Glen Cook - Surrender to the will of the night

She began to feel other presences, unseen Night things in search of the truth. Not threatening things, just small things come to witness. She began to hear their whispers and rustles.

Copper joined her, as did Asgrimmur. The dwarf squatted. The ascendant stood with feet widespread, his hand behind him. Both stared at the egg. Heris said, “We can go as soon as that cools down.”

Asgrimmur asked, “What do you want with it?”

“Two souls. That’s the one the Windwalker brought to this world. I want it under control. I want it taken to where it can be destroyed.”

“You’d probably be safer just leaving it.”

“Maybe. But I’m not going to do that. Copper. Have your guys started breaking down? Though it’s a crime to take those beautiful engines apart.”

Distracted, Copper shrugged. “They aren’t being destroyed, just disassembled. They’ll be stored till they’re needed again. And they will be. That’s the nature of these things.”

Heris thought Piper’s falcons were more likely to figure in future godly executions.

Asgrimmur took hold of Copper’s arm. “I’m not going back the way we came. I wouldn’t survive. I’ll walk back beside my new best friend. Unless he wants to stay here and set up housekeeping. It’ll be fun, come winter. I can teach him to ski.”

Heris saw Copper shudder. The dwarf was angry inside. But he did not refuse.

She knew she would get nowhere making the same suggestion.

The dwarf could not refuse. He was Aelen Kofer. Asgrimmur had the ghost of the All-Father inside him. Copper had no option.

Proof that every dwarf had to be out of the Realm of the Gods before any move involving trapped deities.

Heris said, “I understand. Copper. Will you make your journey on foot?”

The dwarf thought before answering, seeing what he might give away. “Yes. It’s a one-day journey. Goat carts will move the engine parts.”

“Great. You can do me a favor, then. Take this egg to the Realm of the Gods. It occurs to me that it wouldn’t be smart to be carrying it when I cut my chord across the Night.”

She saw no obvious reaction from Asgrimmur, though he had offered a gentle caution. Copper did respond, but only in the manner of someone who fancied himself serially victimized. He indulged in woe-is-me sighs.

It was always high noon in the Realm of the Gods so it did not matter that it was after dark when the egg finally cooled enough to be wrapped in leather ammo slings and moved over, whatever secret way the dwarves used, to a goat cart in the Aelen Kofer world. A moment afterward Heris turned sideways and transitioned to the Realm of the Gods.

Cloven Februaren had not yet returned. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She vanished into her local hole-up without announcing her return.

The Ninth Unknown and the Bastard were in the Aelen Kofer tavern with Iron Eyes when Heris, refreshed, wandered in looking for something to eat. The dwarf and the old man started barking questions.

“Copper is fine. He’s on his way. Asgrimmur is with him. He wouldn’t have survived another transition. If you’ve got the Night in you, you can get hung up out there. Forever. Double Great. We’re going to need to do some rethinking.”

“Rethinking? What do you mean? Rethinking of what?”

“What we’re going to do up there.” She jerked a thumb in the direction of the Great Sky Fortress.

“Why?” His eyes narrowed. He smelled something.

Heris smelled food. Her usual arrived. Before she tucked in, she said, “Because I killed the Windwalker already. Which I told you I could do, but you wouldn’t believe. Yesterday. With help from the Aelen Kofer.”

Iron Eyes and her human companions stared. They gaped. And they refused to believe.

“It took almost every weapon I had but I did do it in, Double Great. Copper is bringing its soul egg. Kharoulke the Windwalker is no more. And all the Night is in a panic and disarray.”

They still would not believe. They did not want to believe. “Yes. Me. A mere girl. I did it.” Her glare dared any of them to claim they had softened the Windwalker up. She had done the heavy lifting from the beginning.

Cloven Februaren said, “She’s right about the Night. I’ve never seen it as agitated as it is now.”

The Bastard nodded silent agreement.

Iron Eyes said, “We’ll wait on Copper and the ascendant. We’ll see what they have to say.”

Heris was profoundly irked but knew that was the best she could expect. For now.

A servant rolled Paludan Bruglioni onto the flagstone patio. The Commander of the Righteous was sharing a morning meal with staff and liaison officers from the Imperial forces of southern Firaldia. Their commander, Prince Manfred Otho of Alamedinne, had refused to dine with a hired sword. The Empress, either drunk or drugged, brooded over the scene from a high seat a short distance away. Her presence dared the southern nobility to try disdaining her desires when it came to naming the Commander of the Righteous master of all Imperial forces south of Brothe.

There would be conflicts if the campaign lasted. The Ege family had little love for Manfred Otho and his father, Manfred Ludovico, both of whom had been conspicuously absent from Imperial ranks during the Calziran Crusade. The southerners could just barely tolerate being ruled by an Ege woman. Having to take orders from a base-born mercenary lay at the frontier of too huge an indignity. Only the prospect of booty kept mutiny from raising its ugly head.

A feeble prospect, plunder.

Agents of the Patriarch were around, whispering. Telling the truth, in fact. Only estates and properties associated with the Benedocto would be given over to sack. The Benedocto were not rich. The Benedocto still owed bribe money from the election of their last Patriarch, Sublime V.

The smarter southerners, though disgruntled, understood that they were in no position to enforce their preferences. The Grand Duke, now with six thousand men, was scarcely forty miles north of Brothe. Admiral fon Tyre was almost as near, though still beyond the Monte Sismonda. He commanded another twenty-two hundred men. Both men would enforce the will of the Empress if the Commander of the Righteous could not do so himself. The Commander’s reliable force now numbered thirteen hundred. With all those falcons that had won the battle in the Shades. Plus several lesser engagements since.

Paludan rolled into place beside Hecht. Hecht was not quite startled. He had heard the wheels on stone. “Good morning, sir,” he said.

“Good morning. I’ll only take a minute. Or two. First, to thank you for the care you took to avoid damaging the vineyards yesterday.”

“Thank you for your appreciation. I get some friction but my policy is to minimize damage to friends.”

Yesterday had seen a strong cavalry probe come south from Brothe. Titus Consent’s friends in the city had sent warnings. Hecht’s own horsemen had led that force into an ambush where falcons had torn them apart. Southerners had been there to observe. Their reaction had been to whine about all the horses left unfit for capture once the falcons did their job. Plus, there had been few prisoners to ransom.

Hecht asked, “And your other matter?”

“I don’t know what reports you’ve had. I hear that Brothe is coming apart. The City Regiment can’t keep the peace anymore. And Serenity keeps giving stranger and more draconian orders.”

“That’s what I hear. He’s become completely erratic since somebody killed his mistress and wrecked his city house.” Hecht had the facts of those events from Lila.

“It could be wishful thinking but my contacts say that neither the City Regiment nor the militia would fight much if you got inside the wall.”