Lord of the Silent Kingdom

5. The Mother City: Sublime's Revenge

Hecht left the children with Anna Mozilla. Vali had not spoken yet. To an adult. She had Pella wrapped around her finger.

Anna was not pleased. "I don't know anything about children. Except that they're loud and dirty." She kept house obsessively.

"They're people. Just not as polished as you. Treat them like people. Pella's been through the survival wars. He's probably more grown up than you."

Not the best thing to say. But Anna had a knack for getting what he intended to say. Which saved a few blowups.

"What do I do with them?"

"Clean them up. Get some decent clothes on them. Put them to work around here. Pella will go stay with Pinkus as soon as he gets it worked out with Principate Doneto."

Anna's look made it plain she considered Ghort a long shot. "When will you tell me the whole story?"

"Soon as I get back. I hope. I missed you."

"You missed me? You have things to occupy you?" As near as ever she came to lamenting her lot.

"It was a long, mostly unpleasant journey." He would not share the more gruesome details. Like most warriors, he spared the innocent the worst.

Principate Doneto said, "As usual, you two have managed to avoid getting fired. By the expedient of having produced useful results. My cousin was thrilled to hear that Immaculate is desperate enough to try assassins."

Ghort asked, "How thrilled was he to hear about what happened to Haiden Backe?"

"Not at all. As you must know. He's summoned Bishop Morcant. We'll have to suffer Morcant's version of events before we're allowed to reach conclusions."

Meaning, Hecht supposed, that the conclusions had been concluded already and history would be hammered and polished till it fit. Because Sublime would want the official version to be one that served his purposes.

It was not a situation Hecht liked. Nor did Ghort. But their scruples would not be consulted.

Ghort had a miserable habit of spouting what he thought. "Easy to see where this is headed. That godsdamned thief will tell the world his victim is the villain because he had the effrontery to defend himself." He did not make clear whether he meant the Bishop of Strang or the Patriarch.

Doneto assumed the latter. "You may express that opinion with me, Colonel Ghort, but don't let me hear you say anything where people outside the family might hear."

"Heh? Why the hell? Is there anybody out there who doesn't know what kind of a dick he is?" So he did mean the Patriarch.

Anna Mozilla was psychic. Principate Bronte Doneto did not opt to find room for Pella in his household.

"Why did you see Doneto before you came to family?" Principate Delari asked Hecht. He asked similarly uncomfortable questions often. "I was disappointed, Piper."

"I went there first because Doneto is the man who can deflect the Holy Father's displeasure from Ghort and me. He won't gain any advantage from what I reported. Nor did Pinkus give him everything that he could have."

"I'm pleased to hear that."

"He could get me fired if he wanted. Who'd stand up for me? If he wanted Pinkus's job, though, three of the Five Families would get in the way as a matter of political principle."

"So. What will you share with me that you didn't let Doneto have?"

Hecht glanced around. "Where's Armand? I don't like telling you things in front of him. He makes me uncomfortable."

That irked the old man. "He's a boy, Piper. He cares about nothing but clothing and baubles."

"Even so, despite all, he makes me uncomfortable. I don't apologize for that." He would not tell the old man that his toy was an agent for both the Grail Emperor and Gordimer the Lion.

Delari did something that seemed trivial, said, "Go ahead. No one will hear what you say but me. If you like, I can add a veil to make it impossible for someone to read your lips."

"That won't be necessary." Hecht told his guardian angel the whole story. Including his suspicions about Sonsa.

The old man said, "That bothers me. The Brotherhood giving up their inflexible rectitude. That's the problem with the Special Office. They want to conquer the darkness by drowning it with darkness."

Hecht did not raise the question of the elderly Principate's own devotion to powers drawn from the Night.

Delari went on. "I'm equally troubled by the monster on the West Road. Might it be a bogon? Possibly the one you ran into crossing the Ownvidian Knot?"

"I never was close enough to get a feel for it. Principate Doneto would be the man to ask. He handled the thing in the Knot."

Principate Delari shrugged. "I doubt he'd cooperate. His cousin won't let him."

When Hecht did not comment, Delari added, "Sublime really believes most people are cattle put on earth to enrich the Church. And the rest of us are here to help make Honario Benedocto's dreams and schemes come to pass."

Then he said, "He's decided not to punish Duke fon Dreasser. Not right now. You haring off gave time for cooler heads to prevail. So to speak."

"Oh?"

"There was time for word of what happened in the Connec to get here. The Collegium was outraged. Sublime did that without consulting anyone. He fell into a deep despair. He was counting on Backe and the Bishop of Strang to generate a flood of money. Instead, he's worse off than ever. His debtors are clamoring to be paid. No one will loan him another copper. Not just because of his poor prospects but because of the bad judgment he's shown in his efforts to acquire funds."

"They'd have given him an old-fashioned triumph if his scheme had worked," Hecht opined. His regard for those who facilitated the Patriarch's lunacies was low. There was no morality among them at all.

"Probably. Success erases all moral failure and defects. However… We can expect a period of uproar and outrage when the news gets around. Maybe a riot or two. Then life will go on as it always does. You may have noticed that assumption of the Patriarchal throne endows its occupant with considerable insulation."

"I have noticed." Hecht chuckled. "The way donning the Imperial vestments insulated the old emperors from everyone but their own families and palace guards."

Delari raised an eyebrow.

"No. I'm not floating a suggestion."

"Good. I'm much more interested in that powerful Instrumentality near Alicea. And in what may be afoot in Sonsa. The Sonsans have done well, concealing their troubles from the rest of us. Give them credit for clever."

Hecht did. The raging capitalists of the Firaldian and Direcian mercantile republics ran rings around more traditional states. They were possessed of an amazing energy.

How much more dangerous might they be were they not ones to waste resources fighting each other over markets and themselves for family supremacy inside the several republics?

Delari said, "An aside. Your man Consent's conversion. Is it heartfelt? Or a ploy?"

"I don't think it's a ploy the way we Chaldareans would see it. Deves don't suffer that much, here. Has he discovered the verities in the preachings of Aaron and the Founders? Maybe. But I think the passion driving him is his own need to escape the expectations of the Deve Elders. He just wants to be Titus Consent, one part in a machine, peerless at what he does, well rewarded for it – then able to go home to his family at night."

"You're friends?"

"No. But we're around each other a lot. We talk about life. I talk with everyone. Sometimes I learn something. From him. From you. Or even from Pinkus Ghort."

"I imagine Colonel Ghort is a fountain of low information and possibly a plebeian sort of wisdom."

"He's a good man to have at your back."

If Delari harbored reservations he did not relate them. "The girl's name. What was it?"

"Vali Dumaine."

"There's no important family in Firaldia with that name."

"There is one in Arnhand. Minor nobility. The current count is in bad odor with Anne of Menand. He wouldn't make the beast with two backs when she offered the opportunity."

"That wouldn't make sense. What would the Brotherhood hope to gain from a minor Arnhander?"

"Consider this, too. The girl doesn't talk but she understands Firaldian perfectly. Vulgar and High, both. At her age I doubt she would if she'd been kidnapped from north and west of Salpeno."

"I'll make inquiries. When you're Principate Muniero Delari of the Collegium you can ask for any damned thing you want. You get it without much question."

"Naturally."

"Again, I'm especially intrigued by that monster up there. Except for the thing you ran into crossing the Ownvidian Knot, there hasn't been anything like that seen since the dawn of history. Not since Era Itutmu came over from Dreanger with his elephants and armies and crew of tame monsters."

The Kaif of al-Minphet and those who recognized him as the Living Voice of the Founding Family discouraged interest in anything that happened before the Revelations and Conquest. Despite his decades in Dreanger Piper Hecht knew little about the priest-king general who tormented and terrified the young Old Brothen Empire for a generation. Pramans rejected the glories of their pagan ancestors.

"I won't speculate. That's your area of expertise."

"So it is. Once more about the villain from Viscesment, Rudenes Schneidel."

Hecht told it. "I think Schneidel is another enigma dragged up out of the shadows, like Starkden and Masant al-Seyhan when Calzir went crazy."

Delari nodded. "An interesting notion. Although I have heard of Schneidel. As a rumor out of the High Athaphile, and that only recently."

"I don't know that geography."

"The High Athaphile is the central mountain range on Artecipea, the big island in the Mother Sea between Firaldia and Direcia, southeast of the Connec. It's claimed by the Patriarchy, the Empire, and Peter of Navaya by his recognition of Calzir's claim, since much of Calzir passed to him by right of conquest. Peter and his Plataduran allies have made inroads. Neither we nor the Emperor can do anything but bark. We've got more immediate problems."

Hecht knew little about the islands of the western half of the Mother Sea. Vaguely, he recalled having seen Artecipea on a map. "Is that a Praman realm, then?"

"The Kaif of al-Halambra reckons it part of his kaifate. But in name only. He's occupied elsewhere, too. Sonsa and Platadura are the leading players there. No one else cares. There isn't much of value there."

"Except to sorcerers, apparently."

"True. It's a throwback land. The pagan presence is strong. It's been ages since anyone bothered to slaughter them so the survivors turn to the Church for salvation."

Piper Hecht enjoyed Principate Delari's cynical attitude. But he made a face. His own purported homeland had a long history of murdering the pagans of the Grand Marshes.

Delari ignored that. "We'll try to dig out the connection between Rudenes Schneidel and the attacks on you."

"Colonel Ghort plans to send a man to Viscesment."

"Tell him to be careful. Pagan sorcerers have cruel habits."

"I know the man he'll send. He served with us in the Connec. He'll treasure caution like it's his secret name."

