by Glen Cook
Else finally figured out what he had missed about the situation down there. While the town boys frolicked in the river and traded insults with the besiegers, hundreds of people were carrying water into the city. Antieux's cisterns were not ready for a siege.
Initially, neither side brought weapons to the fray. But it was not long before the mercenaries seized that advantage.
It took only a few killings to panic the people of Antieux.
The mercenaries pressed forward. A seething mob fought around the postern gate, trying to get inside. People inside did not shut the gate. They put up no resistance when the mercenaries began pouring in. Archers on the walls sent a few shafts down, to no effect. The flood would not be stemmed.
Else could not stop his own company from rushing down there once talk of plunder started. Only Bo Biogna, Just Plain Joe, and Pig Iron, of course, controlled themselves and stayed back.
Of Ghort's company only Ghort himself failed to surrender to the reek of blood on the wind.
Redfearn Bechter finally came charging out of the manor house, demanding, "What the hell is going on? Where did everybody go?" There were not thirty men left in camp.
"Our boys have gotten into Antieux," Else told him. "I imagine they're murdering everyone in sight."
"Who told them to do that?"
"The Patriarch and Bishop Serifs seemed pretty clear on the no mercy stuff."
"How long has this been going on? Why didn't somebody come tell us?"
Ghort observed, "Us riffraff aren't allowed in the house. Unless somebody comes out and invites us. I assume because we might track mud and pig shit all over the parquetry."
The city was not far enough away for the screaming to go unheard.
"You don't need to be a wiseass, Ghort." Bechter hurried back into the house. Soon all the Brothers came outside. Then the bishop materialized. And flew into a rage that worsened dramatically when no one paid any attention to his orders. He knocked one of the Brotherhood soldiers down. Before he could do anything more obnoxious, Grade Drocker arrived.
The sorcerer's fell stare calmed the bishop. In a moment Serifs announced his intention of finding a horse so he could get over to his city in a hurry. He had properties in Antieux. Somebody had to protect them.
Drocker spotted Else and Ghort. "You. With the attitude. What happened?"
Ghort did as he was told. He explained.
Drocker asked, "Why are you still here?"
"I was told to make war on enemies of the Church, not to murder no women and children. Whether I'm there or here won't make no difference. You've seen this stuff before. These things are like fires that have to burn themselves out. If I stay here — and I ain't got orders to go nowhere else — I won't stain my soul with no more sins than it's got on it already."
"And you? Hecht?"
"I agree with Pinkus."
Drocker grunted. "From what I see, you who stayed are men who have seen this beast before. As have I. But I must show my face over there, even so." That face was in such a state that no expression could be read there. He did seem to be inviting comment, however.
Else did nothing to attract any more attention.
Drocker said, "You men stay here. Protect the Principal. And the bishop's property. If that's your inclination. I'll try to salvage Antieux. But I fear that God has turned His back."
The moment Drocker was out of earshot, Ghort asked, "Where you figure on heading when we're done here, Pipe?"
"Uh? I don't know. I haven't thought about it Why?"
"I'm thinking there's a good chance we might be out of work tomorrow morning. We might even be running for our lives."
"What?"
"There's a big slaughter going on over there right now. Because them people did something really stupid. And then they panicked. But there's a lot more of them than there are of our guys. Who are just overgrown kids who don't really know what the fuck they're doing."
"You think they'll get themselves killed?”
"I think there's a good chance. I also think that, no matter how it turns out, what's happening is going to decide how the Patriarchy and the Connec get along from now on. Meantime, let's go protect Doneto."
"When did he get promoted? First I heard of him, he was just a bishop who had one foot in the Collegium door. But the sorcerer keeps calling him Principatл.” Which was the top title in the Church, after Patriarch. It came from an Old Brothen word meaning prince.
"Drocker came from Brothe. My guess is, Sublime gave him the title figuring it was a freebie because Doneto was going to croak in a few days, anyway."
"You're a cynical bastard."
"Absolutely."
Drocker went to Antteux's main gate first. His party were refused entry. The city's defenders were active there.
Pesky archers compelled the Brotherhood soldiers to work their way around to the open postern. They followed the path Bishop Serifs had been forced to take a short while earlier.
Horror reigned inside the city. The invaders suffered wherever they encountered serious resistance. But the defenders were equally inexperienced, were scattered, panicky, and without credible leadership where the actual bloodletting was happening.
Hundreds of dead and dying littered the streets. The butchery was worthy of a historical epic. One of those where the gutters ran swollen with torrents of blood.
The greatest horror occurred in Bishop Serifs's own cathedral, where more than a thousand of Antieux's population, Episcopal and Maysalean alike, tried to find sanctuary.
The invaders broke down the cathedral doors and brought the slaughter into the house of the God whose work they were supposed to be doing.
The madness continued elsewhere as well, growing instead of subsiding. The invaders broke up into small bands and raced through the streets in search of easy victims and loot.
Bishop Serifs reached the cathedral while the killing there was still in progress. He made himself beloved of the people of the Connec, of all faiths, everywhere, when he broke down in a foaming-mouth rage over the damage being done to "his" property.
