Surrender to the will of the night

42. Brothe: Commander of the Righteous

A servant rolled Paludan Bruglioni onto the flagstone patio. The Commander of the Righteous was sharing a morning meal with staff and liaison officers from the Imperial forces of southern Firaldia. Their commander, Prince Manfred Otho of Alamedinne, had refused to dine with a hired sword. The Empress, either drunk or drugged, brooded over the scene from a high seat a short distance away. Her presence dared the southern nobility to try disdaining her desires when it came to naming the Commander of the Righteous master of all Imperial forces south of Brothe.

There would be conflicts if the campaign lasted. The Ege family had little love for Manfred Otho and his father, Manfred Ludovico, both of whom had been conspicuously absent from Imperial ranks during the Calziran Crusade. The southerners could just barely tolerate being ruled by an Ege woman. Having to take orders from a base-born mercenary lay at the frontier of too huge an indignity. Only the prospect of booty kept mutiny from raising its ugly head.

A feeble prospect, plunder.

Agents of the Patriarch were around, whispering. Telling the truth, in fact. Only estates and properties associated with the Benedocto would be given over to sack. The Benedocto were not rich. The Benedocto still owed bribe money from the election of their last Patriarch, Sublime V.

The smarter southerners, though disgruntled, understood that they were in no position to enforce their preferences. The Grand Duke, now with six thousand men, was scarcely forty miles north of Brothe. Admiral fon Tyre was almost as near, though still beyond the Monte Sismonda. He commanded another twenty-two hundred men. Both men would enforce the will of the Empress if the Commander of the Righteous could not do so himself. The Commander’s reliable force now numbered thirteen hundred. With all those falcons that had won the battle in the Shades. Plus several lesser engagements since.

Paludan rolled into place beside Hecht. Hecht was not quite startled. He had heard the wheels on stone. “Good morning, sir,” he said.

“Good morning. I’ll only take a minute. Or two. First, to thank you for the care you took to avoid damaging the vineyards yesterday.”

“Thank you for your appreciation. I get some friction but my policy is to minimize damage to friends.”

Yesterday had seen a strong cavalry probe come south from Brothe. Titus Consent’s friends in the city had sent warnings. Hecht’s own horsemen had led that force into an ambush where falcons had torn them apart. Southerners had been there to observe. Their reaction had been to whine about all the horses left unfit for capture once the falcons did their job. Plus, there had been few prisoners to ransom.

Hecht asked, “And your other matter?”

“I don’t know what reports you’ve had. I hear that Brothe is coming apart. The City Regiment can’t keep the peace anymore. And Serenity keeps giving stranger and more draconian orders.”

“That’s what I hear. He’s become completely erratic since somebody killed his mistress and wrecked his city house.” Hecht had the facts of those events from Lila.

“It could be wishful thinking but my contacts say that neither the City Regiment nor the militia would fight much if you got inside the wall.”

Hecht looked Paludan in the eye for several seconds. Then, “Rivademar. This meeting is suspended. I’ll let you know when we’ll resume. Titus, stay. The rest of you, go enjoy the morning. Or get some work done. Whatever moves you.”

Titus moved around the table, settled beside Hecht. The rest of the gathering moved away. Consent asked, “Do we need a quiet room?”

Paludan said, “Unfortunately, the only one here is damaged.”

Hecht said, “We managed an ambush yesterday.”

Consent nodded. “So we did. By misdirection. Which works as long as Serenity’s Collegium friends refuse to be found at the point of the spear.”

Hecht asked Bruglioni, “Do you know somebody inside willing to work with us?”

“I expect we all do, in a manner of speaking. In this case, though, I’m talking about somebody involved with the Arniena. Somebody Rogoz Sayag knows.”

Hecht nodded, not surprised. Brothen politics being Brothen politics, this was inevitable. But he had not expected it so soon.

Paludan said, “War isn’t good for business. Unless it’s happening somewhere else and we’re selling them the means to butcher one another. If this lasts all summer the cost will become insupportable. Brothe has ten thousand men closing in. Since the Shades Serenity can’t find fighters willing to defend him. Only Pinkus Ghort offers much hope. And he hasn’t reached Brothe yet. The Grand Duke keeps slowing him down.”

Hecht believed Hilandle was either much more clever than anyone credited, or much luckier. He had been doing everything almost exactly right since his advent in Firaldia.

Hecht said, “So if I get there first, get inside, and stun Serenity’s friends…”

“If you got inside suddenly, and seized several gates, you could probably give your Empress what she wants and, maybe, the rest of us the relief we’re looking for.”

“We’re sitting here talking about it in the wide open. They’ll know we’re coming.”

“Maybe not. Although we don’t have a functional quiet room, we aren’t unprotected. If we keep our wards in place and up to strength Serenity can’t get more than snippets of what we’re planning. Go after a gate? Pretty obvious, isn’t it? Don’t need to be a military genius or have spies riding the Commander’s shoulder to anticipate that. But which gate? And can Serenity trust all the men he puts in charge?”

Hecht thought about it. Paludan was right.

