The Tyranny of the Night

27. Brothe, Preparing for a War with Calzir

Polo told Else, "This place is busier than a dog that's been dead for a week."

Else grunted. Polo was right. The Bruglioni citadel was in a ferment. Divino Bruglioni had bullied the rural family into providing funds to hire workmen. And rustic Bruglioni were returning – lest they lose what estate they enjoyed.

Principal Bruglioni's threats, in Paludan's name, were draconian.

Else went into the countryside twice, leading veterans of the fighting with the pirates. He dispersed parasitic Bruglioni relatives carefully selected by Uncle Divino. That electrified the rest of the family. That and the new wealth and new estates that were sure to fall to the Bruglioni during Sublime's upcoming Calziran adventure.

The Patriarch had proclaimed a crusade. A large majority of the Collegium urged him to do so.

Else expected to take part. Paludan had directed him to raise an infantry company at Bruglioni expense.

Else did not understand Sublime's confidence. It seemed based exclusively on faith.

History was littered with the bones of empires confident of the fearful swift sword of their god. But the scales never fell from men's eyes. They never failed to trust the treacherous Instrumentalities of the Night.

Else attended the planning meetings. His questions generated frowns but weakened no one's confidence.

More time went into divvying Calzir up, all the way down to the parish level, than went into planning the campaign.

Else appealed for instructions from al-Qarn, once through Gledius Stewpo via the Devedian route, once through the Kaifate's embassy. He received no response. He had to make his own choices. Meaning he would always be wrong. If Gordimer chose to see it that way.

Else's borrowed accountant had no trouble penetrating the number thickets of Mr. Grazia's accounts. Else took the evidence to Uncle Divino. The Principal betrayed a malicious delight. He used the material to bludgeon and blackmail those he wanted to keep in Bruglioni service.

Whenever Else left the citadel, it seemed, he ran into someone who was unhappy about the Bruglioni resurgence.

Principatй Doneto, in particular, complained that Piper Hecht was not sufficiently devoted to the advancement of Bronte Doneto's agenda.

PlNKUS GHORT FOUND DONETO'S EXASPERATION AMUSING.

"Pipe, I ain't never seen nobody as self-centered as our old jail buddy. Long as he's got pals who'll put up with him pushing them around."

"I'm not surprised. I've had to deal with his type since I was tall enough to toddle. I'll probably turn into his type if I live long enough and rise high enough. So will you."

"Yeah. I can see me wearing Grade Drocker's slippers next time we hit the Connec. Take me along a troupe of them baby whores like Bishop Serifs had, only girls."

"You're disgusting."

"But fun. You got to admit that. You gonna be ready to go when the troops head south?"

"Ready and looking forward to it." Which was a lie. He did not want to war against fellow Pramans. But al-Qarn left him no choice. He had to go on being this character he had created until he did receive instructions.

"That's good. Me, too. How's your lady?"

"Anna?" He and Anna Mozilla had begun to develop a social life. That made him nervous, of course, but Anna was right at home. She drew attention away from him. But if someone decided to study Anna Mozilla they might begin to wonder when Piper Hecht had had an opportunity to develop a relationship with a woman from Sonsa. "She's fine. Had a little scare last week, though."

"When those Calzirans came up out of the underground?"

"Happened right down the street. I hope that's the last bunch."

"Collegium says so."

"That the same Collegium that gave the all-clear a week before that mob popped up?"

"You'd think a gang of sorcerers like them would be a little sharper at their own racket, wouldn't you?"

"Wouldn't you? Can you tell me anything that'll make my job easier?"

"Nope. Well, don't turn your back on nobody. Like I said, the Principatй ain't thrilled about how things are working out. I don't think he'd do anything drastic. But he's a little freaky right now. Not much else is going the way he wants, either."

"Why should he be unhappy with me? I'll be moving over to the Collegium any day now. He wouldn't want me to jeopardize that, would he?"

"I'll remind him. He's just anxious for something to go his way so he can get some exercise patting himself on the back for being so clever."

"You ask me, things are going amazingly well. I thought it would take me twenty years to get where I've gotten in just a few months. And you…"

"Yeah, shit. I know. I'm lucky to have a job. And Doneto, too. He really screwed the bitch in the Connecten fiasco. But he got promoted anyway.”

"They do say nepotism works best when you keep it in the family. Which wasn't what I was going to say, but sometimes the truth just slides out."

"A joke? From you? Damn, Pipe. You're starting to come around. You'll turn into a real human being if you don't watch out."

"I'm trying. How're Bo and Joe?"

"Joe got kicked up to be in charge of the Principatй's Stables.”

"Good for him."

"Pig Iron lives like a king."

"Good for him, too. I have to go, Pinkus."

"The Castella?"

"Yes. They've brought in a painter who's trying to create a portrait of Starkden based on my memories. I think it's a waste of time. But who argues with the Brotherhood of War?"

"Especially the Special Office. Bechter's all right, though. He's just a soldier. He don't preach at you."

"He is a good man."

"Look out for that asshole Drocker."

"Hey, I'm careful of everybody who hasn't shown me any reason to trust them."

"Ouch."

"I trust you, Pinkus. I trust you to be Pinkus Ghort. I trust you to look out for Pinkus Ghort. And I think I know Pinkus Ghort well enough to know when I need to strap my chastity belt on."

