Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,35

Brothen.”

“Could be. If you were going to interview a bishop, or someone educated, you’d manage.”

Februaren said, “There’s plenty you can do here, Heris. But you have a long way to go, romancing the Construct, before you can go places you haven’t already been. Muno can’t do it.”

Delari said, “Muno can’t do much of anything with the Construct. There’s something lacking in the man.”

“If you tell the Construct you can’t connect with it, Muno, it takes you at your word.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

Both old men checked their audience. This ancient dispute probably antedated the births of everyone in the room.

It did not need airing now. It should not have taken place in front of the children. Hecht thumped the table.

Februaren said, “You kids don’t repeat anything you hear in this house. Understand?”

He got wide-eyed nods from Pella, Lila, and Vali, none of whom had seen the ancient this intense before.

“Lives could depend on your silence.” He told Hecht, “Bragging is how criminals get caught and men with deep secrets deliver themselves to their enemies. It’s bonehead human nature. We all want to look special. Knowing something is one of the best ways.”

Februaren glared at the children some more. “It would be your own lives, most likely. If somebody wicked decided you knew something he could use against Muno or Piper.”

Hecht suggested, “That being the case, why not take steps?” He caressed his left wrist.

“There may be hope for you yet, boy. Only, that means it’ll be even longer before I go take a look at your brother.”

Anna was subdued in her lovemaking that night. She understood that she had slipped deep into the struggle with the Night. And those she cared for had been drawn in as deeply, or deeper.

“Piper, the children don’t deserve this. They’ve already suffered too much.”

“I know.” He did not remind her that all three had, already, enjoyed more good fortune than did the run of orphans.

* * *

The Captain-General summoned Krulik and Sneigon to what Kait Rhuk bemusedly called a “Come to the Well of Atonement” meeting. It did not last long. Neither Krulik nor Sneigon had leave to speak. Rhuk, backed by Brothers from the Castella, confiscated their sales records.

The excitement was meant to prod the Deves into talking to one another. A man who turned sideways could eavesdrop and discover what secret sales contracts had been accepted off the books

Hecht would not confiscate firepowder or weaponry sold on the sly. He lacked authority. But it might be useful to know where it had gone.

The vast majority of what Krulik and Sneigon had sold behind the curtain had gone into the Grail Empire, to people who did not hold their Empress in high regard.

Katrin was fortunate that her malcontents disdained one another too much to join forces. Internecine warfare was an ancient sport amongst the Imperial nobility.

Johannes Blackboots had kept the peace. Lothar had not lasted long enough to make mistakes. Katrin’s peace was holding because every villain knew Ferris Renfrow was watching from the shadows.

Would adding falcons make much difference?

Unlikely. Even the best weapons were of little use against anything but the Night. Their battlefield value was psychological rather than practical. They made loud noises and a lot of smoke.

* * *

When the end came for Boniface VII, despite the Ninth and Eleventh Unknowns, there was no dislocation. Bellicose was in the chamber, praying over Hugo Mongoz. As were physicians and key Principatés. History demanded witnesses.

Also present were Hugo Mongoz’s children, fathered before the old man began to prefer boys to women.

Two score more people waited outside the dying room, among them the Captain-General of Patriarchal forces. And Boniface’s toy, Armand. Who seemed wary of the Captain-General. And very worried.

Hecht waited with Addam Hauf, one of the Masters of the Brotherhood. Hauf had come over from Runch, on Staklirhod. He was a tall man in his early fifties, all muscle and sun-baked leather. Neither man realized they had crossed swords in the Holy Lands, long ago. Hauf observed, “The Princess fears for his sweets and pretties.”

“Don’t waste pity on him. He’s been underfoot forever. He always finds another keeper.”

Hauf grunted an interrogative. So Hecht explained. Without revealing what Armand really was.

Hauf asked, “He seems afraid of you.”

“I’m close to Principaté Delari. The lover he abandoned so he could catch himself a Patriarch.”

“Hard feelings?”

“Not on my man’s part. He was glad to get shot of the boy. It was a strain keeping up.” And keeping Armand away from secrets. For Principaté Delari had known that Armand spied