by Glen Cook
“So she’s just a clever con artist.”
“Probably. But I still have trouble swallowing the coincidence of her being a prisoner in a sporting house that fronts for the Witchfinder side of the Special Office. For a Brotherhood cabal set on scuttling Sublime’s deal with the secret mistress of Arnhand.”
“If you didn’t have to be here, if you could just retire and go live your own life, where would you go? What would you do?”
Anna was tense, suddenly. His answer mattered. She was not just chattering in bed. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” Dreanger’s call was fading, even ignoring its unfriendly attitude since he had been on this side of the Mother Sea. “I do tell people I want to get rich enough to buy one of those big latifundia farming operations, but I don’t mean it. Farming is too much work. Even for owners.”
“You ever done any farming?”
“No.”
“Then definitely don’t start. The farmer is at the mercy of everything and everyone. Bugs. Rodents.
Moneylenders. Weather. Disease. Peace. War. The whims of God and Man. If it wasn’t for forced tenancy, the people who do all the real work would quit.”
“Voice of experience?”
“I had the great good fortune to have good skin, big eyes, a pretty face, and excellent tits when I was young. Those bought me out of the rustic life.”
Hecht knew little about Anna’s life before he met her. He never tempted fortune by prying. She seldom shared what she had survived or seen before she opened her door that night in Sonsa. That simple act marked the start of new lives for both of them.
He said only, “Uhm?”
“You should’ve seen me when I was sixteen, Piper. I can’t believe any girl ever looked that good.”
“I’m sorry I missed you. Though I can’t imagine you being more desirable than you are right now.”
“You do have a knack for slinging the bull, Piper Hecht. And a woman of my years does need to hear that sort of thing occasionally.” She grabbed. “Is this thing interested in another adventure?”
Anna Mozilla made it entirely impossible for Piper Hecht to remember that there were children in the next room.
Pella and Vali were young but not ignorant of the way of men and women. In fact, but for Hecht rescuing her, Vali would by now have had considerable direct knowledge.
Young girls were very marketable.
Boys were, too, though to a smaller pool of eager consumers.
Hecht was half-awake, thinking about Principatè Muniero Delari. He had not seen the old man for weeks. Delari was preoccupied with refurbishing his underground world. While striving to avoid exposure to the machinations of Principatè Doneto.
Anna snuggled closer, murmuring, “We should probably think about getting up.”
Hecht had just finished dressing when the world seemed to end.
Hecht wakened aboard a litter. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of spent firepowder. Men from the City Regiment carried the litter’s four corners. They wore the padded leather shirts and hard leather caps of the new militia patrol, the constabulari. They jogged up the steps of a church. Other constabularii jostled them, carrying other litters.
As the City Regiment dwindled it was being replaced by unpaid citizens performing duties defined by laws newly promulgated by the city senate and approved by the Church and Brothe’s leading families. All able-bodied were now obligated to work a shift of fire watch and street patrol once each ten days, inside their native quarter, the shifts set by the crafts guilds and neighborhood social associations.
Although called quarters, there were nine military districts in Brothe. The patrols had had a dramatic effect on crime.
Hecht wondered where Pinkus Ghort had found the model. The Eastern Empire?
The constabularii lowered the litter. They eased Hecht onto a pallet. One called, “Father Capricio! This one might be important.” Then they were gone, back for another customer.
Hecht stared at the high ceiling. Angels had been painted between supporting beams. A priest dropped to one knee beside him. “Ah. You’re conscious.” His cassock was that of one of the healing orders.
“Can you tell me how badly you’re hurt?”
“Concussion. I think there was an explosion.”
“A huge one. A dozen buildings were damaged.”
“Anna. The kids …” He tried to get up.
“Lie still. The constabulari will deal with it. Injured women and children would be here already. One of the deacons or altar boys can help you look. If you don’t need me?”
“I don’t know if I do. I’m having trouble feeling things.”
“I don’t see anything external. And I do have seriously wounded people here.”
“Go.”
Where had Ghort harvested his three-branched militia idea? Every Patriarchal city now had to organize a militia. The Captain-General’s idea. Pinkus Ghort, overseeing the Brothen militia, built the local force to his own standards, dividing it into the constabulari, the guardi, and the equestri. The guardi manned permanent watch stations on the city wall and manned the several gates. They came from a more prosperous class than the constabulari. Already, some were pooling resources to hire individuals to fulfill their obligations for them. All of those hirelings were veterans of the City Regiment. And now, more than ever, beholden to the man who found them their jobs, Colonel Pinkus Ghort.
The third group was drawn from the richest families. The equestrian order. The men who could afford horses. Mimicking antiquity.
That puffed wealthy egos. Though there was resistance to actually going into the field.
The Brothen militia, as were those being organized in all the other Patriarchal cities, was expected to make some of its number available for service outside the home city.
Since ancient times the overlord had had the right to call out the entire male population. In the developing system a militiaman could expect to do forty days of active field service about once every six years.
Even the least enthusiastic cities would tolerate a ten percent callup. Or, Hecht hoped, they would contribute money. That would let him hire experienced troops from amongst the refugees.
