Surrender to the Will of the Night

by Glen Cook

  He paused. Hecht asked, “How many were conscripts?”

  “Sir?”

  “Every man in your army chose to be here. Each one was a mercenary bent on murdering me and mine.”

  “That’s true. Though it could be argued that poverty conscripted them.”

  “It could. But they did choose to try to kill me. By my calculation, trusting your numbers, my men need to put in one more hard day to quash this Patriarchal fantasy forever.”

  “The Patriarchal fantasy is moribund already. Tomorrow I’ll bury my dead. I’ll release each regiment once it cares for its own. Unless you force a fight. Then fight I will.”

  “I had no desire to fight in the first place.”

  Bucce’s lips tightened. His opinion might not agree. “I’m determined that no more lives be wasted till Serenity relieves me. I’ll not have them on my conscience.”

  Lips never moving, whispering so softly that only Hecht heard, Februaren said, “The man is sincere. What he isn’t telling you is, most of his men have deserted.”

  Hecht hid his surprise. “Captain, what was the ultimate purpose for this meeting? And why are all these people here?”

  “They came with the army. To observe, I’m told. I think they hoped for a disaster as ugly as what we got. Our Patriarch is no longer loved by his own class.”

  “I understand the politics, more or less. But you haven’t said why you wanted to meet.”

  “I have. I want the killing to stop. And, then, these people insisted.”

  Hecht glanced at Titus Consent. Might Consent know something about Bucce?

  Bucce said, “The way I understand it, these people want you to be able to drive toward Brothe unhindered, for a showdown with Serenity.”

  “I presume you’ve all changed your minds about your votes, last election.”

  No one responded. They stared at something in the darkness behind him. Had Prosek manhandled a few falcons down to strengthen the Imperial argument?

  He glanced at Cloven Februaren. The old man was not concerned. “Tell me more.”

  “That’s it. From me. Talk to them.” Bucce was frightened. He stared past Hecht, too. “I won’t interfere as long as you let us manage our dead and wounded and go.”

  He was repeating himself. For whoever was back there.

  Voice tired, strained, feeble, Paludan Bruglioni said, “He speaks for Serenity’s hirelings. We’ll talk once you’re done with him.”

  Hecht eyed Bruglioni, then Gervase Saluda, as though Saluda might explain how Paludan could have survived.

  Paludan did not notice. He was fixed on the presence behind Hecht.

  A ghost whispered in Hecht’s ear, “The Empress is back there.”

  “I thought so. Your Grace failed to heed the advice of her Commander of the Righteous.” Not looking back.

  “It was advice, only, Commander. I have more confidence in you than you have in yourself.”

  This was no time for an argument. “Thank you for your faith, Majesty. Have you heard enough to understand?”

  Katrin stepped up beside him, to his left. He glimpsed an abashed Ephrian behind her. “These people have decided they backed the wrong racing team. They hope to save themselves and maybe snatch some of the spoils by changing Colors.”

  Even after years in Firaldia Hecht did not fully grasp the concept of Colors, which tied together fan support for famous racing teams at the hippodrome, local politics, and, more broadly, made a statement about one’s position on the long power struggle between the Brothen Episcopal Patriarchs and the Grail Emperors.

  Katrin’s statement was bare-boned truth.

  But they could still crush the Righteous. And in grand style because they could grab the Grail Empress herself.

  The Ninth Unknown whispered, “You rate yourself too small. You changed the world today. Again. But you recognize it no better than you did in Esther’s Wood.”

  Hecht neither understood nor believed. But it was worth some thought.

  “Acton Bucce of Bricea, of the Free Will Swords, I am here. Her Most August Imperial Majesty. What do you have to say?”

  “I thought I was clear, Your Majesty.”

  “You said you won’t bother me if the Commander of the Righteous lets you go. Which has its appeal. On the other hand, exterminating you all so we don’t have to deal with you again later also has its charm. Too, we wouldn’t have people like these here if somebody wasn’t fishing for special consideration.”