There were few living people inside the Cathedral when Grade Drocker arrived. Bishop Serifs was among them, though his fat body bore witness that he had been punished severely by someone. His survival was a miracle. Maybe his God did love him.
Fighting continued but began to run out of impetus. The invaders were tending their wounds, looting, or were just too exhausted to go on.
Grade Drocker chose to exercise his right as commander. He sent Brotherhood soldiers out to remind the mercenaries that the distribution of booty was entirely at the discretion of the army commander.
Not the brightest move. He was surrounded by a city inundated in lawlessness. His only protection was a handful of men who did not think highly of him or the Special Office.
Several messengers were assaulted. But the truly awful response of the mercenaries was, in places, a decision to destroy everything if they could not take what they wanted for themselves. They started setting fires.
The Legate did not seem surprised to see Else, Ghort, and their companions when they bullied their way past his remaining two bodyguards. He murmured something.
"Drocker told us to guard you," Ghort said. "The way things are going, it looks like you might need some protecting."
Doneto mumbled a question. He was drugged, obviously. Even so, his mind was working. He wanted to know what was going on.
Else said, "You explain it, Pinkus. I'm going to look the place over, see if we can defend it."
He knew the answer already. Thirty men, a mule, two nervous bodyguards, and a smattering of terrified servants who were disappearing fast would not be able to hold out. This house had not been built with defense in mind.
He wanted to find that boy. The catamite should be a treasure trove of information.
The house was vast. And richly appointed. And falling apart. And empty.
Empty. That struck home. A place this big needed a staff of dozen
s. But Else saw no one at all above the ground floor. Serifs was too miserly to employ an adequate staff.
Else found the bishop's personal quarters. The concentration of comfort and wealth there was astonishing.
Candles burned there already, though it was not yet dark. They were beeswax candles, too. The most expensive kind. They did not dispel the darkness completely. There were curious little twitchings in the corners that revealed an uncomfortable truth. Bishop Serifs had some small communion with the Instrumentalities of the Night.
They were not big enough or powerful enough to be threatening, but they were there. The Instrumentalities of the Night were always there. The wise man never forgot that, not for a moment
Else made no noise as he drifted through the apartment until he found a room where a small, slim form stood framed by a window, watching Antieux burn.
"Osa."
The boy jumped as though slapped. He spun, looked for somewhere to run.
"There's no way out"
The boy eyed him more closely. "Captain Tage."
"Piper Hecht is the name."
"What're you doing here in the Connec?"
"The Lion sent me to spy on the Chaldareans. What's your story? You were eleven and top boy in the Vibrant Spring school last time I saw you. That was eight years ago. But you're still eleven."
"The Lion sent me, too. After I spent half a year in er-Rashal's hands. My body won't ever look any older than it does now."
Else nodded. The Osa Stile he remembered was extremely bright and totally fearless, though he did not know the boy well and did not give it a second thought when he disappeared from the Vibrant Spring barracks. That happened.
"And you're supposed to do what?"
"Create chaos and dissension so the Chaldareans can't put together another crusade. I've been doing pretty well."
"You've been poisoning Doneto, haven't you?"
The boy nodded. "I set him up to be assassinated, too, but it didn't take. Now having him alive but not recovering is more useful than having him dead. He keeps the Patriarch looking this way."
"How could you arrange an assassination? We don't have anyone else here."
"I'm an agent of the Grail Emperor, too. He sent me here. He knew Bishop Serifs was a pederast."
"You're the reason the Patriarch's assassins didn't get Immaculate. You warned him."
Osa smiled wickedly. "I make life difficult for the enemies of al-Prama. And of the Empire, when that's convenient"
"You may not have your bishop much longer."
"I know. I've been trying to decide what to do if he doesn't survive."
"He's over there. The sorcerer is over there. Doneto is at my mercy downstairs. If all three of them die …"
"That can't happen. If the disaster is complete Sublime might forget the Connec and focus on an eastern crusade."
True. Yet Sublime could not be allowed to succeed here, either. Conquest of the End of Connec would give him the wealth to finance other adventures. If the Connec ceased to distract Sublime, only Calzir and the Grail Emperor would remain as brakes on his ambitions in the east.
"Explain your business with the Grail Emperor."
"Gordimer gave me to Johannes. As a gift. As a weapon to use as he saw fit. At the Emperor's request. A man came to al-Qarn. He spoke to the Lion but he really was talking to er-Rashal. He wanted to acquire a special slave."
"Ah. So they trained you and put spells on you before they sold you. Was someone named Ferris Renfrow involved?"
"He was the go-between who arranged everything."
"You actually met him?"
"Yes. I still see him sometimes. When there's going to be a change in the way things are set up. Why?"
"Gordimer and er-Rashal told me to find out anything I can about Ferris Renfrow. They're worried about him."
"He's devious and clever but he's devoted to me Emperor. They don't need to worry about him. The Emperor isn't interested in anything but thwarting the Patriarchs and widening the influence of the New Brothen Empire. He couldn't care less if the rest of the world vanishes under the ice."