Ghort snorted. "Is it true, what I hear? The Bruglioni are really gonna give you a company to take down to Alameddine?"

"I don't expect many real Bruglioni to be involved. Except my man, Polo. He's Uncle Divino's spy. He's obvious and inept. We've worked things out. He pretends he's just my batman. I pretend I don't know he's watching me. Appropriate greetings to Bo and Joe. And see that Pig Iron gets a turnip from me. I have to get going. I can't be late."

Ghort grunted.

Else was right. He could not be late. Because he was not expected at any specific time. The summons from the Castella had not mentioned a time to show up.

In addition to working with that painter, Else was being wooed by the Brotherhood. He had, twice, turned down the chance to join. Which, according to Redfearn Bechter, actually pleased Grade Drocker.

Drocker did not consider Piper Hecht Brotherhood material. A blind man could see that Piper Hecht was not devoted to God.

Irony in the extreme. Else thought. Irony worthy of a divine chuckle.

The Brotherhood had been having trouble recruiting for decades. Modern Chaldareans were not prepared to endure the austerity and poverty expected of God's Soldiers.

Lamenting the headed-to-Hell-in-a-hand-basket state of the Chaldarean world, Divino Bruglioni claimed, "What this century needs is a good plague to revive the old values."

REDFEARN BECHTER WAITED AT THE BLUE POSTERN. THAT was not remarkable. A lookout on the Castella ramparts would have seen Else coming.

"You're later than we'd hoped."

"The letter said the morning."

"I understand."

"It's like a mausoleum in here." The halls and rooms and corridors were empty and still. The day-to-day austerity of the Brotherhood was intimidating in itself. Else found them every bit as committed and determined as the best Sha-lug.

"Those Brothers who were able went to Alameddine with the Emperor's scouts. Those of us who stayed are too old, too sick, too injured, or too involved in the planning to go." Bechter added, in a whisper, "I'd rather be out there myself. Not that I like fighting."

"Not enough men left to dilute Grade Drocker's venom, eh?"

Bechter chuckled. "You said it. I didn't. But I won't have to gut it out much longer. The convoy from Runch should show up before the end of the week. Hawley Quirke will be back. The sorcerer can stew in his own juice."

That made Else uncomfortable. He was not sure why. "Who Else is coming? Anyone I know?"

"How would I know? Hell. How would you know any of them?"

"By reputation, I mean. I wouldn't know any of them personally. Unless they shared those happy days in the Connec with us."

"Those men are either all dead, here, or down south. Scouting out the best ways to stomp Calzir."

They entered a room where, to Else's surprise, nearly fifty men sat quietly while Ferris Renfrow employed a long wand to point out areas of interest on a map of mainland Calzir painted on a blank wall that had been plastered, then whitewashed beforehand. The map had south toward me top, as the foot of the Firaldian peninsula appeared from Brothe. Artists continued painting the map while Renfrow talked about the Calziran kingdom. The painters wore Imperial livery. The major stuff, coastlines, cities, passes, rivers, and fortresses, were on the wall already. The artists were adding finer details.

Else was impressed.

He was more impressed by the gathering. He was late, yes, but not very. The audience had not yet begun to show the inevitable signs of boredom. Several major personalities including Johannes Blackboots himself and numerous members of the Collegium, were there. He saw Grade Drocker, of course, and some of the most senior commanders of the Patriarchal States and of the Grail Empire. Representatives of the Five Families were present as well, including Rogoz Sayag.

Else did not see Pinkus Ghort. Of course. He had left Ghort on the street, as unaware of this gathering as he had been himself. But if Piper Hecht belonged here, so did Pinkus Ghort. Ghort would be closer to what was going on.

Bechter led him to a seat on the left side of the room. So. His presence was not exalted.

A servant brought tea, a luxury Else had enjoyed only a few times before, long ago in al-Qarn.

Ferris Renfrow watched, apparently amused. But the man did not interrupt his monologue.

Renfrow talked about Calzir as though he had been there.

This was a dangerous man. How well did he know Dreanger? How much time had he spent in the Holy Lands, amongst the Wells of Ihrian?

Ferris Renfrow was a compelling speaker. He brought Calzir to life. He made it sound like a desert in the making, except for scattered olive groves, orange groves, and vineyards. The rest of the country supported sheep and goats. And fishing villages wherever there was an excuse for a harbor.

"A handful of noble and wealthy families control the best land. Which reflects a reality that obtains throughout Firaldia. The political landscape is similar, too. Calzir consists of a dozen principalities, none of which acknowledge the Mafti al-Araj el-Arak, and some more names, at al-Khazen. The Mafti is about as relevant as Immaculate II at Viscesment. Depending on factors involving conflicts between different visions of the Praman faith, the principalities recognize either the Kaif of Qasr al-Zed or the Kaif of al-Minphet as their proper spiritual leader. In practical terms, the kaifates have no more control than el-Arak. Neither kaif receives any revenue. This large island part of Calzir, Shippen, has silver and copper mines that have been in production since before men started keeping histories. Wheat is the island's great agricultural product. It's been an exporter forever. It also produces fruits, olives, and sheep. Fishing is important, but not the way it is on the mainland.

