The Tyranny of the Night

33. Sublime's War in Calzir

Courtesy of the indefatigable Titus Consent and his Devedian associates, the city regiment enjoyed a comfortable camp behind a ridgeline within sight of al-Khazen. Even the least of the soldiers and animals enjoyed shelter from the weather. Local peasants and woodcutters, denied refuge inside al-Khazen because they represented useless stomachs, were eager to support their families by hauling firewood, helping the invaders build shelters, or doing whatever else they could. The fuel and timber were harvested from olive, citrus, walnut, and almond groves belonging to Calzirans who were inside the city, applauding themselves for having kept all the useless, hungry mouths outside.

Wood, materials, and intelligence got paid for in food. The regiment's supplies now came overland from Postastati, a ghost town of a fishing village on Firaldia's west coast, just twenty miles from the ever-expanding Episcopal encampment Calziran peasants did most of the hauling. Draconian punishments befell those who stole supplies.

The regiment kept growing, fatter instead of stronger. Every Brothen functionary of standing, every member of the Collegium, seemed determined to be there when the last Firaldian Praman bastion yielded to the Will of God.

Else chose a cottage on the fore slope of the ridge as his main observation point.

The Pramans mounted a vigorous and aggressive defense, launching probes and sorties daily, always taking advantage of the worst weather. After a few minor disasters early on, Else's captains realized that their upstart foreign colonel might have what it took to keep them alive.

The Imperial forces suffered more setbacks. Hansel did not understand Sha-lug tactics.

The Patriarchal force had Grade Drocker and his Brotherhood veterans. And Else Tage, who continued to suffer the moral pinch.

Else, Pinkus Ghort, and Grade Drocker were in the lookout cottage considering al-Khazen. A light snow fell, hampering visibility. Locals promised the invaders that this was the worst winter in known history.

Also under foot were a dozen bishops, Principatйs, and important members of the Five Families. Grade Drocker had a calming effect on folk ordinarily inclined to be obstreperous. Sublime had declared him supreme commander of the Calziran Crusade, though nobody believed King Peter or the Emperor would take Drocker's orders.

Drocker observed, "It should be our turn today."

Else, who knew, agreed. "Their leadership is too predictable."

"Too predictable?”

"From their point of view. Pinkus. The troop mix has been constant so far, hasn't it? One cadre foreigner for fifteen Calzirans?"

"That's what I hear. I can't get them to line up so I can…"

"Stop!" Drocker gasped. He did not like Ghort's folksy style. Ghort claimed that Drocker would die of apoplexy trying to figure out what was wrong if somebody made him laugh. "Pay attention." Drocker pointed. His hand shook.

Else did not expect Drocker to survive the campaign. He slipped a little every day. But an immense will drove the man onward.

A wisp of signal smoke became visible thirty degrees to the right of a line of sight to al-Khazen. It was dark. A plan had worked out.

Else learned the full story later. An unexpectedly large Calziran force had taken the bait The Pramans chased fleeing Brothen horsemen into a trap where more than four hundred of their number fell in a fierce crossfire and subsequent assault from both flanks. Eighty prisoners were taken, too, none Sha-lug or Lucidian. The action was a disaster for the Pramans.

Else repeated the tactic. The other side seemed unable to imagine their enemies using their own stratagems against them.

PRINCIPATЙ DIVINO BRUGLIONI TOLD ELSE, “THE PATRIARCH wants an assault on al-Khazen. He's gotten behind repaying the money he borrowed to buy votes to get elected. He's talking about finding officers who are more aggressive."

"Anyone point out that he's not in charge?"

"He wouldn't listen. It verges on heresy to say so, but we erred when we compromised on Honario Benedocto."

The occasion was a gathering in the lookout cottage. Else and his staff spent their days there, now. Grade Drocker was a fixture. A continuously changing cast of Principatйs wandered through. Discussion concerned the feasibility of building a stockade around the city, then constructing small forts capable of laying fires on the approaches to al-Khazen's gates and sally ports.

Grade Drocker eyed Principatй Bruglioni like he was a lunatic. Ghort suggested, "We ought to talk that over with my boss." He indicated Bronte Doneto. Doneto stared at al-Khazen, dirty gray behind a fall of snow dust, like he wanted to smash it fast so he could get on home.

Drocker, wheezing and gasping as ever, declared, "If the Patriarch wants those walls stormed he can drag his craven carcass down here and lead the charge."

Ghort said, "Of course. Time will deliver al-Khazen. The Patriarch needs money, let him borrow it again."

He stated the plain truth about al-Khazen. The invaders' circle kept tightening. And the city's storehouses did not contain the grain shown by the records. Corrupt officials had sold it over the years.

Foraging parties had no success. Raiding parties failed to capture Chaldarean stores. In areas held by Episcopal troops, every Praman effort encountered disaster.

Drocker agreed with Ghort. "Sublime needs money, let him borrow it from the Deves." Then, "Doneto will hammer some sense into his head.”

"And if he can't?"

"We ignore the ignoramus. We took no oath to commit suicide for Honario Benedocto."

Else suspected there was a personal component to Drocker's relations with the Patriarch.

Drocker spoke in spurts punctuated by gasps for breath, but lately the spoken chunks were longer and the interruptions shorter. "You're being too clever with your ambushes, Hecht."

"Sir?"

"You've done well, anticipating the enemy. But he'll get the notion that he needs to try a more sinister tack."

"Sir?" Else spoke humbly. Drocker's stumbling, halting communications lately recalled every teacher he had had. Drocker had decided to become his mentor.

Drocker said, "You've fought them man to man and mind to mind and have had the advantage because of the Calziran Deves." Those people would pay dearly if the Praman leadership found them out.

Drocker said, "There are three major sorcerers in al-Khazen. Plus the Masters of Ghosts that accompany Dreangerean formations. They don't want us to know they're there. But they won't suffer many more failures."

Else responded, "Another outstanding reason for not attacking. They can conjure all the Instrumentalities of the Night"

"They would start small."

Principatй Bruglioni asked, "Is that true, Drocker? About the sorcerers?"

"It is."

"Why wasn't the Collegium made aware?"

Drocker was blunt. "We didn't want you people babbling the news all over Firaldia."

Easy to see why Drocker was not beloved by the Episcopal hierarchy. He smoldered with contempt for the self-serving pettiness of Church politics. "You'll be needed when the Unbeliever summons the Instrumentalities of the Night, however." For Drocker there was only one worthy struggle, the war against the Night

"You need to know now," Else told Doneto. "Because they'll come after you first"

Drocker clarified his position. "There will be no attack. Waiting, not wasting, let's us develop a pool of veterans for the future."

Drocker's longer speeches left his audience impatient. But no one tried to hurry him. This was war ground, the Brotherhood's home country. Few members of that Brotherhood were more terrible than Grade Drocker.

Drocker confided, "They think I'm hard." He laughed. That brought on a coughing fit so violent that Else summoned the Brotherhood physician, who got Drocker inhaling exudations of herbs crushed in a leather sack. Redfearn Bechter helped Drocker with the bag. When the sorcerer recovered, he told Else, “I'm an altar boy. Wait till they meet Asher Huggin, Parthen Lorica, Alin Hamlet, or Bugo Armiene. They scare me."

"Then I hope I never meet any of them."

Drocker asked, "Does that worry you?"

"Sure. It would worry anyone who isn't one of you."

Drocker raised a questioning eyebrow.

"If you're an everyday sort who has to scratch for your next meal you find people who're that absolute in their convictions really frightening."

