by Glen Cook
Hecht thought about it. Paludan was right.
The numinous side of life was an incredible pain, even today. How much worse had it been before the Old Empire? Of all the works of the Old Empire — nearly eternal roads and public works, and all the great buildings still used today — the taming of the Night had to be the most valuable. And least appreciated.
Hecht said, “Pull it together, then, sir. You know the people, I’ll let you build the plan. See me when you have something workable.”
Hecht would work on something of his own, based on information from Titus. Something that could become an alternate course at minimum notice. Or on several such alternates.
The moment Paludan left Hecht said, “Get me a census of healthy falcons, Titus. Anything we do, falcons will be the key.”
***
One hundred fourteen falcons. Attrition had claimed thirty-two.
“But Rhuk thinks some can be salvaged.”
“What about handhelds?”
“No way to know.” Consent shrugged. “Men who have them don’t want us to know. We might take them away.”
Hecht felt like cursing and laughing, both. He understood the soldier’s point of view. A man’s own life was just a whole shitload more important than any cockamamie plan dreamed up by some general or staff officer. A handheld was number one insurance when a man had to go into dark places.
Krulik and Sneigon had shown more than two hundred handhelds on inventory rolls when the Righteous arrived. Twenty-two had been turned in to Rhuk or Prosek.
Of the heavier pieces, many of which had had to be rooted out of hiding, only the half dozen put aside for Heris had gone missing. One hundred fifty-two had been found, many not included on the company formal inventory. Those off the books had been meant to disappear into the Devedian quarters of cities all across the Brothen Episcopal world. One hundred forty-six falcons had seen action in the Shades.
“Have they rigged all the weapons up on carts, or wheels, or some damned thing?” Getting the weapons moved and emplaced was a pain. From the beginning Rhuk and Prosek had experimented with ways to improve mobility. Each idea died once the shooting started. Recoil broke even the best made carts.
“All set. Pretty rough, though. Prosek wants to build a dual-purpose cart that can haul stores or tentage but be converted as a replacement falcon cart.”
“That’s what he gets paid for. All I’m interested in is being able to move fast once we’re inside the wall.”
***
The Righteous, with Imperials from the south and a handful from east of the Monte Sismonda, moved toward Brothe. Serenity’s patrols watched but contested nothing. Hecht halted on grain fields in plain sight of the wall.
To assuage the bruised honor of the southerners Hecht deferred battlefield command to Manfred Otho Altomindo, the Prince Apparent of Alamedinne, for the daylight hours, or till the Empress overruled him. Prince Manfred was not the senior southerner but his father, Manfred Ludovico, was senile, bedridden, and a figurehead.
Hecht was giving nothing away, yielding daytime command. Serenity was not going to let God decide his fate on a battlefield.
The Manfreds had no intelligence concerning the true situation, which was that Serenity’s advisers had convinced him to go defensive till the southern levies completed their feudal obligations.
Similar limits would obtain for levies raised in the Patriarchal States. But Serenity’s cronies were concerned only with themselves and their own immediate security.
The younger Manfred set the order of battle. His southerners made up the center, arrayed for the traditional heavy cavalry charge. The disdained Righteous formed the wings, with a scatter of auxiliary light cavalry out beyond the divisions of the Righteous. Hecht was both appalled and amused because those light horsemen were Pramans recruited from what had been Calzir before the Calziran Crusade.
Nothing happened. Not even a herald came out. Hecht reassumed command come sunset. He ordered camp set, with special attention paid to wards against sorcery and Instrumentalities. Manfred Otho retired cursing the lack of panache shown by the Brothen knightly class.
Reports from the city had the Collegium in a state of civil war. Serenity’s partisans had the upper hand in the streets. Their behavior was abominable.
Only the Devedian quarter remained quiet. The Deves had locked up and hunkered down, getting ready for the customary attacks that turned their way whenever there was civil unrest.
