by Glen Cook
Hecht's heartbeat increased slightly. Titus seemed to have found his way to the conclusion Hecht himself had reached not long ago. "And?"
"I believe they shared a common thread of knowledge. I wonder how deadly having any grasp of that knowledge might be. And I wonder who it worries so much that he has to execute anyone who might be in on the secret."
Titus did seem to have worked it out. People who knew that Piper Hecht was not a fugitive from Duarnenia had been killing themselves. Only… "I don't know who's doing what to whom, or why, Titus. I once thought I saw the same connection you're seeing now. But a third of the dead men just won't fit. And, I gather, there have been similar deaths overseas. A whole rash in one port once famous for its slave market. Do you want permission to dig? Go to it. Maybe Bechter can enlist a Witchfinder to help. Whatever is going on, there's got to be sorcery involved."
Titus looked puzzled. But only for a moment. "I'm more worried about Noe and my children. They'd be lost if anything happened to me. None of our relatives would take them in. Because of our conversion."
"I can't see any reason for you to worry. But, I do admit, I don't know what's going on. I'll look out for you the best I can."
Titus was not reassured.
"There was another death?"
"Polo. That was your man, then Ghort's, and got crippled in that ambush."
That startled Hecht. He let it show. "Polo? That's sad. He was a good soul, if slow and inclined to pocket small coins and trivial bits that didn't belong to him. What's the story?"
"He fell down a flight of stairs. At home. No obvious signs of foul play. He'd been drinking. He'd been doing that a lot. But the Bruglioni are suspicious."
Hecht was suspicious. Polo was another someone who knew things about Piper Hecht. Possibly things he did not know he knew.
"Was this recent?"
"Day before yesterday. Paludan had him interred in the Bruglioni crypt. In the servants' area."
Hecht shuddered. "I started to go down there once. Got as far as the wine cellars and whatnot. Polo talked me out of going deeper. He said there was nothing to see but bundles of bones."
"That would be typical."
"And now I have to see Doneto. I'm not looking forward to it."
Pinkus Ghort guided Hecht into the little room where Bronte Doneto waited. It was overfurnished and overheated. Hecht had visited it once before, following the Plemenzan captivity. This was Doneto's ultimate refuge. Here the man felt safe to be whatever he wanted. Undoubtedly, the walls included stone from the Holy Lands.
Ghort did not leave. Neither did he appear thrilled by having to stay. Hecht did not question his presence.
Doneto said, "Make yourself comfortable. Coffee will be up momentarily. Your only vice, as I understand it."
"That and, according to some, being steadfast."
"A trait highly respected in Duarnenia, I hear. A title of high respect, Steadfast Guardian."
"Steadfast Guardian is what they call the Chief Castellan of the Grail Order. But, you're right, it can be given as an honor, too. Generally to somebody who has slaughtered an impressively large number of savages."
"Such is the way of the… What?" Doneto sat straight up, reminding Hecht of nothing so much as a hound startled out of sleep. "Pinkus. Did you…?"
Ghort asked, "Principate?"
"Something just happened. A force stirred. But I don't feel it now."
Hecht suspected someone in brown might have tried to enter the room. Something in the doorway had made his amulet react when he arrived.
Hecht put on his best perplexed expression and waited.
Doneto relaxed. He said, "Colonel Ghort tells me you feel we have a neutral balance of obligation between us."
"Essentially. I wakened you in the Ownvidian Knot. You got me out of captivity in Plemenza. Most would consider a life of slightly more value, but I'm content."
Doneto nodded. To himself. "And how do you feel about Principate Delari?"
"I owe him a great deal, professionally."
"Indeed. And many wonder why."
"It's worked out well for everyone. So far."
"I think Rudenes Schneidel would demur."
Hecht chuckled. "And well he ought."
"Were you aware that Muniero Delari and I were once great enemies?"
"He mentioned having had a problem with you, yes. He said it was all a misunderstanding. That you'd discovered that you were both working toward the same objective."
"Not quite true, but a good foundation for a truce. Where has he been lately? He's been invisible since the election."
