Surrender to the will of the night

38. Vis Corcula, the Shades

It was a beautiful summer dawn in the Shades. It started chilly. That would change dramatically once the sun climbed high. It had rained off and on all night. A mist now concealed the wildflower-strewn ground out in front of Piper Hecht. Somewhere beyond that, a few miles downslope, lay the encampment of the army sent to clear Vis Corcula of this tumor called the Righteous.

Hecht, Titus Consent, and Rivademar Vircondelet had slipped down there in the darkness and rain. They had not gotten a good look because of the weather but what Hecht had seen assured him that he faced big numbers, entirely disorganized. Heris had been right about Serenity being able to roll out a large mob.

The rain had made hearing unreliable. They avoided getting too close, fearing they might stumble into a sentry post because they could not hear the sentries complaining about having guard duty in foul weather.

There had been a lot of fires, both inside of and outside a low stockade meant to manage sheep and cattle. The camp centered on a longtime livestock operation belonging to the Benedocto family.

Wherever Hecht wandered next morning, willfully alone, the soldiers watched nervously. They wanted to believe he could work a miracle. They wanted to believe they were the best of the best and invincible. But they were daunted by the numbers. A disparity still growing as more troops arrived down below. A plan was in place but was so weird the men did not believe it could be the real plan. It had to be a plan the Commander wanted the Patriarch’s spies to discover.

And that was true. With Hecht hoping the enemy gave it less credence than did his own men, who understood the concept despite its departure from doctrine.

Clej Sedlakova joined Hecht between hummocks that might have been faded recollections of prehistoric burial mounds. “They’re getting nervous, boss. You still haven’t told anybody the real plan.”

“Smoke and mirrors, Clej. That’s the way it stays. What our men don’t know those people down the hill can’t find out. Tell them to do what I say when I say it. What about the meadow?”

“It gets soggier by the minute.” Drainage was not good. Hecht saw several sheets of water, none deep enough to overtop the grasses and wildflowers but definitely deep enough to have gotten into his boots on his way back from scouting.

“Good. That’ll make the footing worse.” He licked a finger and stuck it in the air. “I don’t know about that, though. I can’t decide which way I’d rather have it blow.”

“Either way, somebody ain’t gonna be able to see shit.”

“Yeah. Send me Rhuk and Prosek.”

“Again? Haven’t you pestered them enough? They know what they’re doing. And they have plenty to do. Let them do it.”

“All right.” That used to be his strength. Giving a man a job, then letting him do it. “You’re right. They can handle the details. You’d better get going if you want to get there in time.”

“And if they don’t come today? Or if they just want to talk you into giving up?”

“If not today, tomorrow. They can’t have brought a lot of supplies. They didn’t have time to organize it. If they want to talk, I’ll talk. And be obviously stalling till my situation gets better.”

“You want them to come at us?”

“No. I want them to think that’s what I want. So they’ll be confused. And, maybe, not give me what I want. Oh, damnit! Go gently tell the Empress that it’s not good for her to be wandering around where a massacre could break out any minute.”

Katrin, in armor, roamed the slopes making a studied effort to connect with the soldiers. A cynical effort, to Hecht’s thinking.

“Will do,” Sedlakova said, not bothering to remind him that she would have heard it all from Captain Ephrian already. “She’s probably scaring the men more than giving them heart.” He left, humming a tune that had been a favorite of Madouc’s. If he spoke to Katrin Hecht missed it.

Hecht felt the ghost of a whisper of moving air. A soft voice asked, “You do intend to make a stand here, don’t you?”

Hecht tried and failed to hide his surprise. “Well. Hello. I thought you’d gone off to another world.”

Grinning, the man in brown said, “I did. I’m on holiday while your picky sister makes some arrangements. A detail-oriented girl, our Heris. She’ll do well as the Twelfth Unknown. If we survive all this.”

“We? You’re joining in here?”

“I was speaking generally. But, here? Yes. Good timing, eh?”

“Suspiciously.”

“Not so much. When Heris brought the latest news the Bastard and I decided we had to come back and add to the confusion. I’ve been around for a few days.”

“Really?” Hecht looked round to see who might have noticed the Ninth Unknown. The old man appeared to have generated no special interest.

“Two days. First I had to go over and make sure Heris’s falcons don’t end up in the wrong hands before the Aelen Kofer show up. Then I had to see Muno and poke around in the dark corners in Brothe. Not a pretty city, right now. Serenity is out to make it uniquely his own. Muno and his cohorts are undermining him.”

“What were you thinking of getting into here?”

“Mischief, dear boy. Malicious mischief. And lots of it.”

“Like?”

“Well, an invisible man can cause a lot of confusion. Orders could go astray. A general could say one thing and a captain could hear something else. There could be ghosts. Or Night things. Who knows? The options are infinite.” Februaren turned sideways, vanished. Then turned right back into being. “Forgot to tell you. They’re going to attack today. The first wave is on its way. They won’t parley. Their orders are to find you and overwhelm you, at whatever cost.”

“Not very sporting.”

“Serenity thinks like you, Piper. This is serious business. Time to go. People are starting to wonder.”

Terens Ernest and the self-anointed lifeguards arrived momentarily. Ernest demanded, “Who was that? Where did he go?”

Terens Ernest was a dangerous man. He was always around, somewhere. And Hecht seldom noticed. No telling what he heard and saw.

Ernest wilted under the glare of the Commander of the Righteous. He could not match Madouc’s immunity to his principal’s attitudes.

“A man who spies for me. Forget you saw him. Did I call for you? Any of you? You have assigned posts. You haven’t abandoned them, have you?”

The response consisted of nervous yak about being concerned. He was in the presence of a stranger, with no help close by. And it was not that long since he had proven that he was not arrow-proof.

Hecht stifled rising anger. It was unreasonable anger. These men should not be crushed for listening to their consciences. However much he found their concern inconvenient. “That will be all, then. Back to your posts. The enemy is coming. Terens, tell Mr. Rhuk and Mr. Prosek to attend me as quickly as possible.” This time he did have something new to say to those two.

“Quiet. I need to talk fast.” Prosek and Rhuk had fewer problems with his ways than did most of the others. Rhuk grunted. Hecht continued, “They’re coming. They’re not sure where we are. They expect us to be farther back than this but they don’t really care. Let’s make it a nasty surprise. Everyone wait till I light the candle. Everyone. Understood?”

Rhuk told Prosek, “I do believe the boss wants us to note an important point.”

“Yeah.”

“Can the smart-ass stuff. There won’t be any parley. Their orders are to swamp us and finish us. All. No exceptions. We’ll get through this only if nobody panics and everybody does his job. Pass that word and keep reminding them.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you. Go. I hear company coming now.”

There were no drums, no horns, no pipes, only the clang, clatter, and chatter of a mob of rowdy drunks.

Could that be?

Commanders in some armies did get their soldiers drunk before an attack. In the days of war elephants they got the beasts drunk, too.

Hecht jogged a couple hundred yards back, uphill, to the eminence whence he meant to observe and hoped to be seen by the attackers and thought to be a picket.

