by Glen Cook
“Freido was an older Paludan. My brother wasn’t good for the family. He stopped insisting that our brightest youngsters stay here to tend the family fortune. His temper and drunken bad behavior made them all want to leave.”
Else sat quietly, wondering what the Principaté had in mind.
“These are difficult times, Hecht. The malaise afflicting the Bruglioni isn’t confined to this family. It afflicts all Brothe. It lies like a fog on the Episcopal world. A crusade might wake us up. But at what cost? The Patriarch is obsessed with making a mark on history. At a time when we have no tools to do the work. And a time when nobody wants to get involved in Patriarchal adventures.”
Else nodded. And waited, puzzled.
“Hecht, the whole world seems to be trying to thwart Sublime. These mad Calzirans have distracted him completely from his ambitions in the Connec.”
Else considered offering the opinion that a higher power was vetoing Sublime’s machinations.
Divino sighed, caught his breath, continued when Else said nothing. “Duke Tormond and a mixed delegation, including the queen of Navaya, who is authorized to speak for King Peter, is approaching Brothe. The Duke is offering the Connec’s support in punishing Calzir. Queen Isabeth says Peter would contribute warships to the campaign.”
“That’s a tit for tat? If the Patriarch leaves the Connec alone the Connec will rescue him from Calzir?”
“It hasn’t been said that way, but that’s what it amounts to. And Sublime, despite being a prime specimen of Benedocto weasel, can’t possibly slime his way around Tormond and Peter this time. Not with the Emperor peeking over everybody’s shoulders.”
“Which means he’ll never raise the money to finance an overseas adventure?”
“True. You do see past the end of your nose. I like that.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Else felt better, suddenly.
“I brought you here so I could get a better look at you. I liked what I heard. And now I like what I see. So. Can I hire you away from my nephew?”
“Your Grace?”
“Not right away. I may be a Prince of the Church but I’m still a Bruglioni. You’ve only just started whipping this place into shape. I want you to stay after that till Paludan’s jealousy, anger, and paranoia crush his good sense and he fires you. Then you come to work for me.”
Else gaped.
“What do you think?”
“I think I’m overawed. I think it’s too good to be true. It’s the hope of finding opportunity like this that brings men from the corners of the world to Brothe. Of course I’ll do it.” Of course he would do it. It was a dream come true. They would sing and dance through the halls of the Palace of the Kings when the news reached al-Qarn. “What would my duties be?”
“We’ll reserve that for now. I assure you, though, that you’ll be doing what you’re best qualified to do.”
“Oh?” Else did not press. He would tread carefully now. It would not be his fault if this fell through.
“Meanwhile, keep up the good work. Make the Bruglioni strong again.”
“Yes, Your Grace. And what about the current situation, Your Grace?”
“What about it?”
“What’s become of the Calziran sorcerers? What became of the blond men? Who are they? They sound like something more than just good fighters.”
“They’re what we call soultaken. Meaning they’re really only halfway alive. Soultaken are the tools of major supernatural entities. Soultaken haven’t been seen around here in a millennium. Which makes their behavior more odd. Soultaken are used to commit the highest crimes. Yet these two operate like common thugs.”
“You met them, didn’t you?”
“Once.”
“And?”
“The more I know about the Instrumentalities of the Night, the less I want to talk about them. I think we have reason to be afraid. We can’t fathom the motives of the entities using those two. We can’t discover their identities. It’s probably connected to a strange unrest among the Instrumentalities of the Night that has persisted for months, now.”
“I’m confused.”
“We all are. It makes no sense. Not in any way we can fathom. We being the Collegium. Our allies among the creatures of the Night, that are normally pliable, won’t help us. The Realm of Night is unanimous. . . . You jumped. You had a thought?”
“Not really.” It was that Realm of Night remark. Was that an Episcopal Chaldarean concept? “I suppose time will let you know. When the mood strikes.”
“Of course. We’ll find those two. Eventually. But they’re of no moment to you. Just do your job here. When the time comes, I’ll see you well pleased with your rewards.”
