Glen Cook - Lord of the Silent Kingdom

Hecht nodded. He asked Delari, "Do you know the whole story about Osa Stile?"

The Principate frowned. "Osa Stile?"

"Armand? Osa Stile is his real name."

"How would you…? He's an agent of Ferris Renfrow, the Imperial spy. He arranged embarrassments for the Church in the Connec before I inherited him."

"Osa was a gift to Ferris Renfrow from Dreanger. He was made by er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen. He's almost my age. His first loyalty is to the Rascal, not Renfrow. Nor his lovers. I believe er-Rashal subtly suggested Osa's use in the Connec. Where al-Dhulquarnen and his allies would experiment with resurrecting banished gods. They didn't count on Bishop Serifs being so awful that a Braunsknecht would fling him off a cliff."

Delari asked, "You know this for a fact?"

"About Osa Stile? Yes. I'm speculating about er-Rashal's conniving."

"And where does your loyalty lie now, Piper?" Februaren asked. "Since you were sent west to die, and have been attacked repeatedly because you won't stop breathing."

"I don't know. Honestly. Intellectually, I know I've been betrayed by Gordimer and al-Dhulquarnen. They've made enemies of themselves. But I haven't been betrayed by the Sha-lug. My own company, that I commanded before I came over here, were at al-Khazen. And, later, at Arn Bedu. They were betrayed, too. Because of their association with me. They didn't turn on me. Neither, I suspect, would most Sha-lug." Though he had been away so long that few would remember him.

Februaren nodded. "The one called the Mountain. Hiding amongst the Pramans at Arn Bedu. He's in Lucidia, now. Supported by the Kaif of Qasr al-Zed. He's gathering Sha-lug willing to turn on Gordimer and er-Rashal. But he's gotten less sympathy than he expected. He's survived several assassination attempts. He'll need luck to keep on."

"Tomorrow," Delari said. Evidently lost inside his own head.

Everyone stared. He did not go on.

"Muno? You were going to say something." Februaren put an edge in his voice, adult to inattentive youngster.

"Uh? Oh. Yes. Tomorrow. Heris. You start Piper's education with the Construct."

"Piper has to visit the Bruglioni."

"Afterward, then. But tomorrow. We need to get on with it. It can't be that long before he has to go off to the Connec again."

"I don't have time!" Hecht protested.

"Make time, Piper," Februaren said. "Trust your staff. This is important. Muno and I aren't immortal."

"I have no talent for sorcery."

"Talent not required. No more so than to throw a rock. We'll both be there to instruct you. Right, Muno?"

The Principate nodded. But he was drifting again.

"What did you talk about?" Anna wanted to know when Hecht slipped into their borrowed bed.

"Yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Depressing stuff."

"And secret?"

"Naturally."

"Politics?"

"That, too. But you'll get help with the killer in your neighborhood."

"And you have to…?"

"I have to study something with Delari before I go back to the Connec."

Disappointed, she murmured, "How soon will that be?"

"Depends on Boniface. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry. Certainly not till all the troops from Artecipea are over and rested and refitted."

Anna pressed against him, head to toe. "I don't want you to go."

"I know. But I can't not."

"I know. You can't stop being you."

That was not really it. Or, maybe it was.

"You're the last person I expected to see," Paludan Bruglioni said, looking startled. "You've gotten us out of your life." The man was nervous. He had trouble meeting Hecht's eyes. He had lost hair and gained weight.

"Not at all. I owe you. You gave me work when I was new here. I gave you my best while I was here."

Grudgingly, Paludan admitted, "You did turn us around. You did win back the respect we'd lost." Lost because of Paludan Bruglioni's indifference toward management of the family he had come to head at too early an age.

"But you were unhappy with me anyway. So I hear."

"You say you have something…?" Paludan lost focus. He stared at a shadowed corner, the color draining from his face.

"I may have found the ring I was so sure I didn't have."

He had a note on paper fixed to his left wrist. Writing never forgot. "If this is it." He handed the gold band to Bruglioni. "I found it with some coins and jewelry I brought back from Artecipea. I don't know if I picked it up there or if I had it all along. All along makes more sense."

Paludan glared as hard as a frightened man dared.

"I showed it to Principate Delari. He said there's a spell on it that makes you forget it. I wrote it all down." He showed his wrist.

Bruglioni studied the ring. "It looks like the one Divino had. And he always claimed that only people who had seen it but didn't actually have it could remember it."

"So what's the point of it if you don't know you have it? What kind of lunatic sorcerer makes a magic ring like that?"

"I couldn't guess the reasoning. Maybe the ring did what it was supposed to do way back when and is still around because nobody remembers it long enough to melt it down."

"That fits. The Principate thinks it goes back to antiquity, even before the Agean Empire. But he couldn't guess why it was made."

Bruglioni had been turning the ring over and over. Now he slipped it onto a finger. "Uncle Divino didn't know. Didn't remember he had it till it was gone."

"I'm really pressed for time. I just wanted to do right after I found out I'd been wrong and really did have the ring. And I wanted to see for myself that everything was going good here."

"Still better than before you came here. Gervase prods me when I backslide. He shows me the youngsters coming up. That reminds me what might be-if I don't pay attention. I'm sorry I shoehorned him into Divino's seat. He isn't around enough, now." He shrugged. "Gervase is the best we have."

Hecht offered to shake hands. Bruglioni passed. It was not a current custom. He told Hecht, "Good luck in the Connec. Clean them out this time."

"I mean to try."

Paludan let out a startled squawk soon after Hecht left him.

That old man was going to get himself into something he could not handle, someday.

Principal Delari was in a dark mood. "You're late."

Hecht said, "Your grandfather played one practical joke too many. We almost didn't make it out of the Bruglioni place."

Februaren managed to look sheepish. For a moment.

Hecht joined Heris. She was looking down at the giant map of the world. "There've been changes." Heris was grubbier than usual.

"The ice line?"

"That." That was obvious. "But some more subtle things, too."

"There's the sea levels rising in the Negrine and those two lesser seas farther east. More snowfall to the north means more meltwater during the spring and summer."

"You're well informed."

"Grandfather has been sneaking me in here all year. To learn the Construct. Hoping I'll be able to work it someday. Now he wants to crash train you, too."

"What? We don't have an ounce of talent for sorcery between us."

"He claims it doesn't matter. The sorcery is in the engine. You just have to know how to tell it what to do. Februaren is a true master. He doesn't even have to talk to it. Maybe he'll teach us. Grandfather isn't good at getting ideas across."

"If Februaren can stop pinching bottoms and tugging ears. How did you get here? Bribe the guards?" The only women allowed in the Chiaro Palace were nuns of the Bettine Order. And those nuns down there, updating the map.

"I come in underground."

That explained the dust and grime. "Wow. You have more guts than I do. I've only been down a few times. I won't go again unless I have to."

"Grandfather told me. But it's tame, now. He's made sure. The old man helped."