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

by Glen Cook

  Else was impressed.

  He was more impressed by the gathering. He was late, yes, but not very. The audience had not yet begun to show the inevitable signs of boredom. Several major personalities, including Johannes Blackboots himself and numerous members of the Collegium, were there. He saw Grade Drocker, of course, and some of the most senior commanders of the Patriarchal States and of the Grail Empire. Representatives of the Five Families were present as well, including Rogoz Sayag.

  Else did not see Pinkus Ghort. Of course. He had left Ghort on the street, as unaware of this gathering as he had been himself. But if Piper Hecht belonged here, so did Pinkus Ghort. Ghort would be closer to what was going on.

  Bechter led him to a seat on the left side of the room. So. His presence was not exalted.

  A servant brought tea, a luxury Else had enjoyed only a few times before, long ago in al-Qarn.

  Ferris Renfrow watched, apparently amused. But the man did not interrupt his monologue.

  Renfrow talked about Calzir as though he had been there.

  This was a dangerous man. How well did he know Dreanger? How much time had he spent in the Holy Lands, amongst the Wells of Ihrian?

  Ferris Renfrow was a compelling speaker. He brought Calzir to life. He made it sound like a desert in the making, except for scattered olive groves, orange groves, and vineyards. The rest of the country supported sheep and goats. And fishing villages wherever there was an excuse for a harbor.

  “A handful of noble and wealthy families control the best land. Which reflects a reality that obtains throughout Firaldia. The political landscape is similar, too. Calzir consists of a dozen principalities, none of which acknowledge the Mafti al-Araj el-Arak, and some more names, at al-Khazen. The Mafti is about as relevant as Immaculate II at Viscesment. Depending on factors involving conflicts between different visions of the Praman faith, the principalities recognize either the Kaif of Qasr al-Zed or the Kaif of al-Minphet as their proper spiritual leader. In practical terms, the kaifates have no more control than el-Arak. Neither kaif receives any revenue. This large island part of Calzir, Shippen, has silver and copper mines that have been in production since before men started keeping histories. Wheat is the island’s great agricultural product. It’s been an exporter forever. It also produces fruits, olives, and sheep. Fishing is important, but not the way it is on the mainland.

  “The inland parts of the island are wild. Nor have the population all gone over to the Unbeliever. A third of the populace are still Chaldarean, even in the main towns—though mainly Eastern Rite. In the deep wilderness, there’re still some practicing pagans.”

  Never saying so, Ferris Renfrow made it plain that Hansel had had his eye on Calzir for a long time.

  That made Else wonder if Johannes had engineered the Calziran piracy, through Starkden and Masant el-Seyhan.

  Hours later, after hearing more than he ever wanted to know about the topography, geography, economy, and people of Calzir, Else finally found out why he had been brought in.

  He got the news during the afternoon meal break.

  He started out eating alone. He did not want to attract attention by pushing into one of the circles of his betters. Redfearn Bechter approached him. “Drocker needs to see you, Captain.”

  Else lifted an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

  “He figures you’re probably curious about why you’re here.”

  “Other than just because I was told to show up? The man is smarter than he looks.”

  “Bring your chow. This’ll be a working lunch.”

  “All right.” Else gathered his food and drink.

  “Need a hand? Looks like you took some of everything, then went back for more.”

  “I got while the getting was good. You’d understand if you ate where I usually do.”

  Bechter guided Else into a small room. A dozen men had their heads together there. Else recognized Grade Drocker, Ferris Renfrow, Divino Bruglioni, and Bronte Doneto. He pulled himself together. This could be bad.

  Principaté Doneto said, “You don’t need to feel like a cornered stag, Hecht. It’s good news.”

  “Your Grace?”

  “You’ve impressed quite a few people this past year. These folks all have good things to say about you.” Chuckle. “There’s that look again. I’ll just get to it. We’ve decided to make you commander of the city regiment for the upcoming campaign.”

  “Huh!” That was an unexpected blow. “I . . . Really?”

