Surrender to the Will of the Night

by Glen Cook

  “And?”

  “Only the Captain-General of the Patriarchal forces has the power and means to eliminate this pest. The Empire will bear the expenses. Including indemnities to the families of anyone lost in the hunt.”

  Hecht took a tiny sip of coffee. That could have been arranged by go-betweens. Even if Katrin was flexing her Imperial muscles for the benefit of men who had been pushing her this way and that. Who might be inclined to do more pushing, more vigorously, these final days before the wedding.

  Once trivial opposition to her choice of husbands had grown dramatically since King Jaime had become available for direct assessment.

  Only Katrin remained infatuated.

  Katrin proved capable of cutting through when she wanted. “That’s my lesser problem. I have something bigger in mind. First, though, I want your oath never to discuss it outside this room. If we can’t come to an accommodation.”

  Hecht thought the Empress naive if she believed anything discussed here would remain secret. The ladies-in-waiting had husbands who wanted to know. Someone would tell someone, in strictest confidence.

  Hecht toyed with blond hair he had let grow long. And was considering pruning back. Strands of gray had begun to appear. “I can make that commitment. But my silence won’t keep the secret.”

  “No doubt. The great symbol of the Empire is the eagle. But I’m surrounded by vultures.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “But you’re not surprised.”

  “The price of power, Your Grace. The higher you rise the more parasites you accumulate.”

  Katrin rose from her cushions. Helspeth did the same. The Empress said, “Come with us. There’s a quiet room back here.”

  Every lifeguard and lady-in-waiting began to stir, driven to protest. Katrin snapped, “My ferocious little sister will guard me against the wicked Brothen.”

  Moments later the Empress herself shut the door of the most austere quiet room Hecht had seen. The walls were bare stone that sorcery could not penetrate. There were no furnishings.

  Hecht studied the milky rock sheathing.

  “Captain-General? I promise, it’s real. The best stone, from the quarry where Aaron and his father worked.”

  “I was looking for cracks. An acquaintance — he belongs to the Collegium — can spy on a quiet room if there’re cracks anywhere.”

  “Muniero Delari.”

  “Him. Yes.”

  “Helspeth. Stop that.”

  The younger woman was trembling.

  “All right.” The Princess Apparent feigned an abiding interest in the integrity of the stonework.

  Katrin said, “I’ll get straight to it. Excusing themselves one way or another, someone will force that door soon. Captain-General. I want to hire you away from the Church. You, your staff, and all your professional people.”

  Helspeth gasped. “Katrin?”

  “Your Grace?”

  “I swore an oath when I was crowned. Only my confessor knows. I mean to make the pilgrimage to the Holy Lands. Leading a crusade. I want you to be its commander.”

  That Katrin might launch a crusade was no secret. But … “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’ve been surrounded by the great men of the Grail Empire my entire life. The best of them, like the Grand Duke, are petty, self-serving, and would backstab any other lord I might appoint my champion.”

  Hecht started to protest.

  “Bad choice of words, Captain-General. Not champion. Supreme commander. General of generals. For the same reason you were made commander of the Brothen City Regiment. You have no ties to any faction.”

  “So all your dukes and grafs and ritters would be against me because I’m an interloper.”

  “My father developed tools for handling that sort. I haven’t deployed them yet. Once this marriage is made I intend to put together a new Council Advisory. Jaime and the Patriarch back me.”

  “Possibly. I suspect Jaime will be a nuisance, determined to control you.”

  Katrin’s temper flared. It was true. She would hear nothing against Jaime.

  Hecht stole a glance at Helspeth, who had been stubbornly silent. That startled her. She said, “Surely you’d find service with the Grail Empire an important step forward, Captain-General.” Her voice was breathy. It wavered.

  Katrin clearly appreciated the support but was puzzled by her sister’s shyness.

  “It would be, indeed,” Hecht said. “I can imagine no greater honor, nor any task more challenging, than being warlord for the Grail Empire in such a holy enterprise. But …”

  “But?”

