Surrender to the Will of the Night

by Glen Cook

  “I could take particular advantage of your special talents.”

  “My special talents are employed to the limit, now. I’m an old man, Piper. And I don’t get to spend my days lounging around a posh villa. You know these people have their own heated bath?”

  “I do. I haven’t been. My people haven’t. I’ve made life hard enough for the Bruglioni already.”

  The Ninth Unknown cataloged some of the mischief he hoped to work over the next few days, said he would be gone at least two, then turned sideways. Leaving Lila.

  “Hey! You forgot Lila.”

  “It’s all right. I can get back on my own.” The girl met his eye momentarily, clearly something she found hard to do. “I’m good at it. And he wants me to do some of the work after he goes back north.”

  “But you’re just a kid.”

  “I’m almost fifteen. What were you doing when you were almost fifteen?”

  Campaigning with the Sha-lug. Not for the first time. But that was different. Yet the only argument he could make was that she was a girl.

  Lila said, “You worry too much about us. Except Anna, maybe. She had the sheltered life. She can’t believe in really wicked people.”

  That used up all the courage the girl had. She would not look at him anymore. Again, he was stricken by how pale, how spectral, she seemed.

  “I can’t help worrying, Lila. I made you my family but I’m never there.”

  “You make me feel bad when you worry. I don’t deserve it. I try. Hard. But I’m always scared that I’ll lose it and turn back into what I was.”

  He understood why Februaren wanted Lila here. She was desperate for reassurance.

  “Don’t let the past rule you. You did what you had to do. This is now. Be what you want to be.” Lila was at a fragile point. She needed to be needed. Desperately. She needed to be needed, she needed to be trusted, she needed to be forgiven. Given all that, she might forgive herself for having walked the roads of hell and returned. She might concede that she had value and deserved to survive. She might start to believe that she was not a soul already damned.

  Hecht wanted to hold her while he reassured her but feared there would be an emotional risk. A hug would work with Vali. Vali would not misconstrue because Vali lacked Lila’s haunts.

  Hecht and Lila talked more than ever they had since he had sent her to live with Anna.

  Before Lila left Hecht gave her a note for Anna, suggesting he might see her before long.

  His left wrist began to itch. “You’d better go. Something is about to happen.”

  “Yes. I feel it. Thank you. Father.”

  He did hug her then, for an instant, careful to use one arm and not press.

  Lila turned sideways and disappeared.

  Hecht scratched his wrist. It suggested a serious probe by an Instrumentality of some weight.

  The usual wards protected the estate, supplemented by those of the Righteous and those of Katrin’s lifeguard. The latter were truly brawny. But something fierce and powerful wanted in. It kept looking for a weakness.

  It was not alone. Scores of lesser Night things accompanied it.

  It failed to break through. But Hecht did not get much sleep.

  After breakfast and morning reports Hecht collected Kait Rhuk and went hunting.

  The Instrumentality, not quite bogon in magnitude, was dismayed by how easily the Godslayer found the fox’s den where it had holed up for the day. It did not have long to enjoy its dismay.

  Next night more entities came, all smaller and all frightened. Veterans who had learned their trade in the hunt for Instrumentalities in the Connec trapped and exterminated the lesser entities where they could. They took the opportunity to teach the subtleties of god killing to men with no experience. The knowledge might be critical to their survival sometime later.

  Hecht did what he could to create conflicting reports. He knew information would get back to Serenity, despite his trappers. These entities were like mosquitoes. However many you swatted, there were more.

  ***

  Cloven Februaren failed to return as promised. He did not return at all. Lila did, late the third afternoon of the occupation of the Bruglioni estate. She materialized behind the screen that Hecht had acquired at Heris’s suggestion. She had been paying attention. But she arrived while Hecht was engaged in conversation with Hagan Brokke, who had just arrived with several hundred Righteous and Imperials from beyond the Vieran Sea. Titus Consent and Rivademar Vircondelet were there making notes.

  Lila stepped out from behind the screen before assessing the situation.

