The Tyranny of the Night: Book One of the Instrumentalities of the Night

by Glen Cook

  Later, report done, Else said, “I need one more thing. As a Bruglioni henchman. An accountant. A wizard with numbers who can ferret out bookkeeping deceits. The Bruglioni staff have been stealing their masters blind using bookkeeping tricks. I’m trying to make my name with them.”

  Stewpo nodded. “I’ll see what can be done.”

  POLO SAID, “YOU FOUND PAPER. GOOD.”

  “In the Deve quarter. But they said, with war possible, the supply won’t last. Big price increases are coming.”

  “War. Yeah. They want to see you about that. Right away.”

  “Why? They spend all their time hiding out. I can’t ever get hold of them when I need something.”

  “And that’s bad? Paludan is happy with you.”

  “Really? I’m making it up as I go, Polo. They never told me what to do, they just hired me to do something. So I’m doing what obviously needs doing. And wondering why the second richest family in Brothe lives in a dump. How do they stay feared and respected? There’s nobody here to respect or fear. Is that a secret? You say they’re waiting for me now?”

  “Not as such. They’re in the private audience. Playing chess.”

  “What are they up to?”

  “Divino was here for a while. It might have to do with the pirate problem.”

  “Divino? That’s the uncle who’s in the Collegium?”

  “Yes. Principaté Divino Bruglioni. You’ve probably met him without realizing who he was. He comes around here a lot.”

  “Take this stuff to our quarters. Then get Madam Ristoti to send me something to eat. In the private audience. I haven’t eaten all day.”

  “You didn’t see your lady friend?”

  “I was looking for paper. And learning my way around that part of town.”

  “All business, eh?”

  “Always, Polo. That’s how you get ahead in the world.”

  GERVASE SALUDA HAD HIS BACK TO THE DOOR WHEN ELSE ENTERED THE private audience. The room was twelve feet by sixteen, big by peasant standards but small for a working room in the Bruglioni citadel. There were few furnishings. One chess table. Four chairs, two in use already. A fireplace, not lighted. Paludan Bruglioni sat opposite Gervase, scowling fiercely at the chessboard.

  “Yeah, Hecht. You’re here. You were out and around today, right?”

  “I went to the Devedian quarter to get paper. For the boys’ lessons. I took the opportunity to find out more about that part of the city.”

  “You heard what happened at Starplire?”

  “Only the bare bones of the story. I have blond hair. People talk to me only as much as they need to, to separate me from my money. I didn’t hear much war talk, though.”

  “You must not have been listening. There’s a lot of war talk. Uncle Divino says the Patriarch may preach a crusade. And the Collegium will let him have it.”

  That startled Else. “Really?”

  “Really. Most of them lost family at Starplire. But there’re more pressing problems.”

  “Yes?”

  “The Collegium, according to Divino, began tracking the Calziran pirates after the news from Starplire. The pirates are more numerous, more organized, and more centrally controlled than anybody suspected. The Starplire raid was a rehearsal.”

  “This is more disturbing by the moment.”

  Gervase Saluda said, “Indeed. Pull up a chair. Let’s talk.”

  Else did as he was told. “Go ahead.”

  “The pirates are thinking about attacking Brothe next. They see no reason to expect much resistance. The only soldiers in town are the Brotherhood. There aren’t a hundred of them, right now.”

  “The Calzirans know all that?”

  “They do.”

  “Do they know we know they know? No. I take that back. Are their captains intimate with the Instrumentalities of the Night? Would they think that somebody here knows what they’re doing?”

  “Their leaders . . . might. The Collegium is no secret.”

  Paludan interrupted. “That’s not why we’re here. We have to worry about family protection and property preservation.”

  “By which you mean?”

  “We have properties all over the city.”

  “You won’t be able to protect everything. You might not be able to protect anything if you don’t know what’s likely to be attacked. Consolidate here. Everything you don’t want stolen or vandalized and anyone you don’t want killed. Better yet, move to the country until the raiders go away.”

  Gervase said, “That wouldn’t be the best option, politically.”

  Paludan added, “We’re Bruglioni. We’re obligated to defend the city.”