  Paludan Bruglioni admitted it. “You’re right. We came here in anticipation of your success. We hope to negotiate the safety of our houses.”

  Cloven Februaren muttered, “Bullshit. But he does mean it when he says it.”

  Saluda took over. “We all pledge to provide no aid or comfort to Serenity. Nor will we impede the Righteous in any way.”

  The Empress laughed, a peal with a donkey’s bray edge on it. “It won’t be that easy. It won’t be that cheap. There’ll be no lurking on the middle road till you can jump in on the winning side. Choose. And let the world know. Your lives, your fortunes, your honor. I want them declared, dedicated, committed.”

  Februaren murmured, “Somebody is a little overconfident.”

  “Just a bit,” Hecht agreed.

  But Katrin had not overplayed her hand. Nobody stomped away.

  The spokesmen for the Five Families agreed to negotiate articles of association after the Patriarchals dealt with their dead and wounded and headed home.

  Titus said, “I’m not sure about this, boss. Feels like we’re letting them off too easy.”

  “After what we did to them?”

  “The Empress said it. We might have to deal with them again.”

  ***

  Next day Righteous scouts pushed down toward the plain, advancing as the Patriarchals buried their dead. Reinforcements arrived, two hundred men come over from Glimpsz. More were en route. An army was assembling in Alamedinne. Imperial garrisons were demonstrating in every north Firaldian city that owed allegiance to the Empire. The same was not happening in the Patriarchal States.

  News of the slaughter in the Shades spread fast and grew with the telling. People who should have known better took the wildest stories as gospel.

  The whisperers of Krois murmured canards against the Empress and her Commander of the Righteous: They had surrendered to the Will of the Night. There would have been no disaster had not all darkness answered the conjuring of the witch queen and her mercenary familiar.

  Journeymen rumor-tinkers of an opposing view charged Serenity with consorting with the Night and with being the man behind the monster that kept returning to the catacombs, however often the good Principatés put it down. Those accusations found the popular mind more welcoming. Almost as far back as the collapse of the hippodrome there had been gossip connecting Bronte Doneto with events in the underground world.

  Such was the news Cloven Februaren brought back from his Brothen visits, where his espionage was less subtle and clever than Heris’s had been.

  He enjoyed sabotage too much.

  ***

  Clej Sedlakova surfaced after three days. Only eighteen men accompanied him, most all injured. They had been ambushed by an enemy who had known they were coming. Sedlakova and these men were the last survivors of a long running fight.

  ***

  The Righteous buried their dead. They examined their firepowder weapons for defects. They brought up ammunition and supplies, and welcomed further reinforcements.

  The Commander of the Righteous twice eluded halfhearted advances by the Empress. Her self-control seemed to be slipping again.

  Hecht was not alone in noticing.

  Rivademar Vircondelet stuck his head into the tented space Hecht had taken in the Patriarchal camp. Vircondelet had begun to assume some of Titus Consent’s duties as Consent became more intimate with field command. “Captain Ephrian is begging to see you, boss. Can you spare a minute?”

  “Send him in, then.”

&nbs
p; Ephrian came bearing bad news.

  “Sit, Captain, and tell me the problem.”

  “The Empress. Of course. I can’t take much more. She won’t cooperate. She will do what she wants, when she wants.”

  “Kind of goes with the job.”

  “I understand that. I remember how Johannes could get. But he was never like her. No matter what happens, it’s never her fault. … That goes with the territory, too, some. Right?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Here’s the problem. She’s into one of her downward spirals. It might be the worst since the Prince was stillborn. We’ve tried the usual gimmicks. I’ve worn my butt out taking her riding. That works better than anything. She loves a good gallop. Not this time, though. I’m scared she’ll do something to damage or embarrass herself.”

  “What can I do?”

  “I don’t know. She won’t listen to me when she isn’t out of her head. She does listen to you, sometimes.”

  “Really? I must have missed that.”

  “I did say sometimes.”

