Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,201

grasses and wildflowers but definitely deep enough to have gotten into his boots on his way back from scouting.

“Good. That’ll make the footing worse.” He licked a finger and stuck it in the air. “I don’t know about that, though. I can’t decide which way I’d rather have it blow.”

“Either way, somebody ain’t gonna be able to see shit.”

“Yeah. Send me Rhuk and Prosek.”

“Again? Haven’t you pestered them enough? They know what they’re doing. And they have plenty to do. Let them do it.”

“All right.” That used to be his strength. Giving a man a job, then letting him do it. “You’re right. They can handle the details. You’d better get going if you want to get there in time.”

“And if they don’t come today? Or if they just want to talk you into giving up?”

“If not today, tomorrow. They can’t have brought a lot of supplies. They didn’t have time to organize it. If they want to talk, I’ll talk. And be obviously stalling till my situation gets better.”

“You want them to come at us?”

“No. I want them to think that’s what I want. So they’ll be confused. And, maybe, not give me what I want. Oh, damnit! Go gently tell the Empress that it’s not good for her to be wandering around where a massacre could break out any minute.”

Katrin, in armor, roamed the slopes making a studied effort to connect with the soldiers. A cynical effort, to Hecht’s thinking.

“Will do,” Sedlakova said, not bothering to remind him that she would have heard it all from Captain Ephrian already. “She’s probably scaring the men more than giving them heart.” He left, humming a tune that had been a favorite of Madouc’s. If he spoke to Katrin Hecht missed it.

Hecht felt the ghost of a whisper of moving air. A soft voice asked, “You do intend to make a stand here, don’t you?”

Hecht tried and failed to hide his surprise. “Well. Hello. I thought you’d gone off to another world.”

Grinning, the man in brown said, “I did. I’m on holiday while your picky sister makes some arrangements. A detail-oriented girl, our Heris. She’ll do well as the Twelfth Unknown. If we survive all this.”

“We? You’re joining in here?”

“I was speaking generally. But, here? Yes. Good timing, eh?”

“Suspiciously.”

“Not so much. When Heris brought the latest news the Bastard and I decided we had to come back and add to the confusion. I’ve been around for a few days.”

“Really?” Hecht looked round to see who might have noticed the Ninth Unknown. The old man appeared to have generated no special interest.

“Two days. First I had to go over and make sure Heris’s falcons don’t end up in the wrong hands before the Aelen Kofer show up. Then I had to see Muno and poke around in the dark corners in Brothe. Not a pretty city, right now. Serenity is out to make it uniquely his own. Muno and his cohorts are undermining him.”

“What were you thinking of getting into here?”

“Mischief, dear boy. Malicious mischief. And lots of it.”

“Like?”

“Well, an invisible man can cause a lot of confusion. Orders could go astray. A general could say one thing and a captain could hear something else. There could be ghosts. Or Night things. Who knows? The options are infinite.” Februaren turned sideways, vanished. Then turned right back into being. “Forgot to tell you. They’re going to attack today. The first wave is on its way. They won’t parley. Their orders are to find you and overwhelm you, at whatever cost.”

“Not very sporting.”

“Serenity thinks like you, Piper. This is serious business. Time to go. People are starting to wonder.”

Terens Ernest and the self-anointed lifeguards arrived momentarily. Ernest demanded, “Who was that? Where did he go?”

Terens Ernest was a dangerous man. He was always around, somewhere. And Hecht seldom noticed. No telling what he heard and saw.

Ernest wilted under the glare of the Commander of the Righteous. He could not match Madouc’s immunity to his principal’s attitudes.

“A man who spies for me. Forget you saw him. Did I call for you? Any of you? You have assigned posts. You haven’t abandoned them, have you?”

The response consisted of nervous yak about being concerned. He was in the presence of a stranger, with no help close by. And it was not that long since he had proven that he was not arrow-proof.

Hecht stifled rising anger. It was unreasonable anger. These men should not be crushed for listening to their consciences. However much he found their concern inconvenient.