Lord Of The Silent Kingdom Part 65

"Every encounter I've suffered has been initiated by the Night."

"Amusing, isn't it? Them bringing on what they dread by trying to get even first?"

"Isn't the same thing happening every day, somewhere?

This prince, that duke, a random count, strikes before some enemy can carry out a potential attack?"

Februaren chuckled. "Every day. And half the time it's a d.a.m.ned good idea. Hitting them back before they can hit you back first."

"I'm tired. And, as usual, you're just being vague. So I'm going to sleep. You can get back to watching over me."

"Sarcasm? Interesting." The old man grinned. Despite his antiquity, he had a full set of teeth. "Go ahead. I'll hover like a guardian angel."

News came early. A fresh contingent of forty-day men from Firaldia, not told not to, had attacked the White City through breaches from the New Town. The defenders were unprepared for a heavy a.s.sault. The invaders were running wild in Castreresone's streets.

Hecht said, "We have to go get a bridle on this before the officers go loot-crazy, too."

t.i.tus Consent asked, "What about those people over there?"

"They'll hear about it. They'll have to make a decision. Let Castreresone go? Or charge in where their prospects are grim?"

"We'd have the hammer by the handle if we caught Isabeth."

"We would. Yes. But don't expect it to happen."

Hecht withdrew toward the White City. The mercenary infantry remained in contact but avoided serious combat. The knights followed on, still looking for that opportunity to exploit their advantage. The wind picked up in the middle of the morning. A drizzle began soon after noon. That turned to freezing rain. Shortly afterward the Patriarchals reached hastily prepared defenses meant to break a cavalry charge.

The Navayans attacked, without enthusiasm, because the situation compelled them. Their appearance stiffened the resolve of the city's defenders.

Freezing rain turned to light, steady snow.

Come nightfall, the Queen's men withdrew. The Captain-General launched several nighttime counterattacks. He suffered the heavier losses. Come morning, though, the Navayans resumed moving toward Mohela ande Larges. Which they might find held against them, Hagan Brokke having taken the garrison by surprise the morning before.

Brokke would give the castle up uncontested, though. If instructions from his Captain-General got through.

Brokke reported taking prisoners that might be of interest to his commander.

Cannon fire wakened Hecht. Three roars from three directions. The excitement was over before he caught up with Drago Prosek. Prosek's crews were digging up the muddy little eggs left by the deaths of the Instrumentalities.

"Changes coming fast," Hecht muttered. Using the falcons against the Night had become routine.

Prosek said, "Sorry we woke you, sir. Couldn't do it quietly." He brushed snow out of his hair.

"I thought they'd let us alone. After what we've done."

"You can't beat stupid, sir. I put some of the new traps out tonight. We'll see what good they do."

"Carry on, then. Make sure those eggs get to Princ.i.p.al Delari." He turned to go back to his tent.

"Sir, we need more ammunition. We have nine rounds special left. Four of those I made myself from shot we'd already used once."

"We'll do something. Good work, by the way." Hecht was halfway to his shelter when several blazing spears leapt off Castreresone's walls, barely discernible through the falling snow.

Excitement raced through the Patriarchal camp. Sleeping soldiers came out to see what the racket was this time. They added to it once they understood. Patriarchal forces had captured Castreresone's main gate from inside. The soldiers raced off to sack the White City.

Hecht did not try to stem the tide. That could get him trampled. As dawn came, he told t.i.tus Consent, "Sometimes you have to let chaos sort itself out."

"Not everyone has gone crazy. A few men stuck to their posts." Consent indicated Hecht's lifeguards, all of whom looked like they were constipated. Even lifelong members of the Brotherhood of War wanted a share of the plunder.

"Good. Somebody needs to keep us from being caught with our trousers down. What's this?" Riders were crossing the Laur bridge, looking around warily.

"Messengers."

"Gutsy guys, too, if they've been traveling in the dark."

"I'll get them."

PlNKUS GHORT WAS ON HIS WAY FROM ANTIEUX. SOMEthing big was afoot. Bronte Doneto had, with explosive suddenness, abandoned the siege that had been the center of his life for months.

"Sergeant Bechter, we want to move into the Count's keep as soon as possible. You need to figure out what we need for a permanent headquarters."

"Yes, sir. Colonel Ghort's party is on the down slope across the river now."

"Hope he doesn't mind the mud."

"He'll be distracted by the damage to the vineyards."

Hecht laughed. "No doubt. Have you seen the Princ.i.p.ate?"

"Which? The Bruglioni and the Aparionese fellow are leaving, I hear. Going to leave us to our fate."

"Delari. The only one who ever interests me."

"He's in the city. Keep an eye on the Bruglioni. Madouc tells me he looks like a man nursing a secret grudge."