"Good. See Consent. Arrange his rebirthing ceremony. We're coming up on Heron's Day. That evening would be perfect for it." Heron had been a fanatic Dainshau religious monitor, fierce in his suppression of the Chaldarean sacrilege – and barely tolerant of the Devedian – before suffering a dramatic, overnight conversion. Heron credited the Apparition of the Well of Atonement for showing him the way.

The Apparitions of the Wells were critical, if minor, entities in the narrow Dainshau pantheon.

"That should do. I'll let him know."

Delari smiled a small smile that Hecht would not understand until later. He said, "That's enough of that. Come walk with me, Piper."

Hecht thought they were headed for the baths. He did not mind, after being on the road – though he resented spending the time. Chasing adventure just left him that much farther down the unconquerable mountain of his work as a military bureaucrat.

Delari forged on through the baths and regions beyond, which Hecht had not known existed. Delari took flights of stairs downward and down, into depths known only in rumor even inside the Palace.

Brothens were sure that the Chiaro Palace sat atop catacombs that descended a mile into the earth. They believed that all the major structures associated with the Patriarchy were connected by tunnels, including those on islands in the Teragi River, the Krois Palace and the Castella dollas Pontellas of the Brotherhood of War.

The Principates Hecht dealt with regularly never confirmed nor denied the rumors. The Collegium savored the mystery surrounding them. Even the outright lies. They left rivals and enemies unsure.

Hecht asked no questions. If Delari meant to confuse him so he could not find his way again, he would fail. Sha-lug were trained to remember under much more distracted and stressful conditions.

"Just in through here."

Hecht took three steps, halted, astounded. He faced an empty space as vast as the basilica where the Patriarch celebrated holy days with the Collegium and bishops. The ceiling arched eighty feet above the floor. There were no pillars other than those supporting the balcony on which Hecht stood, twenty feet above the chamber floor. Wooden catwalks crisscrossed the chamber, at the level of the balcony. The vast chamber appeared to have been carved out of limestone bedrock.

The Collegium was supposed to be a conglomeration of powerful sorcerers. Piper Hecht had seen little evidence of that, though the old men of the Church had made a small effort during the Calziran pirate incursion a few years ago. Here, though, he saw proof enough for him.

The hall was round. It was three hundred feet across. It was lighted bright as day by some witch light that made his amulet turn icy cold.

There were a dozen monks and nuns on the floor. The monks belonged to one of the orders sworn to silence. Hecht knew little about nuns.

They moved along narrow aisles between long, wide tables. Delari explained, "This is a relief map of the known world sliced into strips so the geographers can make adjustments when new information comes in."

When Hecht moved thirty yards to his left the map came together. It had to be the most accurate map ever, at least within a thousand miles of Brothe. "This must have taken ages to put together."

"I was a boy the first time I saw it. That was sixty-four years ago. I was apprenticed to Cloven Februaran, about to move up to probationary journeyman." Cloven Februaran was a legendary Collegium sorcerer, renowned as a recluse. So reclusive did he become in later years that it was not commonly known when he died. If he did. He would be over a hundred twenty now.

"The Cloven Februaran?" Hecht murmured. Awed. "The Ninth Unknown?" Despite his withdrawn, secretive nature, Februaran was rumored to have stalked the worst of Brothe by night. Which might have been true. No one knew what the man looked like.

"He was called that sometimes. Because he was the ninth man chosen to manage this project. Each Unknown was handpicked by his predecessor. Each kept his role secret. Well, mostly. I haven't done that well. You could call me the Eleventh Unknown. I may be the last. I haven't found a worthy successor. Grade would have done. But neither Clemency nor Concordia were interested in adding another apolitical member to the Collegium. And Sublime is beyond hope."

Muniero Delari felt unappreciated amongst his own kind. He continued. "New Principals include fewer and fewer scholars. They're either political animals or cretins who buy their robes. Or both. None of this will matter after I go, anyway. Probably. The end of the world won't dally once I do."

Hecht admitted, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Or what's going on down there."

"It's a map of the world. Ever less exact as you stray farther from Brothe. Our priests, legates, and missionaries send news of changes in their areas. Those people down there translate the reports into physical representations. So we track what's happening in the physical world."

"Which would be?"

"What everyone is talking about, now. What the First Unknown suspected when he started the project two hundred years ago. The world is turning colder. The wells of power are drying up. Even the Wells of Ihrian have slowed. Sea levels are falling. The ice is advancing. Both of those are happening fast.

"In my lifetime the Mother Sea has fallen nine feet. It's fallen thirteen since the project began. Beyond Hypraxium and the Antal Land Bridges the Negrine has fallen even more. The inland seas farther east are shrinking, too. While ice piles up in the mountains beyond." Delari pointed as he spoke.

"A thousand years ago the Old Brothen Empire had a hundred thousand slaves permanently raising and reinforcing the Escarp Gibr al-Tar because the storms on Ocean were throwing up waves that topped it sometimes and threatened a breakthrough. Imagine the disaster that would be."

The surface of the Mother Sea lay hundreds of feet below that of Ocean. If Ocean broke the Escarp thousands of cities and towns, with millions of people and countless acres of farmland, vineyards, and orchards, would be obliterated. And the water would, no doubt, then overtop the Antal Land Bridges and flood the Negrine basin, too. And the surface level of the Negrine lay a hundred feet below that of the Mother Sea.

It would be the end of civilization.

Delari shrugged. "They succeeded. So now, instead of drowning, civilization appears destined to freeze. Come."

The old man shuffled onto the nearest catwalk. From overhead the layout looked more like a map. Except that it was three-dimensional. Delari said, "The vertical dimension is exaggerated. Otherwise, the contrast wouldn't be obvious."

"This is all hugely impressive, sir, but I don't see the point."

"Planning was the point, originally. So our people could survive. If we had forward-looking leaders able to see the true long term."

The progression of change was not obvious to Hecht. The despair harrying the edges of the world required no trained eye, however. The entire north, down to the Shallow Sea, was buried under ice. The Shallow Sea itself showed only scattered pools of open water, suggesting leaks of power from the underwater wells common there and in the Andorayan Sea. The Ormo Strait, despite vicious tidal bores, had become an icy bridge. Elsewhere, wherever there were mountains, there were permanent accumulations of snow. Areas exposed by the dropping sea levels were a sickly gray in color. Some, along the northwest coast, were extensive.

Delari said, "Overall, they're way behind reports. This represents the situation at the end of last winter."

"Planning, you say?"

"The advancing ice is pushing whole peoples ahead of it. The ice might explain Tsistimed the Golden and the Hu'n-tai At. When their grasslands could no longer support their herds they had to move somewhere else."

"So you're trying to predict where problems will pop up in time to do something useful."

"Yes. Though there doesn't seem to be much point to the project, now. Sublime isn't interested in anything but his own delusions. He'll still be ranting about crusades when the ice comes over the city wall."

"It can't happen that fast, can it?"

"No. It won't get here for generations. Which is good, Sublime being mortal. My hopes aren't high, though. My predecessors couldn't interest the Patriarchs much, either."

"Some of that isn't natural. Are they markers of some kind?"

"Yes. Supernatural phenomena are part of the landscape. So are power leaks. And anything else somebody wanted to track."

Hecht looked south of the Mother Sea, at the Realm of Peace. The Praman Conquest. The Principal's project had not gotten perfect reports out of the Praman world. But the details were better than anyone over there would like.

Changes were smaller there. So far. There were no fields of ice or snow. But the deserts were shrinking because of increased rainfalls.

"Enough for now," Delari said. "I just wanted you to know this resource is here."

Hecht knew he had missed something important to the old man. To do with the map? With the Night? Or had he hoped to find Hecht armed with some talent he was unaware of himself?

"We'll revisit later. You must be behind in your work."

The Principate took a stairwell directly to his own apartment. And made the climb without killing himself.

Hecht headed for the Castella dollas Pontellas. Principal Delari still looked mildly disappointed.

ANNA BROUGHT THE CHILDREN TO TlTUS CONSENT'S conversion ceremony. Over Hecht's objections. Pella might behave like the street creature he was. Vali would irritate people by not responding when they told her how pretty she was.

His dread was misplaced. Anna had tamed the boy. She cleaned and polished and dressed Pella till he whimpered. She had him convinced that the end of the world would taste sweeter than what would come down if he embarrassed the Captain-General.

His final assignment was to stick with Vali and explain that she was mute. Vali was expected to bow and curtsy at appropriate moments.

"You stop fussing, Piper," Anna told Hecht in the coach. They'll be fine. Worry about yourself. What do you have to do?"

Hecht had only a vague notion of his part in the ceremony.

"How come they's all them soldiers?" Pella wanted to know as they neared the Delari family's city residence. It was modest by the standards of the Principate's class. Contingents from the Brotherhood of War, the City Regiment, and Hecht's own small in-town Patriarchal guards company filled the street. Most wore formal parade costume. But a few remained in mufti, there for trouble instead of show-

"In case the Deves try to keep Titus from converting."

They won't commit murder over it," Anna said. "One more time. What do you do?"

Until only a short time ago Hecht had had no idea how a conversion ceremony went. It was similar to a child's confirmation.

He rehearsed it aloud as the coach came to a stop.

Anna said, "You've got it." She told the children, "He's never done this before."

Hecht grunted. "Where I come from they baptize babies when they're born because so many die. And conversions usually happen at sword's point, blessed by the nearest sober priest."

Pella said, "I don't think I'd like Duarnenia, sir."

"Me neither. That's why I left. Watch that puddle. Those shoes cost a fortune."

"Piper!"

"I can't help it, honey. I grew up poor."

Anna's schooling proved adequate. Principate Delari, as Consent's sponsor, required nothing of Hecht but a ritual attest to the excellent character of the candidate.

There was little pomp and circumstance. A few questions and responses, a "Who presents this man?" and the remarks about what a good fellow he was, followed by a ritual laying on of hands by the Bruglioni and Arniena Principates, then Bronte Doneto, and Titus Consent became an Episcopal Chaldarean of considerable stature.

