Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,89

the far side of the room. “You have to come this time, Piper. Things have happened. Supper. Anna. Grandfather would really be pleased to see the children, too.” She turned and was gone.

Anna caught her breath. “That was a polite invite to a command performance.”

“Yes?”

“You might say Heris and I have become friends. The way she carried herself … Our discussion might be moot.”

Again Hecht offered only an interrogative monosyllable.

“We have to see Principaté Delari before we make any other plans.”

A premonitory chill crawled Hecht’s back. His own desires could become so much chaff in the breeze should the Night be driving down some rigorous line of its own.

* * *

The Delari town house was in the throes of a dramatic makeover. Not just repairs to damage but a total renovation. The staff had expanded by a dozen, all hard-eyed rogues who were as alert as ever Madouc’s gang had been. Each hailed from the Principaté’s own clan. Which made them kin of Muniero Delari’s grandchildren.

Supper was served at the usual table by the usual servants, Turking and Felske. As the first course arrived, Delari explained, “Everything changed when Bronte Donte achieved his ambition. I expect him to resurrect the conflict that brought us head-to-head not so long ago.”

He said this in front of Anna and the children. Who looked to Hecht for an explanation. Hecht did not deliver.

He did say, “Two of us got you out of that. Whatever became of the other one?”

“Armand? I don’t know. The little weasel vanished seconds after Hugo Mongoz expired. I suppose it’s too much to hope that Doneto’s partisans did away with him.”

“What’s the construction all about?” Hecht asked. “What’s going on?”

“Forting up.”

“I get that. But what about us, here? This isn’t just me and the family stopping in for a friendly supper. You look almost guilty. Which tells me there’s something going on. Heris implied as much, the way she acted. Where is she, anyway?”

“She’ll be here any minute.”

Turking and Felske brought the courses with a noteworthy absence of enthusiasm. As though they were stalling.

Heris came in, roughly dressed. Turking and Felske hustled in the small courses she had missed. Even Mrs. Creedon took a moment to bring her a single marinated cheese and onion–stuffed mushroom. Heris grunted pleasure and dug in. Evidently her story would be shared only if necessary.

Principaté Delari became taciturn, his contribution to table talk vague questions for the girls about their progress at school. To which Lila was the unexpectedly enthusiastic respondent. She found intellectual pursuits more interesting than did Vali. Hecht was surprised.

People never stopped not being what you expected.

Turking and Felske came to life. In a trice they produced the clutter of another place setting as Cloven Februaren dragged in.

* * *

Hecht observed, “Borrowing from my friend Pinkus, you look like death on a stick.”

“No doubt.” Cloven Februaren did look like he had suffered extreme starvation.

Delari said, “He’s the picture of health, now. You should’ve seen him this morning. I thought his story was over.”

The Ninth Unknown settled. He picked at his food, ferociously. He made Vali and Lila uncomfortable. Anna needed to release those girls into the wild. They needed re-exposure to reality. They had developed amnesia about their own early romances with the harsh side. Februaren said, “I spent a night in Elf Hill. It was worse than any of the stories.”

Hecht said, “I don’t get it.”

Delari said, “You should. It’s part of the northern thing. Up there people believe that we share the world with lots of other races. The Hidden Folk, collectively. Pixies. Brownies. The Fair Folk. Light elves and dark elves. Goblins, dwarves, the People of the Sea. And dozens more.”

“Not to mention the evil dead,” Februaren grumped.

Delari ignored him. “The Hidden Folk get up to all sorts of mischief. Some good, some bad, according to their nature. More bad than good, of course. A favorite trick is to lure a mortal into their realm, where time passes differently.”

“Usually a lot slower over there,” Februaren said. “In the Realm of the Gods it was the other way around. I used up all my food and was starving. It’s true about the food, too. It helped me forget I was hungry but it didn’t provide enough nourishment.”

Delari said, “The point is, while he was there for months only a few days passed here.”

“So you did what you went off to do. You released the …”

“I did not. Not even close. The Old Ones are locked up like olives inside a