"The inland parts of the island are wild. Nor have the population all gone over to the Unbeliever. A third of the populace are still Chaldarean, even in the main towns – though mainly Eastern Rite. In the deep wilderness, there're still some practicing pagans."

Never saying so, Ferris Renfrow made it plain that Hansel had had his eye on Calzir for a long time.

That made Else wonder if Johannes had engineered the Calziran piracy, through Starkden and Masant el-Seyhan.

Hours later, after hearing more than he ever wanted to know about the topography, geography, economy, and people of Calzir, Else finally found out why he had been brought in.

He got the news during the afternoon meal break.

He started out eating alone. He did not want to attract attention by pushing into one of the circles of his betters. Redfearn Bechter approached him. "Drocker needs to see you, Captain."

Else lifted an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"He figures you're probably curious about why you're here."

"Other than just because I was told to show up? The man is smarter than he looks."

"Bring your chow. This'll be a working lunch."

"All right." Else gathered his food and drink.

"Need a hand? Looks like you took some of everything, then went back for more."

"I got while the getting was good. You'd understand if you ate where I usually do."

Bechter guided Else into a small room. A dozen men had their heads together there. Else recognized Grade Drocker, Ferris Renfrew, Divino Bruglioni, and Bronte Doneto. He pulled himself together. This could be bad.

Principatй Doneto said, "You don't need to feel like a cornered stag, Hecht It's good news."

"Your Grace?'

"You've impressed quite a few people this past year. These folks all have good things to say about you." Chuckle. "There's that look again. I'll just get to it We've decided to make you commander of the city regiment for the upcoming campaign."

"Huh!" That was an unexpected blow. “I… Really?"

"Somebody has to do it. Brothe being Brothe, we couldn't possibly agree on any native candidate. These men either know you or have heard of you. You're the only candidate the majority didn't reject."

It made sense – in a Brothen sort of way. Partly because so many of them thought they had a claim on Piper Hecht.

"You'll have people looking over your shoulder all the time, nagging you. The Five Families, the Brotherhood, the Collegium, the Colors, even His Holiness himself. Ignore them all, do a good job, and you'll be fine."

"I have no experience commanding large forces. Wait. First, let's talk about how large a force this will be." He would not refuse this opportunity, even if it cost him his chance to get closer to the Collegium.

Bronte Doneto said, "We're looking at two thousand to twenty-five hundred. The same squatters and immigrants you used against the pirates, armed and equipped from city arsenals. But, possibly, more. Recruiting and finance won’t be your worry. You handle the training and leadership."

Else did not express an opinion of the weaponry and equipment stored in Brothe's armories. The best had come out during the Calziran incursion. That had been old and poorly kept. Maintenance money found its way into the purses of corrupt officials rather than being wasted on armorers.

In Dreanger Else had commanded no force larger than a company. Gordimer did not tolerate large commands for popular officers. Else Tage was a missions specialist, meant to lead small bands of highly motivated and thoroughly trained soldiers who enjoyed facing special challenges.

"That many? Really? There's that much money around?" Paludan Bruglioni was willing to finance a basic infantry company of two hundred men. Reluctantly, and only after Divino bullied some country cousins into coming home. And because he hoped the Bruglioni could seize new holdings in Calzir.

Family added that piquant extra spice to Firaldian politics. A family could have holdings in a dozen different principalities.

Principate Doneto asked, "Are you possessed of strong feelings about Deves, Captain Hecht?"

"I have no feelings, Your Grace. I had no experience of that race before I came to Firaldia."

"Good, then."

Grade Drocker muttered something both venomous and vicious.

Doneto observed, "Our brother militant doesn't share your indifference. He had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time during the Devedian insurrection in Sonsa."

"So I've heard. I was lucky enough to reach Firaldia after the riots ended."

"The Devedians will support the Holy Father in the Calziran matter. In return for concessions and guarantees, of course. The Patriarch will grant the concessions. The Deves have more to offer than he'll have to give them in return. This once."

Grade Drocker's opinion of the arrangement was bitter but he remained a good soldier. He kept that opinion to himself. Those slinking, slimy Deves would …

"What do they want?" Else asked.

"An end to legal restrictions on Devedians just for being Devedian. They promise not to celebrate their heathen rites outside their homes."

So. The Devedians wanted nothing more than official recognition of the status quo ante. Unlike Chaldareans or Pramans, Devedians did not evangelize or try to win converts. Theirs was a tribal religion.

Else said, "There must be more."

"Of course. They want the Calziran Deves and Dainshaus spared when we invade. Their Calziran cousins won't resist They'll help by providing intelligence. They've begun doing that already."

Else flicked a glance at Ferris Renfrew. "I accept. I like the challenge. And it's a chance to make history."

"Good," Divino Bruglioni said.

"How much discretion will I have? Can I recruit my own officers?"

"You'll have considerable freedom, Captain Hecht. While the rest of us all think that we have a right to interfere. Can you handle the job?"

"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.

Principatй 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 records. 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 Renfrew. 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, dub 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, and 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.

Principatй 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 Dreangeriean 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 Wllbe 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 and 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-Minphel

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 Principals 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 me 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 -

Er-Rashal's dream was about to become a nightmare. That chance meeting of fleets had killed any chance that Patriarchal and Imperial forces could be lured into a huge ambush. The Praman allies, despite their victory at sea, were caught in a bottle. And Else suspected that they would not realize that before the hunger started.