One of Anna’s neighbors, a widow named Urgent, found him. “There you are. Anna is beside herself.
You should treat her better.”
“You could be right. Is she hurt? Are the children all right?”
“They’re fine. The girl is covered with blood but it was just a nosebleed.”
“Good. Would you tell them where you found me?”
“Why don’t you?”
“Madam, I’m here for a reason. Not because I need a nap.” The Urgent woman was the busybody sort.
Nevertheless, she nodded once, sharply, and went away. He passed out moments later, while trying to get up.
“Pinkus?”
“The one and only. How come you’re loafing around in here?” Ghort settled cross-legged, part of him on Hecht’s pallet and part on that of a man who had arrived while Hecht was unconscious. The other man would not mind. He was dead.
“Last time I tried to get up I passed out.”
“What I heard. I’ll have a couple guys hang around. In case they try again.”
“What?”
Ghort reflected. “That’s right. You wouldn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“The big boom. We think it was meant for you. Only it went off early.”
“Uhm?”
“All right. From the beginning. There was a donkey cart loaded with kegs of firepowder. Made a hell of a bang. It was supposed to go off in front of Anna’s house.”
Impossible that he should be so lucky, Hecht thought. He suspected that Ghort agreed. Ghort said, “We caught two men. Which is how we know what was supposed to happen. We’ll backtrack it. From them and from the source of the firepowder.”
“Sounds like you got it all under control.”
“I think so. Tell me something,
Pipe.”
“What’s that?”
“How come people keep trying to waste your ass? You might be the fucking Captain-General but it still don’t make sense that somebody keeps coming after you.”
“Pinkus, I wish I knew. If I did, you can bet your mother’s reputation I’d be on top of it. But I don’t have a clue. It can’t be the past catching up. I don’t have that interesting a past.”
“Freaky.”
“Absolutely. This scares me more than if I did know why. Because then I’d know who. Are you sure somebody was after me?”
“As sure as I can be of anything. And they were so eager that they didn’t care how many people got hurt as long as they killed you.”
“You have prisoners who were involved, I’d be thrilled to visit with them myself. Or, if you don’t have anything special in mind for them, turn them over to Principatè Delari.”
“I might be able to arrange that.”
“Good. Help me get up, here.”
Earth-turning dizziness overwhelmed him before he could get his feet under him. “I’m not ready. Put me back down.”
Hecht slipped into unconsciousness again.
He wakened. His head was pounding. He thought Anna must be responsible. He worried about the concussion … No Anna. No Pella or Vali. Nor anyone else who was part of his current life. But on the pallet formerly occupied by the dead man was a face from another life.
“Az?”
Al-Azer er-Selim, Master of Ghosts. Almost unrecognizable in western clothing, wearing no facial hair.
His eyes gave him away. Those eyes had looked into the heart of the Night, yet remained amused by the folly rampant in Man and all of God’s creation.
“Captain.” Softly. Breathlessly.
“What are you doing?”
“I haven’t been able to see you any other way. You seem to be avoiding us.”
“Not so. Fate itself is determined to distract me.”
“Fate, Captain?” Though Az had regular congress with the Night he remained a faithful Praman.
“Poor choice of words. Hard not to pick up bad habits here. Especially when you have to fit in.”
Az took no position in response. But he would be familiar with the problem.
Hecht asked, “See anybody paying attention to us?”
Headshake.
“How did you get in here?”
“Had myself carried in. They’re still finding people out there.”
Hecht levered himself into a sitting position. He was feeling better, now. He would be doing no running, though.
“You were the target, you know.”
“What?” As though he had not heard it already, from Pinkus Ghort.
“The explosion was supposed to destroy you and the woman’s house. They’ve been waiting for weeks for the chance.”
“How do you know?”
“We know some of the people. We know who’s paying them.”
“Excellent. Why are you here?”
“To talk with my captain.”
“Here in Brothe? You don’t belong.”
“We weren’t given a choice, Captain. They wouldn’t let us on the boats that took the Sha-lug and Lucidians out of Calzir. Men we knew, some from our own schools, showed us the edge of their weapons and made us stay. We weren’t supposed to survive al-Khazen. Your attack, the Emperor’s, the Instrumentalities that appeared, and the intercession by the Collegium, all those kept us from being slaughtered. Evidently it was extremely inconvenient that we survived. People have been hunting us ever since.”
“Pretty much what I’ve suspected. But I can’t get it to make sense. Gordimer’s paranoia doesn’t explain it.”
“It isn’t Gordimer. It’s the Rascal. We’re sure. For some reason we can’t figure he’s afraid of everybody who got him his mummies from Andesqueluz. He’s determined to see us all dead. And you in particular.”
Hecht shook his head slowly, checking to see if anyone was interested. “How bad has it been?”
“We lost Agban, Norts, and Falaq. And Hagid. Which could be a huge mistake. For the Rascal.”
“I knew about Hagid. It happened …”
“He wanted to get to you. Some big secret. So big that he sneaked out of al-Qarn and came all the way here to tell you. You made an impression on that boy.”