  “Somebody has to do it. Brothe being Brothe, we couldn’t possibly agree on any native candidate. These men either know you or have heard of you. You’re the only candidate the majority didn’t reject.”

  It made sense—in a Brothen sort of way. Partly because so many of them thought they had a claim on Piper Hecht.

  “You’ll have people looking over your shoulder all the time, nagging you. The Five Families, the Brotherhood, the Collegium, the Colors, even His Holiness himself. Ignore them all, do a good job, and you’ll be fine.”

  “I have no experience commanding large forces. Wait. First, let’s talk about how large a force this will be.” He would not refuse this opportunity, even if it cost him his chance to get closer to the Collegium.

  Bronte Doneto said, “We’re looking at two thousand to twenty-five hundred. The same squatters and immigrants you used against the pirates, armed and equipped from city arsenals. But, possibly, more. Recruiting and finance won’t be your worry. You handle the training and leadership.”

  Else did not express an opinion of the weaponry and equipment stored in Brothe’s armories. The best had come out during the Calziran incursion. That had been old and poorly kept. Maintenance money found its way into the purses of corrupt officials rather than being wasted on armorers.

  In Dreanger Else had commanded no force larger than a company. Gordimer did not tolerate large commands for popular officers. Else Tage was a missions specialist, meant to lead small bands of highly motivated and thoroughly trained soldiers who enjoyed facing special challenges.

  “That many? Really? There’s that much money around?” Paludan Bruglioni was willing to finance a basic infantry company of two hundred men. Reluctantly, and only after Divino bullied some country cousins into coming home. And because he hoped the Bruglioni could seize new holdings in Calzir.

  Family added that piquant extra spice to Firaldian politics. A family could have holdings in a dozen different principalities.

  Principaté Doneto asked, “Are you possessed of strong feelings about Deves, Captain Hecht?”

  “I have no feelings, Your Grace. I had no experience of that race before I came to Firaldia.”

  “Good, then.”

  Grade Drocker muttered something both venomous and vicious.

  Doneto observed, “Our brother militant doesn’t share your indifference. He had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time during the Devedian insurrection in Sonsa.”

  “So I’ve heard. I was lucky enough to reach Firaldia after the riots ended.”

  “The Devedians will support the Holy Father in the Calziran matter. In return for concessions and guarantees, of course. The Patriarch will grant the concessions. The Deves have more to offer than he’ll have to give them in return. This once.”

  Grade Drocker’s opinion of the arrangement was bitter but he remained a good soldier. He kept that opinion to himself. Those slinking, slimy Deves would . . .

  “What do they want?” Else asked.

  “An end to legal restrictions on Devedians just for being Devedian. They promise not to celebrate their heathen rites outside their homes.”

  So. The Devedians wanted nothing more than official recognition of the status quo ante. Unlike Chaldareans or Pramans, Devedians did not evangelize or try to win converts. Theirs was a tribal religion.

  Else said, “There must be more.”

  “Of course. They want the Calziran Deves and Dainshaus spared when we invade. Their Calziran cousins won’t resist. Th
ey’ll help by providing intelligence. They’ve begun doing that already.”

  Else flicked a glance at Ferris Renfrow. “I accept. I like the challenge. And it’s a chance to make history.”

  “Good,” Divino Bruglioni said.

  “How much discretion will I have? Can I recruit my own officers?”

  “You’ll have considerable freedom, Captain Hecht. While the rest of us all think that we have a right to interfere. Can you handle the job?”

  “Of course.” He was Sha-lug. He had trained for it all his life. Though he always assumed that he would lead God’s champions, not those of God’s enemies.

  Principaté Bruglioni said, “Enjoy your meal, Captain Hecht. Relax. Think. This afternoon we’ll decide what to do with a city regiment.”

  ELSE SLIPPED INSIDE AS ANNA MOZILLA HELD THE DOOR. SHE SAID, “IT’S about time. You’re making me jealous, you know.”

  Her teasing left Else disconcerted. He was never sure that she was joking.

