Lord of the Silent Kingdom (6 page)

Armand paid close attention.

“Even more certainly if the Grail Empire gets involved. He’s sure Lothar is a weakling. Despite the evidence so far. He’s also sure the boy won’t live much longer. Despite the contrary evidence there. If he could hasten Lothar’s passage into the hereafter, he’d probably do it. Thinking the sisters will be weaker than the boy.”

“I don’t know about Katrin. I saw Helspeth on the battlefield. She’s young and female but that apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“As may be. Right now I want you to see what we do that could be of more enduring consequence.”

“Since it’s so secret that I don’t know about it already, should we talk about it here?”

Armand donned a sour look.

Delari said, “The Empire couldn’t put a spy in here. Children aren’t that motivated. But what a coup if they could.
Everything
gets discussed here.”

“Uhm.”

“Later, then. If that makes you more comfortable.”

“I have the evening free.”

“Take supper with me, then.”

Hecht accepted. Anna and Redfearn Bechter alike would pout.

Bechter wanted him to spend more time with the staff in the Castella dollas Pontellas. Hoping to seduce him into the warrior Brotherhood.

The Brothers there were preparing to welcome a new castellan. He would replace Grade Drocker.

Though Drocker had been but acting head of the local chapter. The true castellan, Hawley Quirke, had been summoned to the Brotherhood’s home base, the Castella Anjela dolla Picolena on the island of Staklirhod, in the eastern reaches of the Mother Sea. Quirke had been lost in a sea battle with a Praman fleet. The position of castellan had gone unfilled since.

“Send word to Bechter about when and where.”

“You’re in a hurry to go?”

No. I want to see how Polo is. And I want to talk to Colonel Ghort.”

***

HECHT ASKED, “YOU EVER HAVE TROUBLE WITH THOSE two before?”

“Not really. They belonged to the Cologni company.” The City Regiment was a conglomerate of forces subsidized by wealthy benefactors. “And, no, I don’t think the Cologni put them up to it. They don’t have the imagination.”

Having worked with senior members of all the Five Families, Hecht agreed. “They are a dim lot. They’re lucky there aren’t any bright outsiders around to take advantage.”

“Those idiots just saw a chance to grab some extra money.”

That was not hard to understand. The poor generally were very poor and desperate indeed. Thinking past tomorrow was a waste of time.

Hecht shrugged. “I’d like to go after those cousins of yours myself.”

“Not cousins.” Ghort meant to distance himself. “Just guys from back home. How would you get away? Especially with this Clearenza shit?”

“‘I can’t. I’d just like to. To talk to them before anyone else.”

“What do you want to find out before anybody else?”

“Who sent them.”

“You know they won’t know that.”

“Don’t underestimate the reservoirs of stupid in this world. The man who’s supposed to pay them will turn up there. Maybe to pay them, maybe to cut their throats.”

“It was me, I’d send some other guys to do that.”

“That’s possible, too.”

“So. I’d really better have somebody get there first. You gonna lend me your Deves?”

“They aren’t mine. They’re still part of the City Regiment.”

“All but the best ones. You took them with you.”

“Yes. I did. And I mean to keep them close.”

“But …”

“I’ll talk to Titus. If he sees any advantage for his people, he’ll help. Was I you, I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Well, shit. I didn’t want to use my own guys. The finance board will kick my ass for operating outside the city. ‘Course, they’ll kick it if I don’t do nothing, too.”

“I feel your pain, brother. I don’t have it any better. It’s a full-time job just getting my troops paid.” He had a sudden notion. He suggested it.

“I like it, Pipe. How long till you could find out if Consent would cover you?”

“Not long.”

“I know a ship. The Donetos own her. She’s waiting for a cargo. She’s supposed to be greased lightning.

She trades in places where the republics think they own a monopoly.”

“A smuggler.”

“Technically. Her master would argue, though.”

“He’d sail up the Sawn to Sonsa?”

“Why not? If he ain’t carrying contraband?”

Hecht thought there might be a problem, anyway. If he took up his notion. He had been to Sonsa before.

Ghort said, “Unless the gods intervene, we can afford another day. If we use the
Lumberer.”

“The what?”