Consent seemed appropriately excited. Hecht did note that Noe and the children did not go through the ceremony. Though, as Consent's wife, Noe would be whatever Titus decided. The children were not old enough for baptism and confirmation, the way those were handled locally.

Hecht shook Consent's hand. "I admire your courage, Lieutenant." He presented the customary baptismal gift of a coin. For children that was usually, a small silver piece. Hecht turned over a gold solidus, or five-ducat piece, which bore the bust and crest of a long-dead, obscure Patriarch named Boniface. The senior military men, including Colonel Smolens, Clej Sedlakova, Hagan Brokke, and members of their staffs, were equally generous. Consent had to start a new life. His situation would be difficult. His skills were crucial.

Despite his background, Consent was well liked.

"Thank you, sir. Courage isn't as important as knowing what you want, though."

Principate Delari was more generous than Piper Hecht. After amenities, the old man said, "If I can borrow you for a moment, Piper, I need a word in private."

"Or course, sir. If you'll excuse me, Lieutenant?"

This time the official rank and title sank in. Hecht watched Consent's face light up. He had been welcomed to the tribe he had chosen over his old.

"Sir?"

"When we're in private."

The Principate led the way upstairs, away from the public rooms. Hecht had deemed those austere, even by his own standards. The private quarters were more so.

Here Principate Muniero Delari had no congress with decadence or sinful luxury. Hecht considered a man who chose to live that way one worthy of respect. But only here. His Chiaro Palace apartment lacked no comfort desired by his boy.

Delari took Hecht into a room with four unpainted plaster walls, furnished with one rude table, three rude chairs, and two clay lamps burning cheap, unscented oil. Hecht's amulet tingled.

Delari sat, said, "I've examined the matter of Rudenes Schneidel. He is in Viscesment." Delari pulled a cord. A bell tinkled somewhere, muted.

"You have? So soon? How?"

"I'm a member of the Collegium, Piper. And not one of the hacks. There is some basis to the rumors about us. Which, I'm pleased to see, are the subject of public disparagament lately."

"Oh."

"Occasionally, I worry about your powers of observation, Piper. I fear that my son overestimated you."

"I worry about that, too. I never understood why he chose to mentor me. So, did you find out anything useful about Schneidel?"

"Very little. But enough to caution you against sending someone after him. Unless there's someone you want to dispose of without taking the blame."

A woman came in. Hecht had seen her downstairs, looking vaguely out of place. She was tall, faded blond, and worn down by life. She brought coffee and cups. Hecht pulled the aroma into his lungs. Coffee was his biggest vice. "Ah. The best Ambonypsgan beans." He sighed. "You're much too good to me, sir."

"Quite possibly true. Time will tell. This is my granddaughter. Brewing good coffee is one of her special talents."

Hecht exchanged nods with the woman as she presented a cup.

Delari continued. "The sorcerer has set up shop not far from the Palace of Kings. But there's no obvious connection with Immaculate. He may want it thought that there's a hidden connection. He seems to have much too exalted an estimate of himself. A fault he may be granted the opportunity to regret."

"Thank you," Hecht told the woman. The beverage was rare and rich. Frowning, he eyed her more closely. Had he seen her before? There was something remotely familiar there. Then he concentrated on Delari.

The Principate said, "Rudenes Schneidel can't possibly have any feud with you personally. He may have wanted to eliminate the Captain-General. My own feeling is, the attack was meant to frame Immaculate." Delari frowned as he spoke, possibly questioning his own reasoning. At the same time, he again seemed disappointed in Piper Hecht.

"A stretch, sir. That would mean he knew how things would go before they happened."

"It is a stretch, isn't it?"

"Did you find out anything else?"

"No. Rudenes Schneidel is an accomplished sorcerer. He has no trouble covering himself."

The woman refilled Hecht's cup, then left. Hecht said, "She doesn't look much like her father."

"You knew him only as a dying cripple. And none of Grade's children took after him. She's the image of her mother."

"How many kids did he have?"

"Four. Two sons, two daughters. All on the wrong side of the blanket. While he was overseas. By a woman he freed from Praman captivity. She'd been captured by pirates as a child and purchased by a merchant in Aselin who treated her badly. Grade was in the field for the first time. The Brotherhood and the Gisela Frakier had taken Aselin by surprise. Grade saved the woman from the Frakier when he recognized her rusty Old Brothen. She came from a family of education and standing."

Though key words had been butchered in transition from Peqaad to Firaldian, Hecht understood the Principate. Gisela was a transliteration of a tribal name. Frakier, roundabout, came from a phrase meaning "beloved traitor." In common usage in the Holy Lands, Frakier were Pramans who allied themselves with the crusaders.

"I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable, sir."

"You haven't. I'm at peace with all that. I'm guilty of the same indiscretion. I did do a better job of seeing my son to his maturity. I never had to leave him behind because of my martial obligations."

"You didn't want him to be a soldier."

"Nor a priest. But he was of age. He chose. When he created a family he did the best he could. But three of the four were lost."

Hecht could think of no appropriate response. That was the way of the world. As the world had been, always.

Harsh. Cruel. Unforgiving. Merciless. That was the world Piper Hecht knew. Happiness and pleasure were fleeting. Each moment had to be seized. The positive constants he had known were the brotherhood of the Sha-lug and the loyalties soldiers shared. Which, with limited success, he had been trying to recapture in exile.

"You seem troubled, Piper."

"My faith has been shaken lately, sir. I'm troubled in spirit"

"What more can you ask than what you have?"

"I don't know. That's part of the problem. A higher purpose? I owned one, once."

Principate Delari looked disappointed yet again. "We'd better get back downstairs. Leave the cup. Heris will take't are of it."

"Who was that woman you kept staring at?" Anna demanded as they left Delari's house.

"Delari's granddaughter. Drocker was her father. He wanted me to see her for some reason. Maybe to show how he takes care of family. Drocker kind of adopted me. I kept thinking I'd seen her before. I was trying to remember where."

He was not concentrating, though. There was something not right. He beckoned a soldier from the City Regiment. "Where did the rest of the men go?" He saw none of his own guards, nor anyone from the Brotherhood of War.

"Sir. Armed men were spotted up that way. Where the coaches would pass. Maybe setting an ambush. So the Brothers and the Patriarchals decided to ambush them back."

A distant tumult began on cue, metal rattling on metal. Anna heard it, too. She dropped her nag immediately. "There may be problems bigger than my insecurities."

"Huh?" Piper Hecht was not a man who caught things unspoken by women. Till Anna he had spent very little time around them.

"Let's get the children home. By a different route."

This was something Hecht did understand. "No. We'll go the way we know what the situation is. Somebody may want people to go another direction."

"You're the expert." She began harrying the children into the coach.

The kids were excited. Hecht thought that Vali might break down and talk. But Pella would not shut up long enough for anyone else to get a word in edgewise.

Hecht had the coach stop at the scene of ambush. A young officer hurried over.

"We got them all, Captain-General."

"Indeed? Any prisoners, Mr. Studio?"

"Uh… No, sir. The Brotherhood guys killed everything that moved. They were seriously angry."

Hecht sighed. "Claim some of the bodies. Maybe somebody interesting will come looking for their dead." At a glance, in the poor light, he saw nothing unusual about the bodies. "We might yet come up with a clue about who to hunt." Damnit, prisoners should have been taken! "And see that any wounds get taken care of right away."

Hecht's amulet gave him a series of tweaks, none of any weight. Things of the Night were about, drawn by pain and fierce emotion. As he was about to climb back into his coach, he asked, "Was this a diversion or the main attraction?"

'The Brothers say this was it."

"Interesting. Drive on," he told the coachman, then considered his improvised family. Vali was pale as paper. She stared at him fixedly. Pella, suddenly, was as quiet as Vali. Anna had grabbed hold of his arm, so tight it hurt. "I had a good time. Really. Everyone treated me better than I expected."

She started shivering. The night was not that cool.

"Maybe because the only married man who brought his wife was Titus." Other than Consent's whelps, Vali and Pella had been the only children, too. They had milked all the spoiling possible from celebrants in their cups, Pella selling the tragedy of the poor little mute girl. "Why wouldn't they fawn over you? They're all goats. And you were the most beautiful woman there. I'd have been worried about leaving you alone with the Principate. Poor little Armand."

"Piper!" But Anna liked it. She had seized the day, shipping a cargo of fine wine. "Where did you and the old man disappear to? Or is that too secret for girls?"

"We had coffee. Fresh roasted Ambonypsgan. Maybe he didn't want to share with the whole mob." Hecht shuddered suddenly.

"What?"

"Creepy feeling. Like something we might not want to meet just started following us around."

"The women in the square talk like that happens all the time. A lot of people won't go out after dark anymore."

Not an entirely remarkable state of affairs. Brothe was dangerous at the best of times. A glance outside revealed nothing unusual. The street was empty except for one man in tattered brown who staggered along without showing any interest in the coach.

Piper Hecht and Anna Mozilla moved in distinct circles when they were apart. His life was all studies of companies and regiments and how to feed, arm, pay, transport, and keep happy the troops who formed them. He had to outthink the ambitious warlords of the Grail Empire, his employer's lesser enemies, and Sublime himself. The latter was his biggest headache. He never saw the man. There was little reason to his decisions, which were subject to whimsical shifts. Too many, like letters of marque granted to Haiden Backe, originated deep inside a circle of cronies so intimate that even Sublime's cousin, Bronte Doneto, seldom knew what would happen next.

Hecht said, "I get the feeling that I keep disappointing Principate Delari. But I can't figure out how."

"You'll have to tell me more than you have. Unless it involves your super-secret Collegium business."