Else did his best to look like a man whose only interest was exactly that. He promised, “If Paludan doesn’t interfere, I can get this place whipped into shape.”
“Paludan isn’t as stupid as he seems, Hecht. He knows what he’s doing, most of the time. I think he intends to let you run your course. Because that will save him having to do all that work himself. In the dark. Because he never learned how himself.”
Else grunted.
“My brother served his sons poorly. And now Paludan has no sons of his own. Nor a wife who can give him more. And I have none, even off the sheets. I fear for tomorrow.”
“I’m teaching Dugo what I can, Your Grace. But the truth is, that boy isn’t fit. And can’t be made fit. You Bruglioni need to strain every bone, joint, and muscle to make sure Paludan lives forever. Or finds himself another wife and stays away from Gervase long enough to get an heir or two on her. Dugo could be a disaster big enough to push the family over the brink into extinction. Begging your pardon for stepping out of my place.”
Families had been important in Brothe since antiquity. But the Five Families of today did not include among them even one that had been powerful in Imperial times.
“Perhaps the man who isn’t as stupid as he looks will develop wisdom, Hecht. Given time. It can happen. A man confronted with powerful responsibilities, knowing there’s no one else to handle them, often does grow up. I’ve seen it happen.”
Else coughed. “That’s more the case when young people are involved, usually.”
“Oh, my! A sense of humor, too? Perhaps we are blessed.”
That troubled Else. He was not comfortable with the notion that he could be an inimical god’s answer to its worshipers’ prayers.
DAYS PASSED. FIGHTING CONTINUED. TRAPPED CALZIRANS REFUSED TO SURrender. The pirates shared an abiding conviction that they would suffer agonizing deaths because of what had happened at Starplire.
“Call me an old cynic,” Else told Pinkus Ghort, slurring because his jaw was still swollen. The red circles and pink skin were gone, at least. He was down to ugly yellow and purple bruises. And a short haircut. “But I think I know why the pirates behaved badly at Starplire. They were incited to it. By Starkden and Masant al-Seyhan. So they’d be scared to surrender later on. The Brothe attack was part of a bigger plan.”
“What else could you expect from a bunch of barbarian Pramans?”
Else did not argue.
“You look like you’re coming down with the mumps, Pipe. You were going to say?”
“That people on our side will behave just as badly, given a chance. Like, say, Grade Drocker. Note that I express no disrespect by mentioning the Patriarch or the Emperor.”
Ghort chuckled. “You hang around with me, you’ll end up as big a realist as I am. Where’s your better half?”
“A realist? Is that what you call somebody who sees the worst in everybody? Gervase?” Saluda had accompanied Else everywhere the past few days. “He got bored, I guess. Short attention span.”
“Tell you what, Pipe. I’m never disappointed by people. When are you going to move over to the Collegium?”
“I don’t know. Not soon. Even assuming Principaté Bruglioni wasn’t blowing smoke. He wants the Bruglioni household shaped up first.”
“And tho
se boys can’t do that for themselves?”
“They don’t seem inclined to try. Too much like work.”
“Principaté Doneto is thrilled with your progress.”
“I was sure that he would be.”
“Here comes Joe. What’s the word, Joe?”
Just Plain Joe rode up on an ambling Pig Iron. Pig Iron looked bored and put upon. Joe said, “Don’t go barking, boss. This old boy’s only got one speed.”
Else asked, “What happened to you?”
Joe’s left leg was in a splint. It stuck out from the side of the mule at a strange angle.
“Got hit with one a them fish arrows with the barbed heads. The ones they ties ropes on and use to get sharks. Went in and bounced off the bone. Smarted some. They was able to push it on through and got everything fixed up before it festered. Cap’n Ghort, sir, I don’t think you’re gonna get much cooperation from anybody. Not even the pirates. They ain’t giving up. They promise they’ll go away, though. If you let them.”
“I’d let them if it was my call. But I’m not allowed. The mercenaries and the Imperials won’t root them out?”
“Cap, even I ain’t dumb enough to get myself killed trying to fix something that’s just naturally gonna fix itself if I just sit around and wait.”