  “How? Your army is me. Plus four gatekeepers and some kids who haven’t figured out which end of a sword you’re supposed to grab.”

  “Everybody has that problem. The nearest Patriarchal garrison is at Bober, four days away. The nearest soldiers could be here in two, but that would be the Imperial garrison from Gage. Which includes the Empire’s best—just in case Hansel decides to swoop down on Brothe.”

  “So we’re afraid Imperials might be more trouble than Calziran pirates?”

  Gervase snorted. “No. But Sublime might see it that way.”

  Paludan agreed. “If the pirates do come, Sublime will just hole up on his island and wait them out.”

  Else said, “I won’t live long enough to understand Brothen politics. That looks like a huge opportunity for Sublime’s enemies.”

  “It is. Uncle Divino and his cronies will take advantage if that happens.”

  “So both parties might just let the rape happen? One out of cowardice and the other for political gain?”

  “I don’t know. I do want a soldier’s professional opinion of the situation.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out. Ah. Madam Ristoti. Thank you. But I think I’m done here now, so I’ll just eat in the kitchen.” He looked to Paludan Bruglioni for permission to leave. After a dark scowl, Bruglioni nodded.

  ELSE WENT OUT EARLY. NO ONE FOLLOWED. HE VISITED THE ARNIENA compound first, where he managed a short audience with Rogoz Sayag and his father. Inigo Arniena joined them briefly.

  Else moved on to Bronte Doneto’s establishment. Just Plain Joe was on duty at the gate. He whisked Else inside.

  “They got some good food here, Pipe,” Joe reported. “An’ plenty of it. This’s the best job I ever had. Except for having Ghort as my boss. He’s a real asshole sometimes.”

  “That’s all us officers, Joe. When we have to get some use out of a guy like Bo, every day, after a while it turns you sour.”

  Joe laughed. “I got you.”

  “How’s Pig Iron?”

  “Livin’ in hog heaven, Pipe. He’s got it twice as better than I do. This’s it. Yo! Here’s Captain Hecht.”

  Pinkus Ghort was serious about being Doneto’s number-one man. He had six professional soldiers brainstorming responses to a possible Calziran attack.

  “Wow!” Else said. “I have a hundred-year-old man named Vigo Caniglia and three other men, none trained and only one young enough to be of any use. Plus some kids, the oldest being sixteen.”

  “Way I hear, Pipe, these Five Family types are so damned cheap, you’re probably better off. Even though the poorest can afford a whole regiment if they want. We were fools when we thought we could make our fortunes here. Though some of us got lucky.”

  “Any useful news?” Else asked. “What I’ve got is, the pirates might be coming to Brothe. And nobody thinks there’s much we can do about it. I’m supposed to tell the family what to do.”

  “You know about as much as I do. The Principate ain’t my pal no more. He’s all busy with schemes and conspiracies and not giving the guy who has to do the heavy lifting anything to work with.”

  “He say what his cousin’s going to do?”

  “No. But I’d put my money on him hunkering down, waiting out the storm, then using it as an excuse to start a crusade. He wants a crusade, bad. He don’t mu
ch care who against. Come over here. Check this map. If you were a half-ass mob of plunderers used to fishing for a living, where would you make your landing?” Ghort had a nice map of the city laid out.

  “I wouldn’t come all the way up here. I’d take fire from the bridges and fortified islands.”

  “But if you unship down here you’ll get hung up in the tenements. Where the streets are narrow and tangled and there’s nothing worth stealing.”

  “What’s this here? I haven’t been downriver from the Castella yet.”

  “Monuments. Plazas. Memorials. Mostly over a thousand years old. More plazas. Lots of squatters because there isn’t anybody to run them off. It’s not a good place for fighting.”

  “How about the north bank? Would they land there first?”

  “Then cross the bridges? I might try that if I knew how feeble we are. It would make for an easy debarkation. But not much plunder. The big churches and family holdings are south of the river.”

  “These Calzirans are mostly fishermen and coastal traders, right? So they’ll just be a mob. They could be panicked.”

  “We’re looking at what might be some pretty big numbers, though. Got any ideas?”

  “Sure. But we don’t have the people. We’d need experienced soldiers. There’s nobody out there but the Brotherhood.”