  “I spend as much time with you as I can.”

  “I know that. I don’t like it. I don’t have to like it. But I do know that. Shall I make dinner? I have a wonderful, fat hen half roasted already.”

  “You shall. If you will. Perhaps in an hour? Or two?”

  “Oh! So you’re finally going to make the first move? I thought I’d be all gray and you’d be all bald before you . . . Why are you peeking through the shutters?”

  “I was followed.”

  “Again? I thought they’d given up on that.”

  “The Bruglioni have. But now some more serious people are interested. I’ll tell you later. Right now, though, I have to get the world out of my head. And you’re the woman who can empty my brain.”

  * * *

  ANNA HAD THE CHICKEN ROASTING. SHE LISTENED WHILE ELSE FILLED HER in. “That’s hard to believe, Piper.” She was an excellent listener. She did not interrupt. She did not ask stupid questions. She did not let emotion obscure her view of reality. “They’re going to make you a general?”

  “I find it hard to believe, too. But I was in the right places at the right times.”

  “You had something to do with what happened to that Brotherhood of War sorcerer in Sonsa, didn’t you?”

  “He killed my friends. He meant to kill me. But he didn’t know who I was.”

  “Aren’t you afraid they’ll check your story a little closer?”

  “Terrified. But I can’t walk away because there’s a risk.”

  “What about the sorcerer? He doesn’t suspect you?”

  “I’m sure. There was evidence that the man he was after died in the fighting. He never actually saw me, anyway. So he’s even more angry at Deves. I’m more concerned about Ferris Renfrow, the Emperor’s spymaster. He thinks he knows who I am. He wants to use that to control me.”

  “Maybe you should go away.”

  “No. This is what I do. This is what I chose to do. Did your husband have connections with anyone besides my people?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bluntly, that intelligence gatherers sometimes market their harvest to more than one buyer. I’m wondering if he served more than one master.”

  Anna eyed him doubtfully. “Where are you headed?”

  “I’m trying to figure out if anyone besides me would know that you were his wife. Other than the people whose tools we are. Our lives could get uncomfortable if anyone tied us together before . . .” Not good. He had told too many people that he had known Anna elsewhere. Anyone who developed an abiding interest ought to be able to discover Anna’s origins.

  “He never mentioned working for anyone else. He did what he did for personal reasons. He never explained what those were.”

  “I wish I could help you there. But I didn’t even know he was gone. I didn’t know his name.”

  “He was too clever for his own good.”

  “I see. Look. I don’t know who you pass my information to. I don’t want to know. But a lot is happening. The people at the other end need to know. They need to let me know what they want me to do. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore. That hen smells ready to eat.”

  GERVASE ASKED, “DID YOU ENJOY YOURSELF, CAPTAIN?”

  “Yes, Mr. Saluda. I did. Including the rare pleasure of a good night’s sleep. I have an idea. Suppose we have Dugo and the boys study leadership skills from the bottom up? If they went through the training company they might face life armed with one small clue about what it’s like for the people who actually have to do the work and suffer the bloody noses.”

  Gervase did not like that idea. But he said nothing negative. He never crossed Else. Else might cause certain documents to fall into the hands of Paludan Bruglioni. Gervase had little faith in his friend’s ability to forgive.

  Gervase said, “That Deve you brought in wants to see you. He’s in the accounting office. He brought some of his cousins along.”

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Gervase. You’re a better man than you think.”

  Saluda wanted to argue, but realized that by doing so he could only belittle himself.

  Else grinned. “Would you like to be captain of the Bruglioni company in the city regiment?”

  “Don’t start that stuff with me, Hecht.”

  “Stuff? I never took you for a coward, Gervase. Only for spoiled and ignorant.”

  “I’m no coward!” No man, however craven in fact, would confess cowardice. Most would fight to keep their terror secret.

  “Maybe not. Where is Titus Consent?”

  “The accounting office. Going through the business records. And I never had anything to do with any of that.”

  “Gervase, you worry too much.”