"I don't know. I haven't seen him. I'm supposed to take the family to his town house this evening."
The coffee arrived. The old woman who brought it was shaking.
"Hannah?" Doneto asked. "What is it?"
"A ghost, Your Grace. Or something of the Night. Right out there. Cold, Your Grace. Cold as the grave."
Doneto scowled at Hecht. "What did you bring into my house?"
"Nothing. You know I'm stone deaf to anything sorcerous."
"Except when it's about to murder you in the mountains. So. The question would seem to be, what follows after you? The answer would interest a lot of people."
"Sir?"
"You live a charmed life, Piper Hecht. Neither Death nor the Night seem able to find you, however hard they try."
"Praise the Lord."
"Enjoy your coffee. Hannah, show me where this happened." Doneto left the room.
Hecht asked Ghort, "Want some?"
"Only two cups there, Pipe."
"Only two of us here."
"I can't get away with the games you play, Pipe."
"Speaking of, what's he up to? What does he want?"
"Honestly?"
"Of course."
"I think he's trying to get a feel for how much trouble you'll be down the road."
"He's known me almost as long as you have."
"And I'm wondering, too. Things happen around you, Pipe. You maybe don't have a friggin' thing to do with getting them started. Like them soultaken that turned up at al-Khazen. You didn't conjure them, but according to anybody who looked into it, they were there on account of you. Them and Starkden and Masant al-Seyhan. Then you got Rudenes Schneidel making a career out of trying to kill you. And a giant-ass worm crawling up out of the ground, fixing to eat your ass. And that's just the shit I know about. What all else have guys like Doneto spotted?"
"So I'm like, what? The Chosen One of Legend? Something like that? And God, or the gods, haven't bothered to let me in on the secret?"
"Hey. That could be." Ghort stepped over to where he could look out the doorway. Then he stepped back and helped himself to a long swig off a bottle of liqueur he took from a sideboard near where he had been standing. A dozen bottles in various shapes stood there. Glass bottles. Those alone bespoke wealth and power. "I'm not the expert." He did the peek-out-and-duck-back again, drank from a different bottle. "Ugh! That's foul."
"What do you think is going on?"
"I told you. Sizing you up. Him looking farther down the road than most of the Collegium. Those others just want to get you gone to the Connec. You can do some good there and be out of the way at the same time. Doneto is maybe worried that you might turn into the kind of threat that Pacificus Sublime feared."
Hecht wondered how rehearsed this might be. "Why would people consider me a threat because I do my job?" It had to be his fault, somehow. It kept coming up.
Doneto returned just after Ghort helped himself to a third draught of liqueur. He stopped halfway across the room, sniffed, frowned, seated himself. His glance darted to the bottles. "How is the coffee?"
"Excellent."
"Pinkus, you should have taken the other cup. It's getting cold."
"I'd never presume, Your Grace."
Doneto almost smiled.
"Hecht, I'd hoped to spend a few hours getting a better feel for your views. But I have to deal with something
that's gotten into the house. That's a real problem right now. I'll have to take the rest as it comes."
Hecht hoped he looked suitably bewildered. And just irked enough, with a dark glance at Ghort, to make Doneto think he believed the interruption had been staged.
He hoped Cloven Februaren had gotten a running start.
"It must be you," Madouc said as they descended to the street outside Doneto's town house. "You go in anticipating a long session and they bounce you right back out."
"This time the guy had a paranoid seizure. He suddenly decided that something awful had invaded his house. He had to get it out. Nothing else mattered."
"And he wasn't looking at you when he said it?"
"You're in a feisty mood. He was not looking my way."
"Got to do what I can to keep my spirits up, sir. This will be my longest day since we got back from Artecipea."
"Take the rest off. I don't need a shadow."
"How can you be bright about so much, yet persistently dumb about your own safety?"
Hecht started to argue.
"Sir! There are people and things who want to kill you. Wishful thinking won't change that."