  “An odd duck, our Empress.”

  “She’s more like a frightened girl. She lets childish emotions drive her. These black moods … They keep getting worse. She could cause problems we’ll never get over. Something bigger than invading a friendly empire or declaring war on the Church.”

  Interesting. “We aren’t at war with the Church, Captain. We’re at war with Serenity. That might sound like a minor distinction but the difference is critical.”

  “Serenity believes he is the Church.”

  “A common flaw of Patriarchs. What would you have me do with our flawed mistress? I’m a hired sword who’s overstepped his bounds already.”

  “I don’t know. I said she listens to you sometimes. I hoped you’d have some inspiration.”

  “Captain, I’m not that imaginative. The magical way to make everything right got past me. I wish she’d lasted a little longer. Mid-campaign is a bad time for your employer to lose her mind.”

  “Just be warned. She might turn strange.”

  “I’ll think about it. I promise. Now, I do have an order of march to ready.”

  Ephrian made a face but said nothing. He knew that in no practical sense could the Righteous attack Brothe. The city was too big. And even an unpopular Patriarch had vast resources.

  He had found seventeen thousand men willing to go into the Shades.

  Hecht really just wanted to become a presence that dared not be ignored while the might of the Empire gathered. He wanted to become a symbol to all Brothens currently disgruntled with their Patriarch. A hope in the mist.

  The heavy lifting would be done by armies from beyond the Jagos.

  There were skirmishes all across Firaldia. Whatever the feudal obligation of a given city, principality, or kingdom, some citizens or subjects held the opposing view and were determined to regularize their polity’s status. Riots were not uncommon, even in the Mother City, where a frightened city senate voted a huge new subsidy for the City Regiment.

  Years of parsimony had left that force little more than symbolic.

  ***

  The Righteous engaged in skirmishes. Serenity did have his supporters. But, after the Shades, few could find soldiers willing to face the Righteous.

  Superstitious folk convinced themselves that Empress Katrin and her Commander of the Righteous had used sorcery. The Shades had seen the worst day’s butchery in Firaldia since the collapse of the Old Empire. Those who knew better, survivors of the battle, told everyone that there had been no sorcery at all. And that, where it was believed, scared thinking people more than did babble about sorcery.

  Use of massed machines of destruction was especially frightening. Falcons took the skill and honor out of combat. Which really meant the highborn recognized that they would be at as much risk as, and therefore of no more value than, the lowest, poorest, mallet-armed churl.

  Falcons did not care who your father was. Falcons did not take the well-born for ransom. Worse, falcons could be manned by any illiterate peasant’s son after just a few hours of training.

  Such an engine had to have sprung from the dark mind of the Adversary.

  ***

  The Righteous were on the move when word came that the Patriarch, supported by his dwindling faction in the Collegium, had issued a bull declaring firepowder weapons the work of the Adversary. No true Chaldarean would employ them. All firepowder weapons were to be destroyed immediately.

  Hecht was up with the van as it approached the Bruglioni estate southeast of Brothe. The messenger missed him. When he got back to his staff he found them mocking the Patriarch. “What’s going on?”

  “Listen to this.” Rivademar Vircondelet read the bull.

  Titus Consent said, “Right now, throughout the Chaldarean world, men cursed by possession of these organs of evil are rushing out to ignore Serenity completely. Instead, having heard about the Shades, they’ll try to find a supplier who isn’t Krulik and Sneigon.”

  “No doubt. That’s human nature.” Other Patriarchs had tried to ban weapons, too. Those remained in common use.

  ***

  The Commander of the Righteous and several lieutenants, fiercely uncomfortable about the Empress tagging along, entered the Bruglioni villa. That was a classical collection of limestone pillars and red tile roofs squatting on a ridge in wine country, near enough to Brothe for the filthy air over the city to be seen. Parts of the villa dated to Old Empire times. The Bruglioni claimed it had been built by one of the Imperial families before the time of Aaron of Chaldar. It had figured in several major historical events. Paludan grumbled, “And it looks like the old hovel is going to get to do that again.”

