Lord of the Silent Kingdom

  The Captain-General set his main camp across the river from the White City, with a strong force beyond the broad bridge, fortifying the Inconje bridgehead. The bridge itself was a glaring reminder that war was alien to the Connec. It should have been fortified at both ends. Its main span should have been designed to be demolished easily.

  The east end of the bridge was surrounded by the low buildings of an unfortified suburb, Inconje, inhabited by prosperous Deves, Dainshaus, and others who could not find a place inside the city or its attached, walled suburbs, the Burg and the New Town. The population had all fled. They had left little worth stealing.

  “Those are some impressive walls,” Hecht said. “We won’t be going over them. And we don’t have enough men to lock them in and starve them out.” Half the army had gone to Antieux or Sheavenalle. The capture of the port city was critical to the success of the campaign. “We’ll just harass them till we come up with a few traitors willing to help us get in. I should’ve kept Sedlakova. He might see something I couldn’t.”

  Consent suggested, “Talk to Hagan Brokke. He works harder than anyone. And he’s maybe a little disgruntled because a one-legged man got first chance at Antieux. He thinks you take him for granted.”

  Hagan Brokke had been close through most of Hecht’s Brothen career, in the City Regiment for the Calziran Crusade and now with the Patriarchals for the Connecten Crusade. Hecht had, indeed, taken one of his more talented officers for granted. “Does he know anything about siege work?”

  “Talk to him.”

  15. Plemenza: Tooth to Tooth with the Son of the Night

  Princess Helspeth snapped, “You’ve been here six weeks, Mr. Prosek! When can we expect you to do something?”

  Algres Drear caught her left elbow, squeezed, pulled.

  Prosek had taken his orders to heart. “When I’m ready, ma’am.” Always “ma’am,” instead of honorifics due the Princess Apparent of the Grail Empire. “Or you can go try it yourself if you can’t wait.”

  Helspeth fumed. Drear had trouble restraining his temper. He did so because he understood Prosek’s response. The man was testy because he was being harassed.

  Helspeth loathed Prosek because he failed to be impressed by her in any way — except as an annoyance.

  Drear squeezed her elbow again. “Remember. Brotherhood of War.”

  Helspeth held her tongue. She watched Prosek’s men make additions to a map of the high Jagos. Recon work had been slow and difficult. Few people were getting through to report and fewer were willing to go scout.

  Something like a brown stain had been added to the crude chart.

  Prosek tapped the map. He checked his team leaders, someone Varley and a man whose name Helspeth could not remember despite having been told a half-dozen times. Varley nodded unhappily.

  The other sighed hugely and unhappily. Forcing a smile, Prosek said, ‘This is why they pay us like princes. Buck up, Stern. We’ll leave beautiful corpses.”

  Helspeth thought that might be a joke. Stern was the ugliest men she had ever seen.

  “We’ve determined our ambush site, ma’am,” Prosek said. “Captain Drear. Did you make up the charges I asked for?”

  Helspeth ground her teeth. The man knew perfectly well that they were ready. He was reminding everyone of the professional pecking order. Unaware that what shielded him was not his expertise but his association with the Captain-General.

  She would not ask the question Prosek was prodding her toward.

  Drear touched her elbow again, lightly, to remind her he thought her problems with Drago Prosek were of her own manufacture and, probably, existed entirely inside her own imagination. Drear believed Prosek was so wed to his work that he was unaware of any conflict.

  Drear said, “Six charges, prepared according to your specifications.”

  “Excellent. Then we’re all set. We can leave in the morning. Weather, manpower, and drayage permitting.”

  Weather between the Ownvidian Knot and the Jagos was not benign lately, though good days still outnumbered the bad.

  Prosek said, “Alert the people who’ll go with me. Have everyone eat a big meal and get a good sleep.

  We’re not likely to have either again soon.”

  Another annoying characteristic of the man. He believed he could better endure hardship than any effete Imperial. Drear would happily teach the man respect once his Princess had her use of him. But that pleasure would never be his. The girl would stray from her agreement not one inch.