The numinous side of life was an incredible pain, even today. How much worse had it been before the Old Empire? Of all the works of the Old Empire-nearly eternal roads and public works, and all the great buildings still used today-the taming of the Night had to be the most valuable. And least appreciated.

Hecht said, “Pull it together, then, sir. You know the people, I’ll let you build the plan. See me when you have something workable.”

Hecht would work on something of his own, based on information from Titus. Something that could become an alternate course at minimum notice. Or on several such alternates.

The moment Paludan left Hecht said, “Get me a census of healthy falcons, Titus. Anything we do, falcons will be the key.”

One hundred fourteen falcons. Attrition had claimed thirty-two.

“But Rhuk thinks some can be salvaged.”

“What about handhelds?”

“No way to know.” Consent shrugged. “Men who have them don’t want us to know. We might take them away.”

Hecht felt like cursing and laughing, both. He understood the soldier’s point of view. A man’s own life was just a whole shitload more important than any cockamamie plan dreamed up by some general or staff officer. A handheld was number one insurance when a man had to go into dark places.

Krulik and Sneigon had shown more than two hundred handhelds on inventory rolls when the Righteous arrived. Twenty-two had been turned in to Rhuk or Prosek.

Of the heavier pieces, many of which had had to be rooted out of hiding, only the half dozen put aside for Heris had gone missing. One hundred fifty-two had been found, many not included on the company formal inventory. Those off the books had been meant to disappear into the Devedian quarters of cities all across the Brothen Episcopal world. One hundred forty-six falcons had seen action in the Shades.

“Have they rigged all the weapons up on carts, or wheels, or some damned thing?” Getting the weapons moved and emplaced was a pain. From the beginning Rhuk and Prosek had experimented with ways to improve mobility. Each idea died once the shooting started. Recoil broke even the best made carts.

“All set. Pretty rough, though. Prosek wants to build a dual-purpose cart that can haul stores or tentage but be converted as a replacement falcon cart.”

“That’s what he gets paid for. All I’m interested in is being able to move fast once we’re inside the wall.”

The Righteous, with Imperials from the south and a handful from east of the Monte Sismonda, moved toward Brothe. Serenity’s patrols watched but contested nothing. Hecht halted on grain fields in plain sight of the wall.

To assuage the bruised honor of the southerners Hecht deferred battlefield command to Manfred Otho Altomindo, the Prince Apparent of Alamedinne, for the daylight hours, or till the Empress overruled him. Prince Manfred was not the senior southerner but his father, Manfred Ludovico, was senile, bedridden, and a figurehead.

Hecht was giving nothing away, yielding daytime command. Serenity was not going to let God decide his fate on a battlefield.

The Manfreds had no intelligence concerning the true situation, which was that Serenity’s advisers had convinced him to go defensive till the southern levies completed their feudal obligations.

Similar limits would obtain for levies raised in the Patriarchal States. But Serenity’s cronies were concerned only with themselves and their own immediate security.

The younger Manfred set the order of battle. His southerners made up the center, arrayed for the traditional heavy cavalry charge. The disdained Righteous formed the wings, with a scatter of auxiliary light cavalry out beyond the divisions of the Righteous. Hecht was both appalled and amused because those light horsemen were Pramans recruited from what had been Calzir before the Calziran Crusade.

Nothing happened. Not even a herald came out. Hecht reassumed command come sunset. He ordered camp set, with special attention paid to wards against sorcery and Instrumentalities. Manfred Otho retired cursing the lack of panache shown by the Brothen knightly class.

Reports from the city had the Collegium in a state of civil war. Serenity’s partisans had the upper hand in the streets. Their behavior was abominable.

Only the Devedian quarter remained quiet. The Deves had locked up and hunkered down, getting ready for the customary attacks that turned their way whenever there was civil unrest.

Hecht asked Consent, “Do we have any goodwill in the Devedian quarter at all?”

“After what we did to Krulik and Sneigon? No.”

“Understandable. They were just trying to make money. That’s what Deves do.”

Consent gave him a dark look. He loathed the stereotypes and generalizations.

Hecht added, “They’d best get ready to suffer for our success.”

“What?”

“Apply the usual logic. Falcons gave us a bloody victory in the Shades. Deves made the falcons.”

“And the fact that we robbed the Deves to get the falcons wouldn’t enter the argument. You’re right. The usual logic.”

“It could happen tonight, Titus. I’m going to my tent to pray. I don’t want to be disturbed. Please remind Mr. Ernest.”

Consent did not reply. He just went off to do his job.

Lila turned up right on time.

“You look tired, girl.”

“I’m working hard. Great Grandpa Delari always has more work for me than I can possibly get done.”

“Don’t let him take advantage. Say no. You are being careful?”

“Very, very careful. This city is a deadly place right now.”

“As long as you understand. Don’t take chances. We’re coming in tonight.”

“And they’re expecting you. They already have the gates reinforced.” She produced a map, described the welcomes being prepared.

“Dear girl, it’s almost like you were sitting in on their meetings.”

“Isn’t it?”

