The Tyranny of the Night

by Glen Cook

  The woman scowled. She was disgusted — despite having seen worse ten thousand times before.

  Because no one was watching no one noted the fact that, at some point, the woman was no longer there.

  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.

  Principaté 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 Principaté 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.

  Principaté 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 Principaté 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 Principaté’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 c
oming.

  “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 the 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 Renfrow, Divino Bruglioni, and Bronte Doneto. He pulled himself together. This could be bad.

  Principaté 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 s
ome 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. Principaté 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 Renfrow. “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?”