  Consent gasped. Vircondelet jumped to his feet. He did not know the girl. He leapt to the wicked conclusion. The Commander of the Righteous liked them young and skinny.

  Brokke just looked confused.

  Lila froze, horrified.

  Hecht managed, “This is business, Lila. Stay in the other room till we finish.”

  She was quick. She had survived on her wits. “Yes, Father.”

  Clever girl. That and Titus’s testimony would ease the speculation. Some.

  Hecht said, “What we need to look at is how best to use this new strength. I’m afraid the Empress will insist on a demonstration. She doesn’t understand that the Shades was a onetime thing.”

  Brokke rumbled, “Give them a miracle and they figure you can do it to order.”

  39. Kharoulke: In Pain

  Misfortune tightened its grip on the Windwalker. Slowly, inevitably, the Instrumentality became more anchored to the present, though still with enough grasp of potential futures to see that few could turn out favorable.

  His sense of this world, as a whole, and of the broad vistas of the Night had grown intensely feeble. His brethren, his hated brethren, were all failing in their returns, too. It would not require the concentrated bile of those who had imprisoned them to abort their rebirth. Human indifference and the failure of the wells of life would be sufficient.

  The seeds had sprouted after lying dormant for ages. But their revenant shoots had emerged into ferocious drought.

  For the first time in an existence that stretched back to a time before memory, the Instrumentality discovered emotions not intimately entwined with lust, hunger, rage, and hatred. Once he wasted his secret reserve creating a Krepnight, the Elect, that some feeble imitation of an Instrumentality crushed like a roach, he began to know despair. And fear.

  For the first time in millennia, if not epochs or even aeons, Kharoulke the Windwalker conceived the possibility of an utter, permanent, inalterable end to the cosmic consciousness known as, and known to itself as, Kharoulke the Windwalker.

  If only summer would end.

  40. Alten Weinberg: Princess Apparent

  Circumstance had thrust the mantle of empire onto Helspeth again. Katrin, now quietly being called “the Mad Empress,” was far away with her private army, prosecuting her private war.

  News of Jaime’s death met Helspeth on the road from Glimpsz to Alten Weinberg. She knew Katrin would not respond rationally.

  That was the universal expectation.

  Helspeth came home and immediately suffered the attentions of lords and knights who wanted permission to rush into Firaldia. Katrin’s pro-Brothen cronies had turned invisible. Anti-Patriarchals were everywhere, busy getting ready to do what they had wanted since Johannes was Emperor.

  That pressure eased once official word came saying Katrin did intend to turn everyone loose on Serenity for having deprived her of a husband. Told to get rolling, the Imperial war machine sparked up and ran itself.

  Everyone told Helspeth she was doing a marvelous job, standing in for Katrin.

  She signed a decree, now and then.

  She worried about the Commander of the Righteous. She worried about obsessing about the Commander of the Righteous. And she worried because the Commander of the Righteous had not sent a letter since last she had seen him.

  She wondered how long it would be before Katrin chose one of the greed
y suitors who were sure to start swarming, like maggots in the carcass of a dead dog, now that she was a widow. She prayed Katrin would remarry quickly.

  ***

  Those were halcyon days, worries aside. The usual cruel politics had gone into abeyance. Energies were oriented toward delivering the licking Serenity and his cronies deserved. Men from the breadth and depth of the Empire headed south eagerly, in no special order, intent on joining the Grand Duke for the capture of Brothe. A few took the eastern routes to join Lord Admiral fon Tyre’s campaign on the Aco floodplain, down the east coast of Firaldia, and on the islands of the Vieran Sea.

  Those who passed through Alten Weinberg all paused to pay respects to the Princess Apparent.

  Helspeth asked Lady Hilda Daedle, “Have you noticed how nice these men are lately? It’s like, give them a foreign war and they turn into decent human beings.”

  “It’s not the war, it’s your sister.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You must have heard the rumors. About her behavior? About her health? About her mental state?”

