Glen Cook - Surrender to the will of the night

Hecht looked Paludan in the eye for several seconds. Then, “Rivademar. This meeting is suspended. I’ll let you know when we’ll resume. Titus, stay. The rest of you, go enjoy the morning. Or get some work done. Whatever moves you.”

Titus moved around the table, settled beside Hecht. The rest of the gathering moved away. Consent asked, “Do we need a quiet room?”

Paludan said, “Unfortunately, the only one here is damaged.”

Hecht said, “We managed an ambush yesterday.”

Consent nodded. “So we did. By misdirection. Which works as long as Serenity’s Collegium friends refuse to be found at the point of the spear.”

Hecht asked Bruglioni, “Do you know somebody inside willing to work with us?”

“I expect we all do, in a manner of speaking. In this case, though, I’m talking about somebody involved with the Arniena. Somebody Rogoz Sayag knows.”

Hecht nodded, not surprised. Brothen politics being Brothen politics, this was inevitable. But he had not expected it so soon.

Paludan said, “War isn’t good for business. Unless it’s happening somewhere else and we’re selling them the means to butcher one another. If this lasts all summer the cost will become insupportable. Brothe has ten thousand men closing in. Since the Shades Serenity can’t find fighters willing to defend him. Only Pinkus Ghort offers much hope. And he hasn’t reached Brothe yet. The Grand Duke keeps slowing him down.”

Hecht believed Hilandle was either much more clever than anyone credited, or much luckier. He had been doing everything almost exactly right since his advent in Firaldia.

Hecht said, “So if I get there first, get inside, and stun Serenity’s friends…”

“If you got inside suddenly, and seized several gates, you could probably give your Empress what she wants and, maybe, the rest of us the relief we’re looking for.”

“We’re sitting here talking about it in the wide open. They’ll know we’re coming.”

“Maybe not. Although we don’t have a functional quiet room, we aren’t unprotected. If we keep our wards in place and up to strength Serenity can’t get more than snippets of what we’re planning. Go after a gate? Pretty obvious, isn’t it? Don’t need to be a military genius or have spies riding the Commander’s shoulder to anticipate that. But which gate? And can Serenity trust all the men he puts in charge?”

Hecht thought about it. Paludan was right.

The numinous side of life was an incredible pain, even today. How much worse had it been before the Old Empire? Of all the works of the Old Empire-nearly eternal roads and public works, and all the great buildings still used today-the taming of the Night had to be the most valuable. And least appreciated.

Hecht said, “Pull it together, then, sir. You know the people, I’ll let you build the plan. See me when you have something workable.”

Hecht would work on something of his own, based on information from Titus. Something that could become an alternate course at minimum notice. Or on several such alternates.

The moment Paludan left Hecht said, “Get me a census of healthy falcons, Titus. Anything we do, falcons will be the key.”

One hundred fourteen falcons. Attrition had claimed thirty-two.

“But Rhuk thinks some can be salvaged.”

“What about handhelds?”

“No way to know.” Consent shrugged. “Men who have them don’t want us to know. We might take them away.”

Hecht felt like cursing and laughing, both. He understood the soldier’s point of view. A man’s own life was just a whole shitload more important than any cockamamie plan dreamed up by some general or staff officer. A handheld was number one insurance when a man had to go into dark places.

Krulik and Sneigon had shown more than two hundred handhelds on inventory rolls when the Righteous arrived. Twenty-two had been turned in to Rhuk or Prosek.

Of the heavier pieces, many of which had had to be rooted out of hiding, only the half dozen put aside for Heris had gone missing. One hundred fifty-two had been found, many not included on the company formal inventory. Those off the books had been meant to disappear into the Devedian quarters of cities all across the Brothen Episcopal world. One hundred forty-six falcons had seen action in the Shades.

“Have they rigged all the weapons up on carts, or wheels, or some damned thing?” Getting the weapons moved and emplaced was a pain. From the beginning Rhuk and Prosek had experimented with ways to improve mobility. Each idea died once the shooting started. Recoil broke even the best made carts.

“All set. Pretty rough, though. Prosek wants to build a dual-purpose cart that can haul stores or tentage but be converted as a replacement falcon cart.”

“That’s what he gets paid for. All I’m interested in is being able to move fast once we’re inside the wall.”

The Righteous, with Imperials from the south and a handful from east of the Monte Sismonda, moved toward Brothe. Serenity’s patrols watched but contested nothing. Hecht halted on grain fields in plain sight of the wall.

To assuage the bruised honor of the southerners Hecht deferred battlefield command to Manfred Otho Altomindo, the Prince Apparent of Alamedinne, for the daylight hours, or till the Empress overruled him. Prince Manfred was not the senior southerner but his father, Manfred Ludovico, was senile, bedridden, and a figurehead.

Hecht was giving nothing away, yielding daytime command. Serenity was not going to let God decide his fate on a battlefield.

The Manfreds had no intelligence concerning the true situation, which was that Serenity’s advisers had convinced him to go defensive till the southern levies completed their feudal obligations.

Similar limits would obtain for levies raised in the Patriarchal States. But Serenity’s cronies were concerned only with themselves and their own immediate security.

The younger Manfred set the order of battle. His southerners made up the center, arrayed for the traditional heavy cavalry charge. The disdained Righteous formed the wings, with a scatter of auxiliary light cavalry out beyond the divisions of the Righteous. Hecht was both appalled and amused because those light horsemen were Pramans recruited from what had been Calzir before the Calziran Crusade.

Nothing happened. Not even a herald came out. Hecht reassumed command come sunset. He ordered camp set, with special attention paid to wards against sorcery and Instrumentalities. Manfred Otho retired cursing the lack of panache shown by the Brothen knightly class.

Reports from the city had the Collegium in a state of civil war. Serenity’s partisans had the upper hand in the streets. Their behavior was abominable.

Only the Devedian quarter remained quiet. The Deves had locked up and hunkered down, getting ready for the customary attacks that turned their way whenever there was civil unrest.

Hecht asked Consent, “Do we have any goodwill in the Devedian quarter at all?”

“After what we did to Krulik and Sneigon? No.”

“Understandable. They were just trying to make money. That’s what Deves do.”

Consent gave him a dark look. He loathed the stereotypes and generalizations.

Hecht added, “They’d best get ready to suffer for our success.”

“What?”

“Apply the usual logic. Falcons gave us a bloody victory in the Shades. Deves made the falcons.”

“And the fact that we robbed the Deves to get the falcons wouldn’t enter the argument. You’re right. The usual logic.”

“It could happen tonight, Titus. I’m going to my tent to pray. I don’t want to be disturbed. Please remind Mr. Ernest.”

Consent did not reply. He just went off to do his job.

Lila turned up right on time.