Lord of the Silent Kingdom iotn-2

by Glen Cook

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 Principate 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."

  Principate 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 Noe. 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."

  Principate Delari asked, "Were they wealthy?"

  "Sure. That's about all they had in common. Though they all knew each other."

  Delari nodded to hi
mself. "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.

  "The normal course of business here could put us on the Society's list. To do my job right I have to take into account the misbehavior of beings that I'm not supposed to believe exist."

  "You can believe. You just can't call them gods." The old man chuckled. "We need to find out what unusual things have happened in the areas the rings marked."

  "But…"

  "Not just something that might be Rook scattering maggots. Any unusual, unexplained events. Any unusual histories. At this remove, even the most ancient folklore."

  "Titus could send people to find out. But we can't twiddle our thumbs while he does." The Connec was growing less restive. The flood of Grolsacher refugees had begun to dry up. The disorganized bands of Amhander crusaders had decided to wait on Sublime because it had begun to look like the Patriarch meant to let them do the dying before he swooped down on a province too exhausted to resist.

  "Doneto's party must have the upper hand, now. That can't last. But I've had a thought about the ring business. Suppose those are places where someone liberated scattered bits of the Old Gods?"

  "Deliberately?" Hecht asked.

  "Deliberately."

  "Why would anyone do that? The Night is bad enough now. Who'd want to bring back the Old Ones?"

  "That would be the question, wouldn't it? Who and why. And is it real? Is it just a partisan campaign using fragments to create terror? Are the fragments themselves genuine? I could pull together an artificial monster able to ape the more blatant traits of one of the Old Gods."

  "There was a god in the north. Who predated the Old Gods, even. Kharoulke the Windwalker. Who couldn't come past the edge of the ice. There's a Windwalker supposedly loose, now. Almost as bad as the original. That couldn't be a modern re-creation, could it?"

  'Today's Kharoulke the Windwalker is an example of an unforeseen consequence."

  "Your Grace?"

  "Certain fading Old Gods sent soultaken to destroy someone they called the Godslayer. Because they did, several unwittingly positioned themselves to be slain. One of the soultaken, connected too intimately to divinity, ascended to become a Great Demon himself. The ascendant, lusting after revenge on those who conscripted him, went after those still surviving. He confined them in a pocket world he created inside the pocket universe they had created for themselves as their realm of the gods. That isolated them so completely that they couldn't constrain the monsters they put down in the dawn of their time. So things like the Windwalker can now come back."

  Hecht stared. He realized his mouth was open. "Uh… How did you put all that together?"

  "I pay attention. You can pick the trick up if you want."

  Titus Consent rematerialized. "Here's the journal, Your Grace."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant. Are we in imminent danger from a ferocious Connecten horde?"

  "There may be ferocious Connectens, Your Grace, but those people couldn't put together a horde if they promised twenty gold pieces to every man who showed up."

  "Then you can afford to take time to relax, Piper. That would be good for your soul."

  Pinkus Ghort returned. In his train were prisoners, plus hostages given by the Three Families of Sonsa. The Captain-General arranged a meeting as soon as he could.

  Ghort came in saying, "Shit, Pipe, that was exhilarating. Ain't nothing better than catching your target with his pants down."

  "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I'll let you try your luck on Antieux next."

  "I'll hang back and take notes on that one, you don't mind. Them folks won't get caught napping or stupid again in this lifetime."

  "So what did you get?"

  "I got Bit and Tiny but the Witchfinders was long gone. Bit thought they ran off to the Durandanti but we didn't find them there. It does look like they made that one gold shipment disappear, though. What's this I hear about Bronte Doneto running off to Viscesment?"

  "We surprised them, too. He went to take charge of Immaculate."

  "He didn't do so good, eh?"

  "One wonders."

  "Meaning?"

  "Let's talk to Bit."

  "Figured you wouldn't want to give her no more time to think. She's downstairs."

  "Good. Two more Principates turned up. They haven't come to see me yet. They're very interested in Sonsa, I hear. One is from Aparion. Keep him away from our newfound friends. If you can. Bring her up."

  Ghort bellowed down the stairs.

  Two men brought the woman. Titus Consent trailed them. Principate Delari came along behind Consent.

  Ghort whispered, "You all right with them?"

  "They may be useful."

  Bit remained uncowed. Not defiant, though. Just accepting. Fate had overtaken her. That happened in life.

  She had chosen a hard profession.