Seconds after he was in place the Ninth Unknown turned into being behind him. “They’re coming.”

“I hear them. Are they drunk?”

“Some may be. I did work a little mischief with that last night. Any of them who did any drinking will be sluggish and miserable by now.”

“How many are coming?”

“You don’t have enough fingers and toes to count them. Not all of you put together. But you do have an advantage. You didn’t have to hustle uphill for three miles with a hangover to get here.”

Most of the mist on the meadow had burned away. From this vantage the standing water was more obvious. There was more of that than Hecht had thought. But it was still seeping down off the surrounding slopes.

Shapes appeared in the mist beyond the meadow. In moments it was clear that Serenity’s force lacked all discipline. But they made a big crowd.

The Empress materialized as suddenly as had Cloven Februaren. Hecht started and looked around. The Ninth Unknown just stood there wearing a goofy half-wit look. Katrin brought Captain Ephrian and four lifeguards with her. Hecht could not help barking, “What are you doing here?”

“The same as you, Commander. Being seen by those who serve me.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing, Your Grace. I’m pretending to be a picket so the men coming up the hill think they have to trudge on a while yet before they make contact.”

“Then I apologize for destroying that illusion. Nevertheless, I insist on a more respectful attitude.”

He was set to explode. He did not need vultures perched on his shoulders, muttering in his ears. But, out of Katrin’s view, Captain Ephrian shook his head desperately, warning him not to make a scene. Hecht took a deep breath, said, “As you will, Your Grace.”

“Yes. Always. Do not forget that. Who is this man in brown? I don’t recall having seen him before.”

“An agent. I’ve known him for several years. He’s reliable.”

Februaren chuckled. And would not keep his mouth shut. “An agent of the Night. Piper. Pay attention. It’s time.”

Correct. The men would be getting nervous. “Hand me that slow match there.”

Februaren did so, then took a step backward. Then took another. And a third at the moment when Hecht applied the match to the firework Kait Rhuk had fashioned.

A dozen balls of fire leapt fifty feet into the air over a meadow filled with floundering men cursing water and mud.

One hundred forty-six hidden firepowder weapons-including every last piece taken from Krulik and Sneigon-spoke during the next dozen seconds, each hurling six or more pounds of loam and stones.

Everything out front vanished in the smoke. There was no telling the effect of the salvo. It did have one. The mob did not emerge from the smoke.

That, initially dense enough to harm lungs, drifted westward, off the meadow and down the slope of the Shades.

Now Hecht needed his men to execute their orders without flaw. The men had to form crews at previously designated weapons while the enemy was stunned. They had to reload those and fire at the biggest enemy group they saw. No defense other than the falcons would be deployed.

The auxiliaries from Vis Corcula were supposed to drag any idled weapons to positions farther back.

The smoke thinned, unveiling the nearer meadow.

Hecht was horrified.

No sounds came from down there… He heard nothing because of the violence done his ears by all those explosions. There had to be a lot of screaming out there.

The smoke continued to drift and disperse.

Serenity’s men had stopped moving.

Hecht heard the dull ghost of a falcon’s bark. Somebody thought he saw something worth a shot.

Hecht said, “This is where the smoke could be a huge problem.” He got no response. Cloven Februaren had disappeared. He wished that Katrin had done the same.

The enemy resumed his advance.

A falcon bellowed. Another followed. Then another. Then one blew up. Hecht could make out the screams that followed.

The wind picked up and shifted as much as the terrain allowed, a couple points to the north. That pushed the smoke out of the way a little faster.

Soon the people down the hill stopped slogging listlessly into the kill zone.

The smoke cleared entirely, betraying the full horror. Using Katrin’s lifeguards as messengers, Hecht nagged his officers to get the falcons repositioned, reloaded, and retrained. As many as time allowed.

The Empress said nothing and did not overrule his use of her companions. Captain Ephrian was not pleased but kept his peace.

Katrin spoke only after full use of her hearing returned. She did not say a lot, though, and Hecht ignored her as much as he dared. He hoped none of the enemy recognized her. But, so long as she insisted on being on the battlefield, he hoped her presence stiffened the resolve of the Righteous.

The work of the falcons was gut-wrenching awful but no victory had been won. The attackers, if not overawed and intimidated early, would realize the weapons took a long time to recharge. And only few could be kept in action after the initial salvo.

On reflection, though, he decided the enemy would have to know as much about firepowder weapons as he did to understand how vulnerable he really was.

Silence again. The only smoke visible was way off down the slope, nearing the plain. Hecht looked for signs of Sedlakova’s presence down there, saw nothing.

“How many casualties out there?” Katrin asked. “A thousand?”

“Or more.” Most not yet dead. The least badly hurt trying to help other survivors. The standing water now red. And Hecht suspecting that many of the dead might have drowned.

Signals and messengers informed him as each battery came ready for action.

Downhill, out of range, men roamed about helping the injured, peering and pointing, often obviously arguing. Serenity’s captains trying to decide what to do next, unaware that each minute granted the Righteous would make their next surge that much more deadly.

Hecht considered the higher hills to either hand. Not terribly difficult ground if the enemy wanted to try going around.

Small groups of recently arrived Imperials were out there. He would be warned if Serenity’s captains did try the harder going.

The officers down there were no more eager than their men. Only after a full hour did they launch another mass charge, straight ahead.

This attack involved more men. So many they kept tripping over one another. Not to mention the dead and wounded.

Some nervous fool could not wait. He touched match to touchhole.

One premature discharge led to a score, then to all the rest, raggedly. Men went down like wheat blown over in a high wind.

The smoke closed in. That was worse this time. The air was almost still.

Hecht saw shapes moving through the smoke. Big shapes. Shapes not human. What were they? Illusions? He could not tell if there was sound associated with them. His hearing was gone again.

A lesson that should have been learned long since. Men around falcons needed to protect their ears.

He withdrew upslope a short distance, then crossed to a vantage he hoped would offer a better view beyond the smoke. He noticed that the men did have their ears protected. So it was just him.

The Empress followed. She had been jabbering for some time and he had not heard a word.

She and her lifeguards had protected their ears, too, with pieces of cloth.

The falcons designated to stay in action after the initial salvo did so, blindly-with little likelihood of failing to hit something. They had been laid according to patterns designed by Kait Rhuk and Drago Prosek. Their stone storm should sweep the meadow regularly, invisible or not.

A few men did stagger out of the smoke, glazed and watery of eye, driven by inertia.

Hecht did hear the Empress say, “I thought more of them would get through.”

He said, “I did, too. And they may still. There could be thousands in that smoke, still.” The big shapes were not there anymore.

There might be thousands in the smoke but only dozens emerged. Dully. Numbly. Ineffective except where they forced a falcon crew to stop work while they defended themselves.

That was what Hecht had feared from the moment he chose to make this stand. Each time a weapon fell out of the firing rotation more of Serenity’s men would get through. And that was the way it went, till many of the Righteous could not work their falcons. Though some never ceased firing and others came back quickly after handling a local threat.