Else glared at the map. He saw nothing but disaster for the Faithful. Hansel was too pessimistic.

Unless er-Rashal did have some deep, unfathomable scheme proceeding, he had clevered himself into the loss of two fleets and two armies of seasoned soldiers. Unless defeat was part of the plan.

Else still had no idea why er-Rashal had wanted the mummies from Andesqueluz.

Was er-Rashal as uncomfortable with him as Gordimer was? Gordimer issued orders. Er-Rashal instigated them. Gordimer would not be interested in mummies. But he would not be heartbroken if a potential rival failed while trying to bring in a collection of old bones.

"Captain Hecht?"

"Your Grace? I'm sorry." Principal Divino had closed in on Else. "That map is trying to tell me something. But I'm not hearing what it has to say. It's something bone obvious."

"Nobody else is spewing ideas like a holiday firework."

"Of course, Your Grace. If it was obvious everybody would see it."

“Tell me what you see. When you see it. And what you think. Because I don't see this new situation benefitting the Bruglioni. Or anyone underwriting the city regiment."

"I disagree. Nobody's contributing anything but money. It isn't like an actual member of one of the Five Families might actually find himself face-to-face with the actual possibility of actually getting hurt."

"Your cynicism is worthy of a born Brothen, Captain Hecht. But."

"Your Grace?'

"Are we in a bad way? Regarding Sublime's grand adventure?”

"I can't give you the answer you lust after in your heart of hearts. We're at the mercy of what the top people decide. The Unbelievers have behaved stupidly. They should've conserved their forces. They should've turned back and let Calzir fend for itself."

Principate Doneto eyed Else uncertainly. "Explain."

"The Lucidians and Dreangereans wasted a big part of their naval power. They wanted to be able to challenge the western fleets. Or that of the Eastern Empire. Worse than them losing their ships, though, is them losing their best soldiers and sailors when we have a Patriarch who wants another Crusade."

"I guess I don't have a military mind. All I see is how those troops will make it tougher for us in Calzir."

"Of course. That's their mission. But we'll destroy them, ships and men. The time and treasure invested in them will have been wasted. They won't be there when the crusaders arrive. Unless Sublime or Hansel make some boneheaded decisions of their own."

There was a stir. Principate Doneto said, "Excuse me. I have to go. The Patriarch is here."

Sublime did make a surprise appearance. He contributed nothing. He went away twenty minutes later. Else was disappointed. For years he had heard the Patriarch built up as a great horned and hoofed demon. This was a half-bald, squinty, pinch-mouthed pudgeball who looked more like a dull shopkeeper than a powerful, lunatic religious warlord. He did not seem able to understand what was going on here.

Well, he had been a compromise candidate. Which was why the Church could not now afford his overseas ambitions.

Later, Principatй Divino Bruglioni insisted that what the Patriarch showed publicly was a persona meant to disarm those who did not know him.

Else fixed the man's appearance in mind. Perhaps Honario Benedocto, like Rodrigo Cologni, slipped away to appraise the tenders of the Adversary in person, in disguise. The bodyguards would give him away.

He had no idea why the idea seemed obvious to him but no one else. Everything was right there, in the great map. Everything you needed to know to destroy Calzir and those good soldiers sent to defend that barren realm.

Else asked around. Hardly anyone could name the Mafti al-Araj el-Arak, or any prince or warlord of Calzir. The few who had visited it said Calzir was a realm of chaos, mostly small states run by petty warlords. Much like the Chaldarean stretches of Firaldia.

LYING WITH ANNA TRAPPED IN HIS ARMS, SATED, ELSE WHISpered, "You put new charms and fetishes on the doors and windows."

"Something kept trying to get in. The charm maker didn't believe it could happen here. But she took my money."

"Can't happen in Brothe?"

"Exactly."

"They're fools."

"You'd think it doesn't get dark at night."

"Are the charms any good?"

"I picked a woman with good references."

"Who doesn't take her clients' fears seriously."

"I wasn't born yesterday. Sonsa was no den of virtue, darling."

"Good."

"You think it's because of you? Does somebody want to spy on me in order to spy on you?"

He could not assure her otherwise.

"Oh, my! The serpent is still alive." She reached back and squeezed him. "Well, woman's work is never done. But I'll tame the monster yet."

Else had known just one woman before Anna Mozilla. His wife. She submitted. She endured because that was her lot and duty. She did not become involved.

Anna was always involved, absolutely and completely. Frequently more so than he was. She claimed, "I would've made a great whore. If I could do it with men I don't know. Because I'd go twenty times a day if you could keep up."

Else protested, "I'm not as young as I used to be."

"You were never that young, mister. Quit talking. Start doing."

ELSE SUPPOSED THAT FERRIS RENFROW WOULD WATCH THE widow Mozilla, who had led her neighbors to believe that she was an immigrant from Aparion. Which they thought a lie. They thought she hailed from farther north, somewhere in the southern marches of the Grail Empire. It was at Anna's house that Else always shed those who followed him. Or left them afraid that he had.

He went nowhere that night. Nowhere that Anna Mozilla did not take him.