  She recognized Hecht immediately. "Mathis Schlink. I thought you were more than you seemed. Why drag an old whore all the way up here?"

  "I have questions. I'm too busy to come to you."

  She forced a smile. "Of course."

  "Be seated, if you like."

  The old woman settled into a canvas chair. She glanced around. Principate Delari examined her intently, moving several times to get a different view. That troubled her, clearly. Maybe she feared recognition.

  Hecht said, "You know Buck Fantil. The youngster is Titus. He's more dangerous than he looks. The other gentleman is an eye for the Collegium."

  Bit was a practical sort. "What do you want to know?"

  "You were involved with men from the Special Office of the Brotherhood. What were they up to?"

  "Special Office? They didn't mention that. Some had been hiding at the Ten Galleons since the Deve riots."

  Principate Delari positioned himself behind Bit, out of her sight. He nodded. She was telling the truth.

  "You had to think they were up to something, working out of your place all that time."

  "Yes. But they paid well for the privilege."

  "I'll turn you over to Titus eventually. Tell him the story from the beginning. Name any names you heard. And anything you overheard that seemed unusual."

  "I… Of course."

  "The reason being, those Witchfinders were working against the Patriarch and the rest of the Brotherhood. They may have been seduced by the Adversary."

  Bit did not buy that.

  Neither did Hecht. But it was a hypothesis fit to make people think.

  "Tell me about Vali Dumaine, Bit."

  The old woman frowned. "Give me more to go on. I don't know the name."

  One of the staff assistants showed himself long enough to beckon Titus Consent, who went over, whispered, then followed the man downstairs.

  "Buck and I came to the Ten Galleons. We did our business. You helped us disguise ourselves to get back out. So you wouldn't get burned out by the thugs then closing in. Women and children were part of our disguise."

  "You're asking about the one who wouldn't come back."

  "I am."

  "What did she tell you?"

  "That isn't the subject. The subject would be, who is she?"

  "A natural-born liar. She convinced the other girls that she'd been kidnapped…"
r />   Bit was a hard woman who had survived in a difficult trade for a long time. It took a lot to intimidate her.

  Principate Muniero Delari was a lot, however.

  She stammered.

  "Bit, cut through it. I want to know who the girl is."

  "I said. A natural-born liar. A natural-born actor. I bought her from her mother. Doing the woman a favor. She needed the money. And I've been sorry ever since, haven't I?"

  Hecht glanced at Delari, who shook his head. Bit hadn't gotten up close with the truth yet. Hecht said, "Real name, Bit. Mother's name."

  This line of questioning was not what the old madam had prepared for. "I think it was Erika Xan."

  Titus Consent came back to the head of the stairs. He waved for attention. Hecht nodded, held up a finger. "Your Grace, this woman is incapable of telling the truth. Why don't you work on her for a few days?" He went to see what Consent wanted.

  Titus said, "Colonel Smolens wants to know if you want to keep control of the Viscesment bridges."

  Surprised that Consent would interrupt with that, he said, "Yes. Even if we don't need them ourselves, we decide who does use them. Has he dealt with those assassins?"

  "Three. He sent us the fourth. Who wants to buy his life by spinning tall tales."

  "We can see about that after we're done here. Is that it?"

  "No. There's news out of the Connec. Duke Tormond's uncle, who rules Castreresone on Tormond's behalf, has died."

  "And that's important because?"

  "Castreresone passes to Tormond's sister Isabeth. Who is the wife of Peter of Navaya. Meaning Peter now has cause to take offense if we attack Castreresone."

  "I don't like it. That sounds contrived. Report as soon as you know anything for sure."

  "I'm sure it was arranged. This might be why Sublime hasn't given the go order."

  "Maybe. But this isn't critical. And I'm busy."

  "I'm sorry, sir." Consent retreated downstairs.

  "What was that?" Delari asked.

  Hecht sketched the news.

  "A scheme to keep Sublime preoccupied sounds likely. Sit down. The lady has been made cognizant of the implications of her situation."

  "You ready to cooperate, Bit?"

  "Your sorcerer convinced me. It makes more sense to fear the devil at hand than the one lurking in your imagination."

  "Absolutely true. Tell me about the girl."

  "Erika Xan brought her. She said she was the girl's mother. She wasn't. Erika Xan had dark hair, dark eyes, and dusky skin. The child doesn't. She speaks Firaldian with very little accent. Erika Xan had a heavy Artecipean accent. She paid me well to hide the girl. She never came back to reclaim her."