by Glen Cook
The hall was round. It was three hundred feet across. It was lighted bright as day by some witch light that made his amulet turn icy cold.
There were a dozen monks and nuns on the floor. The monks belonged to one of the orders sworn to silence. Hecht knew little about nuns.
They moved along narrow aisles between long, wide tables. Delari explained, "This is a relief map of the known world sliced into strips so the geographers can make adjustments when new information comes in."
When Hecht moved thirty yards to his left the map came together. It had to be the most accurate map ever, at least within a thousand miles of Brothe. "This must have taken ages to put together."
"I was a boy the first time I saw it. That was sixty-four years ago. I was apprenticed to Cloven Februaran, about to move up to probationary journeyman." Cloven Februaran was a legendary Collegium sorcerer, renowned as a recluse. So reclusive did he become in later years that it was not commonly known when he died. If he did. He would be over a hundred twenty now.
"The Cloven Februaran?" Hecht murmured. Awed. "The Ninth Unknown?" Despite his withdrawn, secretive nature, Februaran was rumored to have stalked the worst of Brothe by night. Which might have been true. No one knew what the man looked like.
"He was called that sometimes. Because he was the ninth man chosen to manage this project. Each Unknown was handpicked by his predecessor. Each kept his role secret. Well, mostly. I haven't done that well. You could call me the Eleventh Unknown. I may be the last. I haven't found a worthy successor. Grade would have done. But neither Clemency nor Concordia were interested in adding another apolitical member to the Collegium. And Sublime is beyond hope."
Muniero Delari felt unappreciated amongst his own kind. He continued. "New Principals include fewer and fewer scholars. They're either political animals or cretins who buy their robes. Or both. None of this will matter after I go, anyway. Probably. The end of the world won't dally once I do."
Hecht admitted, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Or what's going on down there."
"It's a map of the world. Ever less exact as you stray farther from Brothe. Our priests, legates, and missionaries send news of changes in their areas. Those people down there translate the reports into physical representations. So we track what's happening in the physical world."
"Which would be?"
"What everyone is talking about, now. What the First Unknown suspected when he started the project two hundred years ago. The world is turning colder. The wells of power are drying up. Even the Wells of Ihrian have slowed. Sea levels are falling. The ice is advancing. Both of those are happening fast.
"In my lifetime the Mother Sea has fallen nine feet. It's fallen thirteen since the project began. Beyond Hypraxium and the Antal Land Bridges the Negrine has fallen even more. The inland seas farther east are shrinking, too. While ice piles up in the mountains beyond." Delari pointed as he spoke.
"A thousand years ago the Old Brothen Empire had a hundred thousand slaves permanently raising and reinforcing the Escarp Gibr al-Tar because the storms on Ocean were throwing up waves that topped it sometimes and threatened a breakthrough. Imagine the disaster that would be."
The surface of the Mother Sea lay hundreds of feet below that of Ocean. If Ocean broke the Escarp thousands of cities and towns, with millions of people and countless acres of farmland, vineyards, and orchards, would be obliterated. And the water would, no doubt, then overtop the Antal Land Bridges and flood the Negrine basin, too. And the surface level of the Negrine lay a hundred feet below that of the Mother Sea.
It would be the end of civilization.
Delari shrugged. "They succeeded. So now, instead of drowning, civilization appears destined to freeze. Come."
The old man shuffled onto the nearest catwalk. From overhead the layout looked more like a map. Except that it was three-dimensional. Delari said, "The vertical dimension is exaggerated. Otherwise, the contrast wouldn't be obvious."
"This is all hugely impressive, sir, but I don't see the point."
"Planning was the point, originally. So our people could survive. If we had forward-looking leaders able to see the true long term."
The progression of change was not obvious to Hecht. The despair harrying the edges of the world required no trained eye, however. The entire north, down to the Shallow Sea, was buried under ice. The Shallow Sea itself showed only scattered pools of open water, suggesting leaks of power from the underwater wells common there and in the Andorayan Sea. The Ormo Strait, despite vicious tidal bores, had become an icy bridge. Elsewhere, wherever there were mountains, there were permanent accumulations of snow. Areas exposed by the dropping sea levels were a sickly gray in color. Some, along the northwest coast, were extensive.
