by Glen Cook
Titus Consent asked what he wanted to know about the hippodrome.
“It fell down because the catacombs caved in. Was anything done to stop that from happening again?” The catacombs offered the monster there a sheltered path of attack, otherwise.
There were several opinions. No one knew for sure. Hecht studied the Empress and Captain Ephrian. Ephrian had gotten himself wounded. He was pale, exhausted, on the verge of collapse. Katrin looked like she had been smoking kuf. Smelled like it, too.
Ephrian noted his sniffing. “It actually helps,” he said. Then fell asleep.
Hecht envied him.
He began to talk about the likelihood of a serious encounter with the Night, tonight. Tonight could make or break the whole campaign. He made no comment on the presence of royalty. If the Righteous got through tonight they ought to be able to fight through to the Teragi tomorrow, there to isolate Krois and the Chiaro Palace. Then they could relax and wait on the Grand Duke.
Hecht tried to make it sound like he thought this war was as good as won. If they could just make it through tonight.
The night went quiet.
Hecht’s amulet itched brutally.
Katrin offered a vague smile to no one in particular.
Something exploded on the other side of the stadium.
A firepowder cart? No. That was huge but down in the ground. Underneath.
There was no big flash or smoke, just a muted bang, and shaking.
Everyone started trading dimwit questions.
The other side of the stadium groaned. Then it rumbled. Then it settled majestically, dustily, into the earth.
“Did they do anything to the catacombs so that wouldn’t happen again?” Titus asked. “I’m thinking, probably not.”
Hecht said, “We had people and weapons posted over there.” Noting that this was not the section that had fallen before. “One more time and we’ll have a whole new hippodrome. Get down there and see what needs doing.”
Something more than an explosion and collapse had happened. Hecht’s staff already believed it had been an attack.
The irritation offered by Hecht’s amulet had a whole new feel.
“Wait.”
Hecht thought Katrin had spoken. “Your Grace?” But the Empress had drifted into a thousand-yard stare. And Captain Ephrian was sound asleep.
“Father. Here.”
“Lila?”
“Here.” Inside a shadow hardly big enough to hide a pin.
“You’ve had me worried half to death, girl. You just plain disappeared last night.”
“I had to help Great Grandfather seal off the Construct. Then I had to get some sleep. And then I had to help him set the trap that just got sprung.”
“That explosion?”
“That would be the most obvious part.”
“He’s making a habit of knocking this place down.”
“But that’s good. For you. It means the monster walked into the trap. It means you won’t have to fight it off.”
Hecht rubbed his left wrist. “I don’t know.” It felt like the Night remained plenty active.
Someone called out from below. He yelled back something about looking out for the Empress.
Lila said, “I have to go. I have to help Great Grandfather tonight. Don’t worry about the monster. The explosives were silver-charged. They shredded it.” She turned sideways.
Hecht turned himself. And found Katrin watching him, not looking the least bit drugged. “Who was that, Commander?”
“My daughter. The sorceress.”
***
The new collapse at the hippodrome served to declare a truce between the working people on both sides. A lot of rescue work needed doing, particularly of horses and the people who lived with them.
It was another long night affording little rest. On the plus side, casualties were amazingly few.
Lila said Muniero Delari was responsible. The Principaté had destroyed the thing in the catacombs again, maybe permanently this time. And the effects were immediate and far-reaching.
Come morning the city was quiet. And flooded with rumors. The squabble in the Collegium had taken a dramatic turn. Serenity’s most obdurate supporters had fled into Krois, where they would assist the Patriarch in waiting the several days it would take the Captain-General to come rescue them.
Whether or not Serenity liked it, Pinkus Ghort could not just turn his back on the Grand Duke. That would get him slaughtered. He needed to maintain a force capable of making a rescue.
Loud supporters of the Patriarch were scarce today. Those Hecht did see were in the custody of partisans of families not named Benedocto. There was no resistance.
Could that thing down under have been a revenant old god of strife?
Hecht delivered the Empress and her party to the Penital, where Ambassador va Still-Patter had been under siege for weeks. The besiegers had gone away during the night.
Hecht rubbed his left wrist. The amulet barely tickled this morning.
Principaté Delari had done good. He had done real good.
***
Military operations continued. Krois had to be isolated. The Chiaro Palace had to be neutralized. The north side gates had to be taken under control to forestall their use by the Captain-General, whose motley Patriarchal levies now outnumbered the Imperials harassing them.
Hecht went to one of the little gates of the Castella dollas Pontellas and asked to see his family. After he had made arrangements for his soldiers with families locally to visit their loved ones, with minimal risk.
Chaos waxed and waned. There were no serious outbreaks. No attack on the Devedian quarter materialized. Hecht was quick to encourage rumors that blamed him for having kept an attack from developing.
***
Hecht finally sat down with his family. Even Muniero Delari was there. Though triumphant, the old man looked like he was on his last legs, and believed that himself. “This time was too much, Piper. Protecting the Construct, harassing Doneto, slaying his monster, trying to turn the tide in the Collegium … All too much for one old man. And Doneto is still out there, scheming up something else.”