  “A crusade would be expensive in the extreme. Even if every fighter volunteers, wages still have to be paid. Men have to eat. Their animals have to eat. Weapons have to be purchased. Armor …”

  “There should be wealth enough, Captain-General. Despite the costs of the Calziran Crusade, my father was frugal. He left a sizable treasury. My brother not only preserved that, he added to it. Despite the jackals surrounding him. Likewise, the current Empress. Who expects to come into substantial additional riches soon.” A remark she would not pursue.

  “I have a contract with the Patriarch,” Hecht said. “At his will. In effect, I’m his till he loses faith in me. Right now I’m engaged in a bitter campaign to exterminate revenant Instrumentalities in the End of Connec. They refuse to go easily.”

  “As with the thing Helspeth defeated.”

  “I’ll do what I can about that.”

  “And when Boniface goes?” Helspeth asked, voice stronger now. “Will you be free then?”

  “No. Bellicose of Viscesment will be the next Patriarch. To reunite the Church. I’ve sworn to stand behind him. In case the Collegium try to renege on the Church’s promises. It’s a pity Boniface became Patriarch so late. He might have earned a place in history, given more time. He’s the best Patriarch I’ve known.”

  “Bellicose won’t last long, will he?”

  “Boniface may outlive him. His health is fragile.”

  The hammering on the door began. Helspeth said, “That took longer than I expected. You’re starting to scare them, Katrin.”

  “They’ll have a reason after this. Captain-General. What will it take to bring you here? Will Boniface or Bellicose let me buy you?”

  Hecht managed not to eye the Princess Apparent. “Not as things stand. They both have uses for me.”

  “If you did serve me would you be just as loyal?”

  “Yes. My integrity is what I’m selling. Those people out there do seem to be getting impatient.”

  “They’ll regret it.” The Ege steel rang out.

  For the ghost of an instant the tips of Princess Helspeth’s left hand fingers brushed the back of Hecht’s right. The effect was electric. He jerked. Helspeth gasped. Katrin paid no mind. The door had begun to open. She was headed that way in a blistering rage.

  ***

  The Ninth Unknown was in a serious mood. He made no noise to attract the lifeguard outside Hecht’s bedchamber. He whispered, “Wake your dead ass up, boy. We’ve got problems.”

  Hecht surfaced from a dream featuring Helspeth and him engaged in activities that could compromise the Grail Throne itself. The old man had a hand over his mouth. That was not necessary. Hecht whispered, “What?”

  “Boniface had a stroke. You need to get back to Brothe.”

  “I’m stuck here till after the wedding.”

  “There might be a coup. Bellicose hasn’t reached Brothe yet. And neither Muno nor I can get close enough to prop up Boniface’s health.”

  “Damn!” Hecht swore softly. The timing was awful. “Can you disguise yourself?”

  “What?”

  “You can manage not to be seen at all. I know. Can you pass as someone you’re not?”

  The old man frowned his question in the weak light of a lone candle.

  “Can you deliver letters without giving yourself away?”

  “I’m listening.”


  “I can send orders to the garrisons near the city. And my people in the Connec. If you take the long strides in between, my forces can be in place ahead of time.”

  “Send for pen and ink. I’ll find a way.” Februaren turned sideways and vanished.

  Hecht summoned the duty lifeguard. “I need quills, ink, paper, and sand. Right away.” He had wax and a candle.

  Armed with the appropriate tools, he began writing orders.

  Cloven Februaren reappeared. “Too bad you didn’t have more time with the Construct. You could handle this in person.”

  “Wouldn’t be smart to let people think I could be two places at once.”

  “Good point. Better than good. What were you and the Ege chits doing in that quiet room?”

  Hecht forgot his promise first time he was asked. “Katrin wants to hire me to lead a Grail Empire crusade into the Holy Lands.”

  “My. My, my. The Palace is going mad, wall to wall, wondering what went on in there. No one thought of that.”

  “It caused some excitement?”