The air began to move again. The smoke began to thin. That let falcon crews sight their weapons on the biggest clumps of men moving up.

The carnage was beyond anything Hecht imagined beforehand. It was beyond what Prosek and Rhuk had imagined, and those two always produced grim forecasts. The meadow had vanished under heaped bodies. Attackers had to clamber over and around the dead and dying, whose bodies continued to be torn by stone shot.

The breeze turned brisk enough to clear all but the freshest smoke. The attackers came on in tens, now, instead of hundreds.

Katrin demanded, “Why aren’t there more of them? They almost had us.”

“I don’t know, Your Grace.” Hecht was more interested in finding out what those shapes in the smoke had done. He saw nothing. “It might be Sedlakova’s fault.”

“Sedlakova?”

“The one-armed man. Running my cavalry.”

“I know who he is. What is he doing that might affect what happens here?”

“He’s supposed to be down there attacking their camp.”

“With fifty riders?”

Hecht spread his hands. “If he gets a chance to cause major misery.”

The Ninth Unknown might have done something distracting, too.

Hecht would not admit it but he had bet everything that his first salvo would panic the enemy.

That did not happen. They took incredible casualties and kept coming. And more were on their way.

The fighting fell off but continued. Prince Onofrio’s men, tasked with moving the idle falcons, did not do so with any alacrity. Some, with the weapons, got overrun.

“There’s something wrong, Commander of the Righteous.”

“They’re dogging it. They want to get caught. With my weapons. This isn’t going well, Your Grace. Leave before it starts again.”

The Empress snapped, “I don’t mean the Prince’s men. I mean Serenity’s. Look at them. Something’s been done to them. They wouldn’t keep coming, otherwise.”

She was right. They kept coming despite blasts that knocked them down twenty at a time. “Captain Ephrian. Might I borrow some men for messengers?” He had kept no one with him. He had foreseen no need to pull strings once the engagement began.

Ephrian glanced at Katrin. She offered a barely perceptible nod.

Hecht said, “Captain, I fear this won’t go as well next rush. Please move Her Highness to safety.” Looking Katrin in the eye. “She may not like it but she’ll be alive to punish me later.”

Ephrian flashed a nervous grin. Katrin flashed anger. Hecht gathered in the two men the captain volunteered. “I need you to run out to where the tripwire forces are hidden. One each way.”

“Those Imperials?”

“Correct. You know where they’re supposed to be. And what the hell is that?”

A roiling cloud of smoke rose over the distant enemy camp.

“Sir?”

“Right there! Oh. I see. So. Go. One to Consent, one to Vircondelet. Tell them I want them to swing in and hit these people from the sides. Downhill, out of falcon range, and don’t try to win the war in one skirmish. Just hit them, confuse them, panic them if possible, then get the hell out. This is just an experiment to test Her Grace’s hypothesis about them being englamoured. Plus, I want the distraction. Afterward, catch up with Captain Ephrian and the Empress.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.”

“Follow her for as long as it takes. All the way back to the coast if you have to. This could turn real bad.” He suspected a third and bigger wave was forming up out of sight. The dribble still coming was challenge enough.

“Yes, sir.” They split up and left. Katrin had gone with Captain Ephrian but was not happy about it.

Hecht wondered how Helspeth would have behaved in similar circumstances. He thought her sense of duty would have kept her away. She was not as self-indulgent or impulsive as Katrin.

The englamoured or drunken soldiers kept pushing closer despite inspired work by Rhuk and Prosek. Hecht guessed five thousand dead and dying men littered the meadow. More lay scattered right up to and past his own position. The nearby dead included half of Prince Onofrio’s treacherous levy.

The attackers treated Onofrio’s men as they did the Righteous. They would hear no claims of friendship. Hecht thought they might not hear at all.

Vircondelet and Consent launched the attacks Hecht had ordered, uncoordinated, like mosquitoes assaulting an elephant.

They hit the gathering mass Hecht had anticipated, doing much more damage than their numbers promised. The Patriarchals were slow to respond. Their focus was straight ahead.

Titus Consent hit first, from the north. He was in full flight when Rivademar Vircondelet struck from the south.

The spoiling raid delayed the third wave just when the fighting above the meadow had most of the Righteous engaged hand-to-hand.

Hecht personally fended off two attackers. One he thought he remembered from the fighting against the Calziran pirates. The man did not recognize him. He, his companion, and the rest of the attackers moved slowly, as though part of some army of the dead.

Hecht had seen, smelled, and fought exactly that at al-Khazen. This did bear the stamp of the Night but was not the same.

Deeper analysis would have to wait.

Only a score of falcons still barked regularly. Twice in rapid succession, then a third time, Hecht heard weapons explode. Heard falcon crews scream. Caught whiffs of burnt flesh. And thought Krulik and Sneigon might not be totally clever after all.

The lessened rate of fire was more than matched by a lessened flow of attackers. The assault finally high-watered, then receded.

Titus Consent arrived, so far out of breath that he could do nothing but suck air for half a minute.

Once he had breath enough to dare, he puked. Done with that, he gasped, “They’re trying to come around our flanks, now, boss. They’re like the undead, or something. I can’t stop them all.”

A falcon exploded just twenty yards away. Iron shrapnel took the feather off Consent’s helmet. “God just busted me back to the ranks.”

“No. He just showed you He loves you enough to make that miss. Here we go again.”

Another cloud climbed the air over the enemy camp, way down at the bottom of the slope. “Think that’s Clej?”

“About time.”

Could not be Sedlakova, though. He and his horsemen were barely strong enough to mount a harassment. There was no evidence that they had done any harassing. Nor had they taken explosives with them.

A half minute later something changed.

Hecht watched it come, a wave racing its way through those Patriarchals he could see. He felt it himself but the impact was slight and without personal meaning.

It meant everything to the attackers.

The assault collapsed instantly.

Serenity’s troops stood around stupidly gathering their thoughts. But the falcons continued to talk.

Serenity’s men ran.

Hecht told Consent, “Get back to your men. See if this helped.”

“Right.” Titus looked abidingly suspicious, like he thought Hecht had orchestrated everything by sheer wishful thinking.

The world grew still. The smoke cleared away. Between long periods of restful inactivity the surviving Righteous positioned their surviving falcons to greet another assault. Damaged and suspicious weapons left the line.

Time passed. No attack came. The enemy seemed interested in nothing but recovering his casualties. Hecht did not interfere. His officers began to feel comfortable enough to come report. They found their commander overwhelmed by his success.

So far.

He was sure another wave would come. He concealed his confidence that it would be successful.

The reports were good. And they were bad.

The good news was that friendly casualties were implausibly light. Initially, Hecht heard about forty-three killed and wounded, the majority victims of exploding falcons. According to Rhuk and Prosek, those casualties could not be laid at the feet of Krulik and Sneigon. Falcons exploded when panicky crews got into too much of a hurry. They failed to properly clear a weapon’s bore of sparks before trying to reload. Or they shoved in multiple loads before remembering to apply the match. Or they measured their firepowder wrong. Or they decided to double charge. All of which happened more often as men grew tired and the acid of fear gnawed at reason.