Drocker seemed amused.

Outside, snow fell lightly but steadily. The weather had settled into an unchanging pattern. Would it end with Calzir under a mile of ice, the way it was in the far north?

Else shivered. Even a well-built structure like the lookout cottage could not keep the cold out. The chills, the drafts, all the talk about Praman sorcerers coagulated in Else's mind. He left Drocker, found Ghort. "Pinkus, all the yammer has got me thinking. If those people over there send spooks to aggravate us, and we don't get ready …"

"I got ya, Pipe. What do we do to get ready?"

"The stuff every family does when they live where the Night is always at the door. Plug up all the cracks."

"Plug up all the cracks," was, in fact, an old saw from Duarnenia. Variants existed everywhere. Folk wisdom based on common sense. By plugging all the cracks you kept the cold out and you kept the things of the Night out in the cold.

Plug up all the cracks. "Pipe, I've whispered that sweet nothing into every subaltern's ear starting the first night we had to make camp."

"Then I don't need to nag." Plug up all the cracks. Else could not imagine anyone in a strange land not doing that automatically.

TITUS CONSENT BROUGHT A PAIR OF LOCAL DEVES TO ELSE. He whispered, "These people have risked everything for us, Colonel. They can't go back. But they still have family inside."

"I understand." He wanted to shriek. He was trapped. These Deves wanted to betray his people to his enemies. And he had to protect and reward them. "Set up some kind of show trial. Script it so it looks like we're lying about Calzir's Devedians helping us. Condemn them to be hung, then grant clemency at the request of the Deves of Brothe."

"It's uglier than a dead baby, but I can make it work.”

"Have they been noticed yet?"

"No. We're keeping them out of sight. They won't talk to anybody but you."

"Keep on doing that. Bring them in. Why me?"

"They're worried about spies. They've heard that there's at least one highly placed Praman agent over here."

"No doubt true. Human nature being human nature." Else Tage was careful not to remind any Deve that his loyalty might not lie with the enemies of al-Prama.

Life was not going well for the besieged, the spies reported, though al-Khazen was not yet under a complete siege. The slaughter of dray animals had begun. Cavalry mounts remained untouched but there was little feed for them. The granaries were empty. Execution of the officials responsible eased the strain on stores only slightly.

Inhabitants of al-Khazen who did not share the religious enthusiasms of the majority suffered the most. Else listened to the horror stories. He began to glance askance at Consent. "Be patient," Consent urged. "As you're always telling us."

"I do hope to hear something that makes my indulgence worthwhile."

The Calzirans were an elderly couple who had been employed in Mafti al-Araj el-Arak's palace, now occupied by the foreign captains.

"They managed the books," Titus explained.

"So they have a special place in your heart."

"They had a special opportunity to be close to important discussions."

The old folks from al-Khazen were no more patient than Else. They were exhausted. They wanted to lay their old bones down and sleep. Though they were worried about their children and grandchildren.

Else tried not to torment himself wondering why the old Deves preferred the mercies of unknown Chaldareans to those of known Pramans.

Their big news was that the sorcerers of al-Khazen would come out of hiding soon.

Else could not shake a conviction that he had missed something once the interview ended. He snapped, "What did I just miss, Titus? You could've sent me a one-sentence note that would've covered all that."

Consent replied, "I wanted to put a human face on the Devedian tragedy. Obviously, I failed."

Else locked gazes with Gledius Stewpo. The dwarf shrugged. "The young only learn directly. But I do think those old people can help."

"How?"

“They worked in the palace. They know the important buildings."

"I see. You're right. I've grown impatient"

"Easy to do, I'd think, having to stand hip to hip with Grade Drocker."

"You have no idea." He and Consent spent an hour discussing logistical problems. The worst being that other Patriarchal forces thought they could become parasites on the city regiment.

EARLY ENCOUNTERS WITH THINGS OF THE NIGHT WERE SUBtle. The sorcerers in al-Khazen were not eager to declare themselves.

The city regiment handled the probes as men always had, with charms, spells, and by plugging all the cracks.

The Emperor's troops tightened the circle in the hills to the east and south. King Peter was less aggressive. His troops wanted to stay out of the weather.

Else, Grade Drocker, several Principatйs, and the commanders of contingents from several Episcopal States were studying the feasibility of infiltrating al-Khazen via a wastewater outlet discovered by Collegium sorcerers, employing the same sort of minor entities the Pramans used to scout their besiegers. Else asked, "Are we sure they don't know this drainage system exists?"

Bronte Doneto replied, "Not even your Deve captives knew about it. The engineering is Old Empire. Cassina was a major city of the Old Empire."

Pinkus Ghort interrupted. "Sorry, Pipe. Colonel. Principatй. Word just came. The foreign Pramans have started rounding up all the non-Pramans in the city."

Else exchanged glances with Doneto. "Does that mean they've figured out that the Deves are helping us?"

Ghort volunteered, "Deves brought the news."

Else asked, "Have there been executions? Have … ? Sorry, Pinkus. I won't learn anything with my mouth open, will I?"

"You might. You're special. But that's all the news there is. Nobody knows what they'll do with the prisoners. There's been fighting."

Bronte Doneto observed, “Too bad we aren't set to exploit that drainage system. We could hit them while they're distracted."

Would the Calziran Pramans tolerate the abuse of their minorities?

Probably.

Grade Drocker invited himself in. "That's interesting. But is it germane? Let's focus on the problem at hand. Can we get men inside to seize the gates or murder the Praman leadership?"

Else told Ghort, "Make up a team of our Deves and some refugees to track the situation." He told the others, "Something bigger may be going on. Where do we get out of the wastewater system?"

The Deves of al-Khazen had provided excellent maps, some so detailed they included the number of steps up to the door of an important building.

"Not sure," Ghort said.

Drocker asked Bronte Doneto and Divino Bruglioni, "Are you really sure the Pramans don't know about this? I'd use it as a trap."

Drocker was so weak now that he had to be carried. But he was able to speak almost normally. Else did not expect him to last till spring. And had mixed feelings about that. Because Drocker had become his patron. And Drocker might get him next to Honario Benedocto himself.

THE MOTIVE BEHIND THE ROUNDUP AND SUPPRESSION OF minorities made itself evident immediately. Most were driven out, intended to become a burden on the besiegers. Criminals, prostitutes, old people unrelated to anyone important – anyone who could not materially contribute to the city's defense – were ejected along with the minorities.

Before the next day's end the Dreangereans and Lucidians began ejecting fight-worthy Pramans they did not trust, too.

Else had patrols round up a representative sample of disgruntled ejectees and offered them the opportunity to get even.

Grade Drocker cautioned, "Be careful, Hecht. I've seen this in the Holy Lands. Some of these refugees will be enemy agents."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"NO. I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN MY PROMISE," ELSE TOLD ROGOZ Sayag. They were walking in darkness, between the observation house and the regimental camp.

"I ask only because Salny tells me the Don is fading."

"The thing weighs on my mind. A commitment is a commitment."

"But."

"Absolutely."

"I understand. You've become one of the key men in the crusade."

"I don't know. I was born in the wrong place and time. No doubt if I was amoral enough to murder my father and sell my sisters into prostitution." One of the heroes of Brothen antiquity had done just that.

Rogoz chuckled wickedly. "Brothens aren't nastier than other people. You just hear about the ones who do the nastiest shit."

"I suppose."

"I'm just asking. Like I said, the Don is failing."

