Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,232

no interest in submitting to military discipline or in carrying out military missions.

Ever more men had to be tasked to protect the lengthening line of communication from the gates to the point of attack.

Word came that Serenity had ordered Pinkus Ghort to stop dancing with the Grand Duke and get to Brothe, never mind losses.

Come the afternoon Collegium opponents of Serenity began to appear. They sprang from homes in the Empire or Imperial possessions in Firaldia. Serenity’s adherents had the upper hand in the Chiaro Palace.

Hecht’s heart sank. That was not good. That could portend disaster. If Serenity got to the Construct … Pray Heris was right when she said the Patriarch was unaware of the project. Otherwise, his triumph was assured.

Hecht felt the thing in the catacombs ever more intensely. He was getting closer. It was getting stronger. It sensed him, too. He had an ever more powerful impression that it was bigger than anybody thought. And that it was still growing, by the hour and the minute.

And it must be. If the old men were right about it feeding on fear and hatred. Or if the large grew bigger by eating the small. The Patriarch had flooded the city with minor Instrumentalities.

As evening approached more locals came out to work against Serenity. Or, more often, against the Benedocto. Everyone associated with the major families had suffered recently.

Titus insisted the volunteers were more trouble than they were worth. Hecht had him scatter them, making them do something useful like carry things for the fighters.

The advance passed the Bruglioni and Cologni family citadels. The Bruglioni was a ruin haunted by crows, insects, and the smell of death. The Cologni had survived, though that family’s less well defended properties elsewhere had suffered.

There was plenty of evidence of fighting but none suggesting any use of sorcery.

As the sun dropped toward the skyline Hecht began calculating how best to deal with the thing down below. It would come tonight. It would get no better opportunity.

It was a thing of the darkest side of the Night, lethally dangerous but not invulnerable. Godshot would tame it. How to fix and target it was the question.

Hecht redirected the advance to pass Principaté Delari’s town house. He hoped to find the old man holding out there and willing to give advice. He found only ruin, absent the smell of death. There was no sign of the Principaté or his staff. Refugees from the Chiaro Palace, though, insisted that Delari was alive, making himself obnoxious, and had some special surprise cooked up for the Patriarch.

Where was Lila? Lila would know how to get hold of the old man.

Hecht had begun to worry about that girl. He should have heard from her by now.

The Imperial advance reached the hippodrome, now restored and enjoying a full racing season. Or had been till the death of Jaime of Castauriga changed the world.

There were scores of horses stabled under the stadium. Scores of people who tended the animals or managed the venue also lived in nooks and crannies out of the public eye. Smells of cooking and stables both emanated from the hippodrome.

Hagan Brokke turned up as Hecht contemplated the stadium. “Boss, it’s late. And we’re too worn down to keep it going after dark. We ought to settle down right here. We can control access …”

“You’re right. I was just looking at it. Pass the word. Make it happen. And send runners to tell our people to either come here or move back to the gates. I don’t want anybody on the streets tonight. It might get ugly out there.”

“Night things?” The staff all believed he had some special connection now that he had died and been resurrected.

“Big Night things. Every second falcon should be charged with godshot.” His amulet had grown more irritating as the sun sank. It had the same feel as the night that Heris had brought him in to visit.

At first it seemed an evening when the whole city meant to come out and go crazy. There were sounds of rioting, screams in the distance, fires both near at hand and far away. The exterior wall of the hippodrome was high enough to offer a good view in several directions, including toward the Castella, Krois, and the Chiaro Palace. Toward what had been the heart of Brothe for fifteen hundred years. Lights moved around Krois and the Chiaro Palace. The Castella was dark.

Hecht asked his officers to join him up where he could observe the city’s torment