“Falls into the realm of lessons learned, Kait. Drago. Work on it when we have time. Measure the powder ahead of time. Come up with a work song with a rhythm that reminds them to follow the proper steps in proper order. Something like that. Oh. And find a way to protect their hearing. I like to went deaf and I wasn’t on top of a falcon.”

Both men eyed him like they were having trouble believing what he had said. “Boss, we’ve been doing that for two years.”

“Oh. So. Maybe I ought to pay closer attention…”

Shouts from several directions declaimed, “Here they come again!”

In an instant Hecht was alone. Men scurried in every direction. Then he was not alone. A funny-looking little man in brown was there beside him.

“What do you think of that, Piper?”

“Looks like a false alarm.”

“Not that.”

“Then what do I think of what?”

“You were having big-ass problems with enemy soldiers who didn’t see any reason not to trudge on into the teeth of your marvelous killing machines. Right? Out there? Five deep. They just kept coming, right?”

“Yes. But then they all ran away.”

“So say thank you, honored ancestor.”

“For?”

“I cribbed an idea from your sister. I took a keg of firepowder and planted it where it was likely to do some good when it went boom.”

“Say what?”

“Took me two tries but I got the Collegium asshole responsible for the sorcery. Name was Portant?. Principat? Catio Portant?.”

“I don’t know the name. Looks like it wasn’t a false alarm.” Enemy troops were on the move, though not many. “A probe.”

“I never paid attention to him before, either. He was lowlife and low-key. From one of the cities up north, related to the Benedocto by marriage. So related to Bronte Doneto, obscurely.”

“My guess is, Serenity has a lot of friends we don’t know.”

“Muno knows them. You should let me take you down to see him.”

Hecht shuddered. “Of course.” A falcon bellowed greetings to Patriarchals who had come too close. “I’ll just pop out during a battle. No one will miss me.”

“See, this is why I never let myself get roped into big responsibilities. They eat you up. They keep you from doing what you want. Like this right here. Here come some of them dicks that need you to think for them. And I can’t disappear because they’ve already seen me.”

Rhuk and Prosek had returned. The enemy probe was not developing a threat. Hecht said, “Do keep your opinions to yourself while we talk.”

Februaren snorted. Shooting your mouth off was another thing you could not do when you had responsibilities.

Prosek seemed interested only in the man in brown. He stared, let Rhuk do the talking. Rhuk said, “Boss, we might consider pulling out after this stops.”

“Why?”

“We’re worn out and beat up and the weapons are getting fatigued.”

“Kait, I’m going to take a second to make sure I have my temper under control. All right. Go. We’ve had six weapons explode. I know that. I know why.”

“True. But our casualty estimates before were way off.”

“All right. Tell me.”

Rhuk went pale. “Sorry. Sir. We have twenty-three dead or wounded on my side.”

“Forty-two for me,” Prosek said. “Those people got into several of my positions before they high-watered.”

“To which we have to add casualties suffered by Vircondelet, Consent, and Sedlakova,” Hecht grumbled. “Unless you counted them already.”

Both men shook their heads.

Prosek, still staring at Cloven Februaren like he suspected the man of being the Adversary incarnate, said, “Manpower isn’t the problem. We’re running low on munitions. Charges, especially.”

A falcon roared. Hecht looked toward the meadow. The probe was fading. The live people out there, now, were looking for wounded to take to the healing brothers. “Are our men more worn out than those people?”

Prosek shrugged. “I doubt it.”

“Position your weapons. Load them. Lay them. Vircondelet and Consent will be back soon. Draft their men as replacements. One inexperienced man to a crew. Get me a census on our munitions. We can’t possibly have used all that firepowder. It took seven ships to haul it.”

“Oh, no sir. There’s still tons of firepowder. Just not up here. We didn’t have the drayage to bring even a fraction of it. Nor would we have brought it all if we could have. Too much risk of losing it.”

Rhuk said, “We’re low on firepowder, boss, but even lower on charges. We started out with twenty to twenty-five for every weapon.” An almost unimaginably immense number, Hecht understood. Tons upon tons. Wagon after wagon. “But the stuff goes fast. None of the crews have used up all they started with but some are down to their last two or three. There isn’t anything around here that we can substitute. We’re having what’s left redistributed. It won’t last long if there’s another big attack. Oh. Each team had one charge of godshot. In case. But we don’t want to use that.”

Hecht stepped on a flash of anger. This was not their fault. This was his. They had done what he had told them to do. In truth, they had done more.

He had not expected this to last. He had counted on massed fire to panic the enemy. But he should have considered the possibility that they might be manipulated by a maniac sorcerer willing to spend them to the last man.

Hecht said, “Things didn’t go the way I expected. But there have been dramatic changes over there. I’m told.” Slight gesture toward the man in brown. “So, for now, we hold on, every weapon loaded. Instead of spreading your munitions around, though, concentrate them with the weapons that will keep firing after the first salvo.”

Hecht looked to Cloven Februaren, hoping to hear something about the improbability of another serious attack.

The old man understood but could promise nothing.

“Don’t kill people trying to clean up down there.”

Prosek said, “We might have a problem with theft. I’m missing several kegs of firepowder.”

A ghost of a smirk shadowed the lips of the Ninth Unknown.

Hecht understood. “They didn’t go to waste, Drago.”

The respite stretched for hours. The enemy removed his dead and wounded amid gathering carrion birds and insects. The Righteous took care of their own.

Cloven Februaren contrived to vanish without being noticed.

The Patriarchal force did not move again till late afternoon, when Hecht had begun thinking about standing down for dinner, then slipping away.

There must be a castle somewhere big enough to hole up in till the weight of the Empire made itself felt elsewhere.

But he did not want to abandon his falcons.

He would have to if he ran.

So standing his ground was his only real choice.

He worried about Clej Sedlakova. There had been no word.

The day’s costs haunted him already.

Some key veterans had fallen, men who had been with him since the City Regiment days.

And Titus had suffered his first serious wound.

“Here they come!” went up across the slope. And this was no false alarm. The enemy entered the meadow and crept forward on the flanking hills. Hecht said, “Titus, I didn’t look at it close enough before I decided to do this. If this goes bad…”

“Never mind, boss. I put myself here. It’s all right.” Boldly said but it was not all right.

Hecht knew he needed to have a face-to-face with his soul if he survived. He was not sure if hubris, arrogance, overconfidence, or a combination of those was his trouble, but there was something.

A smile tickled his lips as he recalled feeling like this in every tight situation where his enemies gave him time to brood. He began to have irrelevant thoughts, too. As usual.

He should have studied the Construct more diligently. He would have a way out of here, now. Though he might be at less immediate risk than his men. Serenity might want him taken for special attention later. He seemed the sort.

Fire discipline held. The falcon crews waited.

The advance slowed as it approached a suspected kill line. Most of those men had seen what had happened to those who had gone before them.

Officers safely farther back cursed and threatened.

The advance stopped dead.

