Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,132

did not respond. He should, he knew. Something about multiple wrongs not adding up to a right. But what Amberchelle said was true. Nothing short of the will of the Chaldarean God Himself would keep His Church from designing and conspiring in one of the great evils of history. The more people talked about a Connecten Crusade, the more carrion eaters would begin to circle.

Brother Candle dragged it up from his deepest heart but did say, “You could be right, Bernardin. Maybe we should make sure the rape of the Connec is something so bad that it’s never forgotten.”

“Come on, Master. People are starting to wonder if you’re our prisoner or our pal.”

* * *

“So it’s true,” Amberchelle said. “You did make off with Duke Tormond’s baubles.”

Brother Candle was infatuated with his first decent meal in weeks, but did respond. “I made off with nothing. Tormond forced them on me. He gave me no chance to refuse.”

“That’s such a crock, I think I’ll believe you. I never knew Old Indecisive. I figure that’s exactly the kind of thing he’d pull if he ever did make up his mind. I wish I could read his letters.”

“I wish you could, too. I’d give it all to you and let you worry about getting it to Count Raymone.”

Amberchelle indulged in what he called his evil laughter. “No way, old-timer. He’s up near Viscesment, working out how to bloody the new Captain-General’s nose when Serenity turns him loose.”

The Perfect shook his head. Nothing would be gained by beating his head against that particular wall. He had argued for peace a hundred times. Peace had been rejected just as often.

Amberchelle asked, “You think they know what you have? The people back in Khaurene?”

“Of course they do. Why else have they been hunting me?”

“There’s your winning personality. And your message.”

Brother Candle started to reply, stopped short.

Bernardin Amberchelle, the seriously violent thug, sounded much too thoughtful and subtle.

The mindless thug grinned. “Messengers are on their way to Raymone. Three, just to make sure word gets through. Sometimes odd things happen. Especially at night.”

Brother Candle had experienced little of that during his travels but had heard fearful stories from the country people. Though the last Captain-General had rid the Connec of major revenants he had done little to quell the malice of lesser Instrumentalities. Those crowding in from the north excited those already resident in the shadowy out-of-the-ways. All of the Instrumentalities seemed inclined to take it out on the nearest unwary mortal.

It should not be so. Simple precautions, of the sort undertaken by anyone with half a brain, were enough to leave a wise user nearly unaware of what haunted the darkness around him. That had been worked out two thousand years ago.

Brother Candle said, “Let me pass the tokens and instruments on, now. Their weight is crushing.”

“Oh, no. Bear up, Brother. I’m a wicked man. You don’t want to put that much temptation in my way.” Wearing a wistful sort of look.

“I see.” Bernardin might win Count Raymone’s title, rescission of excommunication, and pardon of his sins and crimes in exchange for the treasures in Brother Candle’s keeping. “A man should recognize his limits.”

“I’ll send you on to Raymone.”

“No. No. I’m almost as old as the limestone under the Connec. I’ve been on the road forever. This old dog needs to curl up on the hearth and nap. For months.”

“As you will.”

“Where is Socia?”

“Out there. With Raymone most of the time. Off on her own when she thinks he isn’t aggressive enough.”

“Frightening.”

“More than you can imagine, Master. More than you can imagine.”

“Explain.”

“She’s started hearing voices. Telling her how to defend the Connec. Telling her how to deal with our enemies. Raymone tried to stifle her. He failed. She’s started recruiting her own Companions. Each time she massacres some invaders more young men rush to join her. It doesn’t hurt that she’s such a handsome woman.”

“Raymone can’t control her.” An observation. He was not surprised. He had had charge of Socia Rault before their marriage. The child was willful and ferocious. A Seeker whose sole adherence to doctrine was to equality of the sexes.

“He never could. The challenge was what attracted him in the first place.”

Brother Candle agreed.

Count Raymone saw himself mirrored in his wife.… O wicked dread!

“You don’t think they might get into a competition? Trying to show each other who’s more bloodthirsty?”

Amberchelle’s face darkened. “Brother, there’s some of that already. There was news last week about her taking the castle at Suralert Ford. Among the