"Which one of the Bruglioni do you suppose the Don admires the most?"

"The Principatй. Divino was almost as close to Draco as Freido was."

"That makes sense. But we are in a war here." Meaning that a senior member of the Collegium was not an asset to be wasted while Brothe's enemies remained standing.

"I understand. I'm just seeing if you remember my father and the Don."

"You have no worries. I won't forget their generosity."

A sentry challenged them. Else gave the countersign.

"Hey! Pipe? Is that you, you old pudthumper?"

"Bo Biogna. Bo, this is Captain Sayag of House Arniena. Bo went into the Connec with us when Captain Ghort and I were trudging around behind Grade Drocker. Bo is a good man. I hear he's even shown flashes of having what it takes to be a good soldier."

Bo had grown since last Else had seen him. "Thank you, Pipe. Uh, Colonel."

Before Else could get inside the little wine-pressing building Polo had turned into comfortable quarters, Bronte Doneto and several Collegium allies swooped down.

"Principatй,” Else said, "however much I owe you, and however important you are to the faith, I can't help right now. I'm exhausted. I need sleep. Now."

Doneto said, "I'm sorry. But there may be an important new angle. We've only begun to see it this past hour. There may be something deeper than the old war between faiths at work."

Else refrained from informing the Principatй that he was a major repository for camel dung. "You need to be more specific."

"Bluntly, Hecht, to the east of us somewhere, in or around the Emperor's camp, there's an interested power that could be a fully fledged Instrumentality of the Night."

"You have the advantage of me, Principatй. I don't understand."

"Recall the thing in the Ownvidian Knot. The one we survived because you thought fast enough to wake me up."

"Yes?"

"There's a power out there, perhaps following the Emperor, that makes that bogon look as dangerous as a pet weasel."

Else stared at Doneto, wondering if the man's sanity had become suspect

Doneto said, “Times like this strain the faith of God's most devout Children, Colonel. This thing out there – Primitive peoples might consider it a lesser god."

Else nodded and shrugged and twitched. "And you're telling me about this because?"

"Because, like it or not, we'll have to deal with it. You and me. If it has an interest in this struggle."

Else indulged in several seconds of deeply felt wishing that the nonsense would go away. "Say you're right. Why is this awful godling here? If it isn't Praman or Chaldarean, why does it care?"

"You'd have to take that up with it. It's one more symptom of the agitation among the Instrumentalities of the Night"

"Maybe I should be glad I'm not sensitive to that"

"Most people drift through life indifferent to the Night until the Night reaches out and smacks them."

"Like that thing in the Ownvidian Knot."

"Like that. I still don't know what that was about. I have no enemies who'd go to that much trouble. Far easier to have me murdered in the Emperor's prison."

"Maybe you offended the Adversary Himself."

"Hardly. There was a human agency behind that bogon."

"What's that noise?" He knew what it was, though. The racket raised by men unexpectedly attacked.

Doneto went pale. "That can't be … We'd know ahead of time if they sent troops out."

THE PRAMAN SORCERERS WERE ATTACKING THE BROTHERhood. Which suggested lapses in their intelligence in both senses of that word. The Brotherhood contingent was no major threat to al-Khazen.

The uproar ended before Else reached the scene. Something like the monster from Esther's Wood had been driven off by the Principatйs. Three Brothers fell to the thing's fury. None died. Plainly not what those who sent it intended.

Else spotted several key Devedians watching. Was it coincidence that the first blow fell on those who had done the Deves so much hurt? They controlled what both sides knew. Or thought they knew.

The foe tried again, launching point attacks meant to spread terror.

Else asked Doneto, "Is this the thing you warned me about?"

"No. It's a lesser bogon. Entirely foreign."

"Foreign?"

"The overseas Pramans must have brought it. There's nothing like it in Calzir anymore."

"So. Is it the point? Or a diversion?"

"Diversion?"

"What else is going on while we're watching the loud show?" That would be traditional Sha-lug strategy. A fireworks display here while the critical attack went in elsewhere.

"Good thinking, Hecht. I'll look into it Meanwhile, you should see to your troops."

The city regiment needed no seeing to. The men were nervous but disciplined. Sitting at the center of the sprawl of Patriarchal forces, the regiment enjoyed a moat of human flesh. The probes never came close.

Nevertheless, fear remained an abiding presence through the night.

GRADE DROCKER OPINED, "LAST NIGHT WAS A SETBACK FOR the Pramans." The Patriarchal commanders had lost the habit of calling their enemies Calzirans. The Calzirans were no longer in charge. "The Night bent to our will instead of theirs."

Else learned that small, cruel things had been sent to still the hearts of Patriarchal commanders. Those deadly clots of shadow had been exterminated. The Principatйs had been waiting. Especially clever men like Bronte Doneto turned some back on al-Khazen's native Pramans.

The soldier's life consisted mainly of waiting, or of marching somewhere in order to wait. Siege work meant concentrated waiting. Else found himself growing impatient. But never so impatient that he lost sight of the fact that impatience was the mother of stupid decisions.

Ghort turned up. "You get the casualty report for last night, Pipe?"

"Not yet. I didn't think we had any. Did we?"

"I'm not sure. I've seen a few men who say they were but it looked more like they had too much liberated wine and got hurt running around in a panic. Then there's that guy who runs the Arniena company. Sayag. He's your pal, isn't he?"

"Not really. We worked together. I saw him last night. What happened?"

"I'm not sure. He isn't, either. He thinks something tried to get him. Yet that doesn't seem likely."

No, it did not. Unless Divino Bruglioni had found out that the Arniena had it in for the Bruglioni. "I don't know. It's a world full of cold miseries, Pinkus."

"And getting colder fast. Everywhere. You don't want to go back home. That end of the world will be under the ice in our lifetimes."

“The whole world will be under the ice, Pinkus. In our lifetimes. If half the rumors are true."

From the observation house, later, Else stared across the snowscape at the walls and roofs and towers of al-Khazen. They seemed darker and more dangerous this morning. Those were his people. But he could summon no sympathy. He was sure there was no sympathy for Else Tage stashed behind those walls, either.

Would the whole world go under the ice? Or would the Wells of Ihrian start to flow more strongly, as might have happened in the past?

THE FOLLOWING NIGHT BEGAN THE SAME. THE NIGHT-BORN attacks from al-Khazen sputtered sooner, however. Bronte Doneto and his cohorts turned the attack, with more vigor.

Only al-Seyhan and Starkden were active. Did they think the third sorcerer was still a secret?

The third night they turned to the Imperial forces.

Ghort caught Else when they were free of Brotherhood watchers, Principatйs, Polo, Deves, and the other plagues upon their lives. "You going crazy with this latest shit, Pipe? I am. These assholes … You think the great old-time conquerors had to put up with the horseshit we get every day?"

"What makes stories from the old days seem so great is that they leave out the pettiness, greed, mean spiritedness, backbiting and infighting."

"Yeah, well. Screw it. You're probably right. People are gonna be people. Which means they're mainly gonna be assholes. I wasn't really wanting to talk about that shit, anyway."

"But you do have something on your mind."

"Oh, yeah. There's always something going on in there. But there's a chance it might not be no more important than what goes on in the heads of all those morons who listen to a story but only hear what they want to hear."

"It's cold out here, Pinkus."

"I do have a point. In the sense that I want you to tell me what you're up to. I don't want to get my ass shredded because don't know the plan."

Else swung an arm across Ghort's shoulder. "Have you been testing the local spoiled fruit juice?"

