amount of money. They'll go to great lengths to help her."
    "They reduce us to the level of Aquitaine, Your Majesty," said the baron, sulkily.
    The Emperor pulled a wry face. "Which is why our officials fail so dismally when we have to deal with the Aquitaine. I'm almost tempted to send you to Francesca for lessons, Hans."
    Charles Fredrik saw the look of trepidation on the old Ritter 's face. He smiled reassuringly at the older man. "Not you, Eberhard. You would enjoy her intellect and company, though, I can assure you of that. Baron Trolliger here finds her physically threatening—or her breasts, anyway. He fears they will cast a fascination over him and, like Samson, leave him helpless to resist the lady's whims."
    Eberhard of Brunswick shook his head. "It is not the company of an intelligent woman that I fear, Your Majesty. It is rather that I am concerned that you'll send me to Aquitaine. I was hoping to spend some time in Swabia with my family." He touched his silver hair. "I'm not getting any younger, Your Majesty. Especially for Aquitaine, you need younger men. "
    The Emperor gave a small snort of wry laughter. "The last thing I need in Aquitaine is younger men, Eberhard. But relax, I am not going to send you there. However, I'm afraid I can't let you go home to pasture either. Men like you are too few on the ground. The Holy Roman Empire still needs you. I still need you."
    The older Ritter shrugged. " Well, I just hope it's somewhere warm this time, Your Majesty. This winter seems colder than last winter. Or maybe I'm just older. At least Mainz is not as damp as Ireland was."
    Charles Fredrik allowed the corners of his mouth to ease into a smile. "Would the Holy Land be warm enough and dry enough for you?"
    "A pilgrimage for my soul has always been one my desires," said the old Ritter quietly. Eberhard of Brunswick was one of the best and most reliable of officials in the States General. He was an adept politician and diplomat, but at the core, he was a pious man. His soul might need cleansing of what he'd done for the Empire, but not for himself, Charles Fredrik knew.
    "It's more for my soul than yours, old friend," the Emperor said equally quietly. "I don't know how many more of these winters I can take, either." He smiled wryly. "No mosaics this time though, Eberhard. Perhaps some churches in places that need them. I haven't lived your life and I have a feeling I'll need a good many prayers to get me away from hellfire, as well as a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. But I can't go; you will have to go for me."
    He lifted a heavy eyebrow. "Of course there are some small tasks you can do for the Holy Roman Empire while you're there. And along the way."
    Eberhard nodded. He understood politics thoroughly enough to know precisely whom, in that part of the world, a "small task" might be directed towards. "The Ilkhan?"
    Charles Fredrik nodded. "We've had tentative feelers from them. Baron Trolliger had a long discussion with a visiting Jew from Damascus, during the months he remained behind in Italy. The man was there strictly on family business, of course, but—as they often do—the Mongols were using the Jewish merchant as an informal emissary."
    The Ilkhan Mongol Empire stretched from Egypt to the Black Sea and no one really knew just how far into the Asian hinterland. The Ilkhan were themselves pagan, but had no qualms about their subject peoples worshiping gods of their choice. Christians, Muslims, Jews—many religions—all prospered in the