Hecht asked Consent, “Do we have any goodwill in the Devedian quarter at all?”
“After what we did to Krulik and Sneigon? No.”
“Understandable. They were just trying to make money. That’s what Deves do.”
Consent gave him a dark look. He loathed the stereotypes and generalizations.
Hecht added, “They’d best get ready to suffer for our success.”
“What?”
“Apply the usual logic. Falcons gave us a bloody victory in the Shades. Deves made the falcons.”
“And the fact that we robbed the Deves to get the falcons wouldn’t enter the argument. You’re right. The usual logic.”
“It could happen tonight, Titus. I’m going to my tent to pray. I don’t want to be disturbed. Please remind Mr. Ernest.”
Consent did not reply. He just went off to do his job.
***
Lila turned up right on time.
“You look tired, girl.”
“I’m working hard. Great Grandpa Delari always has more work for me than I can possibly get done.”
“Don’t let him take advantage. Say no. You are being careful?”
“Very, very careful. This city is a deadly place right now.”
“As long as you understand. Don’t take chances. We’re coming in tonight.”
“And they’re expecting you. They already have the gates reinforced.” She produced a map, described the welcomes being prepared.
“Dear girl, it’s almost like you were sitting in on their meetings.”
“Isn’t it?”
“They know about the Arniena plan, don’t they?”
“There’s a Benedocto agent close to Mr. Sayag. The Benedocto have agents inside all of the Five Families.”
No surprise, that. Everybody did it. Some of those spies worked for two or three families at once. “Do we know any names?”
Lila produced a scrap of paper. “There are more. These are just names I overheard.”
Hecht examined the list, saw nothing familiar. He admired Lila’s precise hand. Clearly, she had worked hard to develop it. “I’m loving this, Lila. You’re better at this than Heris or the really old man.”
“No. I’m not. I’m just doing things the way you want them done. They only do things the way they want to.”
“I’ll give you that.” He studied the map some more. “This isn’t good. These sites are all traps.”
“I told you that. They’ll have crossbowmen on the roofs. And you can’t surprise them. They’ll be watching with every little brownie and boogie in this end of the world. The Patriarch pulled them in from a hundred miles around.”
Hecht stared at the map. And stared. And found no inspiration. “How is Pella?”
“Turning stupid again. He whines constantly. The old old man should’ve left him where he was. Should’ve let him ripen. He could’ve gone back if somebody else didn’t find him.”
“Rough. And Vali? And Anna?”
“Vali is working hard to make herself good enough to help me. Anna cries a lot.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s her time of life, I think. It doesn’t matter if she’s sad or happy or angry. Everything makes her cry. Except when she gets all righteous and wants to go over to Krois and slap Serenity till he starts seeing sense.”
“Good for her. I guess. So. Honored daughter. Any ideas about what we should do tonight?”
Lila grinned a huge one. “You attack them where they aren’t. I’ll smash them where they are.”
<
br /> ***
Commencing sometime after midnight, for slightly more than two hours, about every four minutes, there were explosions in the Mother City. They were scattered and happened according to no discernible pattern — though every one damaged Serenity’s friends or the city’s defenders.
There were occasional gaps in the timing. Whenever that happened somebody dropped ropes from sections of wall not being closely guarded.
The Righteous failed to achieve complete surprise anywhere. Despite all the confusion some people did keep their minds on their jobs.
Those chosen to climb the ropes took rope ladders up. They were men experienced at dealing with small Instrumentalities and, one and all, were suspected of being in possession of handheld firepowder weapons. They established their footholds, helped more men come up, helped assemble cranes when the parts for those arrived, then helped hoist light falcons and munitions. They expanded their footholds and fended off swarms of minor Instrumentalities.
The falcons crushed counterattacks. Those ceased. The Shades had imprinted an abiding dread of falcons on Serenity’s friends.
Pots of explosive tossed into gatehouses encouraged men there to surrender or flee. Two gates changed hands despite the prepared traps, which broke up under falcon fires.