He described recent visits with Muniero Delari. Anna asked questions. Good questions.

"Obviously, there's more than a big map down there. Just having it buried like that, all secret, means you have to think that it's a powerful magic artifact. Or will be when they finish it. It sounds like they're still building it."

"We're home. Let me look around first." He still had that sense of a presence close by. Though his amulet remained dormant. "You kids need to get right to bed." That would not be a hard sell. Vali was groggy, all reserves exhausted, and would have to be carried. Pella was dragging.

Hecht saw nothing unusual. He paid the coachman, adding a generous gratuity. The man fawned. Times were hard.

The coach team clip-clopped away, on damp cobblestones. A light sprinkle had begun. Hecht entered the house last, backing in, like a rearguard covering a desperate retreat. There was no light outside once the coach and its lamps turned a corner, the driver in a hurry to get away.

Hecht made sure of the locks and shutters while Anna put the children to bed. Vali had to be carried.

In bed, still nervously alert, Hecht remarked, "What you said about the Principate's map. That's why I love you. I never thought of that." Could his blindness be the cause of Principate Delari's disappointment?

"Talk to me about that ambush, Piper. Were they after you?"

"I don't think so."

"What did you and the old man talk about? When you were having coffee."

"Rudenes Schneidel."

"Does he think you know something you're not telling?" Plainly, she thought he was holding out on her.

"Honey, I never heard of Rudenes Schneidel till a couple weeks ago."

"So maybe he never heard of Piper Hecht, either. Or you might know each other by different names. There's a lot of that going around."

Worth reflection, Hecht thought.

He was about to say he knew no one from Artecipea, nor had he heard of the High Athaphile or Artecipea before hearing that Schneidel called them home. He stopped as his mouth opened. He had had a thought about Vali. Which should have occurred to him long ago. One that meant a visit with the newest Episcopal Chaldarean before Consent's information sources dried up.

Anna continued. "There's been some fibbing about where people really come from, too. But forget that. It's time to find out if I drank too much to enjoy anything else."

The nightmare was so real it remained convincing after Hecht awakened. Anna demanded, "What was it? You're shaking."

"Nightmare. Haven't had it for a long time."

"The one about your mother?"

Hecht frowned. He did not believe Anna was psychic. She made no such claims. But she surprised him sometimes.

"It started there. Same as always." The same as memories he had had when he had cried himself to sleep in the Vibrant Spring School, back when they took the new slave boy in. He doubted he would recognize his mother today, even as she had been then, if she walked up and boxed his ears.

"Must be awful, being little and having no family."

"You make your own family there. Or you don't survive. That's the whole point." The Sha-lug schools produced hard men who disdained anyone who was not Sha-lug.

Piper Hecht feared he had softened during his sojourn amongst the Infidel, but his core remained adamantine Sha-lug. The Sha-lug were still his brothers, his family.

"It started out?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Then it turned dark. There was a monster I couldn't see but I knew what it was. If I could catch it I could kill it. But I couldn't catch it. It kept doing awful things to people I cared about. And getting closer and closer to ambushing me. Meaning I wasn't really the hunter."

"That's ugly, Piper, but it sounds like standard dream fare."

Hecht grunted. He agreed. But… "It had more than a dream flavor. Like my mind was trying to create images it could understand."

"Think you can lay down and go back to sleep?"

"Probably not. But I'll try."

Sleep came more swiftly than he expected, though that sense of the nearness of horror never went all the way away.

Anna let him sleep in. She wakened him, though, when neighbors came looking for someone who could act in an official capacity. "They don't know where else to turn," she told him as he pulled himself together.

Grumbling, he stumbled out into the cold to see the body some children had found. Pella and Vali ducked around Anna, tagged along, though not so close that Hecht would notice and send them home.

Hecht stiffened when he saw the corpse. Not because of the atrocities he had suffered but because he knew the man. Who had no business being anywhere within a thousand miles of the Mother City.

"You know him, Your Honor?"

"Sorry. No. It's the wounds."

One gawker said, "This ain't the first one that's been chewed up like that."

Another agreed. "And this one, he's got a foreign look to him."

Hecht nodded. The dead man looked like someone pretending to be Brothen without knowing the nuances.

Alive, he had been Hagid, son of Nassim Alizarin al-Jebal, a soldier in Else Tage's company. He had been placed there by his father, for seasoning in the field. Nassim Alizarin, called the Mountain, was a crony of Gordimer the Lion. A classmate from his old school. Nassim had sent Hagid out with the unstated understanding that the boy would come home if everyone else had to die to make it so.

Back in the house, with the kids still outside, Hecht told Anna, "He was a good kid. He tried hard. But he started fifteen years behind the rest of the company. I can't imagine him ever leaving al-Qarn once I got him home alive."

"You're sure it isn't somebody who looks like the boy?"

"I'm sure!" He was angry. "Here's another mystery I don't have time to solve. And I can't hand it off to anyone else."

"We'll see."

"Honey! Before you get any ideas, go look at what happened to…"

Pella burst in. "Anna, you shoulda seen! Part of his skin was gone and his stomach was cut open. They said they pulled out his heart and his liver."

Hecht's glower shut him off. "I want you to remember that there's someone out there who does that to people."

Pella was suitably cowed. For maybe thirty seconds.

"At least Vali has sense enough to be scared," Anna said as the children raced off to the kitchen. "I'd better keep an eye on them." But the children, excited, returned eating seed cakes and scattering crumbs. "They're hopeless!" Anna' complained. "Freke will quit on me." Freke (pronounced Freck-ie) Blagowidow was Anna's part-time maid and housekeeper. A desperate refugee, she would not quit no matter what.

"I'll talk to Herrin and Vernal next time I visit the baths."

"Oh, no. This is my house. You won't bring any of your toys in here."

Hecht leapt into the squabble happily. It distracted Anna from thoughts of Hagid.

A Captain-General was seldom alone. Especially since the attempts on Hecht's life. He wanted to vanish into the confusion of the Mother City, to sneak off to the Dreangerean embassy or the hideout of a spy from the Kaifate of al-Minphet, but the opportunity never arose.

Principate Delari asked, "Did you collect this body, too?"

"I did, sir. I thought you'd want to examine it."

"We're developing quite a collection. Though we've started releasing those from the other night. People are claiming them. We buried the ones that attacked you. Nobody wanted them."

Hecht was surprised. "People are claiming them?"

"They were all city residents. Disgruntled Brothens who wanted to bash whoever was in charge for being in charge when they're disgruntled. If you follow."

Hecht did not and said so.

"There's an upwelling of revolutionary sentiment out there. Which doesn't seem to have caught any official attention yet."

Hecht understood that. 'The Deves haven't bothered to warn us?"

"Say, rather, that a man in my position can't logically trust the cooperation and faithful support of people who follow false gods."

Hecht considered reminding the Principate that Aaron of Chaldar never declared his god a deity different from that of the Devedians. What Aaron and the Founders set forth bore only passing resemblance to its Episcopal descendant.

"Were there Deves among the dead?"

"No. Mostly unemployed Episcopals, according to relatives – who had fallen in with a crowd that blames Sublime for all the world's ills."

"Interesting. After centuries of being told that the Holy Father is infallible. Would the ambush be part of a broader conspiracy?"

"My sense is that it was, yes, but it was just slapped together, on the spur of the moment, by drunks in a winehouse egging each other on. They didn't mean it to go as far as it did. It wouldn't have if the Brotherhood hadn't been there."

"No half measures there. For them it's all black and white."

"A certain kind of man likes everything inscribed in absolutes. He gravitates to the Brotherhood naturally."

Pinkus Ghort had inherited the problem of the dead. He had arrested none of the claimants of the corpses. He hoped to find out who was connected to whom, and how.

"Maybe Pinkus organized it so he can keep his job. No, sir. I'm joking. It doesn't look like the Five Families see much point to maintaining the City Regiment."

"Oh. I have trouble recognizing it when you aren't being serious."

"You aren't unique, sir."

"Yes. So. Let's go examine your corpse."

Hecht stayed out of the old man's way. Delari muttered to himself. Hecht worried that the body might betray its origins.

The Principate observed, "A Calziran, presumably. A Praman, certainly. His one true God didn't protect him from this horror, though."

"Sir?"

"We have a problem, Piper. Of a sort I've only read about."

"Sir?"

"There's a necromancer among us. A sorcerer who kills people in order to effect his sorcery. And he's thrown it in our faces. He's daring us to come after him. Possibly to draw us out."

"Really?" Hecht did not want to believe it. Firaldia was civilized. That sort of thing had not happened since the black heart emperors of the Old Empire had indulged their egos. "If some human monster did this for sorcerous reasons, wouldn't that mean that there are Night things around strong enough to need rough handling?"

"It does. We should've anticipated this. It could become a real crisis."

"What can I do?"

They were headed for Principate Delari's apartment now.

"Nothing. Pretend you haven't noticed. This animal won't watch his back if he thinks he hasn't gotten our attention."

"All right."

"You seem rattled."

"I am. This is outside my experience. Outside my imagination."

"Then loosen your mind up. Because horror and madness is coming."

"Sir?"

"I'm not supposed to know. Sublime's party lumps me with Hugo Mongoz. Failing to realize that Mongoz is more than he seems, too."

Hecht stirred impatiently. Which made Delari smile. "In that case, you get to enjoy a short lecture before I give you the bad news."

Piper set his expression in stone. The Principate could ramble endlessly if so inclined.

"Don't throw yourself on your sword, Piper. I'll keep it short. Here in the Chiaro Palace we not only fall into pro-and anti-Benedocto parties – siding with the high bidder – we also form factions according to our talents for manipulating the Instrumentalities of the Night. And our inclinations to use those talents. So while Doneto and I are at odds over Sublime's idiot ambitions, we're in lockstep about harnessing the powers of the Collegium."