A tremendous explosion took place out of sight, down the road. Gray smoke rolled up into the late-afternoon light, accompanied by shouts and screams. Everyone out front jumped, surged, surprised.

Hecht ordered, “Fire the full salvo.”

The falcons roared. Reddening sunlight tinted the smoke a fierce orange-red.

That smoke, for a short while, drifted upslope, pushed by marginally warmer air from down the mountain. Soon, though, the air cooled. The smoke drifted downhill again. No one and nothing emerged from it.

The smoke concealed the sources of a lot of noise. Something was going on in there. To Hecht it sounded like every man turning on his neighbor. Partly true. Each man had become desperate to get away. But sorcery that messed with men’s minds added to their desperation.

Hecht gave orders that there be no firing unless the attack developed.

Darkness came. The smoke went away. Indifferent stars came out. Rivademar Vircondelet reported that the Patriarchals had withdrawn from the meadow, around a sheltering knee of mountain. The meadow was carpeted in a fresh human harvest. The enemy was removing their wounded. Night scavengers were moving in.

At some point, unnoticed till he spoke, Cloven Februaren had rejoined the Commander of the Righteous. Hecht’s people paid him no heed. They stepped around him but did not speak to him or ask about him.

Februaren observed, “It’s over, Piper. They’ve given up. You might still hear from the Night, though. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few of your toys charged up with godshot, just in case. Take care of that, then I want you to take a walk with me.”

“Why? Where to?”

“Down there. To talk to people from the other side.”

“Should I ask you questions?”

“You can if you like. You may not get the answers you want to hear.”

“What I figured. Titus!”

“Sir?”

“How are you feeling? How’s the arm?”

“They say I’m going to live. Only fourteen stitches but it aches like hell.”

“Good to hear. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Februaren grumbled, “I don’t want to intrude on a budding romance, but…”

“Just making sure Titus is fit to join us. Titus, you can carry a truce flag, can’t you?”

“If you insist.”

“Good. It’s a sure thing that there’ll be people we know down there, one way or another.” Hecht shook a finger at the Ninth Unknown. “My way, old-timer.”

Februaren scowled but did not argue.

Hecht asked, “Is this likely to take long? I haven’t eaten all day.”

“You should take better care of yourself. Grab a loaf, cheese, and sausage and let’s go. You can nibble along the way. It’ll be slow going.”

“That’s all right. I can wait.” The scenery would not be appetizing.

The old man snickered.

Hecht thought the Ninth Unknown was on his way to becoming something more than human. Was there such a thing as an apprentice ascendant? Like an accidental ascendant? Unaware of his status?

Asgrimmur Grimmsson could be presented in evidence.

Frowning, Titus went to work rounding up lanterns and lifeguards.

Titus said, “Our new weapons do terrible things.”

Terens Ernest, swollen proud to be accompanying his commander, said, “Not worse than swords and axes. Praise God, they didn’t come at us on horseback. I couldn’t stand it if we had to kill a couple thousand horses.”

Cloven Februaren snorted but did not otherwise express an opinion.

Hecht said, “The real horror is how fast and impersonally we can kill. Some of those men firing falcons never saw the enemy up close. And guys like Prosek and Rhuk will keep finding ways to reach out farther, faster, and more accurately. They love the challenge. They never think about it in human terms.”

This was the bloodiest battlefield of his acquaintance. There were many bloodier encounters on record, a few quite recent: Los Naves de los Fantas and what had taken place outside Khaurene. But there was an industrial feel to what had happened here that he found disquieting.

Titus asked, “What will Serenity do when he hears about this?”

“He’ll spew Writs of Anathema. Of Excommunication. Bulls of all sorts, blustering. Blaming everyone but himself. He’s turning into his cousin.”

The Ninth Unknown would not remain silent. “And no one will take him seriously anymore because he’s showing such a great talent for looking as goofy as Sublime. He’s not that blind and dishonest but we’ve had some straight-arrow Patriarchs for contrast. He looks like a throwback. What’s happened here could finish him with the Brothen mob.”

Hecht did not believe that. Bronte Doneto was much too crafty. “How about we concentrate on the moment?”

He was nervous. The darkness seemed unnaturally deep. The lanterns did not push it back to a comfortable distance. The killing field stank of spilled bowels and coagulated blood and flesh already corrupting. He kept tripping over dead people. The nasty water got inside his boots. He was hungry and his head had begun to hurt. Though the altitude was high and the air was chilling the sounds of insect wings seemed like the hum of primitive death gods at their after-the-fighting chores, like those old devils he had finished off in the Connec.

His amulet declared the night free of all but the most trivial Instrumentalities.

He was nervous about the possibility of imminent treachery. Titus had a bum right arm. The Ninth Unknown was older than the ground underfoot. Terens Ernest was an unknown quantity. Rivademar Vircondelet considered himself a lover, not a scrapper.

Consent, Vircondelet, and Ernest were along because they felt mistrusted and left out. So. This time they had a chance to be there when the hammer came down.

He did not introduce Cloven Februaren.

Other than Titus, who was burdened with the truce flag, everyone carried a lantern. Hecht, Ernest, and Vircondelet also carried spears and a standard array of sharpened iron. The spears proved useful in dealing with the treacherous footing.

The Ninth Unknown had armed himself with a foolish grin.

These five were not likely to give an account of themselves that would echo down the ages.

Once past the end of the meadow they spied torches and small fires behind the knee of the mountain. About twenty men awaited them, two hundred yards off, in that weak light.

More small fires at intervals marked the road to the plain. There was movement on the road.

Hecht muttered, “I should have made them come to me.”

Cloven Februaren said, “You’re much too paranoid, Piper.” And, “Learn to believe in yourself.”

Hecht knew many of the men awaiting him. Most were not friends of Bronte Doneto. They included representatives of four of the Five Families of Brothe, including Paludan Bruglioni of the powerful Bruglioni family. Paludan had been at death’s door when Hecht last saw him. Principat? Gervase Saluda, Paludan’s lifelong friend, was there, too. Both remained seated in the wooden frames that had been used to carry them up the mountain. The Arniena agent was Rogoz Sayag, with whom Hecht had worked while employed by that family and later, during the Calziran Crusade.

The Cologni and Madesetti were represented by strangers. Only the Benedocto, Bronte Doneto’s tribe, had no obvious agent on hand.

Someone would report back. Espionage and treachery were heart and soul of Brothen city politics. And Brothen city politics shaped the larger policies of the Church.

Overall, these people made an unlikely alliance. Some had been backstabbing each other for generations.

Which pointed up the depth and breadth of the developing crisis of confidence in the current Patriarch.

How had Doneto managed so swift a decline?

Hecht wondered more about how Paludan and Gervase, both badly crippled, had managed to be on scene so soon.

A man Hecht did not know stepped forward. “I’m Acton Bucce of Bricea,” he said. “Acting captain of what survived your sorcery.” Acton Bucce was a sad and angry man controlling his emotions tightly.

Bucce asked, “Would it be acceptable to add fuel to the bonfires? I’d like more light and warmth. So many ghosts will make this a cold, dark night.”