Deeming them likely to be useless except as a cause of further confusion, Hecht let the southerners go howling into the city after he opened the gates.
Hagan Brokke rumbled, “So much for it being impossible to attack the Mother City.”
Rivademar Vircondelet observed, “It’s not the attack, it’s the accomplishing anything once we do. Now they know where we’re coming in. They can pull everybody together to deal with us.”
Falcons barked not far away, from above, blasting rooftops. Stones rattled off roofing tiles, broke roofing tiles that clattered to the ground, and found spies or ambushers because there were cries of pain.
Meantime, the southerners finished flooding in. Hecht watched them out of sight. “I wonder how many will survive.”
“They stick together and do what you told them to do, maybe most of them.” Brokke coughed. His lungs were sensitive to firepowder smoke. “But my money is on discipline failing. They’ll spread out to start looting and get themselves picked off a few at a time.”
They were supposed to roar through the streets cutting down anyone they ran into. Spread enough fear and the streets would clear. The invaders could move north, toward Krois, where an enraged but supposedly more rational than usual Serenity would be straining to get the most out of having his enemies attack as he had hoped.
Vircondelet asked, “We got any real shot at pulling this off, boss?”
“We do. Now that we’re inside. Falcons will be handy in the kind of fighting coming up.”
“Easy to sweep the streets,” Brokke said. “But Serenity is holed up inside Krois. He can just squat there till Ghort comes to save his ass.”
“But he won’t be safe in there,” Vircondelet said. “On account of, the boss knows how to get in going under the river.”
“I do,” Hecht admitted. “But Serenity knows I know. He’s the one who showed me how. He’ll have a special welcome waiting down there.”
The explosions stopped. Hecht supposed that meant Lila could no longer steal firepowder from Prosek. Or that she had gotten tired enough to quit.
***
For a while, once the two gates had been taken, it looked like Brothe might be a paper tiger. There was little resistance to start.
That changed when the sun came up.
Did the locals fear the dark more than the invaders? Hecht’s amulet had distracted him plenty but nothing big had been on the move.
He did feel something new once the darkness fled, taking the boogies with it. This something had been masked by the rustle of all the smaller entities.
It was down in the catacombs. It was huge. And it was between the Righteous and the river Teragi. It felt like the same old murderous thing that kept returning, however often it was hunted down. This incarnation was stronger than any before.
It would make trouble once darkness returned, guaranteed. It was Bronte Doneto’s dark child.
Piper Hecht thought he knew what Bronte Doneto had been up to back when Muniero Delari stumbled into him in the catacombs.
The Righteous made slow headway against stubborn resistance, doing a lot of damage with the falcons. It was not always clear who needed beating down. Serenity’s enemies refused to be cautious in getting out to mix it up with the Patriarch’s friends.
Southerners began to turn up. As Hecht had anticipated, their gleeful charge into the city’s warrens had become a debacle. They had been chastened. Survivors were trying to link up with one another or the Righteous.
Hecht hoped the lesson would not be lost on the men who actually did the face-to-face, bad-breath-to-bad-breath, toe-to-toe fighting.
By midafternoon he was considering falling back to the gates, to wait on the Grand Duke and Admiral. His earlier assessment of his chances appeared to be proving out. He was doing an awesome amount of damage but did not have the manpower to exploit it, even with help from prodigal southerners and local volunteers.
The latter were of little value. They had no interest in submitting to military discipline or in carrying out military missions.
Ever more men had to be tasked to protect the lengthening line of communication from the gates to the point of attack.
Word came that Serenity had ordered Pinkus Ghort to stop dancing with the Grand Duke and get to Brothe, never mind losses.
Come the afternoon Collegium opponents of Serenity began to appear. They sprang from homes in the Empire or Imperial possessions in Firaldia. Serenity’s adherents had the upper hand in the Chiaro Palace.
