“Of course.” He was Sha-lug. He had trained for it all his life. Though he always assumed that he would lead God’s champions, not those of God’s enemies.
Principaté Bruglioni said, “Enjoy your meal, Captain Hecht Relax. Think. This afternoon we’ll decide what to do with a city regiment.”
***
ELSE SLIPPED INSIDE AS ANNA MOZILLA HELD THE DOOR. SHE said, “It’s about time. You’re making me jealous, you know.”
Her teasing left Else disconcerted. He was never sure that she was joking. “I spend as much time with you as I can.”
“I know that. I don’t like it. I don’t have to like it. But I do know that. Shall I make dinner? I have a wonderful, fat hen half roasted already.”
“You shall. If you will. Perhaps in an hour? Or two?”
“Oh! So you’re finally going to make the first move? I thought I’d be all gray and you’d be all bald before you. Why are you peeking through the shutters?”
“I was followed.”
“Again? I thought they’d given up on that.”
“The Bruglioni have. But now some more serious people are interested. I’ll tell you later. Right now, though, I have to get the world out of my head. And you’re the woman who can empty my brain.”
***
ANNA HAD THE CHICKEN ROASTING. SHE LISTENED WHILE Else filled her in. “That’s hard to believe, Piper.” She was an excellent listener. She did not interrupt. She did not ask stupid questions. She did not let emotion obscure her view of reality. “They’re going to make you a general?”
“I find it hard to believe, too. But I was in the right places at the right times.”
“You had something to do with what happened to that Brotherhood of War sorcerer in Sonsa, didn’t you?”
“He killed my friends. He meant to kill me. But he didn’t know who I was.”
“Aren’t you afraid they’ll check your story a little closer?”
“Terrified. But I can’t walk away because there’s a risk.”
“What about the sorcerer? He doesn’t suspect you?”
“I’m sure. There was evidence that the man he was after died in the fighting. He never actually saw me, anyway. So he’s even more angry at Deves. I’m more concerned about Ferris Renfrow, the Emperor’s spymaster. He thinks he knows who I am. He wants to use that to control me.”
“Maybe you should go away.”
“No. This is what I do. This is what I chose to do. Did your husband have connections with anyone besides my people?”
“What do you mean?”
“Bluntly, that intelligence gatherers sometimes market their harvest to more than one buyer. I’m wondering if he served more than one master.”
Anna eyed him doubtfully. “Where are you headed?”
“I’m trying to figure out if anyone besides me would know that you were his wife. Other than the people whose tools we are. Our lives could get uncomfortable if anyone tied us together before...” Not good. He had told too many people that he had known Anna elsewhere. Anyone who developed an abiding interest ought to be able to discover Anna’s origins.
“He never mentioned working for anyone else. He did what he did for personal reasons. He never explained what those were.”
“I wish I could help you there. But I didn’t even know he was gone. I didn’t know his name.”
“He was too clever for his own good.”
“I see. Look. I don’t know who you pass my information to. I don’t want to know. But a lot is happening. The people at the other end need to know. They need to let me know what they want me to do. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore. That hen smells ready to eat.”
***
GERVASE ASKED, “DID YOU ENJOY YOURSELF, CAPTAIN?”
“Yes, Mr. Saluda. I did. Including the rare pleasure of a good night’s sleep. I have an idea. Suppose we have Dugo and the boys study leadership skills from the bottom up? If they went through the training company they might face life armed with one small clue about what it’s like for the people who actually have to do the work and suffer the bloody noses.”
Gervase did not like that idea. But he said nothing negative. He never crossed Else. Else might cause certain documents to fall into the hands of Paludan Bruglioni. Gervase had little faith in his friend’s ability to forgive.
Gervase said, “That Deve you brought in wants to see you. He’s in the accounting office. He brought some of his cousins along.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Gervase. You’re a better man than you think.” Saluda wanted to argue, but realized that by doing so he could only belittle himself.
Else grinned. “Would you like to be captain of the Bruglioni company in the city regiment?”
“Don’t start that stuff with me, Hecht.”