"Paludan Bruglioni and Gervase Saluda have never forgiven me for abandoning them to go to work for the Patriarch."

Bechter scowled. He did not believe that for a moment.

Redfearn Bechter seldom said anything not involved with getting on with work. But he had eyes and a brain. Hecht feared the man was picking up more than he needed to know. Which was why the Brotherhood had him next to the Captain-General in the first place.

If Gervase Saluda had developed a true grudge, he might be putting things together, too.

There were always people who knew uncomfortable things. Some could not resist gossiping.

"It's time we went up there and saw this gem we've added to the Church's crown. Right after I see Colonel Ghort."

Bechter was not pleased.

"There's a problem, Sergeant?"

"Madouc won't let you go without a full complement of lifeguards. But that would tell the Castreresonese you're someone important. They might attack you."

"I doubt it. They've had enough. They don't want us to do the White City the way we did the lesser towns."

"Even where the troops were merciless we've had trouble with ambush and murder. The Society brethren won't go scourge the rustic heretics."

"Gosh, Sergeant. Imagine that. People who resist opportunities to be robbed and burned alive. How un-Chaldarean of them."

"Have a care, sir. The Society grows stronger every day. They might enjoy the opportunity to pull down somebody important, just to feed the fear surrounding them."

"Good point. Tell Madouc I intend to move into the keep." He should be safe there. That fortress within had been built to provide a refuge from the Castreresonese themselves, not as a place to make a last stand against invaders.

"As you will, sir." Bechter making his disapproval amply clear. "One point more. I saw that old man in brown. Be careful."

Once Bechter left, the Ninth Unknown asked, "How does he do that?"

Hecht squeaked. "How do you you do that? Popping out of nowhere?" do that? Popping out of nowhere?"

"He shouldn't be able to see me."

"You have a special reason to scare the pants off me?"

"No. Except to reinforce what Bechter said. Don't irritate the Society. They'll get thick as flies now. There's been a battle on Artecipea between Pramans King Peter recruited in Calzir and some Artecipean mountain people. Your former a.s.sociates partic.i.p.ated. A great deal of sorcery was involved. Peter's forces were victorious. The point of it all, though, remains obscure."

Februaren seemed c.o.c.ky. Like he had had a hand in a.s.suring that outcome. But that could not be. Could it? The Lord of the Silent Kingdom must be powerful, but not so much so that he could cross long distances in no time. Could he?

Februaren revealed a small smile. Hecht suspected that the man knew his thoughts. Whereupon the smile became a smirk. Februaren startled him by asking, "Why would Gervase Saluda become your enemy? You did well by the Bruglioni when you worked for them. Set their feet solidly on the road toward restoring their glory."

"Princ.i.p.ate Divino Bruglioni. The only thing I can think of. Some rumor may have gotten out of the Arniena family. And the ring." A recollection of which took Hecht by surprise. He had not considered the Bruglioni ring for a long time.

"Ring?"

Even the Ninth Unknown could not resist the ring's power to elude memory.

"Polo knows I had it. I forgot that for a long time. He may have remembered and told somebody."

"Polo. That's the one who was your manservant when you were with the Bruglioni? Crippled in the ambush meant to kill you and Ghort."

Hecht nodded.

"Time to turn around. Bechter is back."

Februaren turned. And vanished. Leaving Hecht feeling that he was truly gone, not just hidden from the eye.

"Enter," he responded to Bechter's appeal.

The sergeant peered into shadows. He had heard something. "The lifeguard is a.s.sembling. Colonel Ghort should be here in time to join us. Apropos my earlier caution, Morcant Farfog is with Colonel Ghort's party."

It took Hecht a moment. "Bishop of Strang?"

"Archbishop, now. Head of the Society in the End of Connec. Convinced that he's the most powerful churchman after Sublime. I heard he may have one eye on the Patriarchy."

"You're kidding."

"Competence is seldom the leading qualification for succession."

"But..."

"Not to worry, Captain-General. He wouldn't get the votes."

PlNKUS GHORT DID NOT LOOK WELL. "EXHAUSTION," HE explained. Barely putting one foot in front of the other as he climbed the hill with Hecht. "That Raymone Garete is a stubborn b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Then I got Doneto barking in one ear and that pile of monkey s.h.i.t Farfog howling in the other. That p.r.i.c.k don't know how lucky he is to be alive."

"That could be more true than you realize."

"Eh?"

'The Brotherhood doesn't love him, either. Sooner or later, they'll b.u.t.t heads. If Sublime doesn't rein them in."

"Man, you wrecked this place. It'll take years to fix these walls."

"How's your bombardment?"

"There's gotta be sorcery involved. Or something. We keep pounding away. And the rocks keep bouncing off."

"There must be a way."