Delari said, "Overall, they're way behind reports. This represents the situation at the end of last winter."
"Planning, you say?"
"The advancing ice is pushing whole peoples ahead of it. The ice might explain Tsistimed the Golden and the Hu'n-tai At. When their grasslands could no longer support their herds they had to move somewhere else."
"So you're trying to predict where problems will pop up in time to do something useful."
"Yes. Though there doesn't seem to be much point to the project, now. Sublime isn't interested in anything but his own delusions. He'll still be ranting about crusades when the ice comes over the city wall."
"It can't happen that fast, can it?"
"No. It won't get here for generations. Which is good, Sublime being mortal. My hopes aren't high, though. My predecessors couldn't interest the Patriarchs much, either."
"Some of that isn't natural. Are they markers of some kind?"
"Yes. Supernatural phenomena are part of the landscape. So are power leaks. And anything else somebody wanted to track."
Hecht looked south of the Mother Sea, at the Realm of Peace. The Praman Conquest. The Principal's project had not gotten perfect reports out of the Praman world. But the details were better than anyone over there would like.
Changes were smaller there. So far. There were no fields of ice or snow. But the deserts were shrinking because of increased rainfalls.
"Enough for now," Delari said. "I just wanted you to know this resource is here."
Hecht knew he had missed something important to the old man. To do with the map? With the Night? Or had he hoped to find Hecht armed with some talent he was unaware of himself?
"We'll revisit later. You must be behind in your work."
The Principate took a stairwell directly to his own apartment. And made the climb without killing himself.
Hecht headed for the Castella dollas Pontellas. Principal Delari still looked mildly disappointed.
Anna brought the children to Tltus Consent's conversion ceremony. Over Hecht's objections. Pella might behave like the street creature he was. Vali would irritate people by not responding when they told her how pretty she was.
His dread was misplaced. Anna had tamed the boy. She cleaned and polished and dressed Pella till he whimpered. She had him convinced that the end of the world would taste sweeter than what would come down if he embarrassed the Captain-General.
His final assignment was to stick with Vali and explain that she was mute. Vali was expected to bow and curtsy at appropriate moments.
"You stop fussing, Piper," Anna told Hecht in the coach. They'll be fine. Worry about yourself. What do you have to do?"
Hecht had only a vague notion of his part in the ceremony.
"How come they's all them soldiers?" Pella wanted to know as they neared the Delari family's city residence. It was modest by the standards of the Principate's class. Contingents from the Brotherhood of War, the City Regiment, and Hecht's own small in-town Patriarchal guards company filled the street. Most wore formal parade costume. But a few remained in mufti, there for trouble instead of show-
"In case the Deves try to keep Titus from converting."
They won't commit murder over it," Anna said. "One mo
re time. What do you do?"
Until only a short time ago Hecht had had no idea how a conversion ceremony went. It was similar to a child's confirmation.
He rehearsed it aloud as the coach came to a stop.
Anna said, "You've got it." She told the children, "He's never done this before."
Hecht grunted. "Where I come from they baptize babies when they're born because so many die. And conversions usually happen at sword's point, blessed by the nearest sober priest."
Pella said, "I don't think I'd like Duarnenia, sir."
"Me neither. That's why I left. Watch that puddle. Those shoes cost a fortune."
"Piper!"
"I can't help it, honey. I grew up poor."
Anna's schooling proved adequate. Principate Delari, as Consent's sponsor, required nothing of Hecht but a ritual attest to the excellent character of the candidate.
There was little pomp and circumstance. A few questions and responses, a "Who presents this man?" and the remarks about what a good fellow he was, followed by a ritual laying on of hands by the Bruglioni and Arniena Principates, then Bronte Doneto, and Titus Consent became an Episcopal Chaldarean of considerable stature.