  “King Jaime and the Council Advisory are livid. They’re blaming Princess Helspeth. Only Jaime has said anything within Katrin’s hearing. She’s dismissed everyone she saw when she stepped out of that quiet room.”

  “Good for her. I hope she goes for a clean sweep. Have you learned anything about the Night thing Renfrow reported? Or my purported brother?”

  “When would I have had time?”

  “Right. One does take an advantage for granted quickly, doesn’t one?”

  “You may. I don’t. Seal the letters you have ready. I’ll move them along. Leave the rest here, addressed. And make sure no one can get in here when you’re gone.”

  Hecht grunted and folded, then applied wax. Within the minute the Ninth Unknown was gone again.

  ***

  Hecht settled beside Kait Rhuk. Rhuk asked, “What have we got, boss?” Hecht did not mind the informality. Rhuk did his job. Well.

  “You talk much with Prosek about the thing in the Remayne Pass?”

  “Yeah. We designed our attack strategy based on what he learned there. Why? Something on the fire?”

  “That interview I had with the Empress. She told me the thing is making a comeback. And hopes we’ll do something about it.”

  “We can handle it. Our munitions are way better than when Prosek went after it. One good hit should take it out.”

  “Good. So. We’ll deal with that. After the wedding.”

  “There isn’t much to do, here. For us.”

  “So?”

  “So I’ve hung around a lot with guys who humped into town with the high and the mighty.”

  “And?”

  “There are incredible career opportunities for men in my line. Especially up north.”

  “Kharoulke the Windwalker.”

  “Not yet. Not directly. But his cult is back. That’s weird, isn’t it? The wells of power start drying up and, suddenly, we’ve got ten thousand more Instrumentalities plaguing us. You’d think it would go the other way.”

  “Slow down.” Rhuk had a substantial accent. It thickened when he became excited. “Do you know what you’ll do if we do come up against an Instrumentality like Kharoulke?”

  “More developed than Seska was. Probably bend over and kiss my ass goodbye.”

  “Because?”

  “At some point an Instrumentality should become powerful enough to see ambushes ahead of time. Then it’d stand off and do you wicked. With a platoon of first-string sorcerers I could lure him into a trap that didn’t look like a trap until the firing started. If the first salvo was accurate I could finish him before he pulled his shit back together. But if I didn’t get him the first time I’d never get another chance.”

  “Not what I’d hoped to hear. But pretty much what I expected.”

  “You ask me, boss, if you want to handle a demonic assertion like the Windwalker, you better get the Patriarch on the case with God. Get Him to come out and flex His muscles the way He used to do in the olden days.”

  An interesting suggestion. But not especially useful.

  Hecht suspected that God would not show up.

  His faith had suffered serious ablation lately. “Think about the Kharoulke problem. If we ever face something that big it’d be handy to have a strategy set.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Kait Rhuk was dedicated. He would do that. When he was not busy catching whores.

  ***

  Cloven Februaren came and went. In the main, he brought good news. Buhle Smolens was headed for Brothe with five hundred crack mountain infantry. Patriarchal garrisons throughout Firaldia were on alert. The Master of the Commandery, the new Brotherhood chieftain at the Castella dollas Pontellas, Addam Hauf, would quarter Patriarchal troops there, meaning the Brotherhood would back the Patriarchal forces.

  The Brotherhood existed to make war in the Holy Lands. They could not do that without support from the west. Internecine squabbling anywhere meant reduced resources available to those determined to liberate God’s homeland.

  The Captain-General was satisfied that everything possible was being done. If Boniface hung on for a week, a smooth succession would be assured. Buhle Smolens would be close to the Mother City. The Captain-General would be headed south.

  The Ninth Unknown said he thought the Patriarch would last a month.

  He was able to get that close, now he had begun to put thought into the effort.

  Cloven Februaren began to show the strain of trying to hold everything together. Hecht told him to ease up. If it looked good, let it ride. Let it work itself out.

  Advice he had to take himself. He could not walk away before the wedding.

