Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,22

of his actions. He was lord of a crucial border bastion, in continuous contact with the enemies of his religion. Having not one diplomatic bone in his body, he was not the man to occupy so delicate a post. The Crusader lords all agreed.

But they would do nothing to move Rogert out of the crucible. It mattered not if he was a dangerous fool or a drooling idiot. His patrimony could not be denied. Further, Rogert had blood connections with most of the grand families of the Crusader states and many in Arnhand. Not to mention, he stood high in the affection of the Brotherhood of War, for title to Gherig and its dependencies would pass to the fighting priesthood on Rogert’s death.

By right, of course, the way those people saw things. The Brotherhood had chosen the site for Gherig, had designed the fortress, and had provided the captive artisans to build it.

Nassim shook off his reflections. Rogert would face his hour in time. It was Written. He needed to attend this pup from the warlord’s clan.

The boy said, “It doesn’t look like there’ll be a significant threat from the Unbeliever anytime soon. My granduncle’s agents in Rhûn and the west say the Patriarchy is too fluid and confused to get up to any mischief here. And the Grail Empire is ruled by a woman.”

“A good time, then, to push the interloper out of the Holy Lands.”

“True. On its bald face. But God, in His Infinite Mercy, may offer us a different test of faith.”

“The Hu’n-tai At.” The Mountain had heard that the horse peoples were not satisfied with the destruction they had wrought in the Ghargarlicean Empire. Far outposts of the kaifate had suffered their attention of late. Several scouting forces had roamed through the northeastern dependencies. The mountains and deserts up that way had served to protect better than had the local armies. But now the Hu’n-tai At could strike directly west out of conquered Ghargarlicea.

“Tsistimed the Golden. He’ll come. And he’s never been stopped once he decides to add a city to his empire.”

The Hu’n-tai At did not “add cities” to their empire. They looted them, then destroyed them, leaving only ash, ruins, and starvation.

The boy added, “The nomads are suffering from the changing climate. Snow and ice claim more pastureland every year.”

Old news. “Which we’ve heard all my life. A Hu’n-tai At scouting force was caught inside the Holy Lands a few years ago. Near Esther’s Wood.” And crusaders, Lucidians, and Dreangereans alike had combined to exterminate them.

The boy inclined his head. “Someday it will be a reconnaissance in force. Tsistimed is considering sending one of his grandsons with ten thousand veterans.”

Nassim was impressed with the quality of the warlord’s intelligence. He said as much.

“There are Faithful among the caravaneers who travel the east road. They talk to Faithful among the Hu’n-tai At. And Tsistimed does little to conceal his ambitions. It matters not if his enemies know his plans. They’ll be crushed anyway.”

The Mountain knew that kind of arrogance well. His erstwhile friend Gordimer the Lion had it in plenty.

It would be interesting to see the Lion and the Golden butt heads. Though neither was in his prime, now.

The great terror of the east had become an armchair warrior, they said.

He was ancient.

No one living remembered a time when Tsistimed the Golden and the Hu’n-tai At were not a storm beyond the northeastern horizon. No one living recalled a time when captains and kings were not more interested in local squabbles than in preparing for the onslaught to come.

“How does this concern us?” Nassim asked.

“Tel Moussa overlooks the road armies use to march to and fro between Dreanger and the lands between the rivers. The road armies follow north and south crosses that road southwest of Gherig, at the edge of the Plain of Judgment, by the Well of Remembrance.”

Nassim nodded. As a youngster he had known veterans of the Battle of the Four Armies, that the Arnhanders called the Battle of the Well of Remembrance. Hard feelings from that still poisoned relations between Lucidia and Dreanger. “An important site. The crusaders were defending it when they stumbled into the trap set by your illustrious relative.”

“Any Hu’n-tai At army will follow the traditional route.”

“Any army must go where the water is.”

“Just so. And for reasons to do with water and grass, my illustrious relative, as you name him, has convinced the Kaif to remove from Mezket and Begshtar to Shamramdi. The plains round Shamramdi are