He began his rounds immediately after returning to the Bruglioni citadel. After dealing with several minor annoyances, he snapped, "You have to figure these things out for yourself, Mr. Phone. I won't be here to think for you forever."

Madam Ristoti would not be cowed. "Mr. Hecht. What about my request for more help? I have too many mouths to fill and too few hands to do the filling."

"You're allowed three new people. You know what you need. You hire them. Don't thank me. Thank my Deve accountant. He can talk Paludan into anything. Paludan thinks numbers are magic. You also get a sixty percent increase in your purchasing budget. So serve something besides turnip stew." I

Madam Ristoti grinned. "They liked that, did they?"

"Exactly as much as you expected."

"A rare show of sympathy, then."

"Sympathy had nothing to do with it. Uncle Divino told Paludan that he was going to lose staff if he fed them that slop. The city is getting ready to go to war. There are alternate opportunities for the working classes."

"There you are, sir."

"Polo. I wondered how long it would take."

"Sir?" Pblo did not understand that his allegiance to Principatй Bruglioni was obvious.

"It's all right," Else said.

"Uh… Paludan wants to see you. He isn't happy. But I don't think it's your fault."

"Guess we'd better see what he wants, then."

The citadel had changed. Cleaning was nearly complete. Cosmetic restoration was well underway. Halls that had been gloomy and barren of human enterprise swarmed with rustic Bruglioni returnees.

Polo led the way to Paludan's personal suite. He whispered, "His mistress might be there. Pretend not to see her."

"He has a mistress?" Else had discounted the rumors because he thought there would have been more talk if they were true.

"Everybody gets a mistress once he reaches a certain station. It's one of the ornaments of status. The higher your status, the finer your mistress. When you get real big, you have two mistresses. The Patriarch has three! They've given him four or five children. But the cognoscenti think he prefers boys."

"Aren't priests supposed to be celibate?"

"That's a rule that'll be honored only in the breech until the Carillon of Judgment."

"Really? Where do the women come from?" Why did Rodrigo Cologni not take himself a few mistresses? He would be alive today.

Polo shrugged. "Wherever a man finds them. Principatй Doneto sleeps with Carmella Dometia, the wife of his man Gondolfo. He's been doing that since Carmella was twelve. He arranged her marriage. He fathered both of her children. He makes sure that Gondolfo's life is good, though Gondolfo spends most of it as the Benedocto factor in the Eastern Empire. Where, no doubt, he has a mistress of his own."

Polo added, "And, like soldiers, women also come to Brothe seeking their fortunes."

"So there's no shortage of exploitable workers, soldiers, or sluts."

Polo felt no empathy. "Men sell their muscle. Women sell their sex. If they're beautiful, personable, and can please a man, they'll do well." He rapped on Paludan's door. "Polo, sir. With Captain Hecht." Hearing an invitation that Else did not, Polo opened the door.

If Paludan had a woman with him he had disguised her cleverly. "Captain Hecht. Thanks for coming." Like Else had a choice.

Paludan had begun accumulating people skills, despite himself.

"Sir."

"The sad day has come. The one I wasn't looking forward to but which I can't prevent."

"Sir?”

"Divino says it's time to move you. So you can concentrate on getting ready for the war. I don't want you to go. That'll leave me out of excuses. Uncle Divino will throw your name in my face every time I let something slide."

"All I ever did was what you hired me to do."

"Sure. And it's all turned out for the best"

"I hope so."

Paludan pulled himself together. What he had to say was difficult. "We'll miss you, Captain. I never found your presence comfortable but it was always positive. You injected hope and ambition into the family. That was a precious gift. Go to the Collegium confident that I'll behave like a grownup with real responsibilities."

Else nodded. "Of course."

"And thank you for not creating a situation that would’ve cost me my only real friend. You had him in your power."

Well. Paludan could strike the occasional spark of surprise.

"I did what seemed best. I've enjoyed my stay here. The challenges were tough but not insurmountable."

"Your new job will present challenges you're better suited to handle."

"It's the work I was raised and trained to do, sir. Just between us, though, I don't enjoy it. Though I am good at it."

"You'll make your mark. Here. Take this. A mark of my gratitude for awakening this house." Paludan handed him a doeskin bag. "Myself, in particular."

"Thank you, sir. Though I'm not sure it's deserved."

Paludan shrugged. "Be that as it may. Polo! Come here."

"Sir?"

"Get ready to move. There's a major planning meeting this afternoon. Uncle Divino wants Captain Hecht settled in beforehand."

Else was not surprised that Polo would accompany him. That colorless little man would be within a stone's throw as long as Piper Hecht was involved with Principatй Bruglioni and the Collegium.

ELSE CONSIDERED THE DOESKIN PURSE WHILE POLO FINISHED loading their possessions. He eased off the drawstrings carefully.

"How much did he give you?" Polo asked.

"There's some of those tiny little gold pieces, like fish scales. And a handful of silver. All of it foreign."

Polo grinned. "He didn't change all his stripes, did he?"

Else offered Polo two silver coins and one little gold piece no more substantial than a scale off a carp. Polo made them vanish instantly. He said, "Paludan doesn't know but I've been working on this since yesterday. That's when the Principatй told me we'd be moving."

"Which would be where?"

