Lord of the Silent Kingdom (57 page)

The Perfect departed sure that he had missed something important. An argument started before he left the room. Some of the Navayans were concerned about the invisible man. Those who did not think it was all trickery by the devil-worshiping heretic.

The heretic left with letters to his Duke and a handful of silver to get him and his ward through the forty miles to Khaurene.

His small camp was in a turmoil when he arrived.

Socia babbled, “The Queen’s men arrested Bernardin’s foreign friends! They dragged them into the castle! They would’ve taken Bernardin, too, if one of them didn’t recognize him from somewhere before.

What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. We can ask Bernardin. After we’re on the road to Khaurene. Which is where we’ve been ordered to go.”

“Khaurene?” the girl whined. “Right now? We can’t stay for even one day?”

“She wants us gone. From the looks of things back that way, it might be a good idea to give her what she wants.”

Smoke rose to the east. Dark dots moved on the face of a distant hill.

The Captain-General was moving more troops closer.

Socia stared. She lost color. “You think …” She could not articulate her fear.

“No. Antieux won’t fall till they’ve eaten each other. Until the last man left, Raymone Garete, goes down.

Taking a dozen Patriarchals with him.”

That was what she wanted to hear. And it might be true. Unless Raymone fell victim to treachery.

Socia started to say something. She let out a yelp of outrage instead. “Somebody just grabbed my bottom!”

From the edge of his eye Brother Candle saw that old man in brown. Grinning, the man saluted him, turned, and became invisible.

The days became more terrifying than the nights. Every town and castle had been taken by the enemy.

But the people themselves had not gone over. They would hide small parties from the invaders and the Night. But by day Brother Candle’s band had to move. They covered little ground. Patriarchal soldiers and Society hounds were everywhere, patrolling every road. They broke up into smaller and smaller parties, till Brother Candle was accompanied only by Socia Rault and Bernardin Amberchelle.

The invaders changed behavior suddenly after abandoning Mohela ande Larges and suffering a severe reverse at the hands of Queen Isabeth’s men. Travel became easier.

The Perfect surrendered to the girl’s impatience. And had the opportunity to regret that before day’s end.

17. A New Dawn and a New Night

Each day the staff selected two promising prisoners. The Captain-General took time to interview them while Madouc and his lifeguards hovered. “Titus. I’m suspicious.”

“Sir? About what?”

“These prisoners. Are they being chosen to tell me what I want to hear?”

“You need more bad news? Or more defiance?”

“Never mind. How much longer will this take?”

“This being?”

“Castreresone.”

“That’s up to them. Isn’t it? If you’re determined to limit casualties and damage.” The staff insisted that the White City could be taken whenever the Captain-General ordered it. But thousands would die and the city itself might be destroyed.

“I’m not in a hurry. Yet.”

“You could offer terms. Sublime isn’t here.”

“Still no respect for our master?”

“Not in our lifetime.”

“Don’t be too public about it. Society types are everywhere. Popping up faster than these Connectens can murder them.”

“I have trouble remembering that the rest of the world runs different than our little slice here.”

“Don’t. You have a family. Where’s Bechter? I haven’t seen him for days.” Bechter was always underfoot when that was inconvenient.

“Making the rounds of the siege works. He has experience from the Holy Lands.”

“Have you recruited any solid sources? Anywhere?”

Consent shook his head. Looked vaguely defeated. “The Devedian and Dainshau communities won’t talk. They’re getting out. Going to Terliaga, Platadura, anywhere where the Society won’t be able to follow.”

Hecht was baffled. Peter of Navaya, Lion of the Chaldarean Reconquest, openly accepted Unbelievers into his dependencies. And insisted that they be treated well.

Consent said, “Peter saw what you accomplished in Calzir.”

“If so, he saw in it an affirmation of policies he had in place. He had a lot of Pramans with him in the Calziran Crusade. Now he’s recruiting in Shippen and Calzir. And getting a good turnout.” He heard that two thousand Pramans from Shippen had been ferried to Artecipea to further Peter’s ambitions there.

Hecht felt a little thrill of apprehension. Bone and the company were on that island.

“I see Bechter. You still want him?”

“Yes.”