“That’s the name of the boat. A joke. Like calling a big guy Tiny.”

Hecht understood without comprehending. It was a western thing. “Uhm. I wonder. Think we could pull it off?”

“What?”

“Sneaking out. To make the pickup ourselves.”

“Sure. But your excuse is gonna raise a stink like a year-old latrine.” Ghort smirked.

“But if we say we did it ourselves because we didn’t have the money to pay our men to, we shame them before the people.”

“If we pull it off.”

“Yes. We wouldn’t dare fail.” Hecht knew what he was proposing was not bright. But sometimes you bull ahead in full knowledge that you are doing something dumb.

“Goo! Hey! Back to the fun days when we didn’t have no responsibilities.”

“We could get things done right the first time.”

“Let’s do.” Ghort was not obsessive about being responsible. “Just cancel everything and go, Pipe.”

“I’m tempted.” He was. “I’ll think about that, too.”

***

THE VISIT TO THE BATHS, THE CONFERENCE WITH PlNKUS Ghort, and a visit to Polo in the Chiaro Palace hospital left the Captain-General two hours late for his daily staff conference. “I’m sorry.

The Clearenza situation has the Collegium in a snit.” They would know that he had been called in.

Five senior staffers waited in the master planning center at the Castella dollas Pontellas. They included Hecht’s new second in command, Colonel Buhle Smolens. Smolens had not been appointed by the Captain-General. Hecht did not know the man. He came from the Patriarchal garrison at Maleterra and was related to somebody Sublime owed money. He did, however, have a solid military reputation.

Clej Sedlakova was an observer for the Brotherhood. They insisted. The Captain-General was using their facilities.

Hecht could not operate without their approval and support.

Sedlakova was new, too, but there was no doubt he knew his way around a battlefield. He had lost his shield arm. His face bore two ugly scars, one down the right side and one across his forehead. The latter was permanently purple. He did not say much. Nor did he interfere.

The other three men had been with Hecht since he had taken over the City Regiment in the run-up to the Calziran Crusade. They were Hagan Brokke, a Krogusian who had

been a private soldier at the time of the first pirate attacks.

He had risen swiftly by demonstrating outstanding abilities. He was Hecht’s planning officer.

The others were Titus Consent and Tabill Talab, chief intelligence officer and lead quartermaster. Both were Devedian, which made folks like Clej Sedlakova uncomfortable. Consent was in his early twenties.

Sedlakova might be uncomfortable but he was implacably tolerant. Both Deves were exceptionally competent. And unobtrusive with their religion.

All five men were accompanied by assistants. Managing the Patriarch’s armed forces was not a minor enterprise.

Hagan Brokke said, “We’re working on that, sir.” He indicated a vast wall map of Firaldia. That was a permanent feature of the room. Every little county, dukedom, principality, city-state, kingdom, and republic was delineated. Political entities were identified by color, in a dozen shades. Isolated parts of the same entity were connected by black strings. Each entity was tagged with a numbered piece of paper.

That referenced a sheet listing significant local personalities, the number and sorts of soldiers available, quality of fortifications, and useful political, marital, and family alliance information.

Brokke said, “If we have to attempt the absurd we have garrisons here, here, and here that can support us. I’ve sent warning orders.”

“Excellent.”

Titus Consent said, “The Imperials will expect that. It shouldn’t worry them. They won’t expect anything to come of it. Our side talks loud but never actually does anything.”

“We might break that precedent this time.”

Consent continued. “Couriers will alert our intelligence assets in the region, too.” He tended to talk that way.

“Good again.” Consent meant messages had been sent to the Devedian ghettoes.

There were Deves everywhere. Going unnoticed, they saw and heard most of the inner workings. And their elders, for the moment, were willing to feed information to Captain-General Piper Hecht.

Which was useful but embarrassing. Deves were little more popular than demons. They were too educated. Too prosperous. Too smart. You did not want to associate too intimately with that sort. They were the source of all the world’s evil — if there were no handy Pramans or Maysaleans, other loathsome Unbelievers or heretics, or the Instrumentalities of the Night, to blame. Being literate, Deves wrote things down. Often things you did not want retailed accurately later.

The literate were as mistrusted as those who had congress with the Night. Either could destroy you with arcane knowledge.