Hecht’s heart sank. That was not good. That could portend disaster. If Serenity got to the Construct … Pray Heris was right when she said the Patriarch was unaware of the project. Otherwise, his triumph was assured.
Hecht felt the thing in the catacombs ever more intensely. He was getting closer. It was getting stronger. It sensed him, too. He had an ever more powerful impression that it was bigger than anybody thought. And that it was still growing, by the hour and the minute.
And it must be. If the old men were right about it feeding on fear and hatred. Or if the large grew bigger by eating the small. The Patriarch had flooded the city with minor Instrumentalities.
As evening approached more locals came out to work against Serenity. Or, more often, against the Benedocto. Everyone associated with the major families had suffered recently.
Titus insisted the volunteers were more trouble than they were worth. Hecht had him scatter them, making them do something useful like carry things for the fighters.
The advance passed the Bruglioni and Cologni family citadels. The Bruglioni was a ruin haunted by crows, insects, and the smell of death. The Cologni had survived, though that family’s less well defended properties elsewhere had suffered.
There was plenty of evidence of fighting but none suggesting any use of sorcery.
As the sun dropped toward the skyline Hecht began calculating how best to deal with the thing down below. It would come tonight. It would get no better opportunity.
It was a thing of the darkest side of the Night, lethally dangerous but not invulnerable. Godshot would tame it. How to fix and target it was the question.
Hecht redirected the advance to pass Principaté Delari’s town house. He hoped to find the old man holding out there and willing to give advice. He found only ruin, absent the smell of death. There was no sign of the Principaté or his staff. Refugees from the Chiaro Palace, though, insisted that Delari was alive, making himself obnoxious, and had some special surprise cooked up for the Patriarch.
Where was Lila? Lila would know how to get hold of the old man.
Hecht had begun to worry about that girl. He should have heard from her by now.
The Imperial advance reached the hippodrom
e, now restored and enjoying a full racing season. Or had been till the death of Jaime of Castauriga changed the world.
There were scores of horses stabled under the stadium. Scores of people who tended the animals or managed the venue also lived in nooks and crannies out of the public eye. Smells of cooking and stables both emanated from the hippodrome.
Hagan Brokke turned up as Hecht contemplated the stadium. “Boss, it’s late. And we’re too worn down to keep it going after dark. We ought to settle down right here. We can control access …”
“You’re right. I was just looking at it. Pass the word. Make it happen. And send runners to tell our people to either come here or move back to the gates. I don’t want anybody on the streets tonight. It might get ugly out there.”
“Night things?” The staff all believed he had some special connection now that he had died and been resurrected.
“Big Night things. Every second falcon should be charged with godshot.” His amulet had grown more irritating as the sun sank. It had the same feel as the night that Heris had brought him in to visit.
At first it seemed an evening when the whole city meant to come out and go crazy. There were sounds of rioting, screams in the distance, fires both near at hand and far away. The exterior wall of the hippodrome was high enough to offer a good view in several directions, including toward the Castella, Krois, and the Chiaro Palace. Toward what had been the heart of Brothe for fifteen hundred years. Lights moved around Krois and the Chiaro Palace. The Castella was dark.
Hecht asked his officers to join him up where he could observe the city’s torment while they talked. They came, none with any enthusiasm. And several were unreasonably late. Titus Consent claimed he had been taking intelligence reports from local people. Clej Sedlakova said he was welcoming a company of infantrymen from Alamedinne who had just fought through to the hippodrome. Their addition made it nearly half the southerners recovered.
Hecht gave up on Hagan Brokke. But, then, he did turn up. Not alone.
The Empress tagged along behind.
“What the hell is wrong with that woman?” But he was too tired to get good and angry. He just kept things moving by asking if anyone knew anything about this new version of the hippodrome. He would go through the motions to the end, though Katrin’s presence virtually guaranteed death or captivity. How could Serenity resist the invitation to end his war with one quick stroke?