"That's one thing these Unbelievers do right, Pipe. They ain't 'sposed to drink nothing that might maybe put them in a good mood. Their god must be one sour son of a bitch. But still they manage to make some fine wine."

"You have been sampling."

"Which don't mean shit. What does is, what I want to know is, what're we gonna do?"

"What are you babbling about, Pinkus?"

"You don't even realize, do you?"

"You're right. I'm lost."

Ghort did some verbal exercises to get his tongue under control. "You don't realize that you're the number-one guy, here, now. Top dog, after Grade Drocker. Who plain ain't gonna last much longer."

"You haven't cleared the fog much."

"All right. Look. Here it is. We got what, eleven, twelve thousand men in the Patriarch's army?"

Else grunted. "Twelve thousand, two hundred. And some. Maybe eight thousand able to fight." There was a lot of sickness. But that was worse in the city. "And your point?"

"Haven't you noticed in the big meetings how even assholes like Count Juditch va Geiso shut up when you talk?"

He had not. He had seen that even the Principatйs and most senior nobles deferred to Grade Drocker. "No."

"Sainted Eis's Holy Hernia, Pipe! For a guy who's so clever about shit in the field, you're dumb when it comes to where you fit in the camp. Those guys have watched you on the job, Pipe. Some ain't happy but they've seen you run the regiment. They've seen you fight it They know none of their ruling-class types could do half the job. And none of them want any of the others telling them what to do."

Else had seen that. Plenty. "I don't believe you but I see what you're saying."

"You don't got to believe. But we've done good. Them what don't want to be cold and hungry and maybe dead on account of some idiot who knows jack shit about the war business…."

Else shook his head.

Ghort waved that off. "A lot of people think you're the man who can keep everybody warm and fed and breathing if Drocker kicks the bucket"

"Then this discussion is moot. That nasty old man isn't going away anytime soon." Arguing against his own convictions.

"Play a game of what if with me, Pipe. What next if you was in charge?"

Else scowled. Was Ghort stupid enough to get involved in a conspiracy? "You're serious? Of course you are. You don't have the imagination not to be. Or so you'd like us to think. If I was in charge, what would I do? Exactly what we've been doing, Pinkus. Digging in, drawing the circle tighter, and not doing anything to get any of us killed stupidly. Maximum results for the least bloodshed. Our side and theirs. So what do you really want Pinkus?"

"I ain't blowing smoke, Pipe. I'm straight on. I think you're the compromise guy. And I don't agree about Drocker being in good shape."

"Now you've heard it Pinkus. Tell Doneto I'd go right on doing it Drocker's way. Letting time work. Like making wine. Though I might do a little more than he has to talk the Pramans into surrendering."

"You could shit a shitter, all right, Pipe. You ain't really told me shit that's worth snot."

"Pinkus, I don't know what more you want to hear."

Ghort growled and pretended to yank out his hair. "How come you can't just give me a straight answer to a straight question?"

"I did.”

"I bet the reason you left Duarnenia was, they ran you off on account of you've got a stick up your ass."

"I don't understand what you want."

Ghort demonstrated his characteristic flexibility by shrugging, saying, "Guess I lose. I thought I could get you to give me something. Hey. Guess who – or what – turned up? That nasty little sword swallower that used to polish Bishop Serifs's knob.”

Startled, Else blurted, "Osa Stile? The catamite?"

"I thought his name was Armand."

"You're right. Stile. Where did I get that? He's here? How did that happen?"

"He's hooked up with one of them Collegium characters. One of the really quiet, spooky, shadowy old ones." Meaning one of the more powerful Principatйs when it came to working the Instrumentalities of the Night. One of those men for whom the Night was a place of romance and adventure, not a realm of terror. Which suited Osa's spy role perfectly.

The Collegium was the stoutest bulwark that Sublime could place between himself and the ambitions of Johannes Blackboots. But his party held only that narrowest of edges there. Ferris Renfrew would want to keep a close eye on the Collegium.

"Watch him, Pinkus. There's more to that boy than meets the eye."

"Yeah. Any chance we'll do anything but sit here?”

Back to that. "Not if I can help it. If you're feeling suicidal, though, I'll give you a note introducing you to Starkden and Masant al-Seyhan."

"Bored is the word. Not suicidal."

"Bored? You don't have enough work to keep you busy?"

"I've got plenty. Don't go getting no silly-ass ideas about piling on. But I am a man of action."

"Pinkus, I’ve never seen you make the least effort to put yourself in harm's way."

"Yeah. But a guy does get antsy when all he does is sit."

"Sitting pays exactly the same as getting pieces chopped off."

"When you put it that way …"

"Bottom line, Pinkus. Final sums. Getting out of all this alive. Staggering under the weight of all the treasure. That's what I want."

"In that order, old buddy. Alive first, then rich."

"And after we're done here?"

"I go back to Brothe and be Doneto's number-one guy. You go be the Collegium's best boy. Maybe in charge of some permanent Patriarchal regiment. We're in, Pipe. Long as we don't fuck up."

"That's true. That is true." He had Drocker as his mentor and champion.

"You sigh, Pipe."

"I sigh. Because we're good soldiers. And nobody will remember that."

THE WEATHER SOFTENED. THE PATRIARCHAL TROOPS LEFT their shelters to resume work on raising a palisade just outside the reach of Praman artillery. Else wanted the circumvallation extended in both directions. King Peter appeared disinclined to come within sight of al-Khazen on his end.

Grade Drocker preferred to ignore the Direcian-Connecten army. Those people had done their part. And then they had snapped up way more than their share of the spoils. "If I had my way, we'd make the Connectens storm al-Khazen so they get used up."

Else did not venture an opinion. Later he enjoyed a tense discussion with Titus Consent. Consent had begun to understand his own value. And that had begun to go to his head.

"This isn't a threat," Else told him. "I don't do that. But the man in charge here does. And he has no love for anything Devedian. And isn't just hard and smart, but deep. He's watching you."

Not humbled, Consent said, "Your leaders have been complaining about us wasting food on the people who got driven out of the city."

"Ignore the whining. Those Deves helped us. A lot"

"As you command, Colonel."

"You don't like me way things are, take it up with the Brotherhood."

Titus Consent went away because Sublime's devoted Principatйs had found me commander of me city regiment.

Divino Bruglioni isolated Else. "There's something I've wanted to ask for some time, Hecht."

"Sir?"

"It's about the reward purse Paludan was supposed to give you before you came to the Collegium."

"Yes?" This would be about the ring.

"You know I gave him that to give to you?"

"Thank you, then. A man needs affirmation of his work – even if the only measure is coin."

“True. But… How do I phrase this? Straightforward is the only way. Did you find a ring in that purse? It would be plain gold, well worn, rather old. Nothing special. But of sentimental value to me. It came to me from my grandfather, who got it from his. I've been trying to find it for months. I know I had it when I made up that purse. I can't remember seeing it since."

"Ah." Else said, "There was a ring. A gold band. And some foreign coins. I sold it all to a money changer who said he'd resell everything to his nephew the goldsmith. He was making something for the Patriarch's mother."

Divino Bruglioni spat a curse. "That damned tiara!… I know who… How could you? Sainted Founders! The Fates are heartless."

"What did I do, Your Grace?" A Prince of the Church whining about the cruelty of pagan forces?

"Hell, nothing. You couldn't know the ring wasn't part of your reward."

"You've lost me completely, Your Grace."

"No doubt. I fibbed. The ring was special. It was magic, in lay terms."

"Wow! Like in stories?"

