by Glen Cook
“And that isn’t a problem. There seems to be a paper shortage in Brothe. I’m prepared to go from shop to shop until I find everything.”
“You can pay for all that?”
“Of course. You have a problem with me? You’re averse to making a sale?”
“Not at all, sir. This constitutes an excellent sale. My biggest in weeks. It’s just that we don’t often see men like yourself here in the quarter. Twenty sheets packer grade, twenty choice?”
“Packer?”
The old man shrugged. “Nobody knows why it’s called that. Not anymore. It’s your working grade. Your most affordable paper.”
“I see.”
“And how much of the reusable?”
“Six folded to standard-size double exercise sheets. One for me and one for each of my students.”
“Students? Uh... Never mind. None of my business. I have three of those in stock. I know where to find the rest. And the supplies to go with.”
“Good.”
“I’ll send my grandsons to bring it all here. That’ll save you running from shop to shop.” Else scowled. “Oh. No, sir. I won’t add another layer of markup.” The bent little man leaned closer to confide, “They’ll pay a commission. Because they know I could send the boys to someone else. It’s about the extension of goodwill and favor.”
“Go ahead, then,” Else said. “I’ve walked enough for today. And I still have to go back home.”
The old man shouted in a locally warped exile Melhaic dialect, well spiced with Firaldian derivatives.
Else spoke some Suriet Melhaic and enough of its cousin Peqaad to get by with those tribesmen. He understood half of what he heard. The old man gave orders to collect Else’s merchandise, then directed that someone named Pinan Talab be told that a blond stranger was in Luca Farada’s paper shop. While the old man jabbered a parade of boys from the rear of the shop snapped quick bows at Else, then headed out the front door. Each brought a burst of chemical smell, a sulfurous cast that Else had associated with papermakers since childhood. The odor stirred memories of the time before time, before his purchase by the Sha-lug. Though those memories were seldom more than a nostalgic mood.
The old man offered plenty of distracting chatter, speaking Firaldian to Else when not instructing his descendents, sometimes changing languages in midsentence. In a puckish moment, Else asked, “Why would Pinan Talab be interested in what kind of paper a Chaldarean buys?”
For an instant it seemed the superannuated papermaker would expire from horror. Then he just stared at Else in silence, disturbed and frightened.
“My paper? Shouldn’t you get that ready while you wait to hear from Talab?”
“These are strange times, sir. For example, much of Brothe is obsessing about foreigners with blond hair. It doesn’t affect us here, but it’s still a concern — if you’re the man who caused the excitement.”
Else donned a stupid, baffled expression. “I work for the Bruglioni. Uh. You’re all lathered about those guys who were supposed to work for us but really worked for the priest who was planted on us by the Brotherhood of War? Pretty funny, huh? Those guys, after the priest turned them loose, went and killed like eight or ten of me bunch that the priest was spying for.”
The old man was not amused. His grandsons began to return. As they surrendered their merchandise they hustled on to the rear of the shop. Each passage loosed another puff of chemical-laden air.
Else remained prepared for treachery — though he could not imagine why these people would bother. But nothing happened. The grandsons came back. The merchandise piled up. Soon everything Else had asked for was ready. “Excellent. I’ll recommend you to anyone looking for paper.”
“That’s kind of you, sir. Tell them to stock up now. Once the fighting starts the soldiers will take all we produce.”
“The fighting? What fighting?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Obviously, not. I’m bottled up inside the Bruglioni citadel most of the time. When I do come out people won’t talk to me because I have blond hair. What’s happened?”
“The pirates. They launched a massive raid yesterday. Against Starplire. They massacred the priests and nuns and scholars and looted everything they could carry off. They even murdered most of the townspeople. A squadron of Imperial cavalry that was headed for Alameddine overran the stragglers. That saved a few people the pirates hadn’t yet found.” The old man’s face darkened as he sketched the disaster.