“They know about the Arniena plan, don’t they?”

“There’s a Benedocto agent close to Mr. Sayag. The Benedocto have agents inside all of the Five Families.”

No surprise, that. Everybody did it. Some of those spies worked for two or three families at once. “Do we know any names?”

Lila produced a scrap of paper. “There are more. These are just names I overheard.”

Hecht examined the list, saw nothing familiar. He admired Lila’s precise hand. Clearly, she had worked hard to develop it. “I’m loving this, Lila. You’re better at this than Heris or the really old man.”

“No. I’m not. I’m just doing things the way you want them done. They only do things the way they want to.”

“I’ll give you that.” He studied the map some more. “This isn’t good. These sites are all traps.”

“I told you that. They’ll have crossbowmen on the roofs. And you can’t surprise them. They’ll be watching with every little brownie and boogie in this end of the world. The Patriarch pulled them in from a hundred miles around.”

Hecht stared at the map. And stared. And found no inspiration. “How is Pella?”

“Turning stupid again. He whines constantly. The old old man should’ve left him where he was. Should’ve let him ripen. He could’ve gone back if somebody else didn’t find him.”

“Rough. And Vali? And Anna?”

“Vali is working hard to make herself good enough to help me. Anna cries a lot.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s her time of life, I think. It doesn’t matter if she’s sad or happy or angry. Everything makes her cry. Except when she gets all righteous and wants to go over to Krois and slap Serenity till he starts seeing sense.”

“Good for her. I guess. So. Honored daughter. Any ideas about what we should do tonight?”

Lila grinned a huge one. “You attack them where they aren’t. I’ll smash them where they are.”

Commencing sometime after midnight, for slightly more than two hours, about every four minutes, there were explosions in the Mother City. They were scattered and happened according to no discernible pattern-though every one damaged Serenity’s friends or the city’s defenders.

There were occasional gaps in the timing. Whenever that happened somebody dropped ropes from sections of wall not being closely guarded.

The Righteous failed to achieve complete surprise anywhere. Despite all the confusion some people did keep their minds on their jobs.

Those chosen to climb the ropes took rope ladders up. They were men experienced at dealing with small Instrumentalities and, one and all, were suspected of being in possession of handheld firepowder weapons. They established their footholds, helped more men come up, helped assemble cranes when the parts for those arrived, then helped hoist light falcons and munitions. They expanded their footholds and fended off swarms of minor Instrumentalities.

The falcons crushed counterattacks. Those ceased. The Shades had imprinted an abiding dread of falcons on Serenity’s friends.

Pots of explosive tossed into gatehouses encouraged men there to surrender or flee. Two gates changed hands despite the prepared traps, which broke up under falcon fires.

Deeming them likely to be useless except as a cause of further confusion, Hecht let the southerners go howling into the city after he opened the gates.

Hagan Brokke rumbled, “So much for it being impossible to attack the Mother City.”

Rivademar Vircondelet observed, “It’s not the attack, it’s the accomplishing anything once we do. Now they know where we’re coming in. They can pull everybody together to deal with us.”

Falcons barked not far away, from above, blasting rooftops. Stones rattled off roofing tiles, broke roofing tiles that clattered to the ground, and found spies or ambushers because there were cries of pain.

Meantime, the southerners finished flooding in. Hecht watched them out of sight. “I wonder how many will survive.”

“They stick together and do what you told them to do, maybe most of them.” Brokke coughed. His lungs were sensitive to firepowder smoke. “But my money is on discipline failing. They’ll spread out to start looting and get themselves picked off a few at a time.”

They were supposed to roar through the streets cutting down anyone they ran into. Spread enough fear and the streets would clear. The invaders could move north, toward Krois, where an enraged but supposedly more rational than usual Serenity would be straining to get the most out of having his enemies attack as he had hoped.

Vircondelet asked, “We got any real shot at pulling this off, boss?”

“We do. Now that we’re inside. Falcons will be handy in the kind of fighting coming up.”

“Easy to sweep the streets,” Brokke said. “But Serenity is holed up inside Krois. He can just squat there till Ghort comes to save his ass.”

“But he won’t be safe in there,” Vircondelet said. “On account of, the boss knows how to get in going under the river.”

“I do,” Hecht admitted. “But Serenity knows I know. He’s the one who showed me how. He’ll have a special welcome waiting down there.”

The explosions stopped. Hecht supposed that meant Lila could no longer steal firepowder from Prosek. Or that she had gotten tired enough to quit.

For a while, once the two gates had been taken, it looked like Brothe might be a paper tiger. There was little resistance to start.

That changed when the sun came up.

Did the locals fear the dark more than the invaders? Hecht’s amulet had distracted him plenty but nothing big had been on the move.

He did feel something new once the darkness fled, taking the boogies with it. This something had been masked by the rustle of all the smaller entities.

It was down in the catacombs. It was huge. And it was between the Righteous and the river Teragi. It felt like the same old murderous thing that kept returning, however often it was hunted down. This incarnation was stronger than any before.

It would make trouble once darkness returned, guaranteed. It was Bronte Doneto’s dark child.