Consent seemed appropriately excited. Hecht did note that Noe and the children did not go through the ceremony. Though, as Consent's wife, Noe would be whatever Titus decided. The children were not old enough for baptism and confirmation, the way those were handled locally.
Hecht shook Consent's hand. "I admire your courage, Lieutenant." He presented the customary baptismal gift of a coin. For children that was usually, a small silver piece. Hecht turned over a gold solidus, or five-ducat piece, which bore the bust and crest of a long-dead, obscure Patriarch named Boniface. The senior military men, including Colonel Smolens, Clej Sedlakova, Hagan Brokke, and members of their staffs, were equally generous. Consent had to start a new life. His situation would be difficult. His skills were crucial.
Despite his background, Consent was well liked.
"Thank you, sir. Courage isn't as important as knowing what you want, though."
Principate Delari was more generous than Piper Hecht. After amenities, the old man said, "If I can borrow you for a moment, Piper, I need a word in private."
"Or course, sir. If you'll excuse me, Lieutenant?"
This time the official rank and title sank in. Hecht watched Consent's face light up. He had been welcomed to the tribe he had chosen over his old.
"Sir?"
"When we're in private."
The Principate led the way upstairs, away from the public rooms. Hecht had deemed those austere, even by his own standards. The private quarters were more so.
Here Principate Muniero Delari had no congress with decadence or sinful luxury. Hecht considered a man who chose to live that way one worthy of respect. But only here. His Chiaro Palace apartment lacked no comfort desired by his boy.
Delari took Hecht into a room with four unpainted plaster walls, furnished with one rude table, three rude chairs, and two clay lamps burning cheap, unscented oil. Hecht's amulet tingled.
Delari sat, said, "I've examined the matter of Rudenes Schneidel. He is in Viscesment." Delari pulled a cord. A bell tinkled somewhere, muted.
"You have? So soon? How?"
"I'm a member of the Collegium, Piper. And not one of the hacks. There is some basis to the rumors about us. Which, I'm pleased to see, are the subject of public disparagament lately."
"Oh."
"Occasionally, I worry about your powers of observation, Piper. I fear that my son overestimated you."
"I worry about that, too. I never understood why he chose to mentor me. So, did you find out anything useful about Schneidel?"
"Very little. But enough to caution you against sending someone after him. Unless there's someone you want to dispose of without taking the blame."
A woman came in. Hecht had seen her downstairs, looking vaguely out of place. She was tall, faded blond, and worn down by life. She brought coffee and cups. Hecht pulled the aroma into his lungs. Coffee was his biggest vice. "Ah. The best Ambonypsgan beans." He sighed. "You're much too good to me, sir."
"Quite possibly true. Time will tell. This is my granddaughter. Brewing good coffee is one of her special talents."
Hecht exchanged nods with the woman as she presented a cup.
Delari continued. "The sorcerer has set up shop not far from the Palace of Kings. But there's no obvious connection with Immaculate. He may want it thought that there's a hidden connection. He seems to have much too exalted an estimate of himself. A fault he may be granted the opportunity to regret."
"Thank you," Hecht told the woman. The beverage was rare and rich. Frowning, he eyed her more closely. Had he seen her before? There was something remotely familiar there. Then he concentrated on Delari.
The Principate said, "Rudenes Schneidel can't possibly have any feud with you personally. He may have wanted to eliminate the Captain-General. My own feeling is, the attack was meant to frame Immaculate." Delari frowned as he spoke, possibly questioning his own reasoning. At the same time, he again seemed disappointed in Piper Hecht.
"A stretch, sir. That would mean he knew how things would go before they happened."
"It is a stretch, isn't it?"
"Did you find out anything else?"
"No. Rudenes Schneidel is an accomplished sorcerer. He has no trouble covering himself."
The woman refilled Hecht's cup, then left. Hecht said, "She doesn't look much like her father."
"You knew him only as a dying cripple. And none of Grade's children took after him. She's the image of her mother."
"How many kids did he have?"