Hecht grumbled something to the effect that somewhere Anna Mozilla was cackling and rubbing her hands together. Anna had started hinting that he should consider retirement. He owed no one. And the Connecten campaign had brought wealth his way. Not a vast fortune such as Sublime had hoped to gain but enough to live comfortably.
He could not do that. He was not made that way. Chances were, he would follow Grade Drocker's example and die in service. Possibly equally miserably.
Hecht grumbled some more. Without point. It was unreasonable to expect the anonymity he had enjoyed when he, Ghort, Bo Biogna, and Just Plain Joe joined the first expedition into the Connec.
"Madouc, I understand. Intellectually. But I'll never like dragging a mob around."
"We could solve that by letting you get got once. Not fatally. Just enough to get the message pounded into your soul."
"Yes. That might do it." Really? After the attempts he had survived already?
There was. only one way he could get what he wanted back. Rid the world of er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen. Or pray that Nassim Alizarin would do so.
"Well, Madouc, I'll try to uncomplicate your life. I'll stay inside safe places as much as I can."
Madouc did not appear mollified. Presumably because he recalled the firepowder attack on Anna's house.
"At least learn to delegate." Madouc did not trust his own men to do their jobs without him watching over their shoulders.
"A shortcoming of my own."
"Well, that's interesting," Hecht said as he helped Anna board Principate Delari's coach.
"What's that?" She was ravishing. She had commissioned a new gown. Hecht wished he could parade her through the Chiaro Palace, just to make those cranky old men drool.
"Madouc. He found a way to compromise with his conscience and let his men do their jobs."
"Does he have a family?"
"The Brotherhood. Come on, kids. Vali, you look stunning." Vali had a new gown, too. She would be a beauty in a few more years.
"And you, Lila." Lila wore a gown of Anna's that had been refit for her. Her idea. She loved the particular piece. It was the richest thing she had ever worn.
"Pella, you look like a young lord."
"An' I itch like one, too."
Pella did not want to go to Principate Delari's town house. He felt too self-conscious.
"It's the price you pay for the life you live. You want to be comfortable, you have to dress up and be uncomfortable. Look at me."
Hecht was an adult reflection of Pella. Though Pella was heavy on green and Hecht wore dark blue. Both preferring one main color to the flash lately shown by Pinkus Ghort. "I always feel silly in hose."
Though he protested dressing in style, Hecht had grown accustomed to doing so. The west had seduced him thoroughly.
He climbed aboard the coach and settled beside Anna, opposite the children. Lila was terrified. Vali took her hand and tried to look bored. Hecht observed, "We'll need to get Pella a razor pretty soon."
Anna grumbled, "Did you have to bring that damned sword?"
The hilt of his weapon pressed the outside of her thigh. "I did. Yes. I'll move it."
He had a bad feeling, suddenly. Like mentioning the blade might conjure a need for its use. Just when Madouc decided to take time off.
It was a tense ride. And for naught. They reached Muniero Delari's town house without misadventure. There was still some light when Hecht began handing the other passengers down.
Noting his stare, Pella said, "That's where part of the house fell down. They got it almost all fixed."
"You've been over here?"
"I go exploring. When there ain't nothing else to do."
"Interesting." Hecht was inclined to go look. He did not, despite being early. Nothing of the original disaster remained to be studied. And the lifeguards were getting that strained look.
Heris came out, followed by Turking and Felske. In case anything needed carrying, Hecht supposed. "We're early."
"Grandfather will be pleased. There'll be more time to talk." She embraced Anna. Anna had no trouble with that. Her negativity had faded. "Anna, you look like a queen. And the children like young lords and ladies. You didn't need to go to so much trouble." She eyed Lila, plainly curious.
"Nor did you, then."
Heris had made an effort. "Grandfather's idea. He wants me to become more social. I'm starting small."
Anna said, "This is Lila. She lives with us, now."
"I see." Heris would know about Lila. Given her own history, she was unlikely to be judgmental.
They entered the house. Heris said, "Make yourselves comfortable. Grandfather will show up whenever he can tear himself away from his sorcery." She squealed. "Damnit! Stop doing that!"