Hecht glanced at Februaren. The old man nodded. “Go ahead. I met some of those ghosts coming down here.”

The fires grew fast. Everyone on the Patriarchal side seemed cold and haunted. Hecht touched his amulet lightly. Still it offered no warnings other than the usual nascent itch.

The swollen bonfires bruised Hecht’s night vision but flung light far enough to reveal corpses laid side by side, touching, their feet at the edge of the road.

“You wanted to talk, Acton Bucce?”

“Twelve hours ago I commanded a regiment called the Free Will Swords. Short-term mercenaries from Brothe’s poorest quarters. Twenty-two hundred men, mostly experienced. Thirty-day enlistments, fifteen paid ahead. Now I have thirteen hundred men barely in shape to take care of themselves. We have so many dead we can’t take them back with us. We’ll bury them in marked graves, where there’s enough man left to identify, so their people can come get them if they want.”

Bucce paused as though inviting comment. Hecht said nothing.

Bucce continued, “All told, the Patriarch sent about seventeen thousand men. At sunup I was eighth in the chain of succession. Now I’m the senior officer surviving. These civilians are urging me to indulge my inclination to save the men who’re still alive. We’re working on that but still have bodies to recover. We’ve collected more than four thousand already. And the wounded outnumber the dead. Sepsis will claim a lot of those because the healers can’t get to them all.”

He paused. Hecht asked, “How many were conscripts?”

“Sir?”

“Every man in your army chose to be here. Each one was a mercenary bent on murdering me and mine.”

“That’s true. Though it could be argued that poverty conscripted them.”

“It could. But they did choose to try to kill me. By my calculation, trusting your numbers, my men need to put in one more hard day to quash this Patriarchal fantasy forever.”

“The Patriarchal fantasy is moribund already. Tomorrow I’ll bury my dead. I’ll release each regiment once it cares for its own. Unless you force a fight. Then fight I will.”

“I had no desire to fight in the first place.”

Bucce’s lips tightened. His opinion might not agree. “I’m determined that no more lives be wasted till Serenity relieves me. I’ll not have them on my conscience.”

Lips never moving, whispering so softly that only Hecht heard, Februaren said, “The man is sincere. What he isn’t telling you is, most of his men have deserted.”

Hecht hid his surprise. “Captain, what was the ultimate purpose for this meeting? And why are all these people here?”

“They came with the army. To observe, I’m told. I think they hoped for a disaster as ugly as what we got. Our Patriarch is no longer loved by his own class.”

“I understand the politics, more or less. But you haven’t said why you wanted to meet.”

“I have. I want the killing to stop. And, then, these people insisted.”

Hecht glanced at Titus Consent. Might Consent know something about Bucce?

Bucce said, “The way I understand it, these people want you to be able to drive toward Brothe unhindered, for a showdown with Serenity.”

“I presume you’ve all changed your minds about your votes, last election.”

No one responded. They stared at something in the darkness behind him. Had Prosek manhandled a few falcons down to strengthen the Imperial argument?

He glanced at Cloven Februaren. The old man was not concerned. “Tell me more.”

“That’s it. From me. Talk to them.” Bucce was frightened. He stared past Hecht, too. “I won’t interfere as long as you let us manage our dead and wounded and go.”

He was repeating himself. For whoever was back there.

Voice tired, strained, feeble, Paludan Bruglioni said, “He speaks for Serenity’s hirelings. We’ll talk once you’re done with him.”

Hecht eyed Bruglioni, then Gervase Saluda, as though Saluda might explain how Paludan could have survived.

Paludan did not notice. He was fixed on the presence behind Hecht.

A ghost whispered in Hecht’s ear, “The Empress is back there.”

“I thought so. Your Grace failed to heed the advice of her Commander of the Righteous.” Not looking back.

“It was advice, only, Commander. I have more confidence in you than you have in yourself.”

This was no time for an argument. “Thank you for your faith, Majesty. Have you heard enough to understand?”

Katrin stepped up beside him, to his left. He glimpsed an abashed Ephrian behind her. “These people have decided they backed the wrong racing team. They hope to save themselves and maybe snatch some of the spoils by changing Colors.”

Even after years in Firaldia Hecht did not fully grasp the concept of Colors, which tied together fan support for famous racing teams at the hippodrome, local politics, and, more broadly, made a statement about one’s position on the long power struggle between the Brothen Episcopal Patriarchs and the Grail Emperors.

Katrin’s statement was bare-boned truth.

But they could still crush the Righteous. And in grand style because they could grab the Grail Empress herself.

The Ninth Unknown whispered, “You rate yourself too small. You changed the world today. Again. But you recognize it no better than you did in Esther’s Wood.”

Hecht neither understood nor believed. But it was worth some thought.

“Acton Bucce of Bricea, of the Free Will Swords, I am here. Her Most August Imperial Majesty. What do you have to say?”

“I thought I was clear, Your Majesty.”

“You said you won’t bother me if the Commander of the Righteous lets you go. Which has its appeal. On the other hand, exterminating you all so we don’t have to deal with you again later also has its charm. Too, we wouldn’t have people like these here if somebody wasn’t fishing for special consideration.”

Paludan Bruglioni admitted it. “You’re right. We came here in anticipation of your success. We hope to negotiate the safety of our houses.”

Cloven Februaren muttered, “Bullshit. But he does mean it when he says it.”

Saluda took over. “We all pledge to provide no aid or comfort to Serenity. Nor will we impede the Righteous in any way.”

The Empress laughed, a peal with a donkey’s bray edge on it. “It won’t be that easy. It won’t be that cheap. There’ll be no lurking on the middle road till you can jump in on the winning side. Choose. And let the world know. Your lives, your fortunes, your honor. I want them declared, dedicated, committed.”

Februaren murmured, “Somebody is a little overconfident.”

“Just a bit,” Hecht agreed.

But Katrin had not overplayed her hand. Nobody stomped away.

The spokesmen for the Five Families agreed to negotiate articles of association after the Patriarchals dealt with their dead and wounded and headed home.

Titus said, “I’m not sure about this, boss. Feels like we’re letting them off too easy.”

“After what we did to them?”

“The Empress said it. We might have to deal with them again.”

Next day Righteous scouts pushed down toward the plain, advancing as the Patriarchals buried their dead. Reinforcements arrived, two hundred men come over from Glimpsz. More were en route. An army was assembling in Alamedinne. Imperial garrisons were demonstrating in every north Firaldian city that owed allegiance to the Empire. The same was not happening in the Patriarchal States.

News of the slaughter in the Shades spread fast and grew with the telling. People who should have known better took the wildest stories as gospel.

The whisperers of Krois murmured canards against the Empress and her Commander of the Righteous: They had surrendered to the Will of the Night. There would have been no disaster had not all darkness answered the conjuring of the witch queen and her mercenary familiar.