“And there you have it,” Ghort said. “And guess who’s fault it’ll be if the whole city stays shut down because these idiot fishermen won’t lay down and die? I didn’t watch my back close enough. Doneto let me set myself up to be the perfect scapegoat.”
“I doubt you’re perfect at anything.”
Just Plain Joe said, “Maybe instead of paying them mercenaries day rates you might oughta pay them piecework. Way it works now, sitting on their hands pays them just as much as fighting.”
Ghort said, “The man may have a point. The money from the levy is going fast but there’s enough left for some serious bounties.”
That would not matter, overall. Those Calzirans who had not yet escaped never would. The Collegium and the Patriarch agreed. Not one Calziran would be there to defend his home when war came to Calzir.
“Let you in on a secret, Pipe,” Ghort said, as they strode toward the Castella dollas Pontellas. “This is one I’m not supposed to know. But I happened to be accidentally eavesdropping when I heard.”
“Accidentally, Pinkus?”
“That would’ve been my plea if I’d gotten caught. I know how much you love those guys.”
“Uhm?”
“I overheard Doneto talking to his sister’s son, Palo. Palo is an aide to the Patriarch.”
“The suspense is killing me, Pinkus.”
“I doubt it. But here it is, just in case, on account of your ass is too big to haul around if you drop dead on me. That regiment of Imperial cavalry showing up right on time wasn’t no coincidence.”
“No! You don’t say.”
“I mean, they weren’t headed for Alameddine, after all. They were headed for Brothe from the start. Sublime cut some kind of deal with Hansel. Which explains why I saw Ferris Renfrow sneaking around a while back.”
“Our friend the interrogator from Plemenza?”
“The very one. Bo spotted him. On the Embankment, not far from Krois. Bo lost him there. When I heard about Sublime making a deal I knew why. He headed into the Patriarch’s hideout.”
“I believe you. But I don’t understand. Why would the Patriarch and the Emperor get together?”
“Sublime? Because he’d get soldiers. Two ways. Imperial allies on the front end and his own men freed from having to guard against Imperial incursions on the back side.”
“What’s in it for Hansel?”
“Good question, Pipe.”
“What can Sublime give him that he can’t get anywhere else?”
“More good questions. And we’ll see them all answered. If we’re clever enough to stay alive long enough.”
“Hey, Pipe! Cap’n Ghort!” Just Plain Joe called. He and Pig Iron were dawdling along ahead of Else and Ghort.
Ghort asked, “What you got, Joe?”
“Crossing the Blendine Bridge.”
“Oh. Hey! It’s that embassy from the Connec. They want to cut a deal with Sublime, too. I wouldn’t want to be Immaculate today. All my pals are fixing to dump me on the shit pile of history.”
Two of Sublime’s biggest distractions were about to become something else entirely. Meaning the Patriarch might get to preach his crusade to the Holy Lands after all.
Else needed to visit Gledius Stewpo.
Better yet, he needed to visit Anna Mozilla. There was genuine comfort to be found with the widow.
25. Brothe, with the Connecten Embassy
T
he Mother City awed Brother Candle despite his inclination to remain unimpressed by things of the world. But time lay so much more thickly and obviously on Brothe than elsewhere.
Khaurene and Castreresone were ancient, too, though they had worn different names when Brothen conquerors arrived in the Connec.
Any stroll down a Brothen street provided reminders of the glory that was. Conquerors still remembered had walked these cobblestones. Triumphant armies had paraded along these boulevards. Today the streets carried folk who did not understand that the glory days were gone. Though Brother Candle suspected that for most ancient Brothens the glory had been of little moment. Then and now, what interested the poor would be food and shelter.
They would not be remembered. That honor was reserved for the man who whipped them to the work of empire, who extorted the taxes that financed monuments and legions. Yet, always, the Brothen rabble lived better than the poor of lesser cities. That was a simple, cruel truth, whether or not it suited Brother Candle’s ideology.
“What troubles you now, Brother?”