  “I’m sorry I’m giving you so many gray hairs, Captain.”

  Helspeth told Drear. “Someday, perhaps, it will prove worth having endured my whimsy.”

  “I’ve endured worse servitude than here with you, Princess. It’s the people around you who make the job difficult.”

  “In the morning, then, Captain.”

  She saw suspicion begin to cloud his thinking.

  Stupid. She should not have given him that much warning.

  Drear was livid when he found Helspeth among the men accompanying Prosek. She had donned the arms and armor she had demonstrated at al-Khazen. And wore a heavy cloak that concealed her sex and slight stature.

  Weapons and armor had been confiscated during Lothar’s reign but she had been clever and persistent and had gotten them back. The Empire enjoyed no shortage of corrupt functionaries willing to lose track of items in their care.

  Lady Hilda joined the adventure, though she was supposed to keep the Princess Apparent under close control. She was bored to excruciation by the Dimmel Palace.

  Captain Drear discovered them while taking a head count. There was truth in Prosek’s notions about Imperials. Some were intimidated by the weather, which had turned cold and damp. It should get worse in the high Jagos.

  Drear came up two long on his count. But by the time he isolated the ringers Drago Prosek was barking at the teamsters manning the wagons carrying the expedition’s stores and equipment.

  Helspeth told Drear, “I won’t stay here voluntarily. If you force me, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “And yet, hell to pay if I don’t. I should throw myself on my sword and save the Empress the cost of feeding me till she gets around to hanging me.”

  “So dramatic, Captain. I promise, I won’t be any trouble.”

  “God, save me! Princess, you’re trouble curdled just by being here.”

  “Lady Hilda will protect me.”

  “God, give me patience. Princess …”

  “I’m going. Fix that in your head, Captain. Adjust to it. Console yourself with the knowledge that this will almost certainly be the last time I’ll draw a deep breath without prior approval from my sister and the Council Advisory.”

  There might be a monster in the Jagos, interfering with traffic, but news did get through. There was strong sentiment in Alten Weinberg for cloistering the Princess Apparent somewhere where she could be controlled more completely. Not that she had done anything to offend anyone. No one complained about her efforts as the Empire’s legate south of the mountains. But she was a valuable commodity. And a potential rallying point for those who disdained the Brothen Patriarchy.

  Katrin was concerned. Her letters seldom demonstrated any warmth.

  Helspeth repeated herself. “I’m going, Captain. We’re wasting time and falling behind.”

  Algres Drear committed the sin for which he never forgave himself. He acquiesced. It was easier than fighting. He was tired of squabbling, especially with the girl. She never yielded.

  It did not take long for others to figure it out. Helspeth knew little about the daily business of the march.

  Things had always been done for her. Lady Hilda was of only slightly more use.

  Helspeth did work to win the men over. She convinced them they were about to perform wonders.

  Drago Prosek was not restrained about forecasting disaster due to the presence of women.

  Six days of cold misery and cold emotional truce brought the party to the point Pr
osek had chosen for his staging camp.

  Prosek and his crews, Algres Drear, and Princess Helspeth crowded the larger campfire. Everyone wanted a look at the map that Prosek had prepared. “Here and here,” Prosek said. “Perfect sites for the falcons. This lower one has a clear line of fire a hundred fifty yards long and is shielded by boulders. This other is under an overhang and has a cave behind it. It’s thirty feet up the mountainside. You can tell it’s been a lookout post since prehistoric times. Stern, you’re up there because you aren’t smart enough to get scared or nervous. You take the second shot, once Varley freezes the thing with his. If you have to take off, just fall back into the cave. It isn’t big enough for the monster to get into.”

  Helspeth started to remind Prosek that the devil was a shapechanger. Algres Drear pinched his lips. Just to remind her that she had promised to keep her big mouth shut.

  “We have one problem,” Prosek said. “Other than this damned weather.” It was cold. The heavens delivered infrequent but unpleasant bouts of freezing rain. “How do we lure this thing in?”