Piper Hecht thought he knew what Bronte Doneto had been up to back when Muniero Delari stumbled into him in the catacombs.

The Righteous made slow headway against stubborn resistance, doing a lot of damage with the falcons. It was not always clear who needed beating down. Serenity’s enemies refused to be cautious in getting out to mix it up with the Patriarch’s friends.

Southerners began to turn up. As Hecht had anticipated, their gleeful charge into the city’s warrens had become a debacle. They had been chastened. Survivors were trying to link up with one another or the Righteous.

Hecht hoped the lesson would not be lost on the men who actually did the face-to-face, bad-breath-to-bad-breath, toe-to-toe fighting.

By midafternoon he was considering falling back to the gates, to wait on the Grand Duke and Admiral. His earlier assessment of his chances appeared to be proving out. He was doing an awesome amount of damage but did not have the manpower to exploit it, even with help from prodigal southerners and local volunteers.

The latter were of little value. They had no interest in submitting to military discipline or in carrying out military missions.

Ever more men had to be tasked to protect the lengthening line of communication from the gates to the point of attack.

Word came that Serenity had ordered Pinkus Ghort to stop dancing with the Grand Duke and get to Brothe, never mind losses.

Come the afternoon Collegium opponents of Serenity began to appear. They sprang from homes in the Empire or Imperial possessions in Firaldia. Serenity’s adherents had the upper hand in the Chiaro Palace.

Hecht’s heart sank. That was not good. That could portend disaster. If Serenity got to the Construct… Pray Heris was right when she said the Patriarch was unaware of the project. Otherwise, his triumph was assured.

Hecht felt the thing in the catacombs ever more intensely. He was getting closer. It was getting stronger. It sensed him, too. He had an ever more powerful impression that it was bigger than anybody thought. And that it was still growing, by the hour and the minute.

And it must be. If the old men were right about it feeding on fear and hatred. Or if the large grew bigger by eating the small. The Patriarch had flooded the city with minor Instrumentalities.

As evening approached more locals came out to work against Serenity. Or, more often, against the Benedocto. Everyone associated with the major families had suffered recently.

Titus insisted the volunteers were more trouble than they were worth. Hecht had him scatter them, making them do something useful like carry things for the fighters.

The advance passed the Bruglioni and Cologni family citadels. The Bruglioni was a ruin haunted by crows, insects, and the smell of death. The Cologni had survived, though that family’s less well defended properties elsewhere had suffered.

There was plenty of evidence of fighting but none suggesting any use of sorcery.

As the sun dropped toward the skyline Hecht began calculating how best to deal with the thing down below. It would come tonight. It would get no better opportunity.

It was a thing of the darkest side of the Night, lethally dangerous but not invulnerable. Godshot would tame it. How to fix and target it was the question.

Hecht redirected the advance to pass Principat? Delari’s town house. He hoped to find the old man holding out there and willing to give advice. He found only ruin, absent the smell of death. There was no sign of the Principat? or his staff. Refugees from the Chiaro Palace, though, insisted that Delari was alive, making himself obnoxious, and had some special surprise cooked up for the Patriarch.

Where was Lila? Lila would know how to get hold of the old man.

Hecht had begun to worry about that girl. He should have heard from her by now.

The Imperial advance reached the hippodrome, now restored and enjoying a full racing season. Or had been till the death of Jaime of Castauriga changed the world.

There were scores of horses stabled under the stadium. Scores of people who tended the animals or managed the venue also lived in nooks and crannies out of the public eye. Smells of cooking and stables both emanated from the hippodrome.

Hagan Brokke turned up as Hecht contemplated the stadium. “Boss, it’s late. And we’re too worn down to keep it going after dark. We ought to settle down right here. We can control access…”

“You’re right. I was just looking at it. Pass the word. Make it happen. And send runners to tell our people to either come here or move back to the gates. I don’t want anybody on the streets tonight. It might get ugly out there.”

“Night things?” The staff all believed he had some special connection now that he had died and been resurrected.

“Big Night things. Every second falcon should be charged with godshot.” His amulet had grown more irritating as the sun sank. It had the same feel as the night that Heris had brought him in to visit.

At first it seemed an evening when the whole city meant to come out and go crazy. There were sounds of rioting, screams in the distance, fires both near at hand and far away. The exterior wall of the hippodrome was high enough to offer a good view in several directions, including toward the Castella, Krois, and the Chiaro Palace. Toward what had been the heart of Brothe for fifteen hundred years. Lights moved around Krois and the Chiaro Palace. The Castella was dark.

Hecht asked his officers to join him up where he could observe the city’s torment while they talked. They came, none with any enthusiasm. And several were unreasonably late. Titus Consent claimed he had been taking intelligence reports from local people. Clej Sedlakova said he was welcoming a company of infantrymen from Alamedinne who had just fought through to the hippodrome. Their addition made it nearly half the southerners recovered.

Hecht gave up on Hagan Brokke. But, then, he did turn up. Not alone.

The Empress tagged along behind.