  ***

  The wedding did come, though the wait seemed endless. As an anticlimax. Being Boniface’s representative, the Captain-General watched with the attendant clerics. He played no part himself, not being in orders. Pella was not allowed to join him. The boy remained outside the Holy Kelam and Lalitha Church, shadowed by Presten Reges and Shang “Bags” Berbach. The lifeguards were frantic. If ever someone wanted to get at the Captain-General through his son, this was the time.

  Holy Kelam and Lalitha was one of the great churches of the Grail Empire, rich in architecture, furnishings, and decorative detail. It was an object of pilgrimage. Relics of both Founder namesakes were buried beneath its altar. The lame and sick came to light a candle and pray to Lalitha, who had wrought miraculous cures while living.

  The Captain-General spared little attention for the wonders of the church. He focused on the wedding party. On Princess Helspeth and King Jaime. There was little mystery about his interest in the Princess Apparent. The Adversary had found a foothold inside his soul. He did wonder why the Direcian monarch interested him, though.

  Attitude? The man was sure to be trouble. Everyone watching could tell he was impatient to get this nonsense over. That he was eager to start throwing his weight around.

  Jaime was headed for a world of disappointment. Katrin might be besotted, might be fawning over him, but she was Johannes Blackboots’s daughter. No pretty Direcian would win control of the Grail Empire simply by wedding her.

  And if she did surrender all reason?

  The Council Advisory would step in. A dozen grim old men and their grimmer women. They watched from the floor, afraid that they had erred by agreeing to this match.

  They could tell that the Castaurigan had ambitions unfettered by reality. He expected to outshine Peter of Navaya, using his new spouse’s wealth and power.

  Could he be that blind? His bride meeting privately with Boniface’s military commander had outraged him. He had no idea what might have been discussed, but was aware that the Church was little interested in glorifying Castauriga or its king. The Church was cozy with Peter of Navaya.

  King Jaime would be in a tight place with the Church. The outstanding characteristic of his wife was her devotion to Brothe. That was her external strength and her great polit
ical liability inside the Empire.

  Hecht leaned nearer the Archbishop beside him, Elmiro Conventi. Conventi represented several Imperial cities in northern Firaldia. “We need to watch this King. He’ll intrigue with the anti-Brothens if he can’t bully the Empress.”

  The grossly fat Archbishop first showed annoyance, then grasped the suggestion. “Excellent observation. I’ll pass the thought along.”

  The ceremony was a long one. It did not just join a woman and a man, it formalized an alliance and founded a dynasty.

  Piper Hecht thought he had been in the west long enough to be acclimated to its weirdest customs. He was aghast when he discovered that the grande dames of the court were, at this late hour, jockeying to be chosen to witness the Empress’s defloration. There would be five. Tradition assigned the respective mothers and the bride’s aunts the task. Neither Jaime nor Katrin had a living mother. Jaime had brought no sufficiently exalted Castaurigan women. He tried to refuse the ceremony. The court harpies would have none of that.

  They wanted to see the Ege chit humiliated.

  Somehow, the Empress, Alten Weinberg, the Grail Empire, and the greater world got through the night. As did the Captain-General of Patriarchal forces.

  Madouc assured him, “Only the highborn endure that. Before the conversion to Chaldareanism, girls lost their virginity early. They seldom married before they proved their ability to bear children. It’s still that way for the peasantry. But the nobility consider it imperative that there be no doubts about paternity. No man wants to leave his patrimony to a child not his own.”

  “I understand.” Without fully comprehending. “Yet most women here young enough to be interested seem to indulge in liaisons with men who aren’t their husbands. Some with more than one man. While the men are involved with women not their wives.”

  “The underlying consistency is hard for outsiders to grasp.” Madouc’s tone was caustic. “The romanticism of the jongleurs is to blame.”

  “Meaning?”

  “They say marriage is a business arrangement. Love is something else.”

  The Praman world had its love stories. Its fables of deceit, betrayal, and cuckoldry, usually illustrating the weakness of the cuckold. In real life even the suspicion of infidelity could lead to a harsh death. Here, everyone winked at it — even when one’s own woman was concerned.