  Helspeth wondered what drove her to put herself in her present position. She was miserable physically, at risk of life and soul, and the adventure would stain her marital value. It would leave her more disliked and distrusted in Alten Weinberg.

  She was not disturbed by any potential collapse of her value as a commodity.

  Prosek asked, “Anyone know anything about this beast that they haven’t told me? Is it likely to know how many of us there are or the nature of our mission? It used to be human, according to the Captain-General. Does it still have a human ability to reason? Right. Nobody has anything. All sink or swim for Drago. Princess? You were at al-Khazen.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Prosek. I can’t help you. I was occupied elsewhere when whatever happened to the man happened. I know less than you.”

  “Pity we don’t have a wizard. But if wishes were fishes. The Captain-General told me I could handle this.

  Maybe he knows me better than I do. Drear. You look like a man who’s done some hunting. How would you draw this thing?”

  “I’ve only hunted deer and mountain goat. You go to them. Or ambush them.”

  Helspeth could not keep her mouth shut. “You’ve been to the Holy Lands, haven’t you, Mr. Prosek?”

  “I have. Five years. Actually saw Indala al-Sul Halaladin close enough to tell the color of his eyes.

  They’re gray. Not what you’d expect. Your point?”

  “The Sha-lug, the Peqaad tribesmen, Indala al-Sul Halaladin, even the H’un-tai At, all use the false flight tactic. And their enemies fall for it more often than not.”

  Reluctantly, Prosek granted, “Unfortunately true. A lot of Crusader commanders, new to the Holy Lands and eager to make a name, never believe the Unbeliever is as smart as they are. And veteran besides.

  So?”

  “The man the monster was before he was soultaken lived in Andoray two hundred years ago. That will shape his thinking now. Won’t it?”

  “Seems likely. So?”

  “Heroic individualism was a big thing back then. If somebody put on full armor and went up there like Red Hammer challenging the Midwynd Giant …”

  Prosek’s eyes glazed. He sucked spittle back and forth between his teeth. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t we …” He repeated Helspeth’s suggestion word for word. As she neared the boiling point he winked at her, grinned. “Just one problem. Picking a hero. And I have a bad feeling about that. You’re the only one here equipped for the role. Captain Drear, is anyone small enough to wear her armor?”

  “There is no way …”

  “I agree. But nobody else brought a convincing costume.”

  Lady Hilda volunteered, “I’m small enough …”

  Helspeth said, “That isn’t going to happen, either.”

  ***

  TWO DAYS OF DRIZZLING MISERY PASSED. BOTH FALCONS were positioned, their crews rehearsed. Drear and Prosek had scouted the pass as far as the ruin of the next way station. They had felt the monster stirring. They planted small, standard wards to keep smaller Night things from scouting for the monster.

  Three of Drear’s Braunsknechts returned with armor fit for a grown man. They brought two long couch lances as well, complete with pennons.

  There were no volunteers to don the armor and spring the trap.

  Prosek grumbled, “It’s too damned cold out here, anyway. Stern, Varley. Let’s pack it up. These people aren’t really interested.”

  Drear took the longer lance. “We’ll see if I can still stay on a horse wearing all this plunder.”

  Helspeth kissed the knuckles of Drear’s left glove. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “You want me to do this? Or not?”

  She stepped back, silent. He did not expect, or maybe even want, to survive this. He would suffer no end of grief if he did.

  He had no business letting her be here. And no business leaving her to draw the monster into a position where it could be destroyed. That was not his job. That was not his mission.

  Guilt pierced her down to the anklebones of her soul.

  Drago Prosek followed Drear at a distance, still making measurements. Still making arcane preparations.

  Helspeth pulled Lady Hilda close. “When we hear Drear coming back I want you to distract the other Braunsknechts.”

  “Princess?”

  “Whatever it takes. Just get me a few seconds.”

  Algres Drear was up the pass, out of sight. The weather had turned more benign, though the wind still sounded like ghosts quarreling amongst the boulders and stunted trees. The falcon crews waited, ready.