Starplire, Else thought. Just inland from the coast, south of the mouth of the Teragi. Not fortified. A population in the thousands, mostly monks, nuns, and sacred scholars. Main industries, monasticism and religious education. Starplire boasted Episcopal Chadareanism’s principal university. And a tiny Devedian colony, practicing the arts that seemed to come so easily to that race.
“I see.”
“They say the Patriarch will convene the Collegium and preach a crusade against Calzir.”
“About time, if you ask me.” Else accepted his change. The old man put his purchases into a sack that, in a previous incarnation, might have contained rice. “Did you have family there?”
“We’re all family.”
Else wrestled with mixed emotions as he left. An Episcopal crusade against Calzir would serve Dreanger better than a crusade against the heretics of the Connec. It should occupy Sublime far longer while not profiting him a ducat. Calzir might hold out long enough for nature to catch up with Sublime. Or the crusade might bankrupt him.
But Calzirans were Praman.
And not very bright Pramans. What insanity moved them to do something as stupid as butcher the entire population of Starplire? Sinister forces were at work. “Captain.”
The soft voice came from a shadow in a foot-wide crack between buildings. Else would not have responded had it not been familiar. A hairy little shape hid in the crack. “Gledius Stewpo? What’re you doing here?”
“This is no place to talk. Follow me.” Stewpo popped out and hurried along the street, comical in his effort not to appear furtive. What could be more noteworthy than a sneaking dwarf?
Else followed, awash with thoughts and questions. First, war. Now, Gledius Stewpo.
***
“YOU PEOPLE HAVE AN UNNATURAL PASSION FOR HOLES IN THE ground,” Else told Stewpo. “That’s why they talk about a Deve underground.”
“Ha! And ha!”
“You’re treated like vermin, you adopt vermin’s strategies for surviving.” Stewpo had led Else down into a warren underneath the Devedian quarter. Which he suggested had been there since early Imperial times. The Deves of those days used to rescue brethren enslaved in the Holy Lands and hide them in the labyrinth. “It isn’t just a Devedian thing, though, Captain. Everybody in Brothe has secret cellars and hidden worlds below. The primitive Chaldareans, the Arianists, had a network of tunnels and secret rooms and chapels all over under the city. We know they’re still there because they keep caving in.”
Four Devedians met them in a hidden place much like the hidden place in Sonsa. Even the odor of the earth was similar. Else recognized two men. Like Gledius Stewpo, they hailed from Sonsa. The others, when introduced, were Pinan Talab and Else’s principal contact in Brothe, one Shire Spereo.
Spereo observed, “You’ve been a hellish long time getting here.”
“Such are the mercies of my supposed profession. I got locked up for half a year.” Stewpo said, “Your masters must’ve been cranky about that.”
“They’ll feel better when they learn about this war I hear is coming.”
“Which will keep the Patriarch preoccupied.”
“Are they behind it? What’s really going on?”
The Deves exchanged puzzled looks. “What do you mean?” Stewpo asked.
“Somebody has to be putting the Calzirans up to this. They can’t possibly be so stupid that they think the Patriarch will tolerate a wholesale plundering of Church property and the Episcopal States.”
; “Actually, I think they are that stupid. They know the mercantile republics are mad at the Patriarch and won’t help him. And the first raiders went home in ships nearly foundering with infidel treasure. Gold fever is sweeping Calzir. Anybody with a boat big enough to haul booty is rounding up friends and old weapons to go get rich. Starplire may leave them bold enough to hit a really large, rich target.”
Else reflected, “Too much success could make them forget to concentrate on Sublime and the Benedocto. If they bite Hansel or one of the mercantile republics...”
“They’ll suffer,” Talab said. “We understand that. But they don’t. Calzir is hip-deep in stupidity these days. Not to suggest that bright is common anywhere, nor ever was welcome in Calzir. That realm’s biggest problem is a lack of any real central control.”