“You stop. He’s been thwarted. Leave the rest for someone else.”
“There is no one else.”
“Pella. I have a mission for you. You can draft Vali to help.”
“Dad?”
“Put this old coot into bed and sit on him till I tell you to turn him loose. Brothe will survive without him tinkering.”
Vali and Pella closed in on Delari. They did not have to drag him. And he did not protest.
All he needed was for someone to take the decisions away. He could then surrender to exhaustion.
***
“You’ve been unnaturally quiet since I got here,” Hecht told Anna, lying in bed. She had been powerfully responsive but otherwise uncharacteristically silent.
“I don’t know what it is. I can’t deal with all this emotionally. It’s so frustrating because there’s no way to make it change. We are who we are and the world is what it is, and, I firmly suspect, I wouldn’t be the least bit happier if everything suddenly changed to be exactly the way I think I want it.”
“You always were able to look past emotion. Better than me, really.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“This isn’t over by a long way. Pinkus is coming and he outnumbers me.”
“And you’ll fight. Of course.”
“Not if I can help it. If I can root Serenity out first …”
“No more. Just be here. And save all that for Titus and the others.”
“How are Noë and the children?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from them since all this started. Hauf wouldn’t extend the protection of the Brotherhood to a family of Deves.”
“Titus went down there. We’ll know tomorrow.” He felt a deep and selfish dread that the news would not be good.
Bad news might cost him Consent’s talents.
***
Relative peace ruled the Mother City. There were skirmishes but no serious bloodlettings. Hecht stayed busy seeing all the people who felt they had a claim on his time. He figured Serenity was just as busy over in Krois.
There was good news. Titus had found his family safe and well and met his newest son for the first time. Further, Noë’s family had, at last, forgiven her for having deserted the faith of her ancestors when her husband converted. She had reconciled with them.
Hecht never was convinced that Consent’s conversion was genuine so he had no trouble seeing Noë’s as illusory.
No matter. He was pleased for Titus.
One of those who made demands was Addam Hauf, Master of the Castella Commandery. Hauf was deeply interested in exploring the Imperial commitment to a new crusade.
“That answer is simple,” Hecht told Hauf. “We go next summer, barring disaster. And barring any shortage of funds.”
Hauf chuckled. “Catch that rascal Doneto. Hang him up by his ugly big toes. Make him pay. He must have chests full of bribe monies by now.”
Not so. One reason some Principatés were deserting Serenity was that he had not yet paid for their votes.
“He might not be so well off, now. Not getting any income out of the Empire since Katrin changed her mind.”
“Take it back.”
“Excellent idea. Easier said than done with him forted up inside Krois.”
Somewhere, remotely, a half-dozen falcons popped off. Probably weapons on the banks of the Teragi harassing Krois. The effort was psychological rather than practical. The projectiles were not massive enough to do serious damage.
Hauf said, “There are passages under the river.”
“And Serenity knows.”
“Death trap?”
“Absolutely.” Maybe. Principaté Delari was working on that. And having little luck.
“The Empire definitely is committed to a crusade?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Though even next summer may be too late.”
“Why is that?”
“While we’re fighting amongst ourselves here Indala is involved in a campaign to unite the kaifates so he can undertake a crusade of his own.”
“Really?”
“Really. Does that shock you?”
“It’s unexpected. And it can’t be good for us. But … He expects to prevail against Gordimer the Lion and the Sha-lug?”
“He’d have to, wouldn’t he? Or he wouldn’t have marched on Dreanger in the first place.”
“I suppose.”
Hecht had paid little attention to Gordimer, Dreanger, and the east these past few years. Could the Lion have sunk so far?
***
A summons came from the Penital, over the Ambassador’s signature. Terens Ernest and ten men in long mail shirts walked Hecht over. He did not see how they could prevent a repeat of what had happened last spring.
His wound still bothered him.
As they walked, Ernest said, “Sir, I’m your height and weight. I’ve been practicing walking your way, with that kind of shovel handle up the spine and ax handle across the shoulders posture. We should put me in your clothes when we’re outside, now. With things slowed down the bad guys will have time to plan all kinds of mischief.”
“Terens, I don’t know if I should kiss you or tell you you’re the stupidest man I ever met. You’re right. Extra precautions need to be taken. In fact, we all ought to wear our mail shirts and helmets whenever we go out.”
“Yeah.” Sarcastically. The Commander of the Righteous was the only man there not wearing a helmet.
Hecht said, “I’ll adjust my habits.”
***
The Ambassador greeted Hecht warmly. “Very pleased to see you again, Commander.”
“Tell you the truth, till ten days ago I wouldn’t have considered it possible. Your father has been doing amazing things.”
“Hasn’t he? And not that long ago we thought he was headed for the bone pile.”
“You may get to see the new man before long. So. To what do I owe the honor of the summons?”
“She wants to see you. She isn’t happy. You don’t consult her. You haven’t kept her informed since the Battle of the Shades.”