Hecht said, “Bring me up-to-date. Can fon Dreasser protect himself?”

Titus Consent was a tall youth, slim, dark of mien, usually cheerful. He was talented in the extreme and thoroughly competent. He was not obviously Devedian. He handled rampant prejudice mainly by refusing to acknowledge it. He was a solid family man. Early on he had told Hecht that he had been raised from infancy to become a sort of savior for the Deves of the western diaspora.

He said, “We haven’t had time to find out. I can tell you that it would be smart to get some arrears money to the garrisons out that way. Blatantly obvious, but every time we pry back pay out of the Patriarch we win more friends among the men with the sharp iron.”

That sort of thinking had gotten Hecht exiled from Dreanger when he was Else Tage. Else Tage had been popular with the soldiers.

“Any chance we can find some money?”

“We talked to the Fiducian, Joceran Cuito.” Cuito was director of the Patriarchal treasury. He was a Direcian archbishop who was in line to join the Collegium. On merit, and because he had Peter of Navaya as a sponsor. “He means to employ a battery of limited, secured loans.”

Sublime was inclined to avoid securing his loans with anything more substantial than a signature. But ink was no longer enough for Brothe’s moneylenders.

“Property?” The Church was the biggest landowner in Firaldia. Since earliest Old Brothen times land had been
the
critical measure of wealth. Only land could provide a stream of income.

“Fiducian Cuito would rather pawn art treasures and rare books from the Krois Palace. He won’t say why, but he’s sure the Church is going to receive a substantial windfall before long.”

“Then something’s going on under the table. And Sublime’s kept it inside his inner circle.”

“Exactly.”

“Considering the time of year and general economy, I’d say they’re going to steal something. Or sell something. Big. They’ve already sold all the seats in the Collegium that they can. And all the livings that anybody will pay for.” A thought. “Could it be a fat bequest?”

“I don’t know of anyone with one foot in the grave and the inclination to bribe the guardians at Heaven’s gates.”

“Would they hurry somebody off to the Promised Land early?” Sublime had not yet been accused of murder for profit. But his predecessors had.

“We don’t have access to their records. We haven’t heard of any pending legacies.”

“Keep an eye on it.” Hecht settled in to listen to other reports, not just about Clearenza. He had some responsibilities regarding the ongoing effort to suppress diehard Praman partisans in Calzir.

Calzir would never reclaim its independence. If Sublime recalled his garrisons the Grail Empire and Navaya would flood the vacuum. Making Sublime’s two biggest competitors even stronger.

Fate conspired to thwart Sublime at every turn. But he refused to see the stumbling blocks as an expression of God’s will.

Few men took their own reverses as God’s will. Instead, they worked hard to adjust God’s will to reflect their own.

Sublime probably spent a lot of time asking God why it all had to be so hard.

Moving close, Titus Consent asked, “Can I see you privately after we’re done?”

“Absolutely. I need a word with you, too. Colonel Smolens, are you confident enough to take over if I take a few days off?”

Smolens showed surprise, then curiosity. “I know my way around, now.”

“Your biggest problem would likely be having to deal with our masters. None of them are the least bit reasonable.”

“No problem, Captain-General. I can pretend they’re my extended family.” Buhle Smolens was perfectly formal. He demonstrated the ideal military courtesy, uphill and down, always. He had brought his family to Brothe. Nobody had met them yet. Smolens mentioned them only in passing. His eldest son supposedly wanted a subaltern’s position, if one came open.

Smolens had several interesting ideas for installing a more professional attitude in the Patriarchal armies.

His big fault was his conviction concerning the earthly and moral supremacy of the Episcopal vein of the Chaldarean faith. Though he did not buy the doctrine of Patriarchal Infallibility.

Hard to do with Sublime V in front of you every day.

Tabill Talab was troubled. He wasted no time once Hecht recognized him. “I’m having a problem no one else seems to notice. I feel a bleak future closing in. For everyone.”

Talab was the eternal pessimist, chosen to balance Titus Consent’s overconfidence. “Do explain.”

“I talk to our couriers. I talk to merchants. I talk to refugees. I ask for reports from our agents in the republics because their ships visit all the ports of the Mother Sea.”