"Four. Two sons, two daughters. All on the wrong side of the blanket. While he was overseas. By a woman he freed from Praman captivity. She'd been captured by pirates as a child and purchased by a merchant in Aselin who treated her badly. Grade was in the field for the first time. The Brotherhood and the Gisela Frakier had taken Aselin by surprise. Grade saved the woman from the Frakier when he recognized her rusty Old Brothen. She came from a family of education and standing."
Though key words had been butchered in transition from Peqaad to Firaldian, Hecht understood the Principate. Gisela was a transliteration of a tribal name. Frakier, roundabout, came from a phrase meaning "beloved traitor." In common usage in the Holy Lands, Frakier were Pramans who allied themselves with the crusaders.
"I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable, sir."
"You haven't. I'm at peace with all that. I'm guilty of the same indiscretion. I did do a better job of seeing my son to his maturity. I never had to leave him behind because of my martial obligations."
"You didn't want him to be a soldier."
"Nor a priest. But he was of age. He chose. When he created a family he did the best he could. But three of the four were lost."
Hecht could think of no appropriate response. That was the way of the world. As the world had been, always.
Harsh. Cruel. Unforgiving. Merciless. That was the world Piper Hecht knew. Happiness and pleasure were fleeting. Each moment had to be seized. The positive constants he had known were the brotherhood of the Sha-lug and the loyalties soldiers shared. Which, with limited success, he had been trying to recapture in exile.
"You seem troubled, Piper."
"My faith has been shaken lately, sir. I'm troubled in spirit"
"What more can you ask than what you have?"
"I don't know. That's part of the problem. A higher purpose? I owned one, once."
Principate Delari looked disappointed yet again. "We'd better get back downstairs. Leave the cup. Heris will take't are of it."
"Who was that woman you kept staring at?" Anna demanded as they left Delari's house.
"Delari's granddaughter. Drocker was her father. He wanted me to see her for some reason. Maybe to show how he takes care of family. Drocker kind of adopted me. I kept thinking I'd seen her before. I was trying to remember where."
He wa
s not concentrating, though. There was something not right. He beckoned a soldier from the City Regiment. "Where did the rest of the men go?" He saw none of his own guards, nor anyone from the Brotherhood of War.
"Sir. Armed men were spotted up that way. Where the coaches would pass. Maybe setting an ambush. So the Brothers and the Patriarchals decided to ambush them back."
A distant tumult began on cue, metal rattling on metal. Anna heard it, too. She dropped her nag immediately. "There may be problems bigger than my insecurities."
"Huh?" Piper Hecht was not a man who caught things unspoken by women. Till Anna he had spent very little time around them.
"Let's get the children home. By a different route."
This was something Hecht did understand. "No. We'll go the way we know what the situation is. Somebody may want people to go another direction."
"You're the expert." She began harrying the children into the coach.
The kids were excited. Hecht thought that Vali might break down and talk. But Pella would not shut up long enough for anyone else to get a word in edgewise.
Hecht had the coach stop at the scene of ambush. A young officer hurried over.
"We got them all, Captain-General."
"Indeed? Any prisoners, Mr. Studio?"
"Uh… No, sir. The Brotherhood guys killed everything that moved. They were seriously angry."
Hecht sighed. "Claim some of the bodies. Maybe somebody interesting will come looking for their dead." At a glance, in the poor light, he saw nothing unusual about the bodies. "We might yet come up with a clue about who to hunt." Damnit, prisoners should have been taken! "And see that any wounds get taken care of right away."
Hecht's amulet gave him a series of tweaks, none of any weight. Things of the Night were about, drawn by pain and fierce emotion. As he was about to climb back into his coach, he asked, "Was this a diversion or the main attraction?"
'The Brothers say this was it."
"Interesting. Drive on," he told the coachman, then considered his improvised family. Vali was pale as paper. She stared at him fixedly. Pella, suddenly, was as quiet as Vali. Anna had grabbed hold of his arm, so tight it hurt. "I had a good time. Really. Everyone treated me better than I expected."