“Stuff? I never took you for a coward, Gervase. Only for spoiled and ignorant.”
“I’m no coward!” No man, however craven in fact, would confess cowardice. Most would fight to keep their terror secret. “Maybe not. Where is Titus Consent?”
“The accounting office. Going through the business. And I never had anything to do with any of that.”
“Gervase, you worry too much.”
***
TITUS CONSENT, THE DEVEDIAN ACCOUNTANT PROVIDED ELSE by Gledius Stewpo’s cohorts, was nineteen years old. And looked younger. And was, without doubt, a dedicated Devedian spy. Numbers were his passion. Though he was married. He had a new son named Sharone he worked into every conversation.
Titus’s “cousins” turned out to be more like uncles. One was Gledius Stewpo. Else had seen the other man before, briefly, in the Devedian underground, but could not recall his name. He was one of those quiet, dark-haired Deves who stayed in the background but wielded immense influence in their councils.
Else took a quick look round to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. “What’s up?”
Stewpo said, “This seemed like the best way to see you. Now that you’re one of the movers and shakers you’re up to your ears in Imperial and Collegium toadies all the time.”
“I’m glad you thought of it.” Stewpo frowned. “They’re watching you?”
“Every minute.”
“Who?”
“Ferris Renfrow. He has it in his head that he knows me. I don’t know what his game is. Who he thinks I am is who he wants me to be.”
“This isn’t good,” Stewpo said. “He shouldn’t know that I’m here.”
“Does he know you? Are you somebody he wants to know?” Stewpo shrugged. “You could be too late already, Uncle. You haven’t been staying out of sight. If Renfrow has eyes in the quarter, he knows. Assuming you’re somebody who interests him. Would you be?”
“I shouldn’t be.”
“So explain what’s going on with you and Calzir. Why’re your people willing to help Sublime?”
“I’d hoped we wouldn’t butt heads over that.”
“We haven’t. We won’t. I just want to understand why you’re changing sides.”
“There’s the flaw in your thinking, Sha-lug. My friends and I are on the side we’re always on. The Devedian side. This invasion is going to happen. Calzir can’t repel it this time. So we’ll try to save our people the customary pain and despair by joining the winners before the fighting.”
“The customary pain and despair?”
“In all wars in this end of the world both sides always take the opportunity to punish and plunder their local Deves and Dainshaus.”
“Ah.” That happened in the Realm of Peace as well, despite a religious law enjoining the protection of unbelievers who submitted to God’s law. But it happened less frequently there than in the barbarous west.
“I understand.”
Stewpo was surprised. “Not going to argue?”
“No point. You’re right. You have to look out for your own. The problem I have isn’t with that, Uncle. While I command the city regiment they won’t harm your people.”
“That problem would
be?”
“It’s a what-if at the moment. I’m concerned that the Brotherhood reinforcements from Runch might include someone who would remember me visiting Staklirhod under a different name.” After hearing a brief account of Else’s stay in Runch, Titus Consent asked, “What would your problem have to do with Deves?” Stewpo waved that aside. “Sounds like you’d better hope your god outhustles theirs, Sha-lug. Though I wonder why they’d remember your particular incident. It was trivial. Why should they watch for some itinerant crusader to turn up in Brothe? Keep your hair short, run a strong bluff, and be a good soldier.”
Else, Stewpo, and Titus Consent talked for an hour, mainly about the execrable state of the Bruglioni accounts, due to incompetent manipulation.
Consent suspected somebody had been bribed to cover up a large debt owed the Bruglioni.
Consent added, “There is an obvious, clumsy scheme meant to disguise the fact that the rural family aren’t paying the central treasury as much as they should.”
“Really? Do you have anything I can take to Paludan?”
Titus Consent handed Else a sheaf of papers. “Four copies. I know you consider me just a kid. Listen to me, anyway. There’s a lot of money involved in these swindles. That report will be dangerous to somebody. That’s why you get multiple copies. That’s why I’m telling you to watch your back.”