"The Chiaro Palace. Isn't it amazing?" Polo babbled about the Chiaro Palace: vast, rich, labyrinthine, a city curled up inside the Mother City. A holy city well and truly saturated with everything unholy.

Else dug out the one item the purse must have been intended to convey.

That was a plain gold ring. Or, not so plain, he discovered as he turned it in the available light.

Characters were engraved on the ring. They could be seen only when the light struck it at certain angles. When held just right those characters stood out boldly, in black, as though in calligraphy.

A magic ring?

Certainly. But what kind of magic ring? It came without instructions. Maybe he was not supposed to notice.

Its ultimate source must be Divino Bruglioni. But why so obscure a means of delivery?

Perhaps Principatй Divino was worried that someone inappropriate would notice if the ring changed hands another way. Though Else was pretty sure that he was not supposed to notice the engraving. Maybe nobody who lacked a special wrist amulet would. Or maybe the ring was just another lump of gold and the engraving had to do with plighted troth five hundred years ago.

"What's so fascinating about that ring, sir?"

"I'm not sure. It's relaxing, fiddling with it."

"Oh. Clemency III used one of those big purple freshwater pearls. And my father had a smooth round stone from the Holy Lands. So maybe it makes sense."

"It's well worn. I'm not the first to play with it" He started to drop it into a pocket. And got the distinct impression that it did not want that.

He slid it onto the ring finger of his left hand, which seemed to satisfy it.

THE CHIARO PALACE WAS VAST, A SMALL CITY IN ITSELF. ELSE'S new suite was a dozen times the size of what he had enjoyed in the Bruglioni citadel.

"These rooms are huge, Polo! Nomad tribes could camp in here." It was too big. It made him uncomfortable.

He did like being so close to the wellspring of western power, just a stone's throw from the mad Patriarch.

He was where Gordimer and er-Rashal could have hoped he would be only in their wildest imaginings.

He wandered the apartment in search of obvious wrongness.

He found nothing. But he had expected to find nothing. These people would be subtle.

"Polo, see about stocking our larder. I'm going to lie down till I have to go show the Patriarch how to conquer the world."

Polo suggested, "We could have your woman friend come in to cook. She could live in."

"I don't think so."

"There're baths. If you want to use them." Polo leered.

The Chiaro Palace baths were legendary.

"Really?" Else suspected that, like most things ordinary people never saw, the Chiaro baths were much less wicked than imagined. "You'll have to show me later."

"I'm only saying. I don't know my way around. I've only been here once, when Principatй Bruglioni had me come see the apartment."

Else prowled the suite again, paying special attention to the room Polo had designated his work area. He wanted Polo out of the way. "Get busy with the food and supplies situation."

How often would he get to see Anna, now? Success brought its own complications.

ELSE MADE HIMSELF COMFORTABLE IN HIS NEW WORKSPACE. He studied the ring from Paludan's purse. The gift made him nervous. If gift it was. Might Paludan have been unaware of its presence?

Magic rings lurked large in folklore and legend alike. They served no one well.

Rings of power figured in the myths of the pre-Chaldarean cults of the north and of the cold swamps whence Piper Hecht supposedly sprang. Else learned what he could about that far culture whenever he had a chance. Someone asked him about his homeland almost daily, mostly out of curiosity. He dared not be wrong. Someone would notice.

He glared at the gold band. "Are you Grinling, the ring that was forged for the All-Father by the Aelen Kofer?" The Trickster stole that ring and hid it in the belly of the king of the ice bears. The hero Gedanke challenged the king of the ice bears to a battle with the king bear's liver at stake because a soothsayer told Gedanke that only a taste of the liver of the king of the ice bears would save the children of Amberscheldt from a deadly plague. Gedanke found Grinling when he went after the ice bear's liver.

Grinling bore a curse because the All-Father failed to give the Aelen Kofer everything they demanded in payment. The ring always betrayed anyone who wore it. Including Gedanke himself when the All-Father sent the Choosers of the Slain to reclaim Grinling. Arlensul fell in love with Gedanke, bore him a son, and, thus, sealed all their dooms. "If you are Grinling, ring, I don't want you near me."

Grinling's full tale was dark and cruel. It included rape, murder, incest, and a deadly squabble between the Old Gods and the even older gods who came before. Gods so grim they terrified the current Instrumentalities of the Night.

Character by character Else deciphered each word etched into the ring. Careful angle shifts betrayed additional characters etched in almost the same places as others already revealed. Then he discovered more inscriptions on the inside. He recorded everything painstakingly. And sighed with relief after his fabulation of the Grinling myth.

None of the inscriptions were in the northern heathen stick characters.

He did not understand what he transcribed. The writing on the outside could be preclassical Brothen. The interior inscription was in a different language and alphabet, in characters so tiny Else could not imagine them having been etched by hand. Many were too worn to record accurately.

He wished he could escape to the Deve quarter. Gledius Stewpo would know somebody who could tell him what the ring was all about.

THE CHIARO BATHS RESEMBLED SOMETHING FROM THE FANtasies of wicked eastern potentates. Wine and females were plentiful – though the girls were not there for sport, apparently. Else did not see any of that. He did see wrinkled old Principatйs being slithered over by litters of hairless, well-oiled youngsters.

A naked youth approached, "I'm Gleu, sir." Gleu had a strong accent "I'll help with your clothing."