Stewpo said, “This situation has repeated itself every sixty to eighty years since the Praman conquest. Eventually an allied Chaldarean fleet will scour the Calziran coast. Piracy will stop — until the last old man who remembers how things went dies off.” Another Deve said, “They always think they have God on their side. They always think Firaldians are too soft to put up a fight.” Stewpo observed, “Perhaps if they were a more literate society?”
“Stewpo, I haven’t heard why you’re here in Brothe.”
“Sure, you have. Just not from me. Things went to shit in Sonsa. The Brotherhood sent another gang of thugs from Castella dollas Pontellas to avenge that wizard.”
“This will amuse you. That wizard led the company I joined. He has almost no powers left.”
“Good,” Stewpo snarled. “Someday...” He pulled himself together. “The Dainshaukin and Devedian communities decided to abandon Sonsa. After half the Devedian population died.”
Else did not suffer a twinge.
Stewpo said, “Al-Qarn isn’t happy with you.”
“Anyone there who thinks he can do better is welcome to take over.”
“They have no concept of the realities here. But that isn’t the point. Part of your job would be to make them understand. I’ve been reminded, recently, that you haven’t reported yet. They know you’re alive only through secondary sources.”
“I was told to report when I had something to report. I haven’t, yet.” Ignoring Stewpo’s point about the educational aspect of his mission.
“People in power want to know what’s going on. They have decisions to make. They need information. They squeal like wounded swine when they don’t have it. I’m not interested in making their lives easier, though.”
“I understand,” Else said. “The enemy of your enemy is your ally.”
“But never a friend. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly. Before we worry about the shape of our end of the world we need to rid it of the threat of the west.” Gledius Stewpo said, “You might be too bright for your kind of work.”
“No doubt. And here you are, a hound baying at the behest of a false god. Yet you show no shame.”
“I hope these aren’t the end times where we have to find out which one of us is the deluded devil-worshiper.” Else replied, “None of that matters. Not now. If Sublime preaches a crusade against Calzir...”
“The Collegium will approve a punitive expedition against the pirate ports because of Starplire, but that’s all. Which is too bad. If Sublime bogged down in Calzir he’d be too busy to do any mischief in the Holy Lands.”
“As long as I’m here, why don’t I do a report that you can pass along?” Else did not mention that he had reported before. “If I can dictate it. It’s a long story.”
Later, report done, Else said, “I need one more thing. As a Bruglioni henchman. An accountant. A wizard with numbers who can ferret out bookkeeping deceits. The Bruglioni staff have been stealing their masters blind using bookkeeping tricks. I’m trying to make my name with them.”
Stewpo nodded. “I’ll see what can be done.”
***
POLO SAID, “YOU FOUND PAPER. GOOD.”
“In the Deve quarter. But they said, with war possible, the supply won’t last. Big price increases are coming.”
“War. Yeah. They want to see you about that. Right away.”
“Why? They spend all their time hiding out. I can’t ever get hold of them when I need something.”
“And that’s bad? Paludan is happy with you.”
“Really? I’m making it up as I go, Polo. They never told me what to do, they just hired me to do something. So I’m doing what obviously needs doing. And wondering why the second richest family in Brothe lives in a dump. How do they stay feared and respected? There’s nobody here to respect or fear. Is that a secret? You say they’re waiting for me now?”
“Not as such. They’re in the private audience. Playing chess.”
“What are they up to?”
“Divino was here for a while. It might have to do with the pirate problem.”
“Divino? That’s the uncle who’s in the Collegium?”
“Yes. Principaté Divino Bruglioni. You’ve probably met him without realizing who he was. He comes around here a lot.”
“Take this stuff to our quarters. Then get Madam Ristoti to send me something to eat. In the private audience. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“You didn’t see your lady friend?”
“I was looking for paper. And learning my way around that part of town.”
“All business, eh?”
“Always, Polo. That’s how you get ahead in the world.”
***
GERVASE SALUDA HAD HIS BACK TO THE DOOR WHEN ELSE ENTERED the private audience. The room was twelve feet by sixteen, big by peasant standards but small for a working room in the Bruglioni citadel. There were few furnishings. One chess table. Four chairs, two in use already. A fireplace, not lighted. Paludan Bruglioni sat opposite Gervase, scowling fiercely at the chessboard.