“What the hell is wrong with that woman?” But he was too tired to get good and angry. He just kept things moving by asking if anyone knew anything about this new version of the hippodrome. He would go through the motions to the end, though Katrin’s presence virtually guaranteed death or captivity. How could Serenity resist the invitation to end his war with one quick stroke?

Titus Consent asked what he wanted to know about the hippodrome.

“It fell down because the catacombs caved in. Was anything done to stop that from happening again?” The catacombs offered the monster there a sheltered path of attack, otherwise.

There were several opinions. No one knew for sure. Hecht studied the Empress and Captain Ephrian. Ephrian had gotten himself wounded. He was pale, exhausted, on the verge of collapse. Katrin looked like she had been smoking kuf. Smelled like it, too.

Ephrian noted his sniffing. “It actually helps,” he said. Then fell asleep.

Hecht envied him.

He began to talk about the likelihood of a serious encounter with the Night, tonight. Tonight could make or break the whole campaign. He made no comment on the presence of royalty. If the Righteous got through tonight they ought to be able to fight through to the Teragi tomorrow, there to isolate Krois and the Chiaro Palace. Then they could relax and wait on the Grand Duke.

Hecht tried to make it sound like he thought this war was as good as won. If they could just make it through tonight.

The night went quiet.

Hecht’s amulet itched brutally.

Katrin offered a vague smile to no one in particular.

Something exploded on the other side of the stadium.

A firepowder cart? No. That was huge but down in the ground. Underneath.

There was no big flash or smoke, just a muted bang, and shaking.

Everyone started trading dimwit questions.

The other side of the stadium groaned. Then it rumbled. Then it settled majestically, dustily, into the earth.

“Did they do anything to the catacombs so that wouldn’t happen again?” Titus asked. “I’m thinking, probably not.”

Hecht said, “We had people and weapons posted over there.” Noting that this was not the section that had fallen before. “One more time and we’ll have a whole new hippodrome. Get down there and see what needs doing.”

Something more than an explosion and collapse had happened. Hecht’s staff already believed it had been an attack.

The irritation offered by Hecht’s amulet had a whole new feel.

“Wait.”

Hecht thought Katrin had spoken. “Your Grace?” But the Empress had drifted into a thousand-yard stare. And Captain Ephrian was sound asleep.

“Father. Here.”

“Lila?”

“Here.” Inside a shadow hardly big enough to hide a pin.

“You’ve had me worried half to death, girl. You just plain disappeared last night.”

“I had to help Great Grandfather seal off the Construct. Then I had to get some sleep. And then I had to help him set the trap that just got sprung.”

“That explosion?”

“That would be the most obvious part.”

“He’s making a habit of knocking this place down.”

“But that’s good. For you. It means the monster walked into the trap. It means you won’t have to fight it off.”

Hecht rubbed his left wrist. “I don’t know.” It felt like the Night remained plenty active.

Someone called out from below. He yelled back something about looking out for the Empress.

Lila said, “I have to go. I have to help Great Grandfather tonight. Don’t worry about the monster. The explosives were silver-charged. They shredded it.” She turned sideways.

Hecht turned himself. And found Katrin watching him, not looking the least bit drugged. “Who was that, Commander?”

“My daughter. The sorceress.”

The new collapse at the hippodrome served to declare a truce between the working people on both sides. A lot of rescue work needed doing, particularly of horses and the people who lived with them.

It was another long night affording little rest. On the plus side, casualties were amazingly few.

Lila said Muniero Delari was responsible. The Principat? had destroyed the thing in the catacombs again, maybe permanently this time. And the effects were immediate and far-reaching.

Come morning the city was quiet. And flooded with rumors. The squabble in the Collegium had taken a dramatic turn. Serenity’s most obdurate supporters had fled into Krois, where they would assist the Patriarch in waiting the several days it would take the Captain-General to come rescue them.

Whether or not Serenity liked it, Pinkus Ghort could not just turn his back on the Grand Duke. That would get him slaughtered. He needed to maintain a force capable of making a rescue.

Loud supporters of the Patriarch were scarce today. Those Hecht did see were in the custody of partisans of families not named Benedocto. There was no resistance.

Could that thing down under have been a revenant old god of strife?

Hecht delivered the Empress and her party to the Penital, where Ambassador va Still-Patter had been under siege for weeks. The besiegers had gone away during the night.

Hecht rubbed his left wrist. The amulet barely tickled this morning.

Principat? Delari had done good. He had done real good.

Military operations continued. Krois had to be isolated. The Chiaro Palace had to be neutralized. The north side gates had to be taken under control to forestall their use by the Captain-General, whose motley Patriarchal levies now outnumbered the Imperials harassing them.

Hecht went to one of the little gates of the Castella dollas Pontellas and asked to see his family. After he had made arrangements for his soldiers with families locally to visit their loved ones, with minimal risk.

Chaos waxed and waned. There were no serious outbreaks. No attack on the Devedian quarter materialized. Hecht was quick to encourage rumors that blamed him for having kept an attack from developing.