"I thought. You and Principate Doneto don't squabble nearly as much as you should."

That thin old man smile again. "Good. You didn't ask for it. So you shall receive. Sublime wants to punish Duke Germa fon Dreasser and Clearenza after all. He's heard that Lothar is sick and not expected to recover. The Imperial court is distracted by succession concerns."

Hecht kept his opinion behind his teeth. Even Principate Delari operated under serious misapprehensions about the Imperial court. Other than Pinkus Ghort, nobody Hecht knew took Ferris Renfrow seriously. In Delari's case it was obvious why. Osa Stile would have put a swarm of bugs in the old man's ears. And would report everything Delari

learned as soon as he learned it.

Ferris Renfrow would know about Sublime's shift in attitude toward Clearenza before official word came out here.

"Would it do me any good to protest the stupidity of it all?"

"If you argue with Sublime he just gets more stubborn."

"I know the type. My sister… Sir?"

"Piper? Oh. Nothing. Just surprised. You never talk about vour family."

"I don't think about them much. And wouldn't mention them at all around anybody I didn't trust." He hoped he sounded suitably mysterious. He dared not stop not being who he really was.

They reached the Principate's apartment. The old man halted a few steps inside. "You need to get to work. You'll get your orders in the morning. I'll start sniffing around for this necromancer."

Hecht glimpsed Osa Stile. The boy had a talent for lurking. If there were a curtain or tapestry nearby Osa Stile might be closer than you hoped.

Hecht said, "Don't count Lothar out. He's always sick. But he always comes through."

Delari frowned. He did not want to hear that any more than Sublime did. Probably not for the same reasons.

Hecht ran into Pinkus Ghort before he left the Palace. Ghort said, "I see you've heard. My boss would be interested to know how."

"How come you know?" Not asking what Ghort meant.

"My boss is a crony of your boss. And I have friends who get on the eary with anything he says. He talks to himself you know. When he thinks he's alone."

"As long as he doesn't answer."

"But he does. He really does. It's kind of spooky."

"Must be because of all that time he spent locked up with you and me in Plemenza."

Ghort chuckled.

"So what did you want?"

"To let you in on what was coming."

"Thank you, then. I appreciate the thought."

"And to ask about last night. Bad?"

"Worse than you think." Hecht explained about the dead man found near Anna's house.

"Crap. Sounds like big-time shit. Black fairy-tale stuff."

"Don't talk it up. We don't want this monster to find out that we've caught on."

"No problem, buddy. I'm staying far away from that shit. This other stuff with people who want to stir up shit, though. I'm all over that. If I don't see you before you go off to your war, good fucking luck."

"I'll need it." He was being paid well not to think but to execute the Patriarch's will, however ill-conceived. If the man distracted himself from his ambitions in the Holy Lands, then the diversionary insanities needed to be nurtured.

Hecht often wondered about Sublime's mental state. He did not know the man. Had been in his presence rarely. Might have exchanged words with him once, on demand. Did not think Sublime would recognize him without an introduction, though he was the Church's top soldier.

He did not expect a more intimate relationship to develop. Orders would be relayed by Bronte Doneto or another of Sublime's cronies, mostly relatives less public than Principate Doneto.

Titus Consent seemed glum. Hecht asked, "Second thoughts?"

"Not exactly."

"Really? Then you know yourself better than I know me. Isn't every Devedian in Brothe trying to make you miserable?"

Consent donned a strange expression. "Sir, who is the last Deve you know of who converted?"

Hecht could not recall one. "A lot must have. Once upon a time there weren't any Pramans or Chaldareans."

That's true. The Founders converted. Some of the Founders Those who weren't Devedian to start. Those who started out Devedian never considered themselves anything else."

"Your point being?"

"That conversion may not be unknown, but it's rare. Brothen Deves can't remember the last time it happened here. So they're sure that it hasn't happened this time, either."

"I see. That'll be handy." He placed no faith in Consent's conversion himself. "That will make my life easier." Maybe.

From Piper's viewpoint, unfortunately, there was too good a chance that Consent knew all about his shortcomings as a Chaldarean.

"How so?"

"I feared your connections might suddenly dry up. Just when we need them most."

Consent nodded. "That probably wouldn't happen even if the Deves did believe I'd converted. It's a tit for tat game, information moving both ways. They really want to know what the Patriarch is thinking."

Hecht understood. Everyone wanted to know that. "Why are they staying cooperative? The war is over." Deve espionage efforts during the Calziran Crusade had bought them immunity from the fury of the invaders there.

"Because they know there'll be more crusades. One after another while Sublime is Patriarch. Maybe longer if his peculiar brain disease transmits itself to his successors. There'll always be Deves who need shielding."

"I have two things for you. Clearenza is the most pressing. We're going to get orders to march. Maybe within a few hours."

"I've been on that since right after Duke Germa had his political stroke. You're in good shape. Move fast. The Emperor's people can't react right now. They're tied up with internal politics."

But Osa Stile was sitting in Principate Delari's lap. "They'll know as soon as we pull our boots on."

Consent nodded. Brothe was awash in Imperial spies and sympathizers. "And the other thing?"

"Somewhere there's a man who really interests the Brotherhood of War. Probably the Special Office. I don't know, who he is. His child has gone missing. The bad guys took her because they want to twist his arm until he helps them with some underhanded plot. I want to know who he is."

"And that's all you can give me?"

"That's all I've got. I was hiding in a shadow in Sonsa when I got it. Sonsa is where the plot is headquartered."

"We're out of Sonsa. You must know that. There's been enough crying about how unfair it is that Deves should stand up for themselves."

Hecht nodded but did not believe Consent. "At least one of the Three Families, the Durandanti, is involved. They had a relationship with the Brotherhood before. The plotters may be getting orders from the Castella dollas Pontellas. When Ghort and I went up they had us take a courier pouch."

"If it's underhanded and involves the Castella, then the Patriarch is probably involved, too."

"The notion has occurred to me."

Consent bowed slightly. "I'll do what I can, Captain-General."

Captain-General Piper Hecht, with two hundred men and two small brass cannons, camped a half mile outside Clearenza's east gate. Two hundred men could not impose a siege. They did interfere with traffic to and from the city, known for its embroidered linens and its exquisitely colored glassware.

Duke Germa chose not to fight. His family were devout Episcopals. He did not want to provoke the Patriarch to the point where he issued Writs of Anathema and Excommunication. But fon Dreasser made no attempt to treat with Sublime's Captain-General. His disdain for the Patriarchate was palpable.

Piper Hecht sat under a canvas awning. It was a miserable winter day. Another in a parade of cold, gloomy, drizzly days. He and Redfearn Bechter shivered and stared at Clearenza. The city was a gigantic gray boar shape behind the misty rainfall.

Bechter said, "We could occupy the estate houses south of town."

"Make it happen. I miscalculated. I thought the hardship of living under canvas would make the men bond. It's been more miserable than I expected."

"I like an officer who's flexible," Bechter said. "It would've taken Drocker longer to see the light." He went on to opine, "Bonded men aren't much use if they're dying of pneumonia."

Hecht grunted. That was an iron truth of warfare. Likely, more lives would be lost to disease than to any enemy effort. Thus had it been during the Calziran Crusade. Most conflicts operated at a low level of violence. The last big western battle had taken place at Themes, eight years ago.

Though Sergeant Bechter was the Captain-General's aide, he had acquired his own assistant, Drago Prosek. The youngster hailed from Creveldia, a province of the Eastern Empire that more closely resembled Firaldia in religion and culture. Prosek was an apprentice member of the Brotherhood of War. For generations most Brotherhood recruits had come from Episcopal Chaldarean enclaves inside the Eastern Empire.

Though never treated as badly as Devedians and Dainshaus, Episcopals were a persecuted minority.

Prosek appeared. "Permission to approach, Sergeant."

Bechter waved him closer. Drago leaned down,'s swiftly and softly. Piper Hecht did not catch what he said. Prosek whispered for nearly a minute. Bechter nodded occasionally. Drago finished, stepped away. He did not volunteer to abandon the shelter of the awning.

Bechter said, "A courier just came from the Castella. He brought the usual sack – and some news. There's been rioting in Brothe. About food shortages and inadequate shelter. Somebody is provoking them. And the first chest of money from Arnhand has arrived."

Would that render the action against Clearenza obsolete? Sublime could buy back Duke Germa's love.

Drago Prosek brought the courier. He presented the document bag to the Captain-General. Verbally, he related more news. "Nobody knows how much Anne pledged but it looks like Sublime will retire all his debts. Even those left over from his election. With money enough extra to finance new mischief."

Not good, Hecht thought. Sublime could start lining up a whole new clutch of creditors. Getting ready to make more people die.

"Sergeant, I fear we'll be visiting the Connec again, before long."

"Sir, I wish I could say you're wrong. And I'm not looking forward to it. Our next visit isn't going to be nearly as sweet as the last one."

"It was sweet last time?"

"It should've been. And would've been. If the black side of the Night hadn't taken hold of Bishop Serifs."

"The man did do everything he could to make people hate him."

"The guys in there now are probably even worse."

"No doubt. Where's Sedlakova? I haven't seen him all morning. I need to know if we can make those hounds bark." He meant the cannons. Devedian artisans had cast and crafted them, based on a design he recalled from the east. The Sha-lug falcon was supposed to be a secret weapon. The Deves of Firaldia, though, had turned out to know more about firepowder weapons than ever he had, and understood them better.

Bechter said, "He's having trouble keeping his firepowder dry enough to go bang."

True. Sedlakova would handle that by baking the powder at a low heat, carefully keeping it away from any flame.

Hecht opened the courier packet. "Messenger. You see any of the rioting yourself?"