"No. Not like in stories. I don't suppose the man you sold it to might be one of our Devedians here?"

"No. He was more exotic. I think he was Dainshau. And at least eighty years old. I needed a translator. He was from the old country."

"Dainshaukin all try to make you think that, Hecht. Their purported inability to speak the language gives them an edge. You'd be stunned at how fast they learn when there's money to be made."

"A magic ring? Really?"

"Really."

"I never believed in them." Else wondered how many times Polo had searched his things.

"Most people don't. Most urbanites have no idea what goes on in the wider world. They'd void their bowels if they were aware of a tenth of what they can't see."

"You're scaring me, Your Grace. What did the ring do?"

"Its main power is that it makes itself and whoever is wearing it hard to notice. By creatures of the Night. If I put it on I could stand amid a pack of Night wolves and they wouldn't notice me. But the ring also affects whoever uses it. You forget about it. Then you lose it."

"That's what happened to you?"

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. I can see where that would be a handy trinket. I'll take you to see that Dainshau when we get back to Brothe. Just in case the ring didn't get melted down."

"There wouldn't be much point. He'll have forgotten the whole incident, probably."

Excellent. The perfect excuse registered for him, up front. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. Never mind. Tell me. Is there any plan to do anything but sit here and freeze our butts off?"

"The weather should start growing warmer before too much longer."

"I mean, will we do anything about al-Khazen? Besides sit here?"

"Not if I can help it. Time is the best weapon we have. They get weaker every day. A few of them defect every day. Defections will increase once they hear we're letting the common soldiers go home to their farms and families."

"I'm not sure I like that."

"It's something my great uncle taught me. Always show your enemy a Golden Path. A way out that gives him a chance to get away. Because if he's sure you're going to kill him, he's going to make you work real hard to get it done. He's going to hurt you bad."

A runner came, whispered in the Principatй's ear. “I see," Bruglioni said. "Yes. I'll be there right away." Once the messenger was out of earshot, Divino said, "There's an Imperial delegation headed our way. They've been getting hurt by the Praman sorcerers. They want to know how to ease the pain. And get some sleep at night."

Uncle Divino hurried away. Else retreated to his quarters. Why was the Emperor not better prepared? The man had Ferris Renfrow covering his back.

Else decided to nap while the opportunity was there.

Polo wakened him, it seemed only moments later. "They're coming, Colonel."

"Who?"

"The Imperials. They'll pass right by us."

Fine. Drocker would have them led through the camp to impress them. "Let's sneak a look, then."

Polo bounced outside, stood gawking in the bitter wind. Else held back because it was cold out there. And he needed Polo's help to get into his heavy winter blouse.

The clatter and rattle of tack and armor, and the rumble of hooves impacting cold mud, moved nearer. Else decided to stay right where he was. Ferris Renfrow would be with this bunch for sure. Else did not want to attract Renfrow's notice.

He opened shutters a crack. And spotted Renfrow immediately, along with several Braunsknechts from last year. The nameless captain rode at Crown Prince Lothar's right hand.

Lothar! Rumor said Johannes had his children with him. Else had not believed it. Why take the risk? But here was the weakest of the three, leading a delegation, getting a chance to show what he could do.

Else was deeply disappointed. Helspeth Ege had not accompanied her little brother. Then he was embarrassed by his disappointment.

"Polo! Get in here!"

"Colonel?"

"Inside. Now. I need you." Else sealed the shutters and hoped the Imperials would not investigate.

"Colonel?" Polo sounded concerned. There were moments when Else suspected him of caring.

"Polo… that rabbit… I've got stomach cramps. This is bad. Get Captain… Ghort back. He'll have to… stand in for the regiment. This is going to start… coming out the other end soon."

"Sir? Are you sure?"

Else groaned. "Polo, if you don't get Ghort in here in the next… three minutes I'm going to find you a … Oh! A special assignment with the people who manage the drainage teams." Polo had met Just Plain Joe. "Do… Uhn! Do you really want to improve your skills … with a shovel?"

That kind of work – and there was a lot of it because this force included more animals than it did men – was handled by Calziran day laborers. Polo did not know that. Polo did not wander around seeing who was doing what.

"I'm on my way, Colonel."

While Polo was away Else thought up an errand the man could handle after he returned with Ghort.

"What's up, Pipe?" Ghort asked, but not until Polo had scampered away.

"Is he gone? For sure?"

"Yeah. Tell me. I ate the same stuff you did."

"There are a couple of nightmares out of my past in that bunch that just rode in. I don't want to run into them until I have time to change my look."

"You already changed a lot since I met you."

"Yes. But by changing back to what I looked like before I headed south. Look. I don't want to talk. I've already told you more than you need to know. Go to the meeting. Stay out of the way. Don't tell anybody anything unless they ask. Nobody but Drocker, Uncle Divino, and Principatй Doneto are likely to miss me. If they do ask, say it looks like food poisoning. Orj maybe regular poisoning, since you ate with me."

"Sure." Ghort grinned "Which ones don't you want to see?"

"You don't need to know that."

“I figured that's what you'd say."

Else pretended to be exasperated. "Just go be the eyes and ears of the regiment."

"I'll put on a show."

"No. Don't be Pinkus Ghort. Be invisible. They might not miss me."

"There's some wishful thinking that maybe turned up in a too-much-wine dream. All right, Pipe. Anybody asks, you're dyin' of the drizzlin' shits. I'll beg them to use their powers to save you. I'll get them to burn Polo at the stake for poisoning you."

"Pinkus."

"I'm calm. Your ass is covered. If anybody notices you're missing."

"There you go. That's what I wanted to hear."

Ghort went off to do his job.

Else did not want to participate in any meeting with a delegation that included men who had shared a meal with Sir Aelford daSkees in the Sonsan factor house in Runch.

THE ENEMY IN AL-KHAZEN COULD SPY ON THE IMPERIAL CAMP, some. The Emperor had failed to enlist any major sorcerers.

The Patriarchal forces, though, enjoyed the protection of two dozen members of the Collegium. They kept turning up, determined to grab some of the glory.

The Pramans were intimate with the Instrumentalities of the Night. Their chieftains recognized a huge opportunity when they learned that a delegation had been sent to confer with Sublime's crusader commanders.

Hansel held just a quarter of the siege line. His works were not close to the city. They were not connected with the crusader works, nor were they as well developed. That despite the fact that his troops, with Vondera Koterba's contingent, substantially outnumbered those of the Patriarchy. But Hansel had had to leave numerous garrisons behind. The falls of al-Healta and al-Stikla were too recent for the troops there to break away and join the siege of the last Praman stronghold.

Starkden and Masant al-Seyhan, and the wickedness that stood behind them, were not discomfited by Johannes Blackboots. They were not worried by the surprisingly professional and competent force fielded by Sublime V. Nor were they rattled by the dramatic successes of the King of Navaya.

The sorcerers of al-Khazen struck where they were least expected.

"PIPE."

It was the middle of the night. Nobody honest had any excuse to be up. "What?" Ghort sounded stressed.

"Bad news from the Imperial side. No details yet but it sounds like some important folks got themselves ambushed and captured. Including the Emperor's daughters."

Once that sank in, Else said, "Makes me wish I was a swearing man. How do we know?"

"We seem to have Deves under every bed. I got it from the dwarf. His people overheard the delegation fussing about it. Messengers are coming and going. Drocker has demanded an explanation from the Imperials."

"He hasn't interfered, has he?"

"Not yet."

