Lord of the Silent Kingdom

by Glen Cook

  “Really?” His preconception was that he would face raving fanatics who considered yielding to Sublime worse than martyrdom.

  “At the best of times the Connec is a loosely structured realm. Anarchy is one tomorrow away.

  Connectens have enjoyed a comfortable life since Imperial times. They’d tolerate anything as long as people tolerated them. Until Sublime decided to stick his nose in.”

  “So … Oh-oh.” Principatè Delari had appeared.

  Some people felt no need to get permission to drop in on the Captain-General. All of them were members of the Collegium.

  “See you later,” Consent said. He was not comfortable around Principatè Delari. Despite the man’s sponsorship.

  Delari watched Consent scamper downstairs. “That man is awfully timid for a soldier.”

  “You have no idea how much you terrify ordinary people, do you?”

  Puzzled, Delari asked, “Why would he be afraid of me?”

  “To ordinary folks you’re like Cloven Februaren is to you.” Who was in Hecht’s thoughts because Redfearn Bechter had seen him yesterday. “Only more so.”

  Delari was not pleased. But he brushed it aside. “I hear Colonel Ghort is coming back to us.”

  “He will be. I’m glad you came. Saves me looking for you. Pinkus should have prisoners who may explain what we saw there before. Who may tell us who Vali is. But Principatè Doneto might want to keep us away from them.”

  Delari had not mentioned his conflict with Doneto since that fierce encounter in the catacombs.

  “And you’re afraid Colonel Ghort is still beholden to Doneto.”

  “Yes.”

  “Doneto doesn’t know what Ghort was doing. Besides taming a republic that wasn’t friendly to the Patriarch. He hasn’t bothered to find out. That tells me he has no interest in Sonsa.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “Sublime sent him.”

  “But …”

  “All very complicated, right?”

  “I don’t know how you people live the way you do.”

  “You’re talking? Never mind. I’m sure Bronte Doneto has motives for being here that aren’t those of his cousin. Nor those of any conspiracy to thwart Sublime. Doneto has an abiding hatred for Antieux. Bad things happened to him there.”

  “He asked for them.”

  “That isn’t relevant, Piper. If an enemy is so arrogant as to defend himself and defeat you …”

  Titus Consent returned without being invited. He was pale and confused. “Sir, there’s a message from Colonel Smolens. Somebody assassinated Immaculate.”

  “What? Damnit! Damnit! I wish I could swear like Pinkus. Get in here, Titus. Talk to us.”

  “That’s it. Somebody got into the Palace of the Kings. The Braunsknechts weren’t on duty anymore.

  There wasn’t any reason for a heavy guard. Immaculate had been overthrown.”

  “I understand.”

  Consent continued. “He’s made arrests. The assassins were clever getting to Immaculate but not clever getting away.”

  “The news isn’t a hundred percent bad, then, is it?”

  “The men they caught were all members of the Society, Captain-General. They were defiling and destroying symbols of the Viscesment reign when they were captured.”

  “That isn’t good,” Principal Delari observed. “We’ve just gotten us thousands of new enemies.”

  Hecht shook his head. “What were they thinking? Never mind. I know. The human capacity for stupidity is infinite. Instead of a crusade against the Night, how about we exterminate stupidity? Titus. Send a courier right now. Smolens should question those assassins publicly. Then execute them publicly. And fast. I won’t condone evil even in God’s Name. What do you want?”

  Principatè Doneto had appeared, also uninvited.

  Principatè Delari said, “Deep breaths, Piper. No matter how angry you are, you can’t address a member of the Collegium that way.”

  “My apologies, Your Grace. You’ve heard the news that has me so distressed?”

  “I overheard your instructions to Lieutenant Consent. They’re a bit draconian. A response that dramatic is sure to blunt the initiative of Society members.”

  Principatè Delari caught Hecht’s elbow and squeezed with surprising force. “Stifle it, Piper. Bronte, anything less will provoke a firestorm.”