“Yeah, Hecht. You’re here. You were out and around today, right?”
“I went to the Devedian quarter to get paper. For the boys’ lessons. I took the opportunity to find out more about that part of the city.”
“You heard what happened at Starplire?”
“Only the bare bones of the story. I have blond hair. People talk to me only as much as they need to, to separate me from my money. I didn’t hear much war talk, though.”
“You must not have been listening. There’s a lot of war talk. Uncle Divino says the Patriarch may preach a crusade. And the Collegium will let him have it.” That startled Else. “Really?”
“Really. Most of them lost family at Starplire. But there’re more pressing problems.”
“Yes?”
“The Collegium, according to Divino, began tracking the Calziran pirates after the news from Starplire. The pirates are more numerous, more organized, and more centrally controlled than anybody suspected. The Starplire raid was a rehearsal.”
“This is more disturbing by the moment.”
Gervase Saluda said, “Indeed. Pull up a chair. Let’s talk.” Else did as he was told. “Go ahead.”
“The pirates are thinking about attacking Brothe next. They see no reason to expect much resistance. The only soldiers in town are the Brotherhood. There aren’t a hundred of them, right now.”
“The Calzirans know all that?”
“They do.”
“Do they know we know they know? No. I take that back. Are their captains intimate with the Instrumentalities of the Night? Would they think that somebody here knows what they’re doing?”
“Their leaders... might. The Collegium is no secret.”
Paludan interrupted. “That’s not why we’re here. We have to worry about family protection and property preservation.”
“By which you mean?”
“We have properties all over the city.”
“You won’t be able to protect everything. You might not be able to protect anything if you don’t know what’s likely to be attacked. Consolidate here. Everything you don’t want stolen or vandalized and anyone you d
on’t want killed. Better yet, move to the country until the raiders go away.”
Gervase said, “That wouldn’t be the best option, politically.”
Paludan added, “We’re Bruglioni. We’re obligated to defend the city.”
“How? Your army is me. Plus four gatekeepers and some kids who haven’t figured out which end of a sword you’re supposed to grab.”
“Everybody has that problem. The nearest Patriarchal garrison is at Bober, four days away. The nearest soldiers could be here in two, but that would be the Imperial garrison from Gage. Which includes the Empire’s best — just in case Hansel decides to swoop down on Brothe.”
“So we’re afraid Imperials might be more trouble than Calziran pirates?” Gervase snorted. “No. But Sublime might see it that way.” Paludan agreed. “If the pirates do come, Sublime will just hole up on his island and wait them out.”
Else said, “I won’t live long enough to understand Brothen politics. That looks like a huge opportunity for Sublime’s enemies.”
“It is. Uncle Divino and his cronies will take advantage if that happens.”
“So both parties might just let the rape happen? One out of cowardice and the other for political gain?”
“I don’t know. I do want a soldier’s professional opinion of the situation.”
“I’ll see what I can find out. Ah. Madam Ristoti. Thank you. But I think I’m done here now, so I’ll just eat in the kitchen.” He looked to Paludan Bruglioni for permission to leave. After a dark scowl, Bruglioni nodded.
***
ELSE WENT OUT EARLY. NO ONE FOLLOWED. HE VISITED THE Arniena compound first, where he managed a short audience with Rogoz Sayag and his father. Inigo Arniena joined them briefly.
Else moved on to Bronte Doneto’s establishment Just Plain Joe was on duty at the gate. He whisked Else inside.
“They got some good food here, Pipe,” Joe reported. “An’ plenty of it. This’s the best job I ever had. Except for having Ghort as my boss. He’s a real asshole sometimes.”
“That’s all us officers, Joe. When we have to get some use out of a guy like Bo, every day, after a while it turns you sour.” Joe laughed. “I got you.”
“How’s Pig Iron?”