"That wouldn't be polite."

"The Brotherhood aren't fond of the Empire. The Emperors won't put up with their crap."

"And vice versa. Drocker isn't stupid. He won't anger the Emperor needlessly. If Hansel got mad enough he might create his own Patriarch, or bring Immaculate back from Viscesment."

"How's your health?"

"Not getting any better."

"Drocker wanted to come over and heal you himself."

"I'll suffer a miracle recovery once the Imperials go away." He did not ask how the conference had gone. He had had reports. The Deves did have an ear under every chair. Hansel had two things on his mind. How to get the Patriarchal troops to do most of the dying if any fighting took place and how to screw Peter of Navaya out of his conquests.

"Keep your ear to the ground. Come back when you get some real details."

Else next wakened to the clatter of the Imperial delegation moving out, Lothar and his advisers grimly serious.

An hour later a groggy Pinkus Ghort reappeared, accompanied by Gledius Stewpo and Titus Consent.

"We been took, Pipe."

"Huh?"

"Well, those guys. Lothar and his bunch. Those messages they got were fakes."

"What?" Else tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Somewhere, Polo was rattling pots.

"That business about the daughters. It was a hoax. By the guys in the city over there. Once the Principatйs got to work they found out that Johannes and his family are snoring happily in a castle fifteen miles southeast of here. There never was any problem. The messages were all fakes."

"How long since the prince left? Any chance we can get help to him?"

"It's been over an hour. He was in a hurry. I sent riders but I don't think they'll catch him in time."

Else pictured a map, tried to judge the crown prince's location and where the Pramans were likely to attack. "You're right. But the Pramans will have to stray pretty far away from safety. Get the commando company ready. There's a good chance we can get between the bad guys and the city. What are the Brotherhood and the Principatйs doing?"

Ghort shrugged. "The Principatйs are running in circles and yelling."

"They should be trying to protect Lothar."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But they're too busy worrying about how they'll look. As for the Brotherhood, I have no idea."

Consent and Stewpo remained blandly silent.

"All right. Arrange the commando thing. I'll talk to Drocker."

Titus Consent asked, "Are you feeling better, then?”

"No. But this is critical. Polo. Is that coffee ready?” Coffee caches had been discovered in several captured towns.

Fifteen minutes later, still feigning intestinal discomfort, Else joined Grade Drocker. "My Deves tell me there's huge mischief afoot Coffee?"

"No. Thank you. I don't indulge. That's probably why you've got the stomach problem. Can you do your job?"

"I'll do what has to be done." He explained what he had done already.

Drocker nodded. "Good. But hold off. I've already sent my men to do exactly that. We don't want yours tripping over mine. Plus, yours aren't equipped. Mine are used to operating in environments where the Instrumentalities of the Night are active."

"A good point. I hadn't thought of that."

"I'm not making a grab for the glory."

"I understand. You're right."

"Fear not. Lothar may be in less danger than you think. His party included two Brothers from the Special Office. They'll be an unpleasant surprise for the Unbeliever."

"That's good to hear."

There would be interesting confrontations out there. Given remote help by the Principatйs, those Brotherhood operatives might fend off Starkden and Masant el-Seyhan. But the Brothers might be surprised themselves.

The men sent to capture Lothar would be Sha-lug.

Else asked, "Do you have time to tell me about the Imperial delegation?"

"See Bechter. He'll fill you in. And lend you a messenger so you can call off your hounds."

"I brought my man Polo. He can run the message. Where do I find Sergeant Bechter?"

ELSE TOLD POLO, "FIND CAPTAIN GHORT. TELL HIM WE'VE been overruled on the rescue attempt but that I want the commando company ready to go anyway. Can you do that?"

Polo bobbed his head eagerly.

"Get going."

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" DROCKER ASKED.

"Latrine." And he had been.

"That long? Here. Take this. In ten ounces of warm water. I need you working, not riding the Holey Pine."

Unnerved by Drocker's jest, Else accepted the packet. "I'll be right back." He went away, made a show of following instructions, rejoined the Brotherhood sorcerer. "Does that stuff cause cramps? Because I had a good case before I took it."

"You may have a wind problem for a while. Unless you're so sick that nothing will save you. Sit. Get comfortable. The old ladies from the Collegium are supposed to let us know what's happening out there."

Else nodded, then said, "Sir… I've noticed that you're getting better at speaking. Seemingly at cost to your physical well-being."

"I'm touched by your concern, Hecht. But you're wasting emotion. I know what I'm doing – though that may not serve the survival of this flesh."

"Sir, I…"

"This worldly cask doesn't matter, Hecht. I would've shed it ere now had I been able to bring you into the Brotherhood. You don't recognize it but you're exactly me sort of man to see our faith through the worst tribulations, then boldly carry God's standard to the Wells of Ihrian."

"Sir? You… I…"

"The problem is that your commitment to the faith isn't of a depth equaling your abilities to inspire men to accomplish a common goal."

"Sir… Sir, you're straining yourself needlessly. You're fooling yourself, too, I think. I'm just a displaced foreigner who's been lucky. Captain Ghort would've done just as well."

"Perhaps." Drocker began to show the strain. "Think about what I've said. Talk to God. Consult your conscience."

Wishing he could go inside Drocker's head, Else said, "God's Will be done."

"Go. Do what you're thinking of doing. Without straying too far from a latrine."

There were no witnesses to this meeting. Else left it thoroughly puzzled. Clearly, Drocker was trying to manipulate him in several directions.

Worthy of reflection.

"PINKUS. WHERE ARE WE?" FIRST COLORS OF FALSE DAWN were creeping over the eastern hills. Shortly, the advantage would no longer rest with those whose loyalties hinged on the things of the Night. "Ready to go?"

"What did Drocker say?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. He did hint that he'd be looking some other way if we decided to go into the Imperial rescue business."

"Oh? Meaning?"

"Meaning the guy has a private agenda. And he thinks we can help him get where he wants to go."

"What do you think?"

"I intend to take advantage. Now, what have you got?"

Ghort laid out a detailed plan for a raid into al-Khazen itself, through the storm water drain found by the Principatйs.

"You put this together in three hours?"

"Hell, no. I been working on this since they found that drain. Just in case."

"Interesting. I see a lot of Deves on your manpower table. Especially in your reserve."

"Yeah. Who do you think will fight the hardest when we get there?"

"We?"

Ghort grinned. "You ain't gonna stay behind, are you?"

“Too many people are getting to know me too well." Else reviewed Ghort's plan. It was sound. It included two strong reserve companies meant to extricate the main force if it got into trouble. "Only thing missing is the name of the Principatй who'll be going with us."

"Bronte Doneto. But you knew that."

"I guessed. Besides him being your main guy, he's one of only about three of them spry enough to make the trip. Will he go?"

"Even if Grade Drocker vetoes it."

"He's got an angle of his own, then."

"They all have, all the time."

"Only one question left, then. Who do we leave in charge here?"

"I'm thinking the Deve kid. Titus Consent"

"Nobody will stand for that. Not for long. Not even his own people."

"Exactly. And he won't be underfoot out there with us."

"How soon can we start?"

"Less than an hour."

"I'll go see if Polo wants to go on an adventure.”

POLO'S HUNGER FOR ADVENTURE HAD BEEN SLAKED. HE WAS willing to stay in camp and keep an eye on Titus Consent. Else chuckled as he eased down an icy rock face into a gully that would let the raiders approach al-Khazen unseen by watchers on the wall. Ghort had scouted well. Snow in the gully made for slow going, though.