  Drago Prosek put no faith in matches or punks where there was no margin for failure. A charcoal fire burned near each weapon, warming the crew and heating an iron rod that could not be blown out by the wind nor extinguished by a raindrop. Prosek himself remained in constant motion between the weapon sites. He was nervous but not for the reasons everyone else was. He was worried about things working right when he needed them to work. The rest were worried about surviving.

  The Braunsknechts had no familiarity with Prosek’s weapons. They expected nothing good. The falcon crews did not know what to expect, either. They had yet to be in this position.

  “Princess?” Lady Hilda whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to pray. I’m not very good at it.” Nor good at being a leader, either, she feared. This was what happened when you let personal desire overrule your need to be responsible. People got hurt.

  A noise rolled down the pass, indefinable after battering back and forth between the canyon walls. It was loud.

  Lady Hilda understood what was bothering her. “Like everybody else in the world, you’re doing the right thing for the wrong reason.”

  Algres Drear appeared, low on the neck of his mount. The animal was fleeing but making no speed because it could not use its right hind leg. Drear no longer carried a lance. He had lost his sword, too.

  A heaving something appeared behind him. It was the source of the echoing noises. Drear’s broken lance protruded from what might be called a left shoulder. At eye height, as though the monster had dodged to avoid being blinded.

  Helspeth started forward, meaning to snatch up the second lance. Drear’s men seized her. She struggled weakly. As she did, she noted that the monster’s lost claw had grown back.

  The thing was in a mad rage. And gaining on Drear. Who was injured.

  One of the Braunsknechts took the lance. He started forward. Prosek smacked him. “Let it unfold the way it was designed.” But the man from the Brotherhood moved forward himself.

  Drear’s mount spied friendly folk ahead. She found some last reservoir of will and picked up the pace for the last fifty yards.

  Drear’s men swarmed round her once she passed between the last few boulders shielding the lower falcon.

  The monster in pursuit sensed danger at the last instant. Limbs flailing, it stopped. Its hideous head
rolled back and forth. Antennae waved, tasting the air. But the wind was blowing down the pass. The monster oozed forward, seeking a better taste of what had fired its suspicions.

  Helspeth told the Braunsknechts to stop making a racket. Unaware that hearing was the monster’s weakest sense.

  Drago Prosek kept moving forward. He made no effort to avoid being seen. He carried a yard of burning slow match. The very thing he did not trust his falconeers to depend on.

  The monster scooted forward a dozen yards, alert for danger. Had it not been excruciatingly wary it would be feasting already.

  Its head rolled. Its antennae sampled the air.

  It found something. It stiffened, then collected itself for flight.

  Prosek stepped aside, between boulders.

  The lower falcon discharged, hitting the monster’s underside as it reared to turn. It rose yards higher, shedding noises describable only as painfully loud. It fell back and stumbled a few yards. Stunned.

  The upper falcon discharged. Some of the thing’s limbs flew away. Chunks of chitin flew out of the monster’s back. Pale yellowish green liquid splattered the surrounding rock.

  Then the thing’s smaller wounds began shrinking. It began to regain control. Began to examine its surroundings. An antenna brushed the smoke trailing from under the overhang sheltering the second falcon.

  The monster started to strike.

  The lower falcon spat poison again. The impact shoved the monster back. The beast made horrible noises. Helspeth’s thoughts entangled with its madness as it entered her mind briefly. Everyone experienced the phenomenon. Now the beast rushed the lower falcon, all reason fled. Sudden serpents of fire scurried along the walls of the narrows. First from the right, and two seconds later from the left, explosions savaged the monster’s flanks.

  What? Helspeth had seen Prosek fiddling around out there but … What was this?

  The blasts near tore the monster in half. But it persevered. The upper falcon barked again. Then the lower weapon exploded. Its crewmen shrieked.

  Prosek materialized, running. He was pale, his face contorted by horror. He glanced back to see if the monster was gaining.