Glen Cook - The Tyranny of the Night

"Isolation is best. Unless you have a pit to put them in."

"They'll be buried soon enough."

“Oh?”

"Neither will survive much longer. We haven't been able to feed them. They wouldn't have lasted this long without the sorcery."

"Grade Drocker will be disappointed."

The younger of the black crows, whose name Else could not recall if ever he had known it, opened his eyes. Wild and frightened, they fixed on Else. "DaSkees? What're you doing here? Where are we?" Then he closed his eyes again.

"What was that?" Else asked, hoping the hammering of his heart did not give him away.

"I don't know. He may be reliving something. Men sometimes do in the grip of a fever."

"Oh. I've seen that. Heck, I've been that sick. When I was little. You're doing a good job. If you need more resources, let me know. I can't promise anything, but… Spring Captain Ghort as soon as you can. I need him." He wanted to suggest that the Brotherhood sorcerers be strangled, too, but that was just wishful thinking.

"Polo. I have a new assignment for you." Polo was not pleased. Polo lived in a state of despair, now that Principatй Bruglioni was gone. He steeled himself for the worst, dramatically.

"Come on. It isn't that awful. You'll be Captain Ghort's man, the way you've been mine. Assuming they do make me the head general."

"Sir? But, sir, who'd take care of you?"

"They've already picked Sergeant Bechter. From the Brotherhood."

"Sir? But, sir, Bechter? He's an old man. And a spy."

Else just smiled at Polo, one eyebrow raised.

"Sir, I'll have trouble getting used to Captain Ghort."

"I'm sure you will. He does take some of that. But he grows on you."

"As does mold, in some circumstances."

"Nevertheless, that's the way it's going to be. For now. You can return to the Bruglioni citadel when we get back to Brothe. If you like."

The news spread that Grade Drocker was fading and had chosen Piper Hecht to succeed him. For reasons never made clear the dying general had developed an abiding fondness for the free soldier from Duarnenia.

Else Tage was content to see the hand of the Almighty there.

The news made him the most popular man in the crusader camp. And they were, now, officially, crusaders. The Patriarch had issued the appropriate bulls.

The proclamation had no practical impact other than to underline the fact that Sublime V was determined to make war on behalf of his God.

Everyone who could get to Else immediately wanted something. Mostly they presented petitions already denied by Grade Drocker.

Else put word out that, assuming he did succeed Drocker, there would be no policy changes whatsoever. Although he was considering easing restrictions on the Deves. They had carried the heavy end of the load so far.

Else no longer had time of his own. When he did steal a moment for reflection he worried about the wounded Brothers from Runch.

The squabble over the bones of Calzir began. Else made it clear, time and again, that he did not intend to become involved in adjudicating claims amongst the vultures. Those had to be presented to Sublime. The Calziran Crusade had been the Patriarch's war, though the big winner was Peter of Navaya. There was no practical means of making Peter give up what he had taken. The dust was settling still and already Navaya was a brake on the Patriarchy as huge as the Grail Empire had been.

Lothar remained in the Episcopal camp infirmary, apparently too feeble to travel. There were daily demands from his sisters, none of which got a hearing. The Imperial camp was chaotic. The sisters were having trouble enforcing their will. Though the succession was established nobody had anticipated having to live with it.

Grade Drocker threatened to make a comeback. The absence of stress proved a wondrous tonic. Else got no chance to see him during those two days, however.

Sergeant Bechter wakened Else in the heart of the night. "It's done, sir. Master Drocker passed over. It was peaceful. He was smiling. He spoke no last words. He did leave letters and bequests."

"And he was alone. But for you. A whole life, come to that"

"Not exactly. Principatй Delari spent time with him. And he accomplished a great deal, for good and ill, in his life. More than most."

Else nodded. "Don't get philosophical on me, Bechter. I need you. We'll be facing a lot of practical problems, now. I don't want to have to think, too."

"You need to think about what to do with all these soldiers. Our Patriarch is the sort who would abandon them in place now that they've won his war. Also, we're starting to see desertions. There hasn't been much plunder. People have started going off on their own."

"Put this out. Any deserter who attacks or steals from the locals will be treated as a bandit. As long as the regiment sticks together it can stroll back up to Brothe and make sure that Sublime pays his debts."

"As you wish."

"Is the news out about Drocker?"

"Only Principatй Delari and we two know. Right now."

"Don't tell anyone until morning, then. Are there Brotherhood ceremonies that will be necessary?"

"Yes. But it takes more than one man to perform them."

"Can you use the men in the infirmary?"

"Possibly. I'm seldom called upon to innovate."

"You're the number one Brother, now, Sergeant If you're like every other soldier that ever lived, you've always known how you'd run things if you were in charge."

Bechter chuckled. "You don't got nobody standing in line to bitch about you being a nitwit in them circumstances, Colonel."

"You're the last man standing."

"Uhm."

"I didn't have much use for Drocker, early on. He was too bitter. But I developed a healthy respect for him. Make your arrangements. If you need the two from the infirmary, we'll tie them into chairs while you make up voices for them."

Bechter failed to conceal his offense at Else's disrespect.

"Sorry. But you'd better use them quick if you need them. They aren't expected to last."

Other than Else Tage and Redfearn Bechter, and the critically injured Brothers from Runch, only Bronte Doneto and Principatй Muniero Delari attended the Brotherhood passing over ceremony for Grade Drocker. Who had been the Third of the Thirteen Seniors of the Brotherhood of War. Osa Stile was there, too, smirking in the shadows, untouched by time. Osa had found himself a place under the cassock of the most powerful sorcerer in the Collegium, Principatй Delari.

Else murmured, "Why is Delari here?" to Principatй Doneto. Doneto seemed inclined to treat him as a peer, now. At least till Sublime chose not to honor Drocker's recommendation concerning his successor.

"He's Drocker's natural father."

Else sat on that for a while.

"It isn't common knowledge. Delari was a boy when it happened but already a bishop because of his family. Delari never acknowledged the boy formerly but everybody knew. Delari saw to his education and eased his entry into the Brotherhood. Where he got ahead on his own."

Else said nothing. He let the information simmer. This could be important later. Possibly very important, given that Osa Stile kept smirking at him when no one was looking.

Doneto continued, "The question now, I think, is, will Delari take you up the way his son did? You could do yourself a world of good by getting close to that old man."

Which explained me mocking glint in Osa's eye.

The ritual seemed endless. Afterward, Else could recall little about it. His part was as witness. He had done nothing but watch. In time, though, the thing was over and Sergeant Bechter found himself in an unexpected argument with Principatй Delari. Drocker had left unequivocal instructions concerning the disposal of his corpse. He wanted it cremated. He wanted his ashes scattered widespread so no future sorcerer could use his clay to instigate some wickedness.