  Paludan was in a wheeled chair, his destiny for however long he survived. The masters of healing magic could do no more than control his pain. Gervase Saluda also remained confined to a wheelchair but did have hopes of walking again, given an artificial leg. Saluda said, “I hear tell that no good deed goes unpunished. I guess this is our punishment for letting the Arniena talk us into giving you work, back when.”

  “You’re right. But you did get your money’s worth. This is just Katrin’s way of putting her mark on you.”

  All the representatives of the Five Families who had sneaked out to the Shades were now visiting the Bruglioni estate. Serenity should soon have reports about them.

  “We aren’t looking for a fight here,” Hecht said. “We just want to fuel the fire of unrest. We pose a bigger problem sitting here not fighting than we would by getting into something we’d probably lose.”

  Hecht had realized that a falcon-heavy force could not be an aggressive or agile force. It had its best luck when doing what it had in the Shades. It was a defensive force.

  With all the reinforcements of recent days Hecht’s force still numbered fewer than a thousand. A thousand veterans employed in most Firaldian squabbles would be considered huge, but in this contest, against this opponent, no.

  To the consternation of Paludan and Saluda alike Hecht prepared defenses for the estate. Rhuk and Prosek sited weapons so raiders would regret getting too close. Sedlakova and Consent roamed the countryside in search of creek beds where rounded pebbles of an appropriate size and hardness could be harvested. They also sought loamy soil that could be used to fill the empty spaces between stones in a charge.

  Rivademar Vircondelet led mounted patrols toward the Mother City so watchers could see actual Imperial banners close by.

  Serenity closed the nearer gates and did not contest their presence.

  Cloven Februaren wakened Hecht deep in the night. Lila had accompanied him, shyly proud that she had enough grasp of the Construct to make the twisted journey. She kept quiet. No doubt she had orders to keep her mouth shut.

  The Ninth Unknown whispered, “Serenity has lost it, Piper. He has squads roaming Brothe, arresting anybody he fancies. The Castella shut its gates. The Five Families are forting up because he attacked the Bruglioni citadel yester
day. What’s left of it.”

  “Gervase and Paludan won’t be happy.” Though their property was an indefensible ruin, anyway.

  “And less so after they hear that a dozen deaths were involved. Their people resisted.”

  He watched Lila rove around slowly, almost a wraith. “Anna needs to get some food into that girl.”

  “Anna and the girls aren’t eating well right now.”

  “What?”

  “Muno let Addam Hauf move them into the Castella. Because of Serenity.”

  “You really sure he’s lost it? He’s good at pretending to be doing one thing when he’s up to something else entirely.”

  “He could be perfectly sane and trying some sleight of mind. But I don’t see him having time for that kind of foolery. He’ll go after Muno sometime soon. That will trigger a revolt in the Collegium. Fur will fly. Meantime, Imperial troops are pouring into northern Firaldia. Your friend may have stayed in the Connec too long. He might have to fight through an Imperial army, now. And while Serenity is praying for Ghort, an Imperial army from Alamedinne and Calzir will be closing in from the south.”

  “Anna and the kids are definitely safe?”

  “Anna and the girls. Note that I didn’t mention the boy. The headstrong boy.”

  “Lila?”

  “Yes?” The girl sort of drifted his way, like only her toes could reach the floor and those barely touched.

  “What did Pella do?”

  “He got bored. He left. That was when we were still at Grandpa Delari’s house. Maybe he went back to Sonsa to see about his sister.”

  Hecht cursed.

  Februaren said, “What can you expect? The boy has survived on his own before. And he’s been brought up on stories about the brave Duarnenian who left home at an early age.”

  “I hope he doesn’t get himself killed.”

  “Your imagination didn’t get you killed.”

  “Not yet. Men less lucky than me have gotten killed by the dream.”

  “Enough. There’ll be serious trouble in the city soon. Be prepared to take advantage.”