Lifeguards orbiting him, Hecht moved a dozen yards, to gain a different perspective on the barbican protecting Castreresone’s main gate, doing its job now as a mountain of rubble. Work gangs hauled the rubble off for use as ammunition.

Only the more ferocious of the expanding community of Society hangers-on dared complain about the Captain-General’s efforts to reduce the White City. And they did. He tempered their fury by offering them weapons and the privilege of leading the assault wave. No takers so far.

“Captain-General, you wanted to see me?”

“Sergeant. Yes. I’ve been wondering. The man in brown. Seen him lately?”

“Not in weeks, sir. Is it important?”

“No. I just hadn’t seen him either, myself.”

“Have you ever figured him out?”

“No. I do think I know who he is, now. Or was.”

“Was, sir?”

“He might be a ghost.” Or a minor ascendant. A notion Hecht was not ready to loose into the public domain.

Bechter frowned. That failed to conform to his Brotherhood vision of how the world should work.

“Yet another conflict between what we want to be true and what we have to suffer,” Hecht said. Those conflicts tormented everyone but the Patriarchal Society for the Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy, these days. Faith had begun to creak under the strain.

The Society thought God was testing faith by dealing contradictory evidence.

Piper Hecht wondered why God — anybody’s God — would bother. The God of the World ought not to be so petty.

Bechter said, “Prosek is back.”

“Tell me.”

“He was just coming in when I heard you wanted me. I just had time to say hello. And make sure he didn’t attract attention.”

“I thought he was dead.” There had been little communication with Plemenza. That little had not been optimistic. The falcons had been destroyed, their crews injured, and Prosek lost. The pass was open but the fate of the monster remained uncertain. It might be lying up somewhere, recovering.

Princess Helspeth’s having opened the pass had generated a political storm inside the Grail Empire.

Hecht suffered troubled nights.

“I need to see him as soon as he’s able.”

Gervase Saluda and the Principatè from Aparion, with minimal courtesy, demanded an audience. After lurking in the background for weeks, acting as Collegium spies. Hecht expected an argument about access to Drago Prosek.

The Principatès surprised him.

Saluda, never warm since he had assumed the Bruglioni seat in the Collegium, said, “We’ve received a suggestion from Brothe that it may be time to be a little more aggressive toward Castreresone.”

Not subtle, Gervase Saluda, hinting that Sublime had grown impatient. “Really? I think he’d let me know directly if he was. He hasn’t been shy about that yet.”

Saluda observed, “This siege can’t go on forever.”

“Nor will it. In fact, I’m authorizing you to go up there and talk them into giving up. Right now.”

Both were startled. There had been no negotiations whatsoever, even sub rosa. “Terms?”

“I trust you to be sensible.” He just wanted them gone. Bechter had Drago Prosek ready to report.

Anyway, Hecht was sure that the White City did not yet despair enough to contemplate surrender.

Queen Isabeth remained poised just twenty miles away. And her brother had begun to stir behind her.

Gervase Saluda gave Hecht one long, penetrating look as he departed.

Hecht shrugged.

“Rough trip?” he asked Prosek.

“Yes, sir. Not attracting attention. Especially after I crossed the Dechear. We’re not popular out there.”

“Where anyone cares. Sit. Be comfortable. Sergeant, bring the man whatever he wants. So. Tell the tale.”

Titus Consent entered as Bechter left. He made Prosek uncomfortable. But Prosek began after an encouraging gesture from his commander.

“Why didn’t you go back to the others?”

“I didn’t trust them. That Princess. She was probably straight. The ones around her … I figured they’d do what they did. Once we took care of their monster.”

“That being?”

“They locked everybody up. Gonna force them to explain firepowder and how the falcons work. And how to make them.”

“I see.” Hecht smiled. “And you’re the only one who could tell them anything.”

“Pretty much, sir. Those guys aren’t ignorant. They know the theory — just not the practical knowledge.”

Typical of soldiers. Indifferent to why something worked, so long as it did when the arrows started flying.

Prosek continued. “On the up side, sir, they’ll get decent medical care. Which most of them needed. Both falcons committed suicide. I made sure the firepowder was used up.”