"This is my first visit, Gleu. How does it work?"

"There aren't many rules, sir. You go to the hot baths – or to the cold, if that's your preference – and choose the girls you want to bathe you. Or the boys, if that's your preference. You don't touch. Unless you're invited. If you do you'll be fined. Second time, they'll fine you again and bar you for two weeks. After the third time you'll be banned forever. Your behavior can even bring you under the lash. So says the Holy Father."

"So there was a time when other rules existed."

"Yes, sir."

Service in the baths was a form of social welfare for orphans and abandoned children. Attractive children, of course. They received food and shelter. Their service needed be no more demeaning than they desired. Clearly, though, if their standards were relaxed their tips would be larger.

“Them that save carefully can be well off when they leave." Those who did not earn good tips or take care often graduated to service in the lowest class of brothel. "You will want girls, won't you?"

"Yes."

Gleu took Else to a room where several score girls, from seven to eighteen, of varied race, waited to help the princes of the Church and their associates bathe and relax. Else hesitated.

Gleu whispered, "Would you rather have boys help you?"

"No."

"Then pick two. Which two doesn't matter."

Else indulged. He indicated two older girls, neither a type he recognized. One was a tall, muscular blonde with large, sharply pointed breasts and eyes of ice a thousand years old. The second, also tall, was a flawless mahogany. She had breasts that reminded him of gourds. The blonde's hair was long but braided. The second girl's curly black hair was barely an inch in length. She seemed pleased to have been chosen. Each girl took an arm and led him to the heated main pool. They sat him down and let him do nothing but absorb the warmth. "Don't talk. Close your eyes. Relax."

The girls snuggled up, one to each side.

He let the warmth in, as they said. And as it filled up, his mind emptied of cares.

A girl rested her head on each of his shoulders. He drowsed.

In time, they led him from the main bath to a cleansing pool. They used soaps and scrubs on every inch of him. The cold blonde did not seem particularly interested in winning a large tip.

The dark girl chuckled. She pointed out his physical response. "More impressive than what these sad old men usually show us." Thereafter, she paid it no special notice.

The erection had not yet subsided when the girls decided he was ready to leave the pool.

Almost immediately he found himself face-to-face with an unclad Osa Stile. Osa said, "Oh, my my," and continued shepherding a bony old man toward a cleansing pool. The dark girl laughed throatily. "You've made a conquest."

Else did not respond. Why was Osa Stile here? How had he become a bath attendant? Did Johannes Blackboots have a Principatй on his payroll?

Of course he did. Several, probably.

The girls took him into a small, fragrant room. They toweled him dry. The blonde told him, "Lie down on the couch. Face down."

She had an accent that was slight but definite. Firaldian was not her native tongue. The dark girl, though, might have been born in Brothe.

Else lay down on the leather couch. The girls began to massage him and rub him with oils.

His worries drifted away once more.

He was almost too loose to roll over when told to do so.

The girls chuckled over the continued proud glory of his manhood.

After more massaging and oiling, the girls slithered onto the couch beside him. Well oiled, their smooth skin moving on his felt better than the massage had. They slowed down gradually and snuggled up.

He dozed off.

PINKUS GHORT WAS WAITING IN ELSE'S QUARTERS WHEN HE returned. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's good to be one of the wheels, eh?"

"What?"

"I've heard about those baths."

"Doubtless exaggerations that turned a lot worse once they had an opportunity to slither around inside your head.”

"Sure." Ghort charged that one word with a hundredweight of cynical disbelief. "What did you need?"

"Need?"

"You sent for me, brother. I didn't just drop in."

"Oh. Yes. Sure. I need an adjutant. For the city regiment. You want the job?”

After a stunned silence, Ghort erupted. "Shit, yeah! Aaron's fuzzy balls, Pipe! Why'd you even ask? Hey! Wait a minute. What's the fucking catch?"

"The catch is, you have to leave Principatй Doneto so you can take on more work than you've ever done in your whole damned life."

"Shit I knew it. Work. Do I get to hang out in the baths?"

"No."

"Worse and worse. Now you're going to ask me to work for free, too, for the experience."

"I'm going to feed you. What more could you want?"

"Give me a minute, Pipe. I'll think of something. Hell. Here's an idea. How about a whole fucking bunch more money than I'm getting from Principate Doneto? Where, I might point out, I'm not having to do much of anything that even vaguely resembles work? For damned good pay."

"Darn. I figured on keeping your salary for myself."

"So bring me up to date. What're we doing? What do we still have to do?"

"Everything. I'm just getting started. Hacking my way through the politics. The people underwriting the city regiment behave like they're five years old. You're only the second man I've hired myself. They're making me take on dozens of complete idiots without ever consulting me. These Brothens don't understand what you're talking about if you mention merit or competence. A rock can be a general if it knows the right people. So I'm trying to sneak a few men that are predictable and competent under pressure."

"I was second choice, huh? Who did you need more than me?"

"A nineteen-year-old miracle-working Deve accountant who knows how to get the most out of the money I'm given. He also finds thieves who try to rake off some of it for themselves."

"He good?"

"So good he can screw you out of half your pay while you think you're getting rich."

"Uh-oh."

"I have a meeting coming up. I want you there."

"Going to get my feet wet right away?"