“I was considering the plight of the poor.” He looked round to see where the group had gotten while he was preoccupied.
They had reached that scenic overlook used to view the Teragi, its bridges, island fortresses, all the neighboring structures, and the monuments of the Memorium, sprawled in dirty golden splendor.
“Amazing,” Brother Candle said.
Michael Carhart remarked, “I’ve been here before. Twice. I’m still impressed.”
Local spectators stared. Brothens were used to segregation of faiths.
Michael Carhart said, “We’re here at the perfect time of day, in perfect weather. The lighting . . .”
A far rumble interrupted. A cloud of dust rose against the afternoon sunlight, golden brown. Someone said, “A building just collapsed.”
Gently sarcastic, someone remarked, “That would be in one of the areas they told us to avoid because of the fighting.”
The struggle with the pirates was winding down.
Brother Candle had seen some captives earlier. They had not been sound enough to understand what was happening. They were hungry and afraid and relieved that it was all over. Brother Candle wondered how they would fare at the hands of the Brotherhood of War.
The Brotherhood was extremely interested in acquiring information about those who had instigated the Calziran adventure. Which was not yet ended. Raids continued along the eastern coast.
The Connecten clerics settled down to watch the afternoon light play amongst the edifices and monuments. Squinting, Brother Candle could just make out soldiers guarding the wrecked ships across the river, valuable as salvage.
Michael Carhart sighed. “I wonder how it’s going?” While they roamed idly and gawked at wonders of old renown, Duke Tormond and Queen Isabeth were in audience with the Patriarch. Everyone expected that to go badly. Tormond was too wishy-washy. Isabeth was an unknown. She was just fourteen when she went off to Navaya to be Peter’s queen.
Brother Candle said, “Let me become a prophet in my own time. The Queen of Navaya will be more naive than the Duke of Khaurene. Who will become confused and deliver his patrimony to Sublime because that’s easier than standing fast and doing the right thing.”
&n
bsp; “Look there,” one of his companions said. “More Patriarchal troops.”
Thirty soldiers were crossing the bridge nearest Krois. Sublime was pulling his garrisons in. Prematurely, if he was preparing for a Calziran expedition. It was a huge risk, counting on Johannes Blackboots not to leap at the nakedness of the Patriarchal States.
They knew immediately when Tormond and Isabeth ended their audience. The Duke’s party were in plain sight crossing over from Krois to the south bank of the Teragi.
The Duke and his sister and those closest to them were guests of the Cologni family, in a Cologni satellite citadel, the Palazo Bracco. The Palazo Bracco was the seat of Flouroceno Cologni, the Cologni family Principaté. The Principaté, however, had moved to a suite in the Chiaro Palace when the pirates arrived. Most of the Principatés had treated themselves to luxurious security when the enemies of God appeared.
Flouroceno Cologni enjoyed showing off. He was doing so by housing the Connecten embassy. Overall, though, he was a nonentity who, if remembered at all, would lay a claim on history only because he did host Duke Tormond during his unhappy visit to the Mother City.
Members of the embassy began to gather in the central court of the Palazo Bracco. The Duke waited until no one else could crowd in. To his credit, he did feed everyone. On Sublime. “Eat up! We’re Sublime’s friends, now.”
Brother Candle took advantage of the feast, served in every-man-for-himself fashion from tables along the courtyard wall. The horror show lasted for hours. During which Bishop LeCroes cornered Brother Candle. LeCroes, having internalized an admirable quantity of Firaldian wine, had developed a grand despair because he expected the Duke to abandon Immaculate.
“We don’t know that,” Brother Candle protested. “Tormond is a man of principle. One principle the Dukes of Khaurene never forget is that Worthy VI was legitimately elected Patriarch of the Episcopal Church.”
“Of course, he hasn’t forgotten. But he won’t let what’s right get in the way of doing what’s expedient.”
The Duke signaled a henchman. The man bellowed for silence.
Tormond had imbibed a quantity of wine himself. Eventually, carefully, he announced, “The goal toward which we’ve worked saw fruition today. There will be peace between the Church and the Connec.”