Glen Cook - Lord of the Silent Kingdom

Hecht sighed. "I don't know how he gets around and gets all those things done."

"The Construct." Heris gestured at the map. "He's a virtuoso."

"That's how he skips all the walking in between?"

"Yes. He's the only one who can do it today. The wells of power are too weak and too many revenants are competing for what power there is. Your work in the Connec should help. Grandfather really wants the good old days back. He couldn't even get himself out of that hole where you found him that time. When he still thought he was Lord of the Silent Kingdom."

While they talked Cloven Februaren sparked around the vast chamber, looking over the shoulders of people working on the Construct. He restrained his urge to startle.

Principate Delari did the same, using ladders and catwalks.

Heris said, "If the wells come back strong, you and me, we should be able to do what the old man does. If we study hard enough and want it bad enough."

Heris wanted it badly enough. But her motives might not be pure.

"What?" Heris asked. "I didn't hear the joke."

"Thinking of motivation and purity. In this city. In this palace."

"That would be a joke, wouldn't it?"

Six weeks more passed before Boniface gave the order that sent Patriarchal forces into the field. Piper Hecht spent five hours each day beneath the Chiaro Palace. He did not believe he was doing any learning. Delari and Februaren disagreed. "You're becoming attuned," Februaren insisted. "Eventually, we'll be able to communicate from afar. I can watch you from afar already. I won't have to tag along quite so much. So. Go on out to the wild country, where the people talk funny, and kill some gods. I need the power they're sucking up."

Four days before leaving for the wild country Hecht received a request that he visit the Penital, a direct appeal from the Imperial legate himself. With assurances that no misdirection was involved.

Rumors that the Imperial nuptials had grown shaky abounded. Hecht supposed the legate wanted to set the record straight.

He supposed right.

The legate told him, "The wedding has been postponed again. Because of complications with King Jaime's recovery from his wounds. He was less ready to travel than he believed. He collapsed as his party neared Khaurene."

"Is he trying to elude the commitment?"

"Not at all. He's too eager. Her Majesty will contact you as soon as we set a new date." The legate smiled at some private joke.

"My appreciation, My Lord." Hecht left the Penital bemused yet again by the Empress's evident interest. Why?

The legate had shrugged and shaken his head when asked the question direct.

The Patriarchal army approached the Dechear River with twenty-four hundred men, all Boniface VII would approve for the campaign. The Patriarch believed a larger force might spark a Connecten resistance while fewer soldiers would not be enough to handle the anticipated supernatural chaos. The Captain-General had no Principates underfoot. Members of the Collegium were sticking close to Brothe. The next Patriarchal election would be a critical one. It would be fought to the bitter end. There would be no antique compromise to fill the slot while younger men maneuvered. Hecht hoped there would be no election for years. He liked Hugo Mongoz as Patriarch. He hoped Principate Delari and Cloven Februaren would use the power of the Construct to assure his longevity.

"Rider coming in," Clej Sedlakova announced. "I'd guess down from Viscesment."

Hecht spotted the man. He wore Braunsknecht dress. "Good guess." Despite Empress Katrin's rapprochement with the Brothen Church, a small band of Braunsknechts still guarded Bellicose.

The man drew closer. He picked up shadows from among the outriders. Hecht observed, "We've seen this one before." He urged his mount farther from the road, where the troops were heading down to the Dechear in no particular hurry. Sedlakova, Smolens, Consent, and several others stayed with Hecht.

"Algres Drear," Consent said. "That's what he called himself when he came to borrow Drago Prosek."

Drear approached carefully, though his caution was of no value. "Captain-General. I bring dispatches."

"Captain Drear. I thought you attended to Princess Helspeth's safety."

"Once upon a time. In another life. Before I let her get away with going into the field against the Remayne Pass monster. Where the chit embarrassed the heroes of the Empire by actually slaying the dragon. I got rusticated. I'm being rehabilitated, now. Allowed to work my way back. As commander of the six-man company protecting someone the Empress would rather not protect. But we have to observe Imperial tradition."

"I see. Dispatches?"

Drear produced a fat, wheat-colored leather courier's case. "Long-winded, I'm sure. But the gist will be, Bellicose and Boniface have a deal. Bellicose will end the Viscesment Patriarchy. He'll succeed Boniface in Brothe. Once he's gone, there'll be just one Patriarchy."

Hecht's staff refused to believe it. Those with deep ties to the Brotherhood indulged in some derision. Hecht read the dispatches. "The Captain is right, gentlemen. It's all right here, in Church legalese."

Colonel Smolens said, 'The whole goddamned Collegium will be shitting square turds over this."

"Probably," Hecht said. "But first, Captain, how old would Bellicose be?"

"In his fifties. And full of ambition. But he's a cripple. Polio when he was little. It's a miracle he's lived this long."

"I see. So. The Collegium might go along. If cool heads prevail and enough men want to end the multiple Patriarch problem."

Not many men accounted the Collegium collectively capable of making mature decisions. Hecht counted himself among the skeptics. Those old men all behaved like spoiled eight-year-olds.

Drear said, "A further consequence of the agreement is that Bellicose is now your ally. The bridges over the Dechear are now available. Bellicose hopes you'll make Viscesment your base for operations in that part of the Connec. That would stimulate the local economy."

Interesting. "Colonel Smolens. An opportunity to return to the scene of your crimes. Take our main force north and cross at Viscesment. That will put us right opposite the country we need to clear."

Madouc was scowling already. He knew he would not like what he was about to hear.

"I'll stay with the battalion already crossing here. We'll follow the west bank north. Madouc, I don't want to hear it. Where's my kid? Why the hell does he keep disappearing?"

"He's with Presten and Bags," Madouc replied. "He wanted to see where the worm came out of the ground."

Hecht glanced southward. There was no sign now of what had happened last year. "You lose him, you won't have to explain to me. I'll just feed you to Anna. What now?"

A rider was headed back alongside the road, as hard as he dared without trampling anyone. The soldiers had begun stopping and falling out as word spread that a change of plan was in the works.

The rider was one of Drago Prosek's falconeers. They had been first to cross the river.

"Captain-General. Sir. Some Connecten nobles want to talk. One is that Count Raymone Garete."

"Never stops raining," Hecht said. "Captain Drear, stick with me till I can deal with you more fully. Sergeant Bechter, make Captain Drear's visit pleasant. Madouc, I wasn't kidding about the boy. I had a letter from Anna yesterday. She isn't happy." She also reported that Principate Delari and Principate Doneto had enjoyed less than complete success at destroying the killing beast underneath Brothe. They had gone below with silver and iron and borrowed falcons. The thing had flown after one debilitating encounter. Since then it had evaded them. And had not betrayed itself by coming to the surface to practice its horrors. Now there were rumors of terrible things happening to those who lived underground. Pallid adults had dragged themselves into the hateful sunlight for the first time in their lives. The Principates feared the killing thing was a more potent Instrumentality than originally suspected. Research was under way. Other members of the Collegium were being enlisted in the hunt.