"No, sir. The Castella did go on alert. So did the Patriarchal Guard. But the City Regiment handled it."

"And they still won't keep Pinkus on," Hecht muttered. The Five Families wanted to shed the costs of the City Regiment, finding it not worth the price if they could not use it against one another. "Go ahead," he told the courier. "I'm listening." He read while the man talked.

Titus Consent was right about his former co-religionists. They remained cooperative.

Consent had joined the expedition. He was inside Clearenza now. No siege had been set. Hecht was mounting a demonstration meant to intimidate Duke Germa. If fon Dreasser remained stubborn, and his Imperial friends lent no more support than they had to this point, he would summon additional troops and lay a real siege.

The other side knew the plan as well as he did.

Word of Sublime's financial windfall would be spreading. The troops would be more cooperative.

Hecht's natural cynicism made him wonder if Sublime hadn't planted the story.

How could Sublime be thwarted if the Anne of Menand story was true?

How would that much specie be moved from Salpeno to Brothe? Any number of people might be tempted to interfere. Grolsach, in particular, would be dangerous. Those people were hungry enough to dare holding up the Church itself.

A roll of thunder off toward Clearenza got his attention. Sergeant Bechter, Drago Prosek, and the courier started, suddenly frightened.

They had not heard the hounds bark before.

Hecht said, "I hope that stone comes down somewhere that will impress the Duke." He had no real hope, though. The hounds threw a stone that weighed about ten pounds. That would not do the damage caused by traditional stone-casters. But the hounds were impressively loud and smoky and could hurl their missiles a lot farther.

"Unless we have a spot of luck they'll put holes in a few roofs and let in the drizzle," Bechter said.

"Tell you the truth, I'd as soon go home and get out of the weather."

"Sir, if I had a woman like yours I wouldn't ever have left."

"I'll mention your appreciation, Sergeant. I'm sure she'll agree."

Bechter reddened.

"And here's a note from the boss himself. Wants us to be quick and wrap this up on account of he's got other work for us. Are you sneering at our master, Sergeant?"

"Not me, sir. He's the Infallible Voice of God."

Drago Prosek was appalled. Hecht said, "Prosek, go check out the houses south of the city. Find us a place. Duke Germa's would be good, if we fit. You. Courier. There's a mess tent about thirty yards back there. Go get warmed up. Get some sleep. I won't have anything for you to take back till tomorrow."

After a moment, Bechter asked, "Why did you get rid of them?"

"You were giving them apoplexy. They both really believe the Patriarch is the Living Voice of God."

"They'll get older. What else?"

Bechter was getting to know him. "Titus Consent is headed this way. He shouldn't be back this soon."

There was another boom. Different. Louder. Less directed. Hecht sighed. "I hope they were behind something before they matched that fuse. Because that sounded like it blew up." Which had been a big problem during the development of the weapons in Dreanger.

Titus Consent slipped in through the closed back of the tent, looking for eavesdroppers hiding in corners that were not there.

"You found out something special?" Hecht asked. "I didn't expect you for a few more days."

"Plans have to adapt to circumstance."

"Good news? Or bad?"

"Depends on what you want to do and who you are."

"You going to play games with me?"

"No. I came back because I thought we could… Shit!"

"Language, young man. Language."

Consent grinned, showing bright, perfect teeth. "What was that?"

"One of the hounds barking. I didn't think you'd be surprised." A second boom followed a moment later. Which meant that there had not been a blowup, after all. Hecht told Bechter, "Go check that out. Find out what that odd bang was before."

Sergeant Bechter nodded. "Of course, sir. Of course."

A moment later, Consent said, "You didn't need to send him away."

"That wasn't the point. I do want to know what happened. There was an explosion. It sounded like one of the hounds blew up. Those things are expensive. And almost as dangerous to their crews as to their targets. So. Why are you back already?"

"They aren't taking us serious. It's business as usual over there. The Duke's men and some advisers from the Grail Empire have been looking at the defenses and talking about reinforcing the gates, but they aren't in any hurry. Two hundred men don't scare them. They don't expect us to get help from our garrisons. And they expect reinforcements of their own."

"How soon?"

"I don't know. Because they didn't. But Lothar promised to send a company of Braunsknechts."

"Not good, that. But the first shipment of money from Anne of Menand has arrived. That should alter the balance of power."

Consent looked skeptical. "In that case, I recommend we move right now."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

Titus Consent had in mind jumping on Clearenza with both feet before anybody thought there was the least chance that the Captain-General would do anything but show the flag.

The night sky began to clear as the Patriarchals stole toward the city. They made very little noise, except by snarling at one another to keep quiet. A fragment of moon kept trying to peek through cold clouds that promised snow.

Clearenza's north gate was a minor one. It served agricultural traffic. The gate was shut, but not so the sally port built into it. That was not secured because illicit traffic, avoiding tariffs and customs duties, moved in and out by night. Titus Consent and several obvious Devedians took point. Those who were not Episcopal Chaldareans were subject to a weighty head tax by day.

The guards were not alert. So much not so that all the sneaking went to waste. The only guard awake enough to demand bribes was so focused on a jug of wine that he found himself tied up before he understood what was happening. His only comment was, "Oh, shit!"

Piper Hecht muttered, "Is this a trap? Can they possibly be this lax with an enemy outside?" Though he saw the same loose attitude every day, everywhere. There was no professional tradition amongst Firaldian soldiers. Maybe because they did not get into many real fights. "Please tell me this isn't a trap."

"They've been setting it up for ten years if it is."

"Really?" Did Pinkus Ghort's adventure here predate that time? Or was his story about service here another tall tale?

"This was the easy part," Consent said. "Now we have to reach the citadel without raising an alarm. If they lock us out…"

"Thought the Duke goes whoring every night."

"Not every night. He's not as young as he used to be. But a lot."

"None of us are as young as we used to be. Send your lead teams."

Three teams of three men each headed for sporting houses Duke Germa was known to frequent. They would do nothing but find out if the man was there. That would be obvious. He dragged a retinue everywhere he went. A runner would carry word from each location to Consent. He would be waiting outside the citadel. If fon Dreasser was out, they would try to capture the citadel gate. The Duke always left it open when he went out on the prowl. Or such had been his custom since the advent of the Patriarchals had forced him to abandon his manor outside the wall.

Hecht told Bechter, "If we don't bring this off, I'll make him hurt by using his manor for our headquarters."

"Aren't we supposed to respect his properties? Sublime wants him back in the fold."

"I must've misunderstood my instructions."

Bechter grunted. He was recovering from the hike from camp. He was in shape for his age, but he was his age, trying to keep up with men mostly younger than the Captain-General.

Hecht said, "That's enough head start." Consent's band was five minutes gone. "Move out by squads. Quietly." The group leaders had been briefed by Titus Consent but Hecht was sure somebody would get lost. Clearenza was not vast but it was old and had grown organically. Streets meandered and were not marked.

Confusion was the natural state of combat. Hecht hoped to cause more of that on the other side than plagued his own. His men supposedly knew what to do even if they got turned around.

Hecht offered an encouraging word to each departing team leader. He did not want anyone getting killed.

He shuddered suddenly, touched by an unexpected chill. It was not the weather. Maybe it was his imagination.

Or maybe not. Sergeant Bechter murmured, "You felt that, sir?"

"Sergeant?"

"You shivered. It was a cold presence. I don't know how else to put it. Like there's something here. Right behind you. Looking over your shoulder."

"And there's nothing there when you look."

"Yes, sir." That almost defined the Instrumentalities of the Night. "I've been feeling that a lot, lately."

"As have I." But that just puzzled him more. If there was something of the Night out there, close by, of the magnitude suggested by the creeps he and Bechter felt, his wrist ought to be hurting so bad that he would be thinking about cutting his amulet off.

"Stay alert," Hecht told the men who would stay at the gate. "Let those guys tied up in the guardroom be your inspiration. Sergeant, let's go."

In the dark street, headed for the citadel, Hecht concluded that there was only one way his amulet would not function in the presence of the Instrumentalities of the Night. Because er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen, the man who had created it, did not want it to work.

Only Gordimer the Lion and the Rascal knew the amulet existed. Gordimer would not know how to get around it.

But why would the sorcerer want to kill Else Tage?

Hecht had not been able to work that out. He was sure er-Rashal had been trying from the moment he had left Dreanger. And possibly from even earlier.

Someone had raised that bogon in Esther's Wood, near the Well of Calamity, beside the Plain of Judgment. He had slain it. And by doing so had demonstrated a hitherto unsuspected vulnerability of the Instrumentalities of the Night.

Death had stalked him ever since.

There was fighting at the citadel entrance. There were occasional pops inside, suggesting that the men were discharging their handheld firearms in spite of orders to save them for something supernatural. Hecht understood why. Those weapons could bring an enemy down while he was still too far away to hurt you back.

One of his subalterns reported, "We surprised them, sir. But we had some bad luck. They surprised us back."

"How?"

"There are Braunsknecht guards in there. We don't know how many, but they aren't staying neutral."

"What about that, Titus? You didn't know they were here?"

"I knew there were advisers. I told you. I thought there were only a few. That's what people outside thought. We don't have to take the citadel, though. The Duke is holed up in a sporting house. I've sent men to dig him out."

Rapid popping inside signaled a counterattack by the defenders.

"Good." Hecht gathered his officers. "We don't push back unless Lieutenant Consent has his signals crossed. But we'll hang on here till we have the Duke. Titus. Don't wander off. Bechter. I need stuff to start a fire." That ought to win Sublime a new crop of hatred.

A fresh chill made him shudder. He looked around. Spectators had begun to gather in the moonlight, at a distance. They twitched every time there was a pop inside the fortress. "Bechter. Break that crowd up before it gets tempted to turn into a mob."