  “Well. Yes. You could be right. Those people are becoming too full of their mission. Lieutenant, forget your orders.”

  Delari squeezed till Hecht ground his teeth.

  Doneto continued. “I’ll go to Viscesment. The trial and executions will have more impact if the Patriarch’s cousin presides.”

  Hecht growled, “If the executions are of somebody besides some poor spear carrier.”

  Doneto glared at him, for the first time in his recollection directly angry.

  Principatè Delari squeezed his elbow again.

  ‘Titus, that’s how we’ll do it.” He bowed slightly to Doneto. “It’s in your hands, Your Grace. Please move swiftly, lest the wound fester.”

  It might be useful to have Bronte Doneto far from the main camp, too.

  “I do understand that, Captain-General. I’ll be on the road within the hour.” Doneto turned and left.

  Give the man his due. He traveled without an entourage. He could move fast when he decided to do so.

  Hecht waited fifteen seconds to ask, “You think he was behind it?”

  Delari said, “No. His anger was genuine. The Society is fast becoming more curse than sword. They win no friends for the Church.”

  Hecht mused, “So how long do I have to sit here while they make our future more difficult? Sublime has become as wishy-washy as Duke Tormond.”

  Consent said, “We could get lucky. Tormond and the Patriarch could just sit there waiting for the other guy to die.”

  “A vision likely prayed for by millions.”

  Principatè Delari opined, “The news from Viscesment should inspire Sublime. He’ll think the murder was a good thing. He’ll convince himself that the collapse of the Viscesment Episcopals will follow. That all he needs to do now is exterminate heretics. Who, being inhuman minions of the Adversary, will just line up for execution.”

  Heartbeat normal again, Hecht said, “Titus, Colonel Ghort is bringing prisoners from Sonsa. Meet him.

  Take charge of them. Bring them to Principatè Delari. Any couriers going to Viscesment are not to say anything about Ghort or Sonsa.”

  Hecht tried to get back to the work of the day. He was too restless. He told Delari, “I need to get out in the air. Walk some of this energy off.”

  “I understand.”

  Sergeant Bechter followed Hecht out of the mill. Several lifeguards did the same. Hecht wanted to tell them all to go away. He did not waste his breath. They would not go. Bechter said, “Sir, I saw that man in brown again this morning.”

  “If he’s being that obvious he must want to talk.”

  “Sir?”

  “I know who he is, now. He’s all right.”

  “Who is he?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. An Instrumentality in his own mind. But he’s no danger. Except to the fool who gets in his way.”

  “A sorcerer?”

  “Of the first water. Let’s walk down to those meadows south of camp. Where they pasture most of the animals. We’ll watch traffic on the river.” He felt like a stress-free conversation about mules or oxen with Just Plain Joe. Joe and his mule Pig Iron were completely comfortable with their lives. What a wonderful peaceful, prosperous world it would be if everybody in it was like Pig Iron and Joe.

  Six lifeguards tagged along. They remained at a distance once Hecht left the confines of the camp. They knew where he was headed.

  A breeze stirred the meadow. It carried the perfume of late season flowers. There were few trees this side of the river, and only scattered shrubs. The hillsides to the east bore splashes of yellow, carmine, and violet, and several s
hades of green. The army’s animals had not yet stripped the land of fodder. In the distance a bleak gray ruin of a castle watched over the river. Hecht did not know its name or story. The river itself was a sluggish band of olive drab syrup, showing no hint of current. On the Connecten bank Patriarchal troops had raised a palisade round the hamlet of the ferrymen. There was plenty of timber over there. Hecht had work parties harvesting some to build rafts. He had a few more men cross over every day. A casual, slow invasion.

  This appeared to be fertile land. Some calamity must have befallen it. Else these meadows would be wine country or farmland like the rest of Ormienden.

  Curious. That river down there, the Dechear, was one of the great traffic ways of the continent. Traders had been sailing it before the rise of the Old Brothen Empire.

  He did not see Just Plain Joe. Pig Iron, the unmistakable mule, stood out, lording it over the cavalry mounts.