Hecht finally sat down with his family. Even Muniero Delari was there. Though triumphant, the old man looked like he was on his last legs, and believed that himself. “This time was too much, Piper. Protecting the Construct, harassing Doneto, slaying his monster, trying to turn the tide in the Collegium… All too much for one old man. And Doneto is still out there, scheming up something else.”

“You stop. He’s been thwarted. Leave the rest for someone else.”

“There is no one else.”

“Pella. I have a mission for you. You can draft Vali to help.”

“Dad?”

“Put this old coot into bed and sit on him till I tell you to turn him loose. Brothe will survive without him tinkering.”

Vali and Pella closed in on Delari. They did not have to drag him. And he did not protest.

All he needed was for someone to take the decisions away. He could then surrender to exhaustion.

“You’ve been unnaturally quiet since I got here,” Hecht told Anna, lying in bed. She had been powerfully responsive but otherwise uncharacteristically silent.

“I don’t know what it is. I can’t deal with all this emotionally. It’s so frustrating because there’s no way to make it change. We are who we are and the world is what it is, and, I firmly suspect, I wouldn’t be the least bit happier if everything suddenly changed to be exactly the way I think I want it.”

“You always were able to look past emotion. Better than me, really.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“This isn’t over by a long way. Pinkus is coming and he outnumbers me.”

“And you’ll fight. Of course.”

“Not if I can help it. If I can root Serenity out first…”

“No more. Just be here. And save all that for Titus and the others.”

“How are No? and the children?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from them since all this started. Hauf wouldn’t extend the protection of the Brotherhood to a family of Deves.”

“Titus went down there. We’ll know tomorrow.” He felt a deep and selfish dread that the news would not be good.

Bad news might cost him Consent’s talents.

He did not want to think about that. He did not want to think. He lost himself in the lovemaking.

Relative peace ruled the Mother City. There were skirmishes but no serious bloodlettings. Hecht stayed busy seeing all the people who felt they had a claim on his time. He figured Serenity was just as busy over in Krois.

There was good news. Titus had found his family safe and well and met his newest son for the first time. Further, No?’s family had, at last, forgiven her for having deserted the faith of her ancestors when her husband converted. She had reconciled with them.

Hecht never was convinced that Consent’s conversion was genuine so he had no trouble seeing No?’s as illusory.

No matter. He was pleased for Titus.

One of those who made demands was Addam Hauf, Master of the Castella Commandery. Hauf was deeply interested in exploring the Imperial commitment to a new crusade.

“That answer is simple,” Hecht told Hauf. “We go next summer, barring disaster. And barring any shortage of funds.”

Hauf chuckled. “Catch that rascal Doneto. Hang him up by his ugly big toes. Make him pay. He must have chests full of bribe monies by now.”

Not so. One reason some Principat?s were deserting Serenity was that he had not yet paid for their votes.

“He might not be so well off, now. Not getting any income out of the Empire since Katrin changed her mind.”

“Take it back.”

“Excellent idea. Easier said than done with him forted up inside Krois.”

Somewhere, remotely, a half-dozen falcons popped off. Probably weapons on the banks of the Teragi harassing Krois. The effort was psychological rather than practical. The projectiles were not massive enough to do serious damage.

Hauf said, “There are passages under the river.”

“And Serenity knows.”

“Death trap?”

“Absolutely.” Maybe. Principat? Delari was working on that. And having little luck.

“The Empire definitely is committed to a crusade?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Though even next summer may be too late.”

“Why is that?”

“While we’re fighting amongst ourselves here Indala is involved in a campaign to unite the kaifates so he can undertake a crusade of his own.”

“Really?”

“Really. Does that shock you?”

“It’s unexpected. And it can’t be good for us. But… He expects to prevail against Gordimer the Lion and the Sha-lug?”

“He’d have to, wouldn’t he? Or he wouldn’t have marched on Dreanger in the first place.”

“I suppose.”

Hecht had paid little attention to Gordimer, Dreanger, and the east these past few years. Could the Lion have sunk so far?

A summons came from the Penital, over the Ambassador’s signature. Terens Ernest and ten men in long mail shirts walked Hecht over. He did not see how they could prevent a repeat of what had happened last spring.

His wound still bothered him.

As they walked, Ernest said, “Sir, I’m your height and weight. I’ve been practicing walking your way, with that kind of shovel handle up the spine and ax handle across the shoulders posture. We should put me in your clothes when we’re outside, now. With things slowed down the bad guys will have time to plan all kinds of mischief.”

“Terens, I don’t know if I should kiss you or tell you you’re the stupidest man I ever met. You’re right. Extra precautions need to be taken. In fact, we all ought to wear our mail shirts and helmets whenever we go out.”

“Yeah.” Sarcastically. The Commander of the Righteous was the only man there not wearing a helmet.

Hecht said, “I’ll adjust my habits.”

The Ambassador greeted Hecht warmly. “Very pleased to see you again, Commander.”

“Tell you the truth, till ten days ago I wouldn’t have considered it possible. Your father has been doing amazing things.”

