Glen Cook - Surrender to the will of the night

Failure, defeat, surrender, captivity, none were acceptable options. Unless God deserted him completely.

Hecht desperately hoped to see Heris again. The more he eyed the chances of success the more worried he became for Anna and the children.

There was an ancient saying: “Children are hostages to Fortune.” And, unhappily, any other asshole who could lay hands on.

A grimly weary Heris turned sideways, into being, seconds after Kait Rhuk and Drago Prosek left Hecht. She grumbled, “I know. I can sleep after I’m dead.”

“You can’t tell if there’s somebody here before you do that, can you?”

“Sometimes. Mostly not. I can halfway arrive and keep from being seen if I’m rested enough.”

“You missed popping in between Rhuk and Prosek by five seconds.”

“That would’ve been embarrassing.”

“You think?”

“Worried about them finding out?”

“Absolutely. About anyone finding out. We have a huge advantage as long as nobody knows. We lose that fast as soon as they do.”

“Get one of those folding screen things to drag around with you. Wherever you set up shop, put it in a corner so I can pop in behind it. That way I can get away again without anyone seeing if you’ve got somebody with you.”

“That might work. What do you have for me?”

“You don’t have a social life, do you?”

“What?”

“I know. All business, all the time. Saves having to deal with stuff. Story of my life, too.”

Hecht was confused. This was not the Heris of his experience. “You’re hanging around with the Ninth Unknown too much. You’re turning into another him.”

“I am a bad girl, little brother.”

Heris proceeded with a long report, some of it not very interesting. Since her last visit she had been a fly on the wall in a dozen venues, including Krois in Brothe, Pinkus Ghort’s camp a dozen miles above Antieux, Alten Weinberg’s Winterhall, Hochwasser, and even briefly in Salpeno, where Anna of Menand was ecstatic about the deaths of kings at Khaurene. There was panic in Krois and elation in Alten Weinberg because Katrin had come back to her father’s path. There was crippling indecision in Ghort’s camp. Pinkus himself was willing to carry out orders but he was up to his ears in legates, envoys, Society angels, and other pests, all of whom insisted on telling him what to do.

Though the news about the Empress was fresh, levies had been assembling at Hochwasser for weeks, according to annual custom. Those forces were in motion already, according to a marching plan laid down in the reign of Johannes II. That plan was no secret. Once through the Jagos the Imperial main force would advance down the West Way toward Brothe. Resistance would arise mainly at river crossings.

Thus it had been with invasions and defenses for two thousand years. Thus it would go. Geography dictated it.

“Nothing remarkable there,” Hecht said. “And though they’ll make a lot of racket, they won’t move with any vigor. How close to Serenity did you get? What’s his plan?”

“Close enough to sit on his lap. If I wanted. Close enough to blow hot air down the back of his neck. Close enough to convince him that his favorite wing of Krois is haunted by Ostarega the Malicious and Ostarega doesn’t love him.”

“Ostarega the Malicious?”

“One of the early Bad Patriarchs. His reign name was Clement. The Second. He was awful. God had the Collegium bend him over a wine cask and hurry him on to Paradise by impaling him with a white-hot iron rod. So there would be no blood spilled.”

“Strangling or drowning would’ve worked.”

“That wouldn’t have made a strong enough point. It was personal.”

“I guess so. Serenity’s plans?”

“The reason I keep him jumping. The haunted wing of Krois is where the good quiet rooms are.”

Hecht controlled his impatience. If he barked too loud Heris might just go away. So he said, “Good thinking.”

Heris did a little jig, absurd for a woman of middle years. “I’m so smart!” Like a child. Grinning. “All right. I’m done messing with you. He means to pull together every man he can and come straight at you, through the Shades.” The Shades being the nearest stretch of the Monte Sismonda, the mountain range forming the spine of the Central Firaldian peninsula. Why the local stretch was called the Shades had been forgotten. It had been the Shades when the Old Empire arrived.

It would have something to do with the Night.

“That wouldn’t be smart. If I don’t go meet him.”

“He means to swarm you before you pull together enough Righteous and Imperials to turn into a real nuisance.”

Which did not make Hecht nervous enough to suit her. “He isn’t playing around, Piper. He’ll order the prisons turned out. He’s already summoned the militias. He’s posted a call for mercenaries. He could have twenty thousand men here by the end of the week.”

“Twenty? Thousand?”

“That’s what he thinks. There’re a lot of hungry people in Brothe. And he’s offering good money.”

“Twenty thousand.” That was a kick in the gut. Even if Serenity’s plan was fifty percent wishful thinking. “A rabble, though.”

“Sure.”

But there would be men he had trained among them, giving them backbone.

“Are you all right, Piper?”

“Just in shock. I didn’t count on Bronte Doneto being another Tormond IV but I did think he would dither awhile.”

“He’s thought about this, Piper. Knowing he might have to butt heads with you someday. He knows you won’t let him have time to waste. So he’s done what he has to do.”

Hecht began to pace, muttering, “Twenty thousand.”

“Think about the others instead of Serenity.”

“The other what?”

“The other men involved. The ones Serenity has to rely on. Who aren’t him. Are they eager for a fight? Will they drag their feet, hoping you’ll go away? Because they’re afraid of you? Because they’d have to leave Brothe filled with uncontrolled enemies if they came out to meet you?”

Hecht muttered, “Twenty thousand men.”

“Will you get over that?”

His mind did slide past it. He began to think like a general. A general faced with a hopeless task.

First, he had to protect the Empress.

Then he had to protect and salvage the Righteous. And the firepowder weapons. Having provoked the Eastern Emperor so thoroughly he could not let that prize get away.

And he had to ensure the safety of such Firaldian allies as had begun to accumulate. That was only right.

“I wish I could talk this over with the old men.”

“No help for you with Double Great Grandpa. He’s inside the Realm of the Gods. But Grandfather is a possibility.”

“I don’t see how…”

“I can skip there. And take you with me.”

“You can what?”

“Come here.”

Hecht did as she said, still distracted by the possibility of having to face an overwhelming Patriarchal force within a few days.

Heris seized him in a fierce grip, twisted, wrenched him violently.

Darkness followed.

Darkness swarmed with dreams that were mostly nightmares. Terror pounded Hecht. He was sure he would be trapped there forever.

“Damned good thing you had some get-acquainted time with the Construct,” Principat? Delari said. “That gave Heris the leverage she needed to drag you all the way through.”

Pale, exhausted, Heris still shook, minutes after arriving. There had been unexpected problems.

Also shaking, Hecht grumbled, “Wonderful. Marvelous. What the hell happened?”

“Calm yourself. I don’t know. I don’t use the Construct that way. Heris hasn’t had this problem before.”

Heris said, “Tell me what you saw, Piper. That might give me a handle.”