  Hecht asked, “Does it feel like the wind is getting cooler?”

  No response. He looked around. He was alone. He had wandered away from his protectors. Who didn’t seem to have noticed.

  His amulet itched something fierce.

  He started toward the lifeguards.

  “Wait.”

  Cloven Februaren stood a dozen feet away, having materialized out of nowhere.

  “Ah. Ah?”

  “Enunciation, Piper. Enunciation. Don’t make people think you’re a lackwit.”

  “I’d heard you were lurking around. What is it?”

  “You did? How can that be? I’ve used the strongest sorceries to remain unseen.”

  “What is it?” The man in brown frightened him. Little else did. He was testy because he considered that a failing.

  “I want to caution you. There are schemes afoot with you as their target.”

  “Not really news.”

  “True. But arrows are in flight. I don’t know what. Or where. But it’s coming. Also, it’s time to rid you of that amulet. I’ve created a replacement that will do everything it does, including cloud men’s minds when they start asking you about your background. And it may polish up your personality besides.”

  Februaren laughed outright at Hecht’s expression. “That’s not true. But, face it, Piper. You’re a bit of a stick.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “To swap your amulet for a new and improved version that won’t let your great enemy track you. And for the same reason I’m always nearby. To be your guardian angel.”

  Hecht prepared to quarrel.

  “How many times have they tried to kill you?”

  Hecht counted off, starting with the effort by Benatar Piola, in Runch, on the Brotherhood island of Staklirhod.

  “Very good. At least you do recall the ones you were aware of at the time.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, you thickheaded and ungrateful excuse for a descendant, that you’ve survived another two attempts for every one you know about. Thanks mainly to your great-great-grandpa. Since the end of the Calziran Crusade, you’ve become the focus of an assassination industry.”

  The old man made no sense. He never had. Hecht said so.

  “You’re right, Piper. Insofar as your argument goes. You’re a talented military personality. You’ve had some luck. You’ve had support from some hidden sorceries. But there’s no reason to think you’re likely to reshape the world. Easier to assume you’ve triggered a lethal obsession in someone of immense power.”

  “That’s easy. The Rascal. I’ve never been close to anyone else who has his connections with the Instrumentalities of the Night.”

  “The Rascal?”

  “Er-Rashal el-Dhulquamen. The great …”

  “I know who he is. From the little I’ve been able to find out, he seems the most likely candidate for being your great enemy. And he’s completely mad.”

  “Really?”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Piper. Let’s get this amulet change done. Your bodyguards have begun to develop a vague notion that something is going on. Give me your left hand.”

  Whatever happened next, it did not stick in Hecht’s mind. After some vague fumbling around his left wrist, there was a moment when he felt like he had been relieved of the weight of the world. Then he was standing in the middle of the meadow, alone. His left wrist itched horribly.

  For an instant he thought he must be something more than just Piper Hecht, Captain-General of the Patriarchal armed forces. The word soultaken came to mind. He drove it out.

  He might be something wicked, after these years with the Unbeliever, but a tool of the Instrumentalities of the Night he was not, nor would he be.

  Before he shook his disorientation completely disconcerted lifeguards surrounded him again.

  He had had enough fresh air.

  “Bechter! Titus! What is this?” Hecht had found four similar rings on his map of the End of Connec. The map lay on its own crude table. It never got put away. Three rings were silver. The other was gold.

  Bechter and Consent arrived. Consent said, “I don’t know.”

  The rings were covered with symbols, none Chaldarean. Two lay atop sites where serious setbacks for Sublime’s cause had occurred. Places where Arnhanders and Grolsachers, striving to do God’s work, had suffered severe defeats.

  Another ring lay on Viscesment. The last rested atop Antieux, eighty miles to the southwest in the End of Connec.

  “Sergeant Bechter, see if you can’t find the Principatè for me.”

  “Which one?”

  “How many do we have? Did Doneto sneak back?”