“Hasn’t he? And not that long ago we thought he was headed for the bone pile.”

“You may get to see the new man before long. So. To what do I owe the honor of the summons?”

“She wants to see you. She isn’t happy. You don’t consult her. You haven’t kept her informed since the Battle of the Shades.”

Hecht did not protest. That was true. Were Consent, Vircondelet, Sedlakova to operate that way he would knock some heads together. But…

That admission did not leave him less resentful of the identical attitude in his employer.

The Ambassador escorted him to a huge quiet room where the Empress waited-after a delay meant to remind him of who was master and who was servant.

He had yet to get it into his head that the Empress was always there, looking over his shoulder. She was not remote the way the Patriarchs had been when he was Captain-General.

The rich smell of coffee hit him when the door opened. His mouth watered. The odor seemed a good omen.

On the other hand… He saw no servants, no lifeguards, no ladies-in-waiting as he headed toward the source of the smell. Alone.

Bayard va Still-Patter had not come in with him.

Katrin Ege, at the mercy of kuf or alcohol, was also a slave to her insecurities and appetites. She wore nothing. Her frame was more gaunt than when last he had seen her unclothed. There were bruises all over her. Had someone been beating her?

“What the hell?”

“Commander, you know your duty.” She slurred her words. She must have been drinking. And he smelled kuf behind the marvelous stench of the coffee. So maybe she had done both to get into her present state. Meaning she must have been at it for a while.

Katrin got down on hands and knees, rested her right cheek on her folded hands.

“Your Grace…” He wanted to refuse, but after a year he knew her, knew himself, and knew where he and she wanted to go too well to try. “You don’t look like you’ve been eating right. And you have bruises. Has somebody…”

“Forget that. I put the bruises there. Punishing my flesh for its wicked hungers. But my flesh defeated me. Come here. Fuck me.”

Hecht was appalled. Repelled. Disgusted. And yet aroused. There was nothing appetizing about this woman, presenting like a cat in heat. Yet…

No doubt she felt the same things he did, but betrayed by the evil within, she could not help being receptive.

“Your choices are the same as they were before, Commander.”

He told himself he had to have this job. He had to be Commander of the Righteous when the next crusade smashed into the Holy Lands.

It was nothing like being with Anna Mozilla, yet, in its crooked way, it was more exciting. An Empress!

He was master of a king, metaphorically, for those few minutes when he made the most powerful monarch in the west cry and beg.

Suffocating in self-loathing, Hecht did not want to return to the Castella. He did not want to face his family. He did not want to see Anna till he found some way to expiate his sin. Or some clever rationalization.

Katrin’s bruises crossed his mind. Her torment must be worse than his. What had she gone through before she surrendered to her lust?

“Sir?” Terens Ernest needed instructions.

“That was not a pleasant interview, Mr. Ernest. Let’s take a walk along the river and have a gander at the wonders of the Mother City.” This was Ernest’s first visit: hardly a pilgrim’s journey.

“Might that be risky?”

“Possibly. Stay on my left. Last time somebody tried to kill me here he was down there in the monuments. He used a longbow.”

Ernest had heard about it, not from his principal. He knew the story behind each assassination attempt, including some that had not been brought to Hecht’s attention.

Ernest asked, “What happened? Can you talk about it? Did you see the Empress? Her bodyguards say she’s gone completely nuts.”

“I did see her. There was a lot of ranting. She isn’t pleased with how I’ve treated our host city. I’m too gentle for her taste.” He stopped, stared back at Krois on its stone-clad island amid the Sacred Flood. Bronte Doneto was out there, scarcely a quarter mile away, completely nuts himself. And completely invulnerable.

Pinkus Ghort should arrive sometime tomorrow, despite the Grand Duke’s best efforts.

The worm kept twisting and turning.

Hecht noted signs of substantial explosions over there. Lila’s work?

The girl was going to get herself in trouble if she was not careful.

He enjoyed a smirk at his own foolishness.

Shouting broke out back that way, followed by the rattle of horseshoes on stone.

Brothe, round there, was all stone, including the faces of the channel of the Teragi. A conceit of the Old Brothens. Even the Sacred Flood had been under their control.

Hecht and his lifeguards faced the excitement. Several riders headed their way, pursued by men on foot. The horseman out front went into a gallop. Insanity on this kind of surface.

That lead rider was no man. That was Katrin Ege in her loose-fitting armor, headed for her Commander of the Righteous at the best speed her mount could make.

Hecht’s heart sank. This could mean ruin… What the hell? Had she lost it completely?

Ernest grabbed Hecht and dragged him toward potential safety among the monuments.

Too late. Far too late. Shrieking words that never made sense to anyone, Katrin was upon them. Her mount narrowly avoided Hecht and Ernest. Both dove away. Both ended up sprawled on the pavements, with bleeding palms.

Captain Ephrian whipped past, face a mask of despair. He meant to snatch Katrin’s reins as she tried to turn to charge in the opposite direction.

The footing was not appropriate for a horse wearing iron shoes.

Ephrian collided with Katrin. The horseman behind Ephrian collided with them both.