  “That we can see, Pipe. Or that enemy spies can see. But how about all those squatters out there? A lot of those guys came to Brothe hoping to join the armies the Patriarch hasn’t gotten around to putting together.”

  “Ho! Pinkus, you aren’t half as dumb as you put on. Why don’t we take a walk? I know somebody over at the Castella.”

  “Anybody I’d know?”

  “Sure. Redfearn Bechter. He made it out of the Connec. I ran into him the other day. He might listen long enough to think you’re on to something.”

  “Grade Drocker is in charge over there, now. He’s tight with Sublime. Sublime might not want the city to be able to defend itself.”

  “Drocker, eh? I thought Hawley Quirke was number one.”

  “Sublime got Quirke recalled to Runch. Quirke wouldn’t kiss his ass.

  “I thought the Brotherhood was big on being its own boss.”

  “They’re big on crusades, too. Sublime says he’s gonna give them some. The Special Office is all fired up.”

  * * *

  “THERE’S A PLAN IN PLACE, NOW,” ELSE TOLD PALUDAN, DIVINO Bruglioni, and Gervase Saluda. Divino Bruglioni was the man Else had seen with Gervase and Paludan before. Divino did not seem as old as an uncle ought to be. “I spent all day running hither and yon, seeing men I knew from the Connec. We figured out how to handle a pirate attack. The Bruglioni would have to contribute four thousand, two hundred ducats and any skilled fighters who can work with the Brotherhood. Which would be me. The Madisetti, the Arniena, and Bronte Doneto’s subclan of the Benedocto have all agreed already. I’m supposed to enlist the Bruglioni.”

  Paludan had trouble breathing. The Principate sat quietly, considering Else. Gervase gasped. “Forty-two-hundred ducats?”

  “Forty-two from each of the Five Families. Plus contributions from the Church, the Brotherhood, and the Deves.

  “Four thousand two hundred ducats,” Paludan murmured. “Tell me the plan.”

  “That’s where it gets a little sticky. Drocker is convinced that the Calzirans have allies and spies here.”

  Uncle Divino offered, “They do. It was by spying on their spies that we learned that a sorcerer named Masant al-Seyhan controls the pirates. Go ahead, Captain Hecht.”

  “Because of those spies Drocker doesn’t want to discuss his plans. I know you don’t like it but that’s the way it’s got to be. Principate, he’ll explain to you. But only if Paludan isn’t willing to take my word that total secrecy is necessary.”

  Gervase asked, “They don’t trust us?”

  “No. Grade Drocker is the most cynical man I’ve ever met. He’s sure that, fully informed, one of the Five Families would sell out the rest in exchange for not being plundered. Or some abused and underpaid servant might hear something and sell the information. Looking at the historical record, Drocker may be justified.”

  Uncle Divino opined, “It would be a huge risk just talking to the Collegium.”

  “I’m sure he has that angle covered. I don’t like him. Not even a little. But he’s the man to deal with what might be headed our way.”

  Paludan wriggled and whimpered for days before he financed his share of the Grand Strategy—once pressured sufficiently by his uncle Divino.

  Only Sublime refused to contribute to the defense fund. He did not like the master plan. It did not sufficiently aggrandize him or the Patriarchy.

  Else felt boyishly pleased when Grade Drocker announced, “His Holiness will receive no protection since he refuses to participate in the common defense. Eis be blessed, even the heathen Deves are contributing.”

  Else shivered in secret glee. Everything was going perfectly.

  THE CALZIRAN PIRATES DID ATTACK UP THE TERAGI, IN NUMBERS FAR greater than anticipated, a week later than expected. Their sails masked the river for miles.

  During the delay week they raided Terea, where the raiders ran into Imperial troops headed south, to take part in whatever adventure Hansel and his local henchmen had afoot in Alameddine.

  The Collegium declared the Terea raid a diversion meant to draw defenders away from the city. The Tereans and Imperials were awarded their freedom to twist in the wind.

  Rumor said Masant al-Seyhan had secret allies amongst the Five Families. Or the Colors. Or one of Brothe’s numerous minorities.