She had turned to follow Turking and Felske. And had bumped into an old man dressed in brown.
Cloven Februaren flashed a big grin. "It's juvenile but it never stops being fun. So, Piper. Introduce me."
Hecht was not quite sure how to do that. When he did nothing, Februaren stepped up to Anna. "The boy must be tongue-tied. I, lovely lady, am Muno's grandfather, Cloven Februaren."
Pella blurted, "You can't be! Nobody is that old."
Hecht said, "Pella. Manners."
Februaren said, "He's right, Piper. Almost. Hardly anybody human is as old as I am." To Anna, he said, "You don't know about me."
Anna shook her head. "It seems like I should, though."
"Admirably closemouthed, our Piper. I'm his guardian angel. I follow him around and protect him from assassins when he's too stubborn to listen to his bodyguards."
Pella blurted, "You were the Ninth Unknown!"
"Still am. You'd be the literary character, eh? Pellapront Versulius. Have you read The Lay of Ihrian?"
"There's only one copy in Brothe, Your Grace. Principate Doneto owns it. Colonel Ghort tried to get him to let me read it. He wouldn't let me, not even if I did it in his house."
"Wish I'd known that this afternoon. Piper and I were there. I could've borrowed it."
Hecht said, "I'd bet it was in that room you couldn't get into."
"I could have. But it would've made a mess. And would've gotten Doneto more upset than he is. Which is upset enough to launch an effort to trace back the true history of the Duarnenian sellsword, Piper Hecht."
Anna betrayed herself with a sudden intake of breath.
"Not to worry. Duarnenia and the Grand Marshes are under the ice. Your friend Bo Begonia won't wrestle the Windwalker to find some dirt."
"Biogna," Hecht corrected. "So. He's back with the City Regiment."
"I imagine he became a Patriarchal because Bronte Doneto insisted. And to be around his friend Joe. Again, not to worry. Hardly anybody remembers you passing through, headed south. But he'll find your name in the pay books some of the places you worke
d." The old man grinned.
"I need to talk to you about a couple of things. Privately."
"They'll have to wait. Here's Muno. And he looks hungry."
Hecht thought Delari looked distracted. He did not have much to say, then or during the prolonged dinner that followed. The company took their cue from him. Even Pella remained subdued.
At one point Delari looked up and seemed surprised to see them all. Apropos of nothing that had been said at any time since Hecht's arrival, he announced, "I don't think it's a war that we can win." He withdrew into himself again.
Cloven Februaren shrugged, signaled Felske to pour more wine. He was putting it away. To Anna he confided, "I can take the night off. Piper is safe here."
Anna glanced toward Hecht. A joke?
Hecht shrugged. He had no idea how the old man's sense of humor worked. Except that he enjoyed practical jokes.
Hecht said, "Your Grace, I have a question about the killer we hunted down back before the Connecten Crusade started. The one underground."
"Hunh?" Delari was in touch enough to understand that he was being addressed.
"The same kind of murders are happening again. In the same neighborhood."
Delari forced himself to focus. "It's back?"
"Something is."
"What did Doneto say about it? You saw him today."
"The subject didn't come up. There was an intruder in the house. He cut the interview short."
"Intruder." Delari eyed his grandfather. "I see." He smiled wearily. "Good. If he's chasing his own tail he can't get up to any other mischief."
"Mischief? Like what?"
"We'll talk later. Heris, be a good girl, make the coffee, then join us in the quiet room."
Dutifully, Heris left, taking Felske. Turking began to clear away. Anna and the youngsters were at a loss. What now?
Delari started to leave, recalled his guests. He came back. "Anna. Pardon me. I've been thoughtless. I'll have something done about that monster. I wish I could tell you how to entertain yourselves while we spit and roast Piper. I've been in another world since I got back from the Connec. Turking. You've got the rooms ready?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Then we're not doing everything wrong. Piper, Grandfather, we should get there before Heris and the coffee. Turking, see if our guests would like some, too."