"No. I want the Castella crowd and the tenants of this lunatic asylum to get used to you being around."

"Where do I bunk?"

"Right where you're bunking now. It's not that long a walk. Let Principatй Doneto go right on thinking you're loyal to him. And since you might be, we'll let him go on picking up your room and board."

"Eis's hairy ass, you're cheap."

"That's how I plan to build myself an efficient little army."

"By squeezing every ducat?"

"Until the Patriarch on it squeaks."

ELSE REGRETTED BRINGING PINKUS GHORT TEN MINUTES AFter entering the planning room in the Castella. Ghort took one look at the great, inverted map of Calzir and its environs and blurted, "Shit, Pipe! Look at that. We got them assholes by the nuts."

Silence fell. Twenty pairs of eyes concentrated On Pinkus Ghort. One pair belonged to Ferris Renfrow.

The snake had its head out of the egg. Else could see no way to cover up what ought to have been obvious to anyone not trapped inside centuries of traditional strategy, anyway.

"Uhm?" Did Ghort see it?

"Did that fleet of King Peter's sail yet? Did the troops from the Connec start marching yet?"

Ghort saw it.

"I don't think so. Why?" He had to ask.

"Yes," Ferris Renfrow said, over Else's left shoulder. "Clue us in, Captain Ghort."

Members of the Collegium and a couple of Hansel's top planners all clumped together, drawn by Ghort's enthusiasm.

"It looks like your plan is just to punch through the mountains and go after the castles and cities. Same as if you were going after any other Firaldian principality. Same for the last four or five times somebody tried."

An imperial staffer pointed out, "Cities and castles are where the wealth and nobility are."

"Sure. But not the food, dear heart. Not the food! Tell him, Pipe."

The son of a dog. "I think I see. Mainland Calzir is heavily dependent on bread. But wheat doesn't grow well there. It does flourish over here, on Shippen. Shippen’s fecundity was one reason the ancient Brothens occupied the island."

"Exactly!" Ghort enthused. "Wheat and silver mines."

"Explain more clearly, please," one of the Imperials said.

"Eighty percent of the people live on the mainland. They raise wine grapes, olives, and sheep. Most of the grain is grown on the island. Across the Strait of Rhype. Now, we have a sizable Direcian fleet up here, going to head this way. It can cut off help from the western Pramans. The fleet could pick up the Connecten contingent as it follows the coast. Those troops could land on Shippen. They could stop any grain from getting to the mainland. Which means no bread on the mainland. Where they have lots of extra soldiers, sailors, and animals from Lucidia and Dreanger to feed."

Ghort preened, smug with good reason. "How long can these assholes over here eat grapes and olives and goats? For a while, yeah. But they're used to bread and fish. They don't have no fishing boats left. So eventually they're gonna be eating roots and grass and river mud and, maybe, each other's babies. How long before they don't got strength enough left to fight? Not too long. If we show up down there in time to take their fields away or keep them from putting in any spring crops."

That caused a buzz.

What seemed as obvious as a naked woman in the street at high noon when first Else looked at that map, and which was just as obvious to Pinkus Ghort, was not at all obvious to men heavily vested in a strategy calculated to deliver them personal mastery of some castle or town, following the same strategies that had failed the Chaldarean liberators repeatedly since the Praman Conquest.

Ferris Renfrow asked, "You didn't see this, Captain Hecht?" With slight weight on the patronymic.

"Did you? No? I did sense that something was there. But I'm from a place that's landlocked. We don't think ships. Did anyone here see what Captain Ghort just pointed out?" Softly, Else told Renfrow, "Pinkus wasn't blinded by what he hoped to steal."

"Enjoy it while you can.

The cat was out of the bag. The pig had escaped from its poke. There would be no stuffing them back.

"Excellent thinking, Captain Hecht. Captain Ghort.” Bronte Doneto said. "Inspired and inspirational."

Ferris Renfrow eyed Else with abiding suspicion.

There had to be a catch, to Renfrow's way of thinking.

There was a catch. Of course.

This time Calzir would not survive. The intervention of Dreanger and Lucidia sealed Calzir's fate. Even Sublime's enemies did not want those vigorous kaifates to establish a bridgehead on the Firaldian peninsula.

Calzir could not be saved. But Else could try to salvage its people. Calzir's Pramans might survive a quick victory, after little fighting.

It had worked that way in the Connec when Volsard overran the Praman towns. That was how it was happening in Direcia right now. Peter of Navaya never persecuted those who did not resist him, whatever their religion. He was a firm ally of Platadura, which, while remaining Praman, supported him in most of his adventures. Which had caused the inflexible Sublime to bark at Peter more than once.

Peter of Navaya was no more impressed by Sublime's displeasure than was the Grail Emperor. The Patriarch needed Peter far more than Peter needed the Patriarch.

Sublime had definite ideas about how Pramans, Devedians, Dainshaus, and other Unbelievers should be used in order to make more room for God's own chosen Episcopal Chaldareans. Sublime's Church was not a Church Evangelical, it was a Church Militant.

King Peter was mostly indifferent to the Patriarch's grand schemes.

The key point, Else thought, was that he might be able to steal the bloody option away from Sublime. But only by being the most steadfast and cunning opponent that the Realm of Peace ever faced.