“And er-Rashal killed him.”
“Not personally. He made it happen.”
“You know for sure? You’re not just speculating?”
“Half and half. The Rascal has a long, strong reach on the Night side.”
“What’s he up to?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to speculate. Maybe he’s just trying to conceal the facts.”
“That we plundered Andesqueluz? He’s wasting his time. It’s common knowledge in the Collegium. That it was done. Not who did it, specifically.”
“What?”
“I heard them talk about it. They know a lot we didn’t suspect they knew. You saw the firepowder weapons at al-Khazen.”
“I blamed that on you. I think everyone did.”
“They already had them when I got there. Why are you here in Brothe?”
“To watch over you. Here comes your woman.”
Charitable of Az. And he said it with no hint of disapproval.
Anna was paler than Hecht had ever seen. And looked immensely relieved. “I’ve been everywhere looking for you.”
“I’ve been right here.”
“Smartass.”
“Really, Pinkus was supposed to tell you. And the Urgent woman was supposed to, too. She said I should be ashamed, worrying you the way I was. But I passed out when I tried to get up to go find you.
The kids. What about the kids?”
To the side, where Anna would not see, Az made a tiny gesture when Hecht mentioned the widow Urgent. One little finger motion that meant, “Enemy.”
“They’re fine. Rattled at first. But now it’s an adventure. Vali even started to say something but shut up after a couple of words. They’re at the house. Making sure nobody helps themselves to my things. Two of Pinkus’s men are there, too. But they didn’t say anything about you. Except that I should come here to see if you were with the wounded.”
“Pinkus was here. He thinks the firepowder was meant for me but exploded before they could get it up against the house.”
Anna’s eyes became smoldering pools of dread. “No.”
“I’m sorry. That’s what he thinks. I don’t know why anyone would do that.”
“Can you get up?”
“I think so, now. You might have to help.” He did get his feet under him. He did not sway much. “It was a pleasure talking to you, Mr. Suppor. I’ll keep your advice in mind.” Ten steps away, he muttered to Anna, “Everyone wants to tell me a better way to do my job.”
“He looked foreign.”
“A Calziran Deve. Came to Brothe after the Crusade because he has family here. Told me all the ways I screwed up down there and how I could have done everything better. Give the Regiment credit. They’re taking care of everyone equally.” He stumbled. Anna caught hold before his legs went out from under him.
“You sure you’re ready to go?” The healing brother was staring their way.
“I’ll be all right. Let’s just go.” There were things he had to do because of this. Being Captain-General included huge symbolic obligations.
Hecht felt well enough until he saw the damage caused by the explosion. That was disheartening.
Part of the brick facing had fallen off Anna’s house. The shock had powdered the mortar between bricks.
Another half-dozen buildings had suffered as much. Or worse.
Amongst those, in the center of the street, there was a hole as deep as Hecht was tall. “Wow!”
He barely had imagination big enough to grasp the implications of that crater. That would require hundreds of pounds of firepowder, probably not the finest because the stuff was so hard to make.
That
much firepowder represented a huge investment.
Much less firepowder had brought the hippodrome down.
His own stores, for use by all his forces, amounted to half a ton. His alchemists worked ten hours a day, six days a week. Finding the saltpeter was their biggest challenge.
There was a line of wagons in front of Anna’s house. “What’s this?” Hecht asked.
Anna said, “I don’t know.”
The teamsters were not there to help everyone in the neighborhood. They leaned against their vehicles, waiting. Looking disgruntled.
“Six of them. Ho. There’s a familiar face.”
Sourly, Anna asked, “Isn’t that the woman who was at Titus’s conversion shindig?”
The blond woman stood beside the first wagon, in front of the steps to Anna’s house. “Looks like her.”
He was not sure though. Osa Stile’s was the face he had recognized. Osa moved over beside the woman. “It is her. Herros? I’m not sure about the name.”
Osa wore his go-out-into-the-city disguise. Which made him look like a street kid of about Pella’s age.
This street kid was enjoying life. His rags were not completely awful. And were almost clean.
Up close, Hecht asked, “What’s going on?”
The woman said, “Grandfather wants you to move to his town house.” She was not happy about that.
Osa Stile added, “Captain-General, Principatè Delari hopes you and your lady will accept his offer of assistance.” He paused, beckoned. “Come here, sir.” Out of earshot of women, he said, “Here’s the deal.
Load up everything and move it over to the town house. He doesn’t use it. You can move back after this place is fixed up.”
Hecht did not respond. He was disoriented. He considered Anna’s house. Pella and Vali stood where the front door had been. He glanced at the guards Ghort had assigned. He knew both. They would do their job.
“All right. I understand.” He went back to Anna. “The Principatè says to use his town house till we get your place restored. The wagons are supposed to take away anything that you don’t want stolen.”
Anna betrayed several emotions, including anger, annoyance, and gratitude. She was not happy. But the situation was what it was. Pinkus Ghort could not protect the house forever. After fuming silently, she grumbled, “I’m grateful that the Principatè is so thoughtful and generous. All right.”