"Yes, sir." Bechter grabbed several men who had nothing else to do.

Consent reported, "There's word, sir. They've got him. They're headed for the gate. We should think about going."

"Excellent. You men. Get that fire started." That would make it hard for the Duke's men to come to his rescue.

Bechter fell in beside Hecht as they left the city. "Sir, there was a man in that crowd back there that we've seen before."

"Uhm?"

"In Brothe. He's a little under average height, average frame, hair well trimmed. Beard likewise. No hair on the cheeks. Head and chin both brown, so he's probably not a native. Salted with gray. Gray eyes. Forty to fifty years old. He looks pretty much like Grade Drocker did at the same age. Make that like Drocker would've looked if he didn't get mutilated."

"Really?" He would have to consult Principate Delari about that.

He thought he had seen the man Bechter meant. Without noting any resemblance to Drocker. Whom he had not known unmutilated. He had had only a few glimpses of the sorcerer earlier. "Was he wearing brown?"

"Yes, sir. And every time I've noticed him it's been right after that creepy feeling came on."

"Worth remembering. Keep an eye out once we're back in Brothe. I'll see if I can't get the Collegium after him."

The Patriarch himself came out for Piper Hecht's report on the Clearenza operation, though the Captain-General never spoke to him directly. By the time the Collegium assembled Sublime had accepted Germa fon Dreasser's ransom and the Duke was headed home. The soldiers were not pleased. They had received no share of the ransom. There had been casualties, though just a few and only two of those fatalities.

Hecht told Anna, "I can't fathom this man's mind. He doesn't understand people at all. Next week he'll tell my men to go break up one of those riots. And he won't be able to figure out why they just stand around watching."

"It's getting scary here, Piper."

Her tone got his attention. "Yes?"

"It isn't just the riots. I don't feel safe outside anymore. I don't like the kids going out. Not since that man was killed. I always feel like somebody is watching me. Even stalking me. The kids feel it, too."

"I'll talk to Pella. He understands the streets better than you or I do."

Anna was not impressed. He needed to make a better showing. "There's an advantage to being the Captain-General of the Armies of the Faith."

"Other than being able to fling around an overweight title?"

"Yes. I can tell people to do things. And they do them. Even if they think it's crazy to hold exercises in a neighborhood like this. They'll do what I say because they're afraid they won't get paid."

"And what does all that mean?"

"That I can come around here and turn the whole neighborhood over. And claim it's business. I'd be hunting heretics."

Heretics were about to become big business. There was a lot of talk about heresy in the Collegium, mostly among Sublime's cronies. Preparing minds for what they hoped would come.

"Bring that idiot Morcant Farfog. Maybe the boogeyman will get him."

Hecht had not met Bishop Farfog. He knew little about the man other than that he headed the Patriarchal Office for the Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy, with the title of Chief Inquestor. Rumor had the monasteries emptying out as monks signed up to help.

What little Hecht knew about Farfog suggested that he was more foul than Bishop Serifs of Antieux had been.

Why did Sublime favor such men?

"Clever work in Clearenza," Principate Delari told Hecht, joining him in the baths. Osa Stile smirked from behind the Principate.

"Thank you, sir. Lieutenant Consent deserves most of the credit."

"And you used his information to sculpt a plan. You made the decision to go."

"Uh…"

"You took a chance. It paid off. Most men would have dithered like Tormond IV, never confident enough to jump. We suffer from an absence of decisiveness. Everyone wants a sure thing."

"We sure got a surprise when we discovered those Braunsknechts." Though the Imperials had gotten a big surprise themselves.

Delari chuckled.

Herren and Vernal seemed a little starstruck this morning. And unusually friendly. "Stop that!" Hecht told Vernal.

Delari chuckled again. "Everybody loves a winner."

"There's a problem, sir."

"I don't like the sound of that. What?"

"I thought it was my imagination till Sergeant Bechter mentioned having the same problem."

The Principate listened. Hecht described the creepy feelings he sometimes got and that Bechter sometimes saw a particular man when that feeling got to him.

"I may have seen this man myself, once or twice. Bechter says he looks a lot like Grade Drocker a few years before his misfortune. Though shorter."

Delari frowned. Drocker's passing still pained him.

Hecht preferred to avoid the subject, too. Because Drocker's unhealing wounds, that claimed him eventually, had been his fault.

"Sir, I'm just reporting hearsay. I didn't know Grade Drocker before his misfortune."

"What happened to my son still troubles me, Piper. A lot. You can't imagine how much. But talking around the sides of it doesn't help. Say what you mean if you have something to say."

"Yes, sir. Though there isn't anything else to say, now."

"How is your Anna doing?"

"She's worried." Hecht explained.

"We haven't learned anything more from the man who was butchered. No one claimed his body. Other than the usual sailors and embassy people, there aren't many Pramans around. The dead man doesn't seem to have any local connections. If we had anyone capable, I'd try raising his shade."

"Sir!" That lurked at the edge of the blackest of sins imaginable.

Osa Stile looked shaken, too.

Might Hagid bin Nassim have known Osa Stile, back in Dreanger?

Possibly. Hagid's father might have been in on the planning. But had Osa seen the corpse?

"Only thinking out loud. Tell Anna not to worry. We'll arrange for her to feel more comfortable." The old man might have been decreeing a new law of nature.

Chip by chip, glacially, another face emerged from the facade of the doddering Principate Muniero Delari. Was this the real Eleventh Unknown? Hecht was certain, now, that

Muniero Delari was the heavyweight sorcerer far peoples believed members of the Collegium to be.

"Herren, stop that!"

"You don't like it, Captain-General?"

"I like it altogether too much. Stop it."

Osa Stile snickered. So did both girls. But Herren desisted.

Delari made a tiny gesture. Osa's amusement stopped instantly.

Osa might not be as much in control as he wanted.

"There are two worlds, Piper. This is particularly true in the Church," Principate Delari said. They were under the Chiaro Palace, overlooking the huge map. Hecht saw no obvious changes. "But it's true everywhere, every when. There's the raucous old world of everyday passion, pain, and corruption. The one where we come of age, basically. Then there's the world few touch but which most are sure exists. That's the world of secret powers and secret masters. The silent kingdom. The silent kingdom shapes the raucous world without revealing itself. Just as surely as do the Instrumentalities of the Night, though with more direction and purpose. The silent kingdom hides in the secret spaces between mankind and the Night."

Hecht asked, "This is a common belief amongst men of talent?"

Delari peered at him intently, sniffing after the thought behind the question.

"Some of us have a foot in the world between. Knowing about it only because we've been shown. Others, like our Special Office brethren, are too ideological to contribute."

"And get shown for no obvious reason? Because of the murky motives of those already inside?"

The curtain had been opened enough for one day. The Principate changed topic. "Has the girl spoken yet?"

"Uh . . Vali?"

"Yes."

"Not where any adult can hear. She talks to Pella. Occasionally. Sometimes Pella deigns to tell us what's on her mind. Mainly, she's worried about what's going to happen to her. You find out anything about her?"

"No. There is a Vali Dumaine but she's Countess of Bleus. The wife of the Count who got into it with Anne of Menand. They don't have children. She's twenty-nine. Rumor says evil sorcery keeps her from conceiving. It also says Anne means to buy the Archbishop of Salpeno with the Dumaine honors."

"She's giving everything away."

"She's a determined woman."

"With everything to gain. I see that."

Hecht could not understand how one harlot could become so influential.

Delari mused, "She must be quite something in private."

"Curious?"

"Intellectually. I'd like to meet her."

"Uhm. But you can't hazard even a guess about where my Vali fits?"

"Beyond stipulating that circumstantial evidence suggests that she does, no."

"But if the Brotherhood of War was interested… Sir! I just had an unpleasant thought. A connection I didn't see before."

"Yes?"

The old man reminded Hecht of the pensioner instructors at the Vibrant Spring School, waiting for him to state a conclusion he had had trouble reaching.

"Sir, the people holding Vali were conspiring with the Special Office. Who sent me to the House of the Ten Galleons in the first place."

"So you've just realized that they must know where the girl is?"

"I'm a little dim sometimes, sir. I'm a fighting soldier, remember."

"Can you take it another step? Or two?"

"Sir?"

"Have they decided that it's better for Vali to be with you, out of sight, safe from people whose loyalties are commercial? Did they set you up to spirit the girl out of Sonsa?"

"I couldn't guess, sir. My thinking tends to be more linear."

"I understand. It's one of your charms. Quite possibly the main reason that Bronte Doneto recommended you to his cousin. You're a sharp blade that looks like it can be used

with little danger of cutting both ways."

Hecht wished Gordimer the Lion believed that. "Maybe. But he also thinks he can manipulate me if he wants."

Delari grunted. "There's still another possibility, Piper. And it seems the most obvious and likely to me."

'Sir?"

'Did the girl just make up a story to win help getting out of an awful situation? Creating fictitious personal histories isn't exactly unheard of, Piper."

"Uh… I'll ask Pella about that."

"Good. Do. There's nothing new here. Just more of the same, worsening at a frightening rate. Will all the water in all the seas end up part of the ice? Will even Firaldia go under?"

Hecht thought Firaldia would drown in refugees first.

The great map did show that there would be no quick, direct confrontation over Clearenza. The passes to the heart of the Grail Empire were closed. A courier might make his way out of the continental heartland, but no armed force ould make the transit for months yet.

Hecht asked, "Do we know where Lothar and his sisters are?" Johannes Blackboots had preferred the Imperial cities of Firaldia, Plemenza in particular. He liked to stay close enough to tweak Sublime's nose when the mood took him.

"Hogwasser. In Lothar's case."

"Sir?"

"Sorry. Bad joke. Hochwasser. Means 'high water,' literally, but generally translates as 'flood.' The name goes back to antiquity. When it was called something else that meant the same thing."

