Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,210

why are all these people here?”

“They came with the army. To observe, I’m told. I think they hoped for a disaster as ugly as what we got. Our Patriarch is no longer loved by his own class.”

“I understand the politics, more or less. But you haven’t said why you wanted to meet.”

“I have. I want the killing to stop. And, then, these people insisted.”

Hecht glanced at Titus Consent. Might Consent know something about Bucce?

Bucce said, “The way I understand it, these people want you to be able to drive toward Brothe unhindered, for a showdown with Serenity.”

“I presume you’ve all changed your minds about your votes, last election.”

No one responded. They stared at something in the darkness behind him. Had Prosek manhandled a few falcons down to strengthen the Imperial argument?

He glanced at Cloven Februaren. The old man was not concerned. “Tell me more.”

“That’s it. From me. Talk to them.” Bucce was frightened. He stared past Hecht, too. “I won’t interfere as long as you let us manage our dead and wounded and go.”

He was repeating himself. For whoever was back there.

Voice tired, strained, feeble, Paludan Bruglioni said, “He speaks for Serenity’s hirelings. We’ll talk once you’re done with him.”

Hecht eyed Bruglioni, then Gervase Saluda, as though Saluda might explain how Paludan could have survived.

Paludan did not notice. He was fixed on the presence behind Hecht.

A ghost whispered in Hecht’s ear, “The Empress is back there.”

“I thought so. Your Grace failed to heed the advice of her Commander of the Righteous.” Not looking back.

“It was advice, only, Commander. I have more confidence in you than you have in yourself.”

This was no time for an argument. “Thank you for your faith, Majesty. Have you heard enough to understand?”

Katrin stepped up beside him, to his left. He glimpsed an abashed Ephrian behind her. “These people have decided they backed the wrong racing team. They hope to save themselves and maybe snatch some of the spoils by changing Colors.”

Even after years in Firaldia Hecht did not fully grasp the concept of Colors, which tied together fan support for famous racing teams at the hippodrome, local politics, and, more broadly, made a statement about one’s position on the long power struggle between the Brothen Episcopal Patriarchs and the Grail Emperors.

Katrin’s statement was bare-boned truth.

But they could still crush the Righteous. And in grand style because they could grab the Grail Empress herself.

The Ninth Unknown whispered, “You rate yourself too small. You changed the world today. Again. But you recognize it no better than you did in Esther’s Wood.”

Hecht neither understood nor believed. But it was worth some thought.

“Acton Bucce of Bricea, of the Free Will Swords, I am here. Her Most August Imperial Majesty. What do you have to say?”

“I thought I was clear, Your Majesty.”

“You said you won’t bother me if the Commander of the Righteous lets you go. Which has its appeal. On the other hand, exterminating you all so we don’t have to deal with you again later also has its charm. Too, we wouldn’t have people like these here if somebody wasn’t fishing for special consideration.”

Paludan Bruglioni admitted it. “You’re right. We came here in anticipation of your success. We hope to negotiate the safety of our houses.”

Cloven Februaren muttered, “Bullshit. But he does mean it when he says it.”

Saluda took over. “We all pledge to provide no aid or comfort to Serenity. Nor will we impede the Righteous in any way.”

The Empress laughed, a peal with a donkey’s bray edge on it. “It won’t be that easy. It won’t be that cheap. There’ll be no lurking on the middle road till you can jump in on the winning side. Choose. And let the world know. Your lives, your fortunes, your honor. I want them declared, dedicated, committed.”

Februaren murmured, “Somebody is a little overconfident.”

“Just a bit,” Hecht agreed.

But Katrin had not overplayed her hand. Nobody stomped away.

The spokesmen for the Five Families agreed to negotiate articles of association after the Patriarchals dealt with their dead and wounded and headed home.

Titus said, “I’m not sure about this, boss. Feels like we’re letting them off too easy.”

“After what we did to them?”

“The Empress said it. We might have to deal with them again.”

* * *

Next day Righteous scouts pushed down toward the plain, advancing as the Patriarchals buried their dead. Reinforcements arrived, two hundred men come over from Glimpsz. More were en route. An army was assembling in Alamedinne. Imperial garrisons were demonstrating in every north Firaldian city that owed allegiance to