Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,29

away?”

“I have a couple of lifeguards outside. They could be made more comfortable.” Madouc’s men had caught up with him coming out of Krois.

Heris gestured. The couple hurried off. Hecht glanced at Delari. “She’s grown more sure of herself.”

“Blame it on the Ninth Unknown. And the Construct. Will you be able to spend time with us there, this time?”

“If I can. But I doubt it. I’m here to make the Collegium behave. Heris, what the hell were you doing, materializing in Anna’s sitting room? I have trouble enough explaining things without that.”

“I missed. I told you. The old man isn’t the best teacher. He mostly lets you figure things out for yourself. He isn’t around ninety percent of the time.”

Hecht faced Delari. “You said Heris and I have no talent for sorcery.”

“Inborn, less than some stones, certainly.”

“There are a million magical stones in folklore and myth.”

“My point. But in this case Cloven Februaren is just harnessing the Construct. The magic is in that. You could learn the trick if you spent a few months down there getting in tune.”

“Anyone can learn?”

“Given time and the inclination.”

“Including the people that work down there?”

“Within severely constrained limits. That’s how the women get in and out without falling foul of the Palace guards. Enough, for now.” Anna and the children were arriving.

Anna was stunning in something she had found in the apartment set aside for the family. Vali and Lila were not quite so remarkable but were well dressed, too.

Hecht suppressed a chuckle.

Pella had been outfitted like a young lord, complete with silken hose and slippers with bells on their upturned toes.

“Marvelous,” a new voice opined. And there was the little old man in brown, Cloven Februaren. The Ninth Unknown. “Yet there’s something wrong, here.”

Felske stepped into the room to ask, “Your Grace, Cook would like to know when the meal should be served.”

“When she has everything ready, I expect.”

Almost simultaneously, Februaren said, “These kids don’t fight. Brothers and sisters should be like cats and dogs. The girls should be scorching the boy about being dressed like that.”

Hecht observed, “Some young people are more civilized than others. I saw Hugo Mongoz today. He had a message for you.”

“I heard it. I took it up with him personally after you left. The only man we need to worry about is Bronte Doneto.”

Hecht glanced at his family, all eager to eavesdrop. “Doneto? As a concern other than what we have already?” Doneto was digging. Doneto held Pinkus Ghort’s leash.

“Friend Bronte has his eye on the Patriarchal throne.”

Not unlikely, on reflection. “He seems a little young.” Again, Hecht indicated the family with a glance.

Februaren said, “Might as well bring them in a little way, Piper. It’s true, what they don’t know they can’t betray. But what they don’t know can let them tell things they wouldn’t if they knew what was going on.”

That worried Hecht. Family worried Hecht. Family made you vulnerable. His enemies would not withhold their cruelties because he did not share his secrets with Anna and the children.

“I don’t like it. But you’re the expert. I’ll defer to your judgment.”

“Why, thank you, Piper.” The old man chuckled.

“Teach Heris better aim with the turn sideways trick.”

“I heard. She just needs practice. And more concentration. Well. Here they come. And it looks like Muno has laid on a leg of lamb.”

Principaté Muniero Delari, within the confines of his home, disdained many Firaldian customs. Among his steps away from the customary was, he let children eat with adults. Though he was not so relaxed that he tolerated their chatter during the meal.

Turking and Felske presented the initial courses. Delari remarked, “I’m as uncomfortable as Piper, Grandfather. For different reasons. If you insist on baring souls, I suggest we save it for the quiet room, over coffee.”

“Conceded. One of my failings,” Februaren told Anna, flashing a big, boyish grin. “I’ve never been sufficiently paranoid. Gets me into trouble all the time.”

“So has your childish sense of humor,” Delari said.

“It’s just not possible to resist sticking a pin in, here and there.” The old man grinned again.

Hecht changed the subject. “What’s the problem with the thing in the catacombs? First, I hear it’s been hunted down and destroyed. Then I hear that it’s on the move again.”

Amazing. Principaté Delari actually reddened. “I don’t want to sound defensive. Or whiny. But it keeps getting re-created by the needs of the populace.”

Anna asked, “Why would anyone want a monster that creeps around, doing evil?”

“Nobody wants it consciously. But refugees have a