  TITUS CONSENT, THE DEVEDIAN ACCOUNTANT PROVIDED ELSE BY GLEDIUS Stewpo’s cohorts, was nineteen years old. And looked younger. And was, without doubt, a dedicated Devedian spy. Numbers were his passion. Though he was married. He had a new son named Sharone he worked into every conversation.

  Titus’s “cousins” turned out to be more like uncles. One was Gledius Stewpo. Else had seen the other man before, briefly, in the Devedian underground, but could not recall his name. He was one of those quiet, dark-haired Deves who stayed in the background but wielded immense influence in their councils.

  Else took a quick look round to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. “What’s up?”

  Stewpo said, “This seemed like the best way to see you. Now that you’re one of the movers and shakers you’re up to your ears in Imperial and Collegium toadies all the time.”

  “I’m glad you thought of it.”

  Stewpo frowned. “They’re watching you?”

  “Every minute.”

  “Who?”

  “Ferris Renfrow. He has it in his head that he knows me. I don’t know what his game is. Who he thinks I am is who he wants me to be.”

  “This isn’t good,” Stewpo said. “He shouldn’t know that I’m here.”

  “Does he know you? Are you somebody he wants to know?”

  Stewpo shrugged.

  “You could be too late already, Uncle. You haven’t been staying out of sight. If Renfrow has eyes in the quarter, he knows. Assuming you’re somebody who interests him. Would you be?”

  “I shouldn’t be.”

  “So explain what’s going on with you and Calzir. Why’re your people willing to help Sublime?”

  “I’d hoped we wouldn’t butt heads over that.”

  “We haven’t. We won’t. I just want to understand why you’re changing sides.”

  “There’s the flaw in your thinking, Sha-lug. My friends and I are on the side we’re always on. The Devedian side. This invasion is going to happen. Calzir can’t repel it this time. So we’ll try to save our people the customary pain and despair by joining the winners before the fighting.”

  “The customary pain and despair?”

  “In all wars in this end of the world both sides always take the opportunity to punish and plunder their local Deves and Dain
shaus.”

  “Ah.” That happened in the Realm of Peace as well, despite a religious law enjoining the protection of unbelievers who submitted to God’s law. But it happened less frequently there than in the barbarous west.

  “I understand.”

  Stewpo was surprised. “Not going to argue?”

  “No point. You’re right. You have to look out for your own. The problem I have isn’t with that, Uncle. While I command the city regiment they won’t harm your people.”

  “That problem would be?”

  “It’s a what-if at the moment. I’m concerned that the Brotherhood reinforcements from Runch might include someone who would remember me visiting Staklirhod under a different name.”

  After hearing a brief account of Else’s stay in Runch, Titus Consent asked, “What would your problem have to do with Deves?”

  Stewpo waved that aside. “Sounds like you’d better hope your god outhustles theirs, Sha-lug. Though I wonder why they’d remember your particular incident. It was trivial. Why should they watch for some itinerant crusader to turn up in Brothe? Keep your hair short, run a strong bluff, and be a good soldier.”

  Else, Stewpo, and Titus Consent talked for an hour, mainly about the execrable state of the Bruglioni accounts, due to incompetent manipulation.

  Consent suspected somebody had been bribed to cover up a large debt owed the Bruglioni.

  Consent added, “There is an obvious, clumsy scheme meant to disguise the fact that the rural family aren’t paying the central treasury as much as they should.”

  “Really? Do you have anything I can take to Paludan?”

  Titus Consent handed Else a sheaf of papers. “Four copies. I know you consider me just a kid. Listen to me, anyway. There’s a lot of money involved in these swindles. That report will be dangerous to somebody. That’s why you get multiple copies. That’s why I’m telling you to watch your back.”

  Polo barged in, startling everyone. He paid no attention to the Deves. “Sir. Captain. There’s a messenger. They want you at the Castella. Something’s happened.”

  “Any idea what?”

  “No. But the messenger was sure it isn’t good news.”