Polo barged in, startling everyone. He paid no attention to the Deves. “Sir. Captain. There’s a messenger. They want you at the Castella. Something’s happened.”
“Any idea what?”
“No. But the messenger was sure it isn’t good news.”
“All right.” Else told Consent, “Thank you, Titus. Stay in touch. I’ll have another job for you soon. It’ll pay better.”
***
SERGEANT BECHTER HAD BECOME ELSE’S GUIDE TO THE Castella dollas Pontellas. “You didn’t have to run, Captain. The others will take their time.”
“What’s happening? I got the message secondhand. Polo made it sound earthshaking.”
“That may be. I don’t know. The way it’s being handled suggests there’s been a serious defeat somewhere, though.”
“Does that make sense? Where is any fighting going on? In Direcia?”
“You’ll just have to wait. Like the rest of us.”
“But I’m a special guy,” Else protested, borrowing from Pinkus Ghort’s manual of personal style. “Blood and turnips, Brother Hecht. I couldn’t tell you if I loved you. Nobody told me.”
“Probably because they can’t trust you to keep marginal types like me in the dark with the mushrooms.”
“Sergeant Unreliable. That’s what they call me. Go ahead. Take advantage.”
“Huh?”
“Isn’t the food the real reason you charged right over? Because the first arrivals get all the best?” Else laughed, but confessed, “I came in a hurry because I thought it would be expected of me.”
“The men involved here take a relaxed attitude toward things professional soldiers hold dear. Notably, punctuality and discipline.”
No startling revelation, that. The local nonprofessionals tended to think of war as a sport. Despite evidence left by the late pirate raid.
Else’s respect for the masters of the Five Families and Collegium, was failing. Paludan Bruglioni was not unique in his mental and moral malaise. He did fill up on the best food.
***
A NEW FACE ACCOMPANIED GRADE DROCKER WHEN THE SORCERER arrived, limping. Drocker seated himself, straining against his pain. His companion faced the assembly. “I’m Voltor Wilbe. From the Special Office at the Father House. Will you all please stand?”
Else was not surprised. Chaldareans prayed before, during, after everything they did collectively. Wilbe said, “Follow me in the Rite of Abjuration.” Startled murmurs. Else worried. What was a Rite of Abjuration?
One of the Emperor’s generals demanded, “What the hell is that?”
Irked, Wilbe explained, “The Rite of Abjuration. Created by the Special Office. It lets good Chaldareans formally renounce the Great Adversary and the Tyranny of the Night.” The general snorted his contempt. The Rite of Abjuration was a responsorial. Voltor Wilbe chanted. His audience repeated his chant, renouncing everything to do with the Adversary and all things of the Night.
When Wilbe chanted, “I renounce the Tyranny of the Night. I renounce the Instrumentalities of the Night,” responses were almost nonexistent. The clerics said nothing at all. Wilbe was nonplussed.
Wrong crowd, Else thought. Even Grade Drocker failed to participate. By common standards God Himself was in Instrumentality of the Night.
“Pardon me,” Wilbe said. “I got carried away. I just want to banish any dark spirits.”
“They’re gone,” Drocker growled. “Get on with it.”
“Yes, sir. Gentlemen, there’s been a sea battle. It took place in the strait between Penalt and Dole Hemoc.” Wilbe seemed to expect his audience to know the geography. “It involved the fleet bound here from Staklirhod. It was an accidental encounter that became a running battle that lasted several days and involved ships from Sonsa, Dateon, Vantrad, Triamolin, the Eastern Empire, and our own warships at the end. Initially, the enemy was a Lucidian fleet carrying troops to Calzir.”
“Silence!” Grade Drocker bellowed into chatter beginning to interfere with Wilbe’s report. “This will affect our planning.” Drocker’s outburst had a potent impact. Even members of the Collegium shut up.
Voltor Wilbe detailed a battle that had been a long time in the making.