Hecht did not protest. That was true. Were Consent, Vircondelet, Sedlakova to operate that way he would knock some heads together. But …
That admission did not leave him less resentful of the identical attitude in his employer.
The Ambassador escorted him to a huge quiet room where the Empress waited — after a delay meant to remind him of who was master and who was servant.
He had yet to get it into his head that the Empress was always there, looking over his shoulder. She was not remote the way the Patriarchs had been when he was Captain-General.
The rich smell of coffee hit him when the door opened. His mouth watered. The odor seemed a good omen.
On the other hand … He saw no servants, no lifeguards, no ladies-in-waiting as he headed toward the source of the smell. Alone.
Bayard va Still-Patter had not come in with him.
Katrin Ege, at the mercy of kuf or alcohol, was also a slave to her insecurities and appetites. She wore nothing. Her frame was more gaunt than when last he had seen her unclothed. There were bruises all over her. Had someone been beating her?
“What the hell?”
“Commander, you know your duty.” She slurred her words. She must have been drinking. And he smelled kuf behind the marvelous stench of the coffee. So maybe she had done both to get into her present state. Meaning she must have been at it for a while.
Katrin got down on hands and knees, rested her right cheek on her folded hands.
“Your Grace …” He wanted to refuse, but after a year he knew her, knew himself, and knew where he and she wanted to go too well to try. “You don’t look like you’ve been eating right. And you have bruises. Has somebody …”
“Forget that. I put the bruises there. Punishing my flesh for its wicked hungers. But my flesh defeated me. Come here. Fuck me.”
Hecht was appalled. Repelled. Disgusted. And yet aroused. There was nothing appetizing about this woman, presenting like a cat in heat. Yet …
No doubt she felt the same things he did, but betrayed by the evil within, she could not help being receptive.
“Your choices are the same as they were before, Commander.”
He told himself he had to have this job. He had to be Commander of the Righteous when the next crusade smashed into the Holy Lands.
It was nothing like being with Anna Mozilla, yet, in its crooked way, it was more exciting. An Empress!
He was master of a king, metaphorically, for those few minutes when he made the most powerful monarch in the west cry and beg.
***
Suffocating in self-loathing, Hecht did not want to return to the Castella. He did not want to face his family. He did not want to see Anna till he found some way to expiate his sin. Or some clever rationalization.
Katrin’s bruises crossed his mind. Her torment must be worse than his. What had she gone through before she surrendered to her lust?
“Sir?” Terens Ernest needed instructions.
“That was not a pleasant interview, Mr. Ernest. Let’s take a walk along the river and have a gander at the wonders of the Mother City.” This was Ernest’s first visit: hardly a pilgrim’s journey.
“Might that be risky?”
“Possibly. Stay on my left. Last time somebody tried to kill me here he was down there in the monuments. He used a longbow.”
Ernest had heard about it, not from his principal. He knew the story behind each assassination attempt, including some that had not been brought to Hecht’s attention.
Ernest asked, “What happened? Can you talk about it? Did you see the Empress? Her bodyguards say she’s gone completely nuts.”
&nbs
p; “I did see her. There was a lot of ranting. She isn’t pleased with how I’ve treated our host city. I’m too gentle for her taste.” He stopped, stared back at Krois on its stone-clad island amid the Sacred Flood. Bronte Doneto was out there, scarcely a quarter mile away, completely nuts himself. And completely invulnerable.
Pinkus Ghort should arrive sometime tomorrow, despite the Grand Duke’s best efforts.
The worm kept twisting and turning.
Hecht noted signs of substantial explosions over there. Lila’s work?
The girl was going to get herself in trouble if she was not careful.
He enjoyed a smirk at his own foolishness.
Shouting broke out back that way, followed by the rattle of horseshoes on stone.
Brothe, round there, was all stone, including the faces of the channel of the Teragi. A conceit of the Old Brothens. Even the Sacred Flood had been under their control.
Hecht and his lifeguards faced the excitement. Several riders headed their way, pursued by men on foot. The horseman out front went into a gallop. Insanity on this kind of surface.
That lead rider was no man. That was Katrin Ege in her loose-fitting armor, headed for her Commander of the Righteous at the best speed her mount could make.
Hecht’s heart sank. This could mean ruin. … What the hell? Had she lost it completely?
Ernest grabbed Hecht and dragged him toward potential safety among the monuments.
Too late. Far too late. Shrieking words that never made sense to anyone, Katrin was upon them. Her mount narrowly avoided Hecht and Ernest. Both dove away. Both ended up sprawled on the pavements, with bleeding palms.
Captain Ephrian whipped past, face a mask of despair. He meant to snatch Katrin’s reins as she tried to turn to charge in the opposite direction.
The footing was not appropriate for a horse wearing iron shoes.
Ephrian collided with Katrin. The horseman behind Ephrian collided with them both.
Combined momentums pushed Katrin and Ephrian over the brink of the embankment. Screaming, man, woman, and horses all went scrabbling, spinning, and tumbling down the stone facing, into the river.