  Redfearn Bechter told Else and Pinkus Ghort, “You got to know somebody told them assholes that all we’ve been doing is trying to fool them into staying away.” The occasion was another endless planning meeting where little got decided.

  Ghort replied, “I can’t believe Drocker counted on them being scared off. I bet he was playing it so maybe he could find out who was friendly with the pirates.”

  “There’s one idea we do need to get spread around,” Else said. “The notion that the people in charge know what they’re doing.”

  “This is why I like Hecht,” Bechter said. “He’s all over fitted up with positive thinking.”

  Ghort said, “Great idea, Pipe. But a little late.” He pointed. A pillar of gray signal smoke leaned southward against the morning sky, way downriver. “Calzirans have entered the river. There’s going to be a fight.”

  This made no sense to Else. How did a mob of fishermen, badly armed peasants, and small-time merchant seamen talk themselves into attacking the seat of an empire in full expectation of looting it? There had to be more to this than was obvious.

  Two thousand veterans from amongst the squatters had been recruited and formed into small companies, each commanded by a member of the Brotherhood. Local volunteers and troops the Five Families had brought in from outside added another two thousand men. Else was sure four thousand would not be adequate.

  He told Ghort, “These people are insane.”

  Ghort grunted agreement. “Did you have any idea it would be like this when you decided to come here?”

  “No. The stories don’t have anything to do with reality.”

  “No shit. If I’d known what it was really like . . . These Calziran thugs wouldn’t have Pinkus Ghort to bang around on. I didn’t get into this racket on account of the opportunities for fighting.”

  Else did not think many soldiers did like the fighting. Mercenaries ended up where they were, doing what they did, because there was nothing else they could do. They were like prostitutes, that way.

  If you chose survival you did what you had to do to survive. Morality, ethics, and charity were luxuries enjoyed only by those rich enough to indulge in them.

  “Where the hell are you, Pipe?” Ghort demanded. “Pluck your head out of your ass and let’s eyeball the situation.”

  “You know why we get to stop them in the Memorium
?” Else asked.

  “Shit, yeah. So that anything that goes wrong will be some dumb mercenary’s fault. Meaning you and me, boy. We’re carrying the sins of the Patriarch and the Five Families on our shoulders. And we’ll be in the wrong whatever the fuck we do.”

  Gervase Saluda eased up beside Else. “Am I catching all the implications, Hecht? You believe the Patriarch is manipulating things so you and this Ghort creature will take the blame for anything that goes wrong?”

  Ghort responded, “And wouldn’t you try the same stunt if Pipe didn’t work for you? Shit. Pipe. Look. Them pricks are at the boom already.”

  A log and chain boom had been stretched across the Teragi two miles downriver. It was supposed to fix the pirate fleet for artillery on both banks. Unfortunately, demilitarization left Brothe only a handful of war engines. Most were lightweight and held by people unwilling to surrender them to the corporate good. Just six wheeled ballistae had been collected.

  A greasy ball of smoke and fire boiled up over the boom.

  Else asked, “What do you think, Sergeant Bechter?”

  “I think some major sorcery just happened. I think the bad guys have cut the boom. I think that means we’re in trouble.”

  Arriving news soon suggested that Redfearn Bechter was psychic. Except that his sorcery had been an explosion aboard a boat deliberately driven into the boom.

  There might be a thousand vessels in the stampede headed upriver.

  Before long a messenger announced, “They’ve started landing on the north bank, just below the Blendine Bridge.”

  The Blendine was the first bridge encountered by vessels coming up the Teragi. It stood less than two hundred yards downstream from the Castella dollas Pontellas. Its arches rose high enough that ships could pass below if they unstepped their masts and proceeded under oars. They were wide enough to allow the passage of warships headed for the Castella. Militia armed with javelins, cheap crossbows, boulders, and blocks of building stone, were stationed on that bridge.

  But the north shore, below the bridge, was undefended. The pirates attacked the bridge from there. They crossed over against resistance that surprised Else, under withering fire from the Castella. Decimated, sometimes stunned by the horror, the Calzirans plunged into the expanse of monuments, fountains, triumphal arches, and little plazas known as the Memorium, where the earliest and most ferocious fighting was expected to occur. Where the success or failure of the raid might be determined.