Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,219

“Muno! Come see what I found!” A full day’s labor had not cleared all the wreckage.

Delari shuffled out of the kitchen, followed by Mrs. Creedon. The cook moved slower than did the Principaté. She was deathly pale. She was in deep emotional shock. The horror would not let her go.

Delari said, “I was right. She went to help with her mother.” The elder woman was known to be engaged in a long, slow, painful process of dying.

“But look what I found, Muno.”

Delari moved closer, squinting at Februaren’s emaciated, filthy, feeble companion. “Armand? Is that you?”

“It is, Muno. Get that healer back. I’ve got more to bring.” He turned sideways, leaving Delari to deal with the catamite.

“Mrs. Creedon. If you would. Brother Lomas is with Turking and Felske. Bring him here, please.”

He studied Armand. He saw no signs of torture but the boy had not been properly fed. He had suffered illnesses as a result. He was sick right now. Doneto must have caught him the day Hugo Mongoz died. Which explained why he had not been seen for so long.

Cloven Februaren turned into being with another liberated guest of Donna Carmella. “I don’t know this one, Muno. I’m sure he’ll have interesting stories to tell. Unless he’s completely mad.”

Mrs. Creedon arrived with Brother Lomas. The healing brother was appalled by the condition of the liberated men. “This is unconscionable. Who could have worked this horror?”

Februaren said, “The same man who attacked this house. But you won’t say a word. Understand? Heal broken bodies, and hearts if you can, but forget politics. Muno, there’s one more. You’ll be amazed.”

The man in brown left that room before he turned sideways. He reversed the process when he returned. “Last one. Not in as bad shape as the others.”

“Pella?”

* * *

Days passed before the deaths at the Dometia establishment were discovered. The comings and goings of carrion birds through glassless upper-story windows, and the buzzing of death flies, finally attracted attention.

The news reached Serenity quickly.

Distraught over damage done his own wonderful city residence, the Patriarch was in a fragile state. This news crushed him. He did nothing for three days. Then he swore an oath: He would take his revenge on an epic scale, though he was not sure who his target ought to be.

The culprit would not have been shy about having his identity revealed. But Heris turned up before the ugliness at Donna Carmella’s home was discovered. The old man awaited that discovery as necessary before he took Serenity deeper into a hell on earth.

Ostarega the Malicious was set to demonstrate a good deal more malice.

* * *

It was evening. Februaren had spent a long day scouting. He would have Lila relay the information to Piper.

He spent time daily tracking Pinkus Ghort and other players up north. Ghort had suffered savage partisan attacks leaving the Connec, then had fought his way through Viscesment, where the locals tried to hold the bridges. They learned that Pinkus Ghort knew how to get the best out of his few falcons. He left Viscesment burning, its streets littered with corpses.

Ghort passed through Ormienden and Dromedan and the coastal hills, collecting Patriarchal garrisons, then ran into Imperial troops near Alicea. Skirmishing ensued. The Imperials backed off but only until they received reinforcements.

The Grand Duke Hilandle, following plans laid down by Johannes Blackboots, had marched westward across northern Firaldia after leaving the Remayne Pass. He planned to approach Brothe along the West Way. He joined local Imperials harassing the Captain-General and forced him to turn and fight.

The engagement was sporadic. Each side used its few falcons freely. The Imperials deployed some unexpected sorcery when Ferris Renfrow joined them.

On the other side, supposedly plodding Pinkus Ghort demonstrated a flair for cavalry maneuver. His light horse neutralized the Imperial knights by nipping their flanks and threatening the Imperial train.

The engagement remained mainly one of maneuver. Casualties were light. Each commander was amazed by the competence of the other. Preconceptions had to be overcome.

Overall, Captain-General Pinkus Ghort won the honors. He extricated his force. He left the Grand Duke unwilling to launch a pell-mell pursuit.

Such was the situation when the Ninth Unknown returned to the Delari town house in quest of a decent meal and a good night’s sleep and found Heris waiting.

* * *

“Heris. Girl. You’re looking older.” He wanted to bite his tongue. To chew the gold right off it. You did not say that even to a woman much less a slave to vanity than the rest of