Naval commanders in the Eastern Empire and Crusader states of Vantrad and Triamolin began to suspect the Lucidians of preparing a naval adventure over a year ago. Ships, troops, and supplies were collecting in several ports. There was speculation about an attempt to invade Staklirhod. Scout ships prowled the Lucidian coast. Sea skirmishes ensued. The Lucidians wanted their intentions kept veiled.
The mercantile republics sent warships to protect their merchantmen and properties when the Calzirans started raiding. Which remained untouched by Calzirans, who focused on the Church.
But Pramans on the scores of small islands in the eastern Mother Sea tried to take advantage of the confusion farther west They began attacking Chaldarean shipping. The mercantile republics objected.
Else understood before Wilbe explained. There was an inevitability at work. The Lucidian fleet, once it sailed, carried five thousand veteran soldiers, with horses and equipment, weapons and supplies, all destined for al-Healta in Calzir.
So. Lucidia started getting ready to help Calzir long before the Calziran rabble began assaulting the Episcopal Church. Principaté Donel Madisetti ran out of patience. “What does that have to do with us? Where does the Brotherhood come in?”
“Your Grace, the Brotherhood fleet became involved because it turned up in the wrong place at the wrong time.” A pickup gang of Chaldarean warships, mostly small but fast, began harassing the Lucidians as soon as they put to sea. The Brotherhood fleet got involved because the mess outbound from Lucidia got in their way when they were trying to sneak through to Brothe without being noticed. The Lucidians were trying to sneak, too.
The circus sounded like insanity under oars — coupled with the kind of coincidence the Instrumentalities of the Night conjured for their own amusement.
The appearance of the Brotherhood force doomed the Lucidians. Tide and current carried their older, weaker smaller ships toward the Chaldareans.
But tide and current carried the Chaldareans as well, around the cape of Dole Hemoc, into the path of a Dreangerean fleet also intent on sneaking through those islands. It, too, was carrying aid to Calzir.
The Instrumentalities of the Night just kept compounding the joke.
Only two Brotherhood ships escaped. Brother Wilbe was aboard one of those. The Praman survivors sailed on to Calzir. Wilbe said, “We shadowed them. They made landfall near al-Stikla, on the east coast of Calzir. The Lucidians disembarked there. The Dreangereans an
d some Lucidians went on to al-Healta. We couldn’t determine how strong they still were. The Dreangereans’ seamanship was awful.”
Else offered a silent prayer on behalf of those Sha-lug who had perished. Gordimer built his fleet too fast. Its sailors hadn’t had time to learn. Dreanger was last a naval power before the rise of the Old Empire.
Wilbe said, “There was a powerful sorcerer with their fleet. His presence made the difference.” This got uglier by the second. He had to lead a major force against er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen?
He would fight Lucidians and Calzirans only. Weakening the Lucidians would benefit the kaifate of al-Minphet.
At some point, unannounced, the Emperor drifted in. He remained in the background, small, silent, unnoticed until he declared, “This isn’t a disaster. Unless you didn’t get away. Adjust your thinking to the new reality.” He indicated the wall map that showed only Calzir, Alameddine’s cantonments, and the marches of several small principalities bordering those two. “We block the passes through the Vaillarentiglia Mountains. Here. Here. Here. We blockade their harbors. Their crops are going to come in short. Fishing will stop because their fishermen and boats didn’t come back. Prefamine conditions will obtain by winter’s start. Burdening Calzir with thousands of unproductive soldiers and animals will hasten the bad times. The Lucidians and Dreangereans won’t be able to import food.”
“Why?” one of the Principatés asked.
“Brother Wilbe said they offended Sonsa, Dateon, the Eastern Empire, Vantrad, Triamolin, and Staklirhod. All those sovereignties will be watching for a chance to even scores.”
Else studied the big map intently. And saw a potential Praman disaster much bigger than that festering in the Emperor’s mind. Johannes was not looking at Calzir as a whole.
Someone, with the stink of er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen on him, had plotted and schemed, pulled strings and machinated, until he was sure he had engineered a situation where Sublime and his Episcopal brethren would become bogged down in their own quarter of the world, unable to make themselves obnoxious in Dreanger or the Holy Lands.
But —