Journeymen rumor-tinkers of an opposing view charged Serenity with consorting with the Night and with being the man behind the monster that kept returning to the catacombs, however often the good Principat?s put it down. Those accusations found the popular mind more welcoming. Almost as far back as the collapse of the hippodrome there had been gossip connecting Bronte Doneto with events in the underground world.

Such was the news Cloven Februaren brought back from his Brothen visits, where his espionage was less subtle and clever than Heris’s had been.

He enjoyed sabotage too much.

Clej Sedlakova surfaced after three days. Only eighteen men accompanied him, most all injured. They had been ambushed by an enemy who had known they were coming. Sedlakova and these men were the last survivors of a long running fight.

The Righteous buried their dead. They examined their firepowder weapons for defects. They brought up ammunition and supplies, and welcomed further reinforcements.

The Commander of the Righteous twice eluded halfhearted advances by the Empress. Her self-control seemed to be slipping again.

Hecht was not alone in noticing.

Rivademar Vircondelet stuck his head into the tented space Hecht had taken in the Patriarchal camp. Vircondelet had begun to assume some of Titus Consent’s duties as Consent became more intimate with field command. “Captain Ephrian is begging to see you, boss. Can you spare a minute?”

“Send him in, then.”

Ephrian came bearing bad news.

“Sit, Captain, and tell me the problem.”

“The Empress. Of course. I can’t take much more. She won’t cooperate. She will do what she wants, when she wants.”

“Kind of goes with the job.”

“I understand that. I remember how Johannes could get. But he was never like her. No matter what happens, it’s never her fault… That goes with the territory, too, some. Right?”

“Most of the time.”

“Here’s the problem. She’s into one of her downward spirals. It might be the worst since the Prince was stillborn. We’ve tried the usual gimmicks. I’ve worn my butt out taking her riding. That works better than anything. She loves a good gallop. Not this time, though. I’m scared she’ll do something to damage or embarrass herself.”

“What can I do?”

“I don’t know. She won’t listen to me when she isn’t out of her head. She does listen to you, sometimes.”

“Really? I must have missed that.”

“I did say sometimes.”

“An odd duck, our Empress.”

“She’s more like a frightened girl. She lets childish emotions drive her. These black moods… They keep getting worse. She could cause problems we’ll never get over. Something bigger than invading a friendly empire or declaring war on the Church.”

Interesting. “We aren’t at war with the Church, Captain. We’re at war with Serenity. That might sound like a minor distinction but the difference is critical.”

“Serenity believes he is the Church.”

“A common flaw of Patriarchs. What would you have me do with our flawed mistress? I’m a hired sword who’s overstepped his bounds already.”

“I don’t know. I said she listens to you sometimes. I hoped you’d have some inspiration.”

“Captain, I’m not that imaginative. The magical way to make everything right got past me. I wish she’d lasted a little longer. Mid-campaign is a bad time for your employer to lose her mind.”

“Just be warned. She might turn strange.”

“I’ll think about it. I promise. Now, I do have an order of march to ready.”

Ephrian made a face but said nothing. He knew that in no practical sense could the Righteous attack Brothe. The city was too big. And even an unpopular Patriarch had vast resources.

He had found seventeen thousand men willing to go into the Shades.

Hecht really just wanted to become a presence that dared not be ignored while the might of the Empire gathered. He wanted to become a symbol to all Brothens currently disgruntled with their Patriarch. A hope in the mist.

The heavy lifting would be done by armies from beyond the Jagos.

There were skirmishes all across Firaldia. Whatever the feudal obligation of a given city, principality, or kingdom, some citizens or subjects held the opposing view and were determined to regularize their polity’s status. Riots were not uncommon, even in the Mother City, where a frightened city senate voted a huge new subsidy for the City Regiment.

Years of parsimony had left that force little more than symbolic.

The Righteous engaged in skirmishes. Serenity did have his supporters. But, after the Shades, few could find soldiers willing to face the Righteous.

Superstitious folk convinced themselves that Empress Katrin and her Commander of the Righteous had used sorcery. The Shades had seen the worst day’s butchery in Firaldia since the collapse of the Old Empire. Those who knew better, survivors of the battle, told everyone that there had been no sorcery at all. And that, where it was believed, scared thinking people more than did babble about sorcery.

Use of massed machines of destruction was especially frightening. Falcons took the skill and honor out of combat. Which really meant the highborn recognized that they would be at as much risk as, and therefore of no more value than, the lowest, poorest, mallet-armed churl.

Falcons did not care who your father was. Falcons did not take the well-born for ransom. Worse, falcons could be manned by any illiterate peasant’s son after just a few hours of training.

Such an engine had to have sprung from the dark mind of the Adversary.

The Righteous were on the move when word came that the Patriarch, supported by his dwindling faction in the Collegium, had issued a bull declaring firepowder weapons the work of the Adversary. No true Chaldarean would employ them. All firepowder weapons were to be destroyed immediately.

Hecht was up with the van as it approached the Bruglioni estate southeast of Brothe. The messenger missed him. When he got back to his staff he found them mocking the Patriarch. “What’s going on?”

“Listen to this.” Rivademar Vircondelet read the bull.

Titus Consent said, “Right now, throughout the Chaldarean world, men cursed by possession of these organs of evil are rushing out to ignore Serenity completely. Instead, having heard about the Shades, they’ll try to find a supplier who isn’t Krulik and Sneigon.”

“No doubt. That’s human nature.” Other Patriarchs had tried to ban weapons, too. Those remained in common use.

The Commander of the Righteous and several lieutenants, fiercely uncomfortable about the Empress tagging along, entered the Bruglioni villa. That was a classical collection of limestone pillars and red tile roofs squatting on a ridge in wine country, near enough to Brothe for the filthy air over the city to be seen. Parts of the villa dated to Old Empire times. The Bruglioni claimed it had been built by one of the Imperial families before the time of Aaron of Chaldar. It had figured in several major historical events. Paludan grumbled, “And it looks like the old hovel is going to get to do that again.”

Paludan was in a wheeled chair, his destiny for however long he survived. The masters of healing magic could do no more than control his pain. Gervase Saluda also remained confined to a wheelchair but did have hopes of walking again, given an artificial leg. Saluda said, “I hear tell that no good deed goes unpunished. I guess this is our punishment for letting the Arniena talk us into giving you work, back when.”

“You’re right. But you did get your money’s worth. This is just Katrin’s way of putting her mark on you.”

All the representatives of the Five Families who had sneaked out to the Shades were now visiting the Bruglioni estate. Serenity should soon have reports about them.

“We aren’t looking for a fight here,” Hecht said. “We just want to fuel the fire of unrest. We pose a bigger problem sitting here not fighting than we would by getting into something we’d probably lose.”

Hecht had realized that a falcon-heavy force could not be an aggressive or agile force. It had its best luck when doing what it had in the Shades. It was a defensive force.

With all the reinforcements of recent days Hecht’s force still numbered fewer than a thousand. A thousand veterans employed in most Firaldian squabbles would be considered huge, but in this contest, against this opponent, no.