  “No. But two more showed up last night. The Bruglioni and Gorin Linczski from Aparion.”

  “Linczski? I don’t know him. And that name doesn’t sound Aparionese.”

  “I think he’s from Creveldia, originally. Sedlakova could tell you about him.”

  “Why are they here?”

  Bechter shrugged. “Aparion? Sonsa?”

  “The old man is the one I want.”

  “On the way, then.”

  “Bechter, when people like that turn up I want to hear about it when they’re still on the horizon. Not the next day. No exceptions. No excuses.”

  Principatè Delari said, “The meaning would be between you and grandfather. You talked to him?”

  Hecht nodded. “Mostly he talked about saving me from people who want me dead. You’re sure it was him?”

  “Yes. The rings may have belonged to someone who had you marked as a target. Though that’s just a guess. I couldn’t understand him half the time when he explained things face-to-face. Let me study the rings.” Seconds later, “They all have the same symbol stamped inside.” He indicated a trident that looked like a diving bird. “Piper?”

  “Sorry. I was startled. I’ve seen that before. It’s a pagan religious symbol. From antiquity.”

  “Eastern?”

  “I saw it there. But I think it turned up everywhere before the Old Empire tamed the Instrumentalities of the Night.”

  “Let’s look at the map again.” After fifteen seconds’ study, “Has anyone plotted the appearances of the revenants in the Connec?”

  “Revenants?”

  “Hilt. Rook. Weaver. Shade.”

  “Never heard of those last two.”

  “More of the same. Personifications. Discord. Crop disease.”

  “Saints?”

  Delari chuckled. “You might say. Answer the question.”

  “I can’t. Titus can, I’m sure.” He called downstairs for Consent. When Titus arrived, Hecht said, “We need to know where all those weird things were seen. In the Connec.”

  “Sir?” Consent seemed unfocused.

  “Rook. Hilt. Those things. I know you’ve heard the stories. We’ve talked about it”

  “Oh. Yes. I kept a journal on that.”

  “Show us some whereats on the map.”

  “All over here. Where the Grolsachers first turned up. The Sadew Valley.” Consent went on. Sightings had
been grouped closely where two of the rings had lain. But the ande Lette area had produced the most sightings. No ring lay there.

  “What about Antieux? Or Viscesment?”

  “No reports there yet.”

  “Interesting,” Delari said.

  “Is something wrong, Titus?” Hecht asked.

  “Sir?”

  “You seem distracted.”

  “I just got a letter from Noë. Anna and the kids are fine. They’ve moved back to her house.”

  Hecht knew. As the Captain-General’s woman Anna could take advantage of the courier service.

  “She had bad news?”

  “My uncle Shire. You met him. Shire Spereo. He died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. But it isn’t your problem. What I don’t understand is, he committed suicide.”

  “Wow! That doesn’t seem like him.”

  “You’re right. But there have been several unlikely suicides since Gledius Stewpo went.”

  “Is something going on?”

  “If there is I can’t work it out. They were all old guys. Except for Stewpo and another refugee from Sonsa, they hadn’t left the quarter in twenty years.”

  Principatè Delari asked, “Were they wealthy?”

  “Sure. That’s about all they had in common. Though they all knew each other.”

  Delari nodded to himself. “Bring me your notes about sightings of old Instrumentalities. On the other matter, ask how those men became wealthy. Could their consciences be catching up?”

  Consent cocked his head slightly, mouth open. ‘That’s an interesting thought.” He shuddered. “I’ll get the journal.” He clumped down the stairs.

  Before Hecht asked, Delari said, “No. Not me.” Then, “But maybe Grade’s mission didn’t die when he did.”

  “Small world. If that’s it.”

  “It is a small world when it comes to the people who shake it. And there are far fewer coincidences than we want to believe. The Instrumentalities of the Night weave schemes that arc across generations. We can’t see ourselves caught in the web.”

  Hecht had created Piper Hecht so thoroughly that he was not tempted to challenge that heresy.

  “You’re amused?” Delari asked.