  What Helspeth had heard had been edited. No one wanted to make a bad impression. “No. Tell me.”

  “She … She’s not behaving responsibly, running up front with the Righteous. Everyone is afraid she’ll do something stupid. Or madness will …”

  “Hilda, this isn’t like you.”

  “It’s delicate. It’s frightening. But the truth is, everybody thinks you’ll be Empress before long. Unless Katrin gets a grip on herself.”

  “I don’t think I want to be Empress.”

  “You’d defer to your Aunt Anies?”

  Long silence. Brief, strained chuckle. Anies Ege was almost a stereotypical elderly, timid maiden lady. A recluse even here inside Winterhall. Anies should have been delivered into a cloistered nunnery thirty years ago. But her brother Johannes doted on her and would not compel her to do anything: marriage or religious vows.

  “I think not. The wolves would tear her apart. The Empire would follow.”

  “So. You see. No choice. Ah. Here’s something.”

  One of the daughters of the ladies of the court advanced diffidently. “Your Highness. Captain Drear asked me to tell you that an important visitor would like to see you. He recommends an audience at your earliest convenience.”

  “Did he say who this important visitor is?”

  “Yes, and it please Your Highness. Ferris Renfrow, Your Highness.”

  Long pause. Ferris Renfrow! The prodigal. “Very well. Tell the Captain yes, immediately, in the quiet room. Go! Hustle! Hilda. I want wine, coffee, refreshments. And incense. If Renfrow conforms to custom he’ll have come directly from somewhere unpleasant and will have the aroma to prove it.”

  ***

  Renfrow did not conform to habit. He had bathed. He wore clothing that was not only clean but new.

  “Where have you been?” Helspeth demanded, almost breathless. “Times are desperate. We need you.” Hustling him into the quiet room.

  “Sadly, Princess, I’m only one man. I have to choose which desperate situations to attend. I’m here to report. In story form. It’s an epic. It will take a while. You aren’t to interrupt with questions, nor to ask questions when I’m finished. I’ll tell you what you need to know and that’s all I’ll tell you.” He faced Lady Hilda. “You. Shut the door tight. Then discover yourself temporarily deaf.”

  He made a gentle sign. Hilda Daedle stood there with her mouth open, rubbing her ears. Renfrow took a pewter box from an inside pocket. Opened, it shed a half-dozen sleepy things resembling translucent night crawlers armed with dragonfly wings. They zipped around the quiet room, sniffing the walls. They landed and insinuated their bodies into cracks where they exuded something dark brown that smelled of pungent cheese.

  Ferris Renfrow said, “I am amazed. Somebody has to be sabotaging this room. You’d better start tracking who comes and goes.”

  There were so many little breaches four Night creatures used themselves up making seals. The other two did not have strength enough to flutter back to their box. Renfrow collected them and put them away.

  He told his story. He did not let the Princess interrupt. He did not accept a single question when he was done. “I told you what you need to know, not what you want to know. We’re headed into a crucial time. Not because of what’s happening in Firaldia, the End of Connec, Arnhand, or anywhere else, but because of what’s happening in the Night.” Most of his story had concerned his part in a scheme to release trapped gods that the Church insisted never existed.

  “But …”

  “Rule well, dear heart. Don’t forget the mistakes your sister made. Avoid them. Consider avoiding your passions as well.”

  “Sir!”

  “Your infatuation has been obvious for years. Control it. The man isn’t who you think he is. He isn’t who I always thought he was, either. He may not even be who he thinks he is. I’ll be going shortly. They need me in Firaldia. Serenity has some clever and deadly people working for him. They could give the Grand Duke some bad days. I’ll be back, though. Probably within the week.”

  “I will wait with bated breath.”

  Renfrow was startled. “Sarcasm? Hmph! Just try to make time for me when I get here.”

  “Always. There’s a chance you might let me ask a question.”

  Renfrow showed an uncertain smile, took a sip of coffee, then made a gesture at Hilda of Averange.