Imperial times. Today it served as the headquarters for Hecht knew a little about Hochwasser because he claimed to have passed through during his journey south from Duarnenia. It was a military city, of sorts, and had been since old Imperial times. Today it served as the headquarters of the Grail Emperor's lifeguard, the Braunsknechts.

The concept of even that limited a standing force found little favor among the Imperial nobility. Anything that strengthened the Emperor necessarily weakened the noble class.

Delari said, "Lothar is at Hochwasser. Katrin is either there or at Grumbrag. There's some doubt about Helspeth." The Principal gestured at the grand map. "Don't let that lull you. If Lothar decides something needs doing he has people here who can make our lives miserable. Follow me."

Hecht did so, down to the main floor, passing monks and nuns engrossed in their work. One of the latter appeared to be extremely gravid.

Principate Delari approached a heavy wooden door. Ancient, bound in spell-wrought iron, it looked capable of withstanding assault from barbarian or Night. A shelf in the stone to its right bore several old-time brass lanterns of the sort once carried by Imperial night couriers. They even had an Imperial seal on the adjustable shutter that controlled the amount of light emitted. Delari chose one, checked its fuel level, lighted it from a candle at the end of the shelf. Tallow spills showed that a candle burned there all the time.

"Open the door, Piper."

The door was not locked, latched, or barred. Hecht pulled. It opened.

Cold, damp air greeted him. It smelled of raw sewage and very old death.

"The catacombs?"

"Exactly." Delari nodded. "They're real. Take a lantern yourself. Never come down here without one."

"I don't want to be down here at all. Not if half the stories are true."

"They aren't. But the reality can be worse. The light from these lanterns repels things of the Night."

Hecht sorted through the lanterns. They all seemed fully fueled. He took the heaviest on the theory that it would last the longest. He lighted it, tried to look ready. If go he must.

Delari chuckled. "Remember, down here, as in the world above, the worst monsters go on two legs and have mothers who love them."

Why would we want to be down here?"

"Sometimes a man needs to move around without being seen." That sounded too pat. "What about your mother?"

The Principate had moved into the tunnel, which was lined in stone set without mortar, using an Old Brothen technique. The question caught Hecht off guard. "Sir?"

"I was curious about your mother."

Hecht temporized, trying to recall anything he had told anyone about the woman. "I expect she'd agree with most mothers. Piper is a good boy. He didn't mean any harm. He couldn't possibly do anything bad. I didn't know her, though, sir. She died when I was quite young. Childbed fever."

"And your father?"

"He was a good Chaldarean. In Duarnenia that means he got to heaven early. I don't remember him at all. They say he came home just often enough to keep my mother pregnant."

Delari seemed amused. He did not pursue the subject. 'The catacombs here belong to us." He did not define "us."

"They're safe. Most of the time. There are wards. And watchers. Not much gets past. But you can't count on being safe. Always carry your own lantern."

The footing grew damper. The stone had been plastered at one time. The plaster had fallen into the muck underfoot.

The Principate said, "We're near the Teragi, but deeper down. We could visit the Castella or Krois. Or cross over to the north side, if we wanted. But that isn't something you need to know how to do yet."

Hecht muttered, "This is real silent kingdom country." He saw no evidence of life. No rats. No spiders. No vermin whatsoever.

"You're uncomfortable."

"I don't like tight places. Tight places underground are worse."

Delari chuckled.

Evidently he found everything humorous today.

Hecht asked, "Where are the vermin?"

"Cruel things roam down here. They don't care what they eat. Including you and me if they could catch us."

"That's no help."

Delari chuckled yet again. "You're in the underworld now, Piper. Like in the old mythology."

"I'll keep an eye out for black rivers and blind boatmen."

"If he was down here for real he'd get knocked in the head and robbed of the passage money."

"You're so reassuring. Where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular. I'm suffering from an inclination to share Collegium secrets." Delari turned left into a cross tunnel. That led to a huge chamber. The lanterns revealed no farther walls, only ranks of ancient colonnades marching off into the darkness. It looked like an abandoned cathedral at midnight. A cathedral abandoned for ages. Debris lay everywhere. The lantern light took on a blue-white hue. Everything appeared in shades of bluish gray. Dust was thick and cobwebs ubiquitous.

And there were bones. Bones great and small, everywhere. Ugly bones, some of them. Bones that Hecht did not find familiar. Perhaps bones not human. There was little odor of decay.

Delari said, "Flesh doesn't last long enough to putrefy down here."

Some larger bones had been broken, presumably to expose the marrow.

"Another silent kingdom."

"Not always. Though it is now. Bats sometimes establish colonies that don't last. Sometimes pagans celebrate demonic rituals. Which is an ironic twist. This is where the earliest Chaldareans got together to worship and to hide their dead. Now the demon worshipers use the far end, over there. And break into the crypts to get bodies to use in their wicked rites."

"Really? How do they do that?"

"Excuse me?"

"What do they do with the bodies? There was a story I heard when I was little. Overheard, actually, and only part of it, because I was supposed to be asleep. The storyteller claimed it came out of the Grand Marshes and every word was true. It was colorful. But he only got to the part where the three brothers who were the heroes were coming home with the mummies of some old-time sorcerers when I started sneezing. I got whipped and sent to bed and never did find out why they wanted the mummies in the first place."

Delari's frown was obvious, despite the lighting. "This was a story?"

"Up north we have traveling storytellers. Like jongleurs down here. Only they don't usually sing. And they don't tell love stories. They're really grim hero stories, mostly. They always claim the stories are true, but mostly you know better. This storyteller – I can't remember his name – was famous for scary stories. This one about stealing mummies sounded real."

"Mummified sorcerers, you say?"

"Yes, sir." Had he said too much?

"Interesting. Tell me more."

"Sir?"

"Who were the heroes? Where did they go for their mummies? Who were the dead men?"

"I was five years old, sir. Pybus. That was the name of the brother who was in charge. I remember that. It was all his idea. And there was a… Flogni? Something like that. He was the one who said they shouldn't disturb the dead. But he went along because brothers have to stick together. The place they were looking for was in the mountains way off to the east. It was a secret tomb. I don't know how they knew where to find it. One of the old-time horse people conquerors was buried there. One of the ones that those people still worship. The sorcerers in the story were murdered and buried at the points of the winds so their spirits would protect the tomb. They'd be in such a rage about what happened to them, they'd destroy anybody who got close enough to notice. The one buried in the south was a woman who was also the conqueror's lover. She laid some kind of curse on his tribe when she found out what they were going to do to her."

"Good story. I wouldn't mind hearing the original." Principate Delari never stopped moving, staying close to the wall, going round to their right. Hecht suspected they were making a long, slow circle, the Principate operating with no specific destination. Delari said, "I've heard a story something like it, only this one happened in Lucidia."

"Sir?"

"There's a hidden fortress in the Idium desert in Lucidia called Andesqueluz. Carved out of the living rock of a mountain. A long time ago an ugly, murderous cult operated out of there. They were exterminated by the rest of the world. Which always happens when that kind of people gets too ambitious. A few years back the great mage of Dreanger, er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen, sent a band of Sha-lug warriors to Andesqueluz to steal the mummies of the slain sorcerers."

"Er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen?" He mispronounced it. "Wasn't that the one… ?"

"He was at al-Khazen. Yes. We distracted him while you and the Emperor eliminated his associates. We couldn't keep him from getting away. I expect he's back home and up to some other mischief."

"So what would he want with dead bodies? Well, you said mummies. That's not quite the same thing."

"Specifically, mummified sorcerers who were of the first water when they were alive. Some of the worst ever. More than one lord of Andesqueluz ascended before death dragged the rest down."

"Uh… Ascended?" Hecht knew next to nothing about sorcery. He would have been damned if he did.

"They worked sorceries powerful enough to make themselves over into Instrumentalities of the Night. Demons, if you will. The djinn of the east were all human once. The cruel immortality was once much less difficult to achieve, and the more so near the Wells of Ihrian. One would suspect that the Dreangerean has a scheme to transform himself." Delari took careful steps sideways. Hecht followed, round a skeleton wrapped in scraps of rotted linen. The skull had wisps of hair attached. The empty eye sockets seemed to track him.

There were dozens of skeletons, then. Someone had ripped open countless crypts. "No jewelry," Hecht noted. Grave robbers."

"No. These are the earnest Brothen Chaldareans. They didn't believe in jewelry. They took nothing to the grave but what they brought into the world when they were born."

"Times have changed."

"Human nature will prevail."

"If this sorcerer can turn himself into a god… Well, what's he likely to do if he does?"

"The conventional wisdom says ascendants lose interest in their old lives. They get busy doing the same old things inside the Night, going after more and more power. But that's really just speculation. Nobody really knows. They don't come back to chat about what it's like on the other side. And there hasn't been a lot of it happening in recent centuries. Stop!"

Delari's voice fell to a whisper. "Say nothing. Do nothing."

The old man turned his head slowly, side to side, listening intently. Eyes shut, he sniffed the air. He breathed, "It's time to go." He began to retrace their path carefully, straining for silence.

Hecht asked no questions. His amulet had suddenly turned bitter cold.

Something extremely unpleasant had begun to stir out in the darkness.

The old man relaxed visibly once they entered the tunnel to the Chiaro Palace.

"What happened?" Hecht finally asked.

"We almost walked right into something very dark and very powerful. It was asleep, but suddenly restless. I didn't want to waken it." Soon afterward, he added, "It may be the thing responsible for those grotesque murders. Now we know where it dens up, we can go after it."

"Why not now?"

"Because I'm one old man, by myself, all alone, and worn out from showing you this tiny slice of the world below." A chuckle. "And because I'm unarmed and it felt like it might be nastier than anyone guessed before."