Ghort walked point. Twenty-six men followed, including Else and Bronte Doneto. Doneto was uncomfortable surrounded by so many Devedian fighters. The reserve force fell behind, slowed by elderly but feisty members of the Collegium. Divino Bruglioni was among them, riding in a sedan chair.

Ghort led the band up out of the gully and ordered a halt. "We need the sun to move a littie so we'll have better shadows."

"Why?" Doneto asked.

"We need to cross this ridge and slide down the other side. We'll be visible from the wall. Until we have the cover of those shadows. Or we could wait till dark. When the enemy would have his nighttime eyes."

"I see. Good work, Captain."

Good work indeed, Else thought. Ghort showed unexpected flashes of competence. Given his head in an elite crew he might amount to something. "Pinkus, you could make yourself the next Adolf Black."

"I could cut my own throat here and save the world the trouble, too."

Sensitive. "How long?" Else hoped to get inside the city before the crown prince's captors.

What then? Become Sublime's leading field officer? That would be good. He could do so much. But the risks were rising. Those Brothers from Runch … He had to stop looking like Sir Aelford daSkees – without arousing curiosity here.

"Now," Ghort said. "One man at a time. Stay in the shadows, against the rocks, and go slow till you can't see the wall anymore."

"What about pickets?" Else asked.

"Patrols haven't run into any lately. The top guys over there are afraid they'll keep on going once they get outside the gates."

Calziran soldiers still succeeded in deserting frequently.

The band assembled at the foot of the slope. Ghort was the last man down. While they gathered, Else asked Principatй Doneto what the Brotherhood company was doing. And how the Emperor was responding to the news. Ferris Renfrow, too.

Doneto told him, "You clearly don't know how things work. I can't just snap my fingers and have some know-all devil tell me whatever I want to know. I wish it did work that way. A man who could find out anything could rule the world."

"You don't know anything, then?"

"I wouldn't say that. Just nothing useful."

"I suppose not." Else watched Ghort get the troops moving again.

The next point of risk lay a hundred yards from the base of the wall. Ghort said, "If they're alert we will have to wait till dark."

Bronte Doneto said, “There isn't anyone there."

"Your Grace?"

"Look. There's nobody on me wall. No. I don't know why. Maybe because it's so damned cold. Maybe because they don't think it's worth the bother. Maybe because they've all gone to see something else."

"You sure?" Ghort demanded.

"At this range? Look. Your eyes are better than mine."

"Not exactly a sure thing, then. Oh, well. Follow me."

The band pushed through brush and clutter into the mouth of the storm drain, enjoying cold, wet feet and plenty of stink. The arched drain was four feet high and five wide. It had been roomier. The floor was deep in muck and detritus washed down from above.

Else crept forward, wondering when the trap would snap. Although that drainage outlet had been hidden by ages of overgrowth, and although most fortresses and cities that were captured were first penetrated by some similar means, Else did not want to believe that Sha-lug could be so sloppy.

There were partial collapses that, however, had not impeded drainage much. The slope was steep enough to wash most detritus past the choke points. Nevertheless, many hours went into conquering the drain.

Else stayed close to Bronte Doneto, out of Ghort's way. Pinkus seemed to know what to do and did it well. Else asked, "How are we doing, Your Grace?" He croaked his words. The fetor was overwhelming.

"They don't seem to be aware of us yet. But there's a lot of excitement. It's getting dark. I should have a better idea what's going on, soon."

Else went forward to help move fallen stonework. He told Ghort, "I hope I'm in half as good a shape as him when I'm a thousand."

"How old are you, Pipe?"

Else Tage was not sure. He did know that Piper Hecht would have no doubts. "Thirty-three. And six days. Unless my mother was a liar."

"You just worry about making it to thirty-three and seven, not no thousand. You shitting me? You had a birthday the other day and you never told anybody?"

"It's not important." And in Dreanger, amongst Sha-lug, it was not. There, you celebrated the anniversary of your ascension into the full rights and responsibilities of a warrior slave of the Kaif of al-Minphet.

"Shit, Pipe. I don't believe you're real. Hey! Look at this."

"This" was a larger, taller space where half a dozen lesser drains collected. Only one was big enough to let a man through.

Ghort said, "You're a skinny little rat, Zalno. Take a candle and slither up that drain." Then he observed, "This isn't looking so good, now. Unless we find how workmen used to get in and out."

Bronte Doneto announced, "There's a celebration starting up there. The Pramans think that having Lothar will turn everything around."

"Where are they holding him?" Else asked. He knew al-Khazen as well as a man could from maps.

"He isn't here yet. They're in a running fight with the Brotherhood. Have been all day."

Ghort said, "That puts us in better shape than I hoped.

They'll all be focused on that kid and how to use him to confound the work of the Lord."

Even Doneto seemed taken aback by Ghort's sudden passion.

He grinned. "Got you going, eh? But am I wrong? Principatй, what we need is a way out of here. When you guys found this, back when, you said there was one."

Zalno came sliding out of the large drain. His candle had gone out He had a gray cast to him. He did not like being in tight places in the dark. He rasped, "That goes on for maybe a hundred feet, uphill, curves left, goes past these big cistern things. There's ladders in those. It goes on to the downhill end of a dead-end street that looks like it runs through the middle of everything."

Ghort asked, "Can we get out that way?"

Zalno glanced around. "I could. Some of you would have to be greased up, though. All the water from this one long street is supposed to run down to this drain thing that's about ten inches high by three feet wide."

"Say no more," Ghort said. "I've got you. Can we get into the cisterns?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We're on our way."

Fifteen minutes later Else peered out the cracked doorway of what his memorized maps labeled Waterhouse Four. By twilight al-Khazen appeared to be an abandoned ruin. Nothing bigger than a rat moved or made a sound.

"Move! Sir," someone said behind him.

There was not much room. People were supposed to come get water and go.

Else slipped outside, followed Ghort. "You know where we are, Pinkus? This is almost too good to be true."

The party moved into a cramped structure that, until recently, had housed Devedian jewelers, letter writers, and moneylenders.

"Pinkus, you've done an incredible job."

"But you're gonna take it away from me now, eh?"

"In part, yes."

"You're the boss, Pipe."

"What were you going to do next?"

"Me?" Ghort grinned. "You want the truth?"

"Yes."

"I figured whoever was tagging along, you or somebody from the Collegium, would take it away from me before this."

"Eis's balls, Pinkus, you're the sorriest, most cynical bastard on the face of the earth."

"Does that make me wrong?"

"No. Principatй. What's the story now? Does it look like we can steal Lothar back and make the Grail Emperor love us?"

"Yes. And no. And yes. And no."

Ghort said, "Women love a man who's confident and knows right where he stands."

Doneto gave Ghort a look that suggested the Principatй was considering rendering him down for fat.

"I take it back if I'm wrong."

Doneto told Else, "We're perfectly positioned. When they bring their captives in they have to pass by here to reach the palace and the citadel. We can jump them, grab Lothar, and run like hell. I'd leave booby traps to slow them down while we escape back to our covering force."

"That sounds just plain totally alluring," Ghort said.

Else scowled. He was in that cleft between Else Tage and Piper Hecht. "Can you tell what the Brotherhood has managed to do?"

"No. Sit down and be quiet."

Time passed. Else napped. A hand shook him. He found Ghort and Doneto looming over him.