  Lady Hilda burst out, “I can hear again!” She gave Ferris Renfrow a dark look but reserved what she was inclined to say.

  Renfrow shoved the door open, glared at people who had been trying to eavesdrop. “Here’s some names worth collecting, Your Highness.”

  Soon afterward Renfrow was nowhere to be found in Alten Weinberg, though a dozen people eager to see him searched diligently.

  ***

  Eight days passed before Ferris Renfrow reappeared. Helspeth took him into the quiet room immediately, though he seemed less secretive this time. Other than for a desire to conceal the fact that he had toured the length of Firaldia and had taken part in several skirmishes where his presence had made the difference. The Captain-General of Patriarchal forces was a clever rogue and had, twice, lured the Grand Duke into situations where Imperial forces might have been decimated. But for the intercession of the heroic Ferris Renfrow.

  “Serenity’s half of the Collegium is very involved,” he said.

  “That hasn’t happened much in recent times.”

  “Not in more than a century. But people are becoming almost as polarized as they were before the schism that caused the Viscesment Patriarchy. Your sister turning on Serenity released a lot of pent-up passion.”

  Helspeth sipped tea. She had not had coffee prepared. She waited, hoping Renfrow would understand his decline in favor.

  “I visited the army straggling up from the south. It’s more talk than power. Sixteen hundred men, knights, sergeants, squires, and foot all counted. With a tail of several thousand hangers-on. The fighters are experienced. Joined with the Commander of the Righteous they’ll create a formidable threat south of Brothe. They’ll isolate the city from that direction. The Grand Duke will close off the north. And Admiral fon Tyre, probably late but not never, will eventually cross the Monte Sismonda and close down the east. It’s too bad the mercantile republics won’t get involved. They could blockade the Teragi and cut the Mother City off from the sea, too.”

  “Uh …”

  “I did see the Commander of the Righteous. Though not deliberately. I meant to visit your sister. Which I did. But Hecht and some of his people spotted me.”

  “And?”

  “He appears to be doing well. Your sister, on the other hand, is not. Her attendants and lifeguards are doing everything they can, including keeping her a virtual prisoner so she can’t harm herself or the Empire. But they’re just responding to symptoms. They aren’t treating the disease.”

  “Katrin has had attitude problems since we were litt
le. They never had much to do with what was going on outside her. She was just moody.”

  “Her problem isn’t something that’s wrong with her mind.”

  “What?” Helspeth looked to her left, thinking she had seen motion there. There was nothing to see now.

  “There is a problem. But it’s her brain, not her soul or spirit.”

  “Is she possessed?”

  “She’s considered that herself. But what possesses her is her own body. Something inside her doesn’t work right.”

  “There’s a disease that makes you insane?”

  “Several, actually. Ergotism is common.”

  “But that’s caused by rotted grain, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a poison from rye that gets infested with mold. In Katrin’s case, her own body produces the poison. The disease runs in her family.”

  “I could go crazy …?”

  “It’s on her mother’s side. One of her grandfathers died of it. That was a spectacular long bout of madness. They kept him in restraints for sixteen years. His sister died of the same disease as a baby. There were others who suffered from it, too. Every other generation or so, going back hundreds of years.”

  Helspeth made a grand intellectual leap. “Could this disease be why Katrin’s babies died before they were born?”

  “Maybe. Or two bad pregnancies could have pushed her into a more virulent stage. All politically disappointing, certainly. So much more dramatic to fling about accusations of baneful sorcery.”

  “But …” There was that eye-corner flicker again, with nothing there when she looked. “But Katrin has all those uncles. Her mother’s brothers. None of their families have suffered mental problems.”

  “That we know about. The lords of Machen keep the family burden quiet.”

  “So. Stipulating all that, what’s changed for me?”

  “First, believe that Katrin is past her time of sporadic and mild flare-ups and is headed into a phase where the disease will distort her thinking most of the time. If it isn’t recognized and dealt with she could do a lot of damage. More damage, and bigger. Her recent choices have been irrational. Though sheer boldness has seen them work out.”