Combined momentums pushed Katrin and Ephrian over the brink of the embankment. Screaming, man, woman, and horses all went scrabbling, spinning, and tumbling down the stone facing, into the river.

Hecht was seconds behind. Just the length of time it took to shed a mail shirt and weapons. Terens Ernest was seconds behind him.

Hecht did not think about his actions till later, though the cool water was an encouragement to reflection. He saw Ephrian floundering, a poor swimmer but safely separated from his mount. Hecht went after Katrin, who had gone under while still trying to separate herself from her animal. He got her loose. Her horse drifted on downriver, shrieking at first but soon getting it together and striking out toward the lower northern bank.

Terens Ernest tried helping with Katrin. He was a strong swimmer.

Captain Ephrian made it to the embankment but could find no decent handhold so he tried to stay near the stone while the weak current carried him somewhere more felicitous.

Ephrian would be overlooked despite all the would-be rescuers gathering above.

Hecht was not as strong a swimmer as he believed. Nor was Terens Ernest. They reached the embankment only to face the same problem as Captain Ephrian. There were few congenial handholds.

People up top yelled about hanging on because ropes were on the way.

Ernest lost his weak hold and followed Ephrian downstream. Hecht could not help without abandoning the Empress.

Eyes tearing, he drove bloody fingers into a crack between blocks while keeping Katrin’s face above water with his other hand.

He lost consciousness.

Piper Hecht, Commander of the Righteous, wakened in an unfamiliar bed. A headache and upset stomach told him he had been sedated for some time. His left hand ached. The fingers were bandaged. The crust on his eyelids kept him from opening those. He tried to rise.

“He’s starting to wake up!” That voice belonged to Vali. It brought several people quickly and others within minutes. Head throbbing, Hecht made noises that were senseless even to him.

A hand went behind his head, lifted. Sweet, cold water filled his mouth. A damp cloth daubed at his eyelids. Anna said, “Relax, Piper. You cheated Him again.”

A heavy hand pushed on his chest, forced him back down.

He did will himself to relax. Relaxing had to be good. He would not be in these circumstances if something dire had not happened.

Lamps got lighted. His surroundings became less obscure.

He was surrounded by family. Pella. The girls. Anna. Heris and both old men. What were they doing here?

He remembered. He wanted to ask questions but knew the sensible course was to conserve energy. They would tell him what he needed to know.

The smell of fresh coffee hit hard, like a kick in the shin, wakening memories.

Anna and Pella lifted him and propped him with pillows. Heris put a small cup into his right hand. “You gave us a scare, little brother.”

“Yeah?”

“You wouldn’t let the woman go.”

Anna said, “She drowned. Before you pulled her free. You and her horse were the only survivors.”

Hecht teared up. This was insanity. He did not mention Katrin’s mother. These people did not know, nor would they understand.

Ernest did not make it? That was just plain wrong.

From somewhere out of sight the Ninth Unknown said, “Piper, you need to quit lying around feeling sorry for yourself. Pinkus Ghort is at the gate.”

“Really?”

“Not literally. Not exactly. But he could be knocking by this time tomorrow. We need to take steps to eliminate his motivation.”

“Excuse me. Why are you and Heris here?”

Heris said, “We came to drag you off to watch us wrap our job.”

Februaren said, “She killed a god, Piper. Just went after him till boom! Like that worm on the Dechear. Only this was no pup. This was a true Great Old One.”

“Why do you need me?”

Heris said, “Later, Piper. Double Great, quit gushing. And, how about we go give Serenity a double dose of Ostarega the Malicious?”

“Works for me.”

With no further discussion the pair turned sideways.

Hecht was on his feet and dressed when they returned, but was woozy. Anna had begun changing his bandages, saying, “This isn’t as bad as I thought when they brought you. You’ll be good as new in a couple weeks.”

Februaren appeared, running. His hair was smoldering. If he had not encountered a wall he would have gone down. Heris arrived bent over. She collapsed into a crouch. Her breath came loud and ragged. Had she been male Hecht would have pegged her for a victim of a skillfully delivered groin kick.

The Ninth Unknown eased over to lean on a table. He gasped, “I think that went well.”

“Yeah.” Heris tried to laugh. She fell over. “You should see the other guys.”

Hecht asked, “What happened?”

“We didn’t surprise them. Doneto has some clever friends.”

Anna finished wrapping Hecht’s fingers. She found a chair for Februaren. He settled gingerly. “We tamed them up some, though. You can get in through the tunnels now, if you want. Unless they flood them. They could always do that.”

Hecht kept after them but could not get no more sense out of either. He said, “First chance we get we need to let Princess Helspeth know what happened so she can be ready when the news gets to Alten Weinberg.”

Heris and Februaren both groaned and glared.

Lila said, “I can do that.”

“No. You can’t,” Hecht told her. “You’ve taken enough risks.”

The Ninth Unknown said, “I’ll do it. In the morning. I’ll need tokens from you and the Empress to be convincing, though.”

“I’ll write you a letter. That should do. She’ll recognize my hand.”