“The monster. The Instrumentality. What about it?”

“We didn’t kill it. But I don’t think it’ll be a problem again. It can’t be much more than what it was when it was still a man. And it’s badly crippled. It could barely crawl.”

“Good. Good. I’ll ask Principatè Delari what it all means. Then we have to figure out how to make these confrontations go our way faster.”

“I had a lot of time to think while I was traveling. I had some technical and tactical ideas.”

Hecht listened patiently. Prosek amazed him. “Stunning. And expensive. Godawful expensive.”

“Not my money, though. And worth it if you really want to break the Tyranny of the Night.”

“Lieutenant Consent. Work some financial sorcery on these ideas. The rest … The way to speed the firing cycle … That’ll have to go to the foundry people. Traps, though … We’ll get to work on those. We can experiment right here. The Connec has become an Instrumentality-rich environment.”

Consent said, “I don’t have to do a lot of calculating to tell you there isn’t enough silver in the world. So long as the wells of power keep producing. A vigorous push against the Night could even be counterproductive.”

“Explain.”

“The wells are fading. Which is cyclical. This time looks like the worst ever. For us, that means more people pushed into smaller territories having to survive on dwindling resources. Fighting over those makes things worse because much of the resources are destroyed in the fighting. Right here, we can see how that works. You see people worried about where food will come from — for the first time in centuries.”

“And that connects with the Night how?”

“The wells of power produce the food and wine of the Night. Again, dwindling resources. If we remove an entity from the competition, there’ll be more resources for the rest.”

“I think I see.”

“I didn’t make that as clear as I should have.”

“Clear enough. Don’t the big ones feed on the little ones? Like bugs and fish?”

“In a sense. I think.”

“Would destroying the little ones starve the big ones?”

Consent shrugged.

Hecht said, “Prosek, stay out of the way. Get back in shape. And keep thinking. I may put you in charge of figuring out better ways.”

Prosek looked to Redfearn Bechter for a cue. Bechter did not offer one.

Delari asked, “Have you seen Cloven Februaren?”

“There was a rumor about an invisible man spying on the leadership inside Castreresone. If that was him, he hasn’t bothered letting me know what they’re saying.”

“I’m worried.”

“Oh?”

“Not by what he’s doing. He’s like the weather. All you can do is live with it. No. I think there’s trouble in Brothe.”

Politics. Certainly. Hecht wished he did not have to suffer that side of the human condition. But if people could get along he would be unemployed.

“Could that be why we’ve seen so little of Saluda, Linczski, and Doneto lately?” Pinkus Ghort had visited twice and was expected again. Principatè Doneto had not visited once.

“Could be,” Delari admitted. “Doneto not wanting to draw notice. The other two are here mainly to keep an eye on us.”

“I let them go up to the gates today. To offer Castreresone a chance. Evidently, the wealthy haven’t suffered enough.”

“And aren’t sufficiently frightened.”

“Letting the city levies run wild wasn’t intimidation enough.”

“They won’t surrender while Isabeth is sitting there barely a day away. I know you don’t want King Peter for an enemy. But to finish here you need to end any hope of relief. Before Church politics yanks the rug out from under you.”

Engaging Queen Isabeth would support the mission he had been given in Dreanger. Particularly now that Sublime had an accommodation with the Grail Empire.

“I wanted a minimum of death and destruction.”

Hecht was not unprepared to assume a more aggressive strategy. Plans had been made. That was what he and his staff did while artillery pounded the walls, patrols kept the Burg and New Town cleared, and pickets harassed anyone trying to get in or out of the White City. While the engineers continued undermining and overtowering, trying to overawe but preparing for an assault as well.

“I’ll deal with Isabeth first, I suppose.”

“Not going to be easy.”

“I know. Peter won’t have sent her without his best men to protect her. She has between eight hundred and a thousand men now, maybe half of them men Duke Tormond raised.”

“Heavy cavalry.”

Yes. He had to find a way to diminish that fierce advantage. Numbers meant little if unprepared infantry had to face men in armor, atop warhorses running shoulder to shoulder.

“I know. We have ideas.” Which would not work. These Navayans had survived all the traps and trickery of the Pramans of al-Halambra.