Else decided to let that rest. Osa had some emotion invested in Johannes Blackboots. "Does the name Starkden mean anything?" He had not forgotten the incident in Runch.
"Starkden? I've heard it It's the name of a smuggler, I think. Is it important?"
"It is to me. Starkden tried to kill me. In Runch. The Special Office was particularly interested." Else still wondered if there was a connection with Grade Drocker's emergency passage to Sonsa.
"I can ask Ferris Renfrow. He knows everybody on the underside of the world."
"You do that. Without mentioning me."
Else had a feeling that Renfrow would be in touch soon.
Osa asked, "How long before they come looking for you?"
"You're right. I didn't find you. You don't know me. I'll talk to you again, if I can. If Bishop Serifs gets himself killed, maybe you can catch on with Doneto."
"Maybe. But it wouldn't be the same way. That man has no sexual side at all."
Plnkus Ghort asked, "Where've you been? I was about to send out a search party."
"Lost, sort of. This dump is a warren upstairs. And totally indefensible. If the people of Antieux come after us, we're dead. I say we fill our pockets and run."
"A couple of faint hearts came back. I guessed right. Antieux is going to wipe out those idiots who charged in there. But I took care of us."
"Uhm?"
"We're fixed. We're Principate Doneto's new bodyguards. And our new boss wants us to take him home to Brothe. Now."
Else was stunned. "You're a genius, Pinkus. An evil genius."
Ghort shrugged modestly. "It was the obvious thing to do. You'd rather be in Brothe. I want to go to Brothe. The Principatл doesn't want to stay here. He claims he'd rather die on the road than stay. He's worked up a real strong dislike for the End of Connec. It might go real bad for the Connec if he does make it back and starts blowing in his cousin's ear."
"Good. Excellent. And I don't see how we could be held accountable by the Brotherhood."
"That's a real, big-time cluster fuck going on over there, Pipe. And we were ordered to protect Doneto."
"I'm in. All right. What about the rest of these guys?"
"Some of them want to sit right here and see what happens. They smell plunder. But the smart ones know it's time to go. Even if our guys come out on top. Because everything has changed. Because now these people, these peaceful fools, these Connectens, will know that the Brothen Church considers them resources that it can exploit There's going to be a backlash against all things Brothen. So we need to be somewhere else."
"You're probably right. When were you figuring on leaving? And can Doneto handle the stress?"
"I'm thinking we should move out as soon as there's light enough to see. Unless that mess over there looks like it's headed this way before that. As for Doneto handling it, we can baby him along for a while. But it don't matter much if he makes it, I figure. As long as we show up in Brothe with his body, looking like we tried real hard."
Just Plain Joe and Pig Iron helped Else stare at the burning city. Else said, "I wish there was some way to fish those idiot kids out of there. If they haven't gotten themselves killed already."
"Don't beat yourself up 'cause you couldn't keep them from being stupid, Pipe."
"Easier said than done, Joe. You seen Bo?"
"Him and Ghort was seeing if they couldn't find the Brotherhood's war chest."
"Of course. I'll find them. You be sure you're ready if we need to take off in a hurry."
13. Near Rhecale, on Arnhand's Southern Border
Finnboga was first to waken. He was terrified. His mind remained engulfed in the nightmare. It took him a while to realize that he and his companions lay tumbled in a grove of trees in a land unlike any he had seen before. The sun was too bright. The hillsides were covered with tawny brown grass. The trees all seemed old, gnarled, and not ever
green. There was no sign of human habitation. But a paved road slithered through the valley below. An arched aqueduct spanned that valley, three tiers high, in the distance.
Finnboga did not know that it was an aqueduct, never having seen or heard of such a thing.
The twins recovered next. Finnboga watched their horror fade. Sigurdur asked, "Where are we?"
Finnboga responded, "I don't know. In the realm of the living. Maybe Grim knows. They talked to him." The horrors of the Hall of Heroes were fading from memory already, leaving only chills and a vague recollection that heaven was not what it was supposed to be.
Svavar and Hallgrim also awakened before Shagot. All five tried to figure out where they were, why, and, most of all, what had happened to them.
Finnboga muttered, "Surrender to the Will of the Night."
"What?" Sigurjon asked.
Finnboga frowned, baffled by his own remark. "I don't know."
They concluded that they must have been out of the world for months. Possibly even for years.
Shagot took much longer to recover. The sun reached its zenith, then sank halfway to the ridgeline behind the band before Shagot was upright and sufficiently in touch to answer questions.
Finnboga asked, "How about it, Grim? You got any idea where we're at? Or when? Or why?"
Shagot could not see well. He felt like he was stinking drunk. But he was the captain. He was the one the gods had entrusted with the mission.
He was the one who would retain every memory of every horror of their sojourn in the Great Sky Fortress.
Shagot spent a while longer collecting himself. "We should be in the country of the Arnhanders, near a city called Rhecale, in some hills that are still fat with old magic from a time when tribes who worshiped our gods ambushed a big Brothen army. In that valley down there. In those days this country was all forest. There was an altar here. Which is why the gods put us here. This was the closest they could send us to where we need to go."