Doneto murmured, "The Pramans have shaken the Brotherhood. They kept hold of their prisoners. They'll arrive soon. There's less celebration, now. They got hurt, badly. As you might expect, seeing they had to break through a band handpicked by Grade Drocker."

Pinkus Ghort asked, "How many people do we need to rescue?"

Doneto ignored him.

Else asked, "How many of them were there?" He recalled seeing about twenty pass the wine-pressing house.

Still, Doneto said nothing. Else prodded. "Is it a secret, Your Grace?"

"I don't know," Doneto snapped. "There should be seven prisoners. Most all wounded.”

That made sense. The Braunsknechts would not give up without a fight "Now we're getting somewhere," Else said. "What else? We're going to be in a fight in a while. What you hold back might get us all killed."

Scowling, dejected at having to share any knowledge with anyone, Doneto replied, "There were nineteen men with Lothar. Two were his servants. Two were priests. Two were Brotherhood of War. Ten were Braunsknechts. The rest were more mysterious. Though we saw them in Plemenza."

"Ferris Renfrew. Of course. The Emperor's head spy. He was under foot a lot when we were getting ready for this squabble."

"Yes. I don't think he's one of the captives."

The Sha-lug who captured Lothar, Else believed, deserved the greatest honor.

Else asked, "Do you know anything that might be useful now?" His tone informed the whole band that he was straining to remain patient "Reminding you, what you don't say could get you dead with the rest of us."

Doneto said, "They're sending out more of their best men to cover the raiders. For their trouble they're getting Lothar, a priest who made no effort to avoid capture, two half-dead brothers from the cult of war, and several Braunsknechts in equally bad shape, still alive only because those in charge want to interrogate them."

Doneto intoned, "Tell me about that building there. Two up and across the street It feels empty."

"It should be," Else said. "It was the Dainshau temple and exchange. They abandoned it after the Unbelievers arrived."

"Do you know every building in the city, Hecht?"

"Only the ones that the refugees said were important."

"Suppose some of us occupy that building and the rest stay here. The ones over there hit first. Then those of us here snatch Lothar once the Pramans start to react there. They'll be feeling safe and relaxed. We can hit and get."

Else was not pleased. But he was no Grade Drocker. He could not tell a Principatй to shut up and get out of me way. "Pinkus, you'd better warn the reserves to be ready."

"That's their job, Pipe. They're on it now."

Else asked Doneto, "Can you tell, is that building really empty? There have been a lot of cold, snowy nights since the Dainshaukin fled."

"Go check," Doneto suggested. "If nobody cuts your throat, it's safe."

Else did exactly that. But alone. He could pass himself off as a Dreangerean for as long as it took to become invisible again.

The Dainshau structure had not remained empty. Soldiers had moved in but were not at home now. But, as Else was about to summon reinforcements, the Pramans with the Imperial prisoners appeared.

Else muttered, "Pinkus, I hope you have smarts enough to manage."

Of course he did. A better question might be, would Doneto refrain from interfering?

The Pramans were not alert. And why should they be, deep inside their own stronghold, when they were now confident of their ultimate victory? They were hurrying, in no formation, cracking the dark jokes men make after they have stuck a thumb in Death's eye and gotten away. The first dozen wore Lucidian helmets and rags that had started out as the uniform clothing of Indala al-Sul Halaladin's home cavalry. Next came the prisoners, in the care of Mafti al-Araj el-Arak's lifeguards. Eight or nine Sha-lug brought up the rear.

Something dark and noisome rose from the cobblestones in front of the Lucidians. The stench made Else want to retch. Then Ghort struck from the downhill side. The Lucidians and Calzirans panicked. The Sha-lug were less affected. Even so, Else was embarrassed by their feeble resistance.

Ghort reclaimed the prisoners with little effort.

Many of the fleeing Pramans ran into the building whence

Else was watching.

A second stinking shadow hoisted itself up in the gap between the Pramans and Ghort's raiders.

Else had no opportunity to get away. He dove into a shadowy corner, burrowed into a pile of junk and equipment needing repair, pulled some rags up to cover his face, and fought to control his breathing.

It had been a long time since he had heard his own language spoken. It took several minutes to get back into it.

There were twenty angry men within fifteen feet. Some cursed. Some threw things. Some wanted to counterattack right now, never mind that they had no idea what they faced. Never mind that they were so exhausted that they could barely stand.

A hand passed through Else's limited field of vision. It grabbed a broken saddle from near his hidden feet, flipped it onto its side. A man sat down. He panted, having trouble breathing. He slumped in defeat and a despair beneath which lay anger like molten stone. The man believed he had been misused, wasted, possibly even betrayed.

The twenty were a mixture of Lucidians, Calzirans, and Sha-lug. They went out again after a few minutes. The man seated on the saddle did not join them. Those who spoke to him received only grunts in response.

This was the man in charge, Else realized. And he was hurt He did try to follow the others but did not have the strength.

Else slapped a hand across the wounded man's mouth as he came out of hiding. He would do no harm if he could help it. Then he gasped. "Bone?"

The wounded man looked at Else like he had met his own ghost.

Else turned. "Bone? That is you, isn't it?"

"Captain Tage? But you're dead. For more than a year."

"Hunh. I hadn't heard. When did this happen?"

"They said you were killed by an infidel sorcerer the day you landed in Firaldia."

"They did? Interesting." Inasmuch as he had been sending reports until the city regiment left Brothe. "Who would that 'they' be?"

"Er-Rashal, Captain. He told everybody. The Marshall was seriously disappointed, mostly because he didn't get more use out of you. He wasn't sorry you were dead."

Else's deepest, most secret suspicions seemed confirmed. "Is that our company out there?"

"What's left. And some Lucidians and natives we've been working with. Captain, I'm pretty sure we're here to get wiped out. We get all the worst jobs. We keep losing men. We left Az out there somewhere this time."

"I don't want anyone to know I survived. Not yet. The third sorcerer. The mystery man. That would be er-Rashal himself. Right?"

"Uh… Yes. But how could you know?"

"You know. And probably shouldn't. Right? Bone, we know almost everything there is to know, over there. We have copies of the pay lists of the Calziran companies."

"The Deves."

"They aren't happy about how they were treated here."

"You said 'we.' Who are you now, Captain?"

"Still Else Tage. Your Captain. I was given an assignment. I'm living it. I've had tremendous success, news of which apparently hasn't gotten back to al-Qarn." Else shielded Bone from details the man might be tempted to pass along.

"Bone, I have no idea what er-Rashal is up to. He's managed to waste Dreanger's fleet and a lot of Sha-lug. He isn't going to win here. He seems blind to the real situation. Do us both a favor. Get out before he gets you killed. Get out and carry the word back to al-Qarn."

Bone looked distinctly uncomfortable. Pained in his heart and flesh. "Can't, Captain. We swore the oath. We all did, back when we thought this would stop the crusaders from coming."

Else did not argue. This kind of commitment might seem foolhardy but it was critical to Sha-lug. "Will his death release you?"

"Yes."

Else rested a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "Don't chase us tonight, Bone. Don't make us kill you when we come back. I'm leaving, now. Forget you saw me."

Else darted out of the temple. There was action around Waterhouse Four but the big racket was somewhere else, off to the east

Else caught snatches before he clambered down into the cistern of Waterhouse Two. Braunsknechts had seized a gate. Imperial troops were in the city.

Else's escape attempt ended quickly. Scores of Pramans had gotten into the drainage system through Waterhouse Four, chasing the raiders. Else stayed where he was, hoping to go unnoticed, wishing he wore less distinctively Chaldarean clothing.