To the consternation of Paludan and Saluda alike Hecht prepared defenses for the estate. Rhuk and Prosek sited weapons so raiders would regret getting too close. Sedlakova and Consent roamed the countryside in search of creek beds where rounded pebbles of an appropriate size and hardness could be harvested. They also sought loamy soil that could be used to fill the empty spaces between stones in a charge.

Rivademar Vircondelet led mounted patrols toward the Mother City so watchers could see actual Imperial banners close by.

Serenity closed the nearer gates and did not contest their presence.

Cloven Februaren wakened Hecht deep in the night. Lila had accompanied him, shyly proud that she had enough grasp of the Construct to make the twisted journey. She kept quiet. No doubt she had orders to keep her mouth shut.

The Ninth Unknown whispered, “Serenity has lost it, Piper. He has squads roaming Brothe, arresting anybody he fancies. The Castella shut its gates. The Five Families are forting up because he attacked the Bruglioni citadel yesterday. What’s left of it.”

“Gervase and Paludan won’t be happy.” Though their property was an indefensible ruin, anyway.

“And less so after they hear that a dozen deaths were involved. Their people resisted.”

He watched Lila rove around slowly, almost a wraith. “Anna needs to get some food into that girl.”

“Anna and the girls aren’t eating well right now.”

“What?”

“Muno let Addam Hauf move them into the Castella. Because of Serenity.”

“You really sure he’s lost it? He’s good at pretending to be doing one thing when he’s up to something else entirely.”

“He could be perfectly sane and trying some sleight of mind. But I don’t see him having time for that kind of foolery. He’ll go after Muno sometime soon. That will trigger a revolt in the Collegium. Fur will fly. Meantime, Imperial troops are pouring into northern Firaldia. Your friend may have stayed in the Connec too long. He might have to fight through an Imperial army, now. And while Serenity is praying for Ghort, an Imperial army from Alamedinne and Calzir will be closing in from the south.”

“Anna and the kids are definitely safe?”

“Anna and the girls. Note that I didn’t mention the boy. The headstrong boy.”

“Lila?”

“Yes?” The girl sort of drifted his way, like only her toes could reach the floor and those barely touched.

“What did Pella do?”

“He got bored. He left. That was when we were still at Grandpa Delari’s house. Maybe he went back to Sonsa to see about his sister.”

Hecht cursed.

Februaren said, “What can you expect? The boy has survived on his own before. And he’s been brought up on stories about the brave Duarnenian who left home at an early age.”

“I hope he doesn’t get himself killed.”

“Your imagination didn’t get you killed.”

“Not yet. Men less lucky than me have gotten killed by the dream.”

“Enough. There’ll be serious trouble in the city soon. Be prepared to take advantage.”

“I could take particular advantage of your special talents.”

“My special talents are employed to the limit, now. I’m an old man, Piper. And I don’t get to spend my days lounging around a posh villa. You know these people have their own heated bath?”

“I do. I haven’t been. My people haven’t. I’ve made life hard enough for the Bruglioni already.”

The Ninth Unknown cataloged some of the mischief he hoped to work over the next few days, said he would be gone at least two, then turned sideways. Leaving Lila.

“Hey! You forgot Lila.”

“It’s all right. I can get back on my own.” The girl met his eye momentarily, clearly something she found hard to do. “I’m good at it. And he wants me to do some of the work after he goes back north.”

“But you’re just a kid.”

“I’m almost fifteen. What were you doing when you were almost fifteen?”

Campaigning with the Sha-lug. Not for the first time. But that was different. Yet the only argument he could make was that she was a girl.

Lila said, “You worry too much about us. Except Anna, maybe. She had the sheltered life. She can’t believe in really wicked people.”

That used up all the courage the girl had. She would not look at him anymore. Again, he was stricken by how pale, how spectral, she seemed.

“I can’t help worrying, Lila. I made you my family but I’m never there.”

“You make me feel bad when you worry. I don’t deserve it. I try. Hard. But I’m always scared that I’ll lose it and turn back into what I was.”

He understood why Februaren wanted Lila here. She was desperate for reassurance.

“Don’t let the past rule you. You did what you had to do. This is now. Be what you want to be.” Lila was at a fragile point. She needed to be needed. Desperately. She needed to be needed, she needed to be trusted, she needed to be forgiven. Given all that, she might forgive herself for having walked the roads of hell and returned. She might concede that she had value and deserved to survive. She might start to believe that she was not a soul already damned.

Hecht wanted to hold her while he reassured her but feared there would be an emotional risk. A hug would work with Vali. Vali would not misconstrue because Vali lacked Lila’s haunts.

Hecht and Lila talked more than ever they had since he had sent her to live with Anna.

Before Lila left Hecht gave her a note for Anna, suggesting he might see her before long.

His left wrist began to itch. “You’d better go. Something is about to happen.”

“Yes. I feel it. Thank you. Father.”

He did hug her then, for an instant, careful to use one arm and not press.

Lila turned sideways and disappeared.

Hecht scratched his wrist. It suggested a serious probe by an Instrumentality of some weight.

The usual wards protected the estate, supplemented by those of the Righteous and those of Katrin’s lifeguard. The latter were truly brawny. But something fierce and powerful wanted in. It kept looking for a weakness.

It was not alone. Scores of lesser Night things accompanied it.

It failed to break through. But Hecht did not get much sleep.

After breakfast and morning reports Hecht collected Kait Rhuk and went hunting.

The Instrumentality, not quite bogon in magnitude, was dismayed by how easily the Godslayer found the fox’s den where it had holed up for the day. It did not have long to enjoy its dismay.

Next night more entities came, all smaller and all frightened. Veterans who had learned their trade in the hunt for Instrumentalities in the Connec trapped and exterminated the lesser entities where they could. They took the opportunity to teach the subtleties of god killing to men with no experience. The knowledge might be critical to their survival sometime later.

Hecht did what he could to create conflicting reports. He knew information would get back to Serenity, despite his trappers. These entities were like mosquitoes. However many you swatted, there were more.

Cloven Februaren failed to return as promised. He did not return at all. Lila did, late the third afternoon of the occupation of the Bruglioni estate. She materialized behind the screen that Hecht had acquired at Heris’s suggestion. She had been paying attention. But she arrived while Hecht was engaged in conversation with Hagan Brokke, who had just arrived with several hundred Righteous and Imperials from beyond the Vieran Sea. Titus Consent and Rivademar Vircondelet were there making notes.

Lila stepped out from behind the screen before assessing the situation.

Consent gasped. Vircondelet jumped to his feet. He did not know the girl. He leapt to the wicked conclusion. The Commander of the Righteous liked them young and skinny.

Brokke just looked confused.

Lila froze, horrified.

Hecht managed, “This is business, Lila. Stay in the other room till we finish.”

She was quick. She had survived on her wits. “Yes, Father.”

Clever girl. That and Titus’s testimony would ease the speculation. Some.

Hecht said, “What we need to look at is how best to use this new strength. I’m afraid the Empress will insist on a demonstration. She doesn’t understand that the Shades was a onetime thing.”

Brokke rumbled, “Give them a miracle and they figure you can do it to order.”