Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,9

relaxed with a stable hand and a would-be trespasser.

Hecht had formed strong bonds with these men, Pinkus Ghort, and others who had not survived. Their variable fortunes since had not broken that bond. Even when they worked at cross-purposes.

Carava de Bos appeared. “I’m loath to interrupt, sir. But you have to see the Empress in just two hours. You need to eat and dress.”

“Thanks. Joe, Bo, duty calls. You guys enjoy yourself. Cederig.” Speaking to one of the lifeguards. “Mr. Biogna can stay as long as he likes. But he’s to go nowhere except here and the stables.”

Biogna would want to say hello to Joe’s tutelary mule, Pig Iron. Pig Iron had been with Joe since the beginning.

Hecht considered that mule a sort of philosophical signpost. The beast had an attitude toward the world. It served him well.

Hecht considered himself stubborn and nasty, too. Though he had yet to take a bite out of any of his friends.

* * *

Cloven Februaren twisted into existence while Hecht was dressing. Without help. He insisted on dressing himself, as much as he could, despite the status he had attained. It was almost as good as having a slave whisper in his ear.

The old man said, “I overheard your friend’s report. About finding your brother Tindeman in Grumbrag. I’m not guilty of that. My contributions to your backstory consist of false entries on minor payrolls. Did Begonia say anything he couldn’t have gotten from what you’ve told him about your past?”

“Yes. That someone I made up is alive and kicking in a city halfway between here and the permanent ice.”

“You think he told the truth?”

“Bo? I don’t know. He’s a clever little weasel. He could be running a game suggested by Bronte Doneto. To see my reaction. Only, I’d be more inclined to suspect Ferris Renfrow.”

“You’ve told the same tales so often you believe them yourself—unless you stop to think. You had Muno doubting facts about which there was no question, you lied with such conviction.”

Piper Hecht was not one hundred percent convinced that his “true” origins had not been sold to him the same way.

“True, I suppose. And Renfrow has spies everywhere.”

“Or he’d like us to think he does.”

“Maybe not so many as when Johannes was alive, but plenty. He’s thoroughly dedicated to the Grail Empire.”

“I’ll try to see this Tindeman Hecht.”

“I have to call somebody to help me with these last few laces. Some things I just can’t manage alone.”

“I can take a hint.”

* * *

For the after-dark walk to Winterhall, the Ege manse in Alten Weinberg, Madouc insisted on a guard that included both Kait Rhuk’s falcon teams, their weapons charged with godshot. Every man carried a brace of primed hand falcons and a burning slow match. Madouc absolutely expected an attack. An enemy would get no better chance.

Madouc thought not only about guarding his principal but about what potential assassins really hoped to accomplish.

Assassinations, in Madouc’s estimation, were highly symbolic, meant to make a mighty declaration. If he could guess what that might be, he should be able to guess when and where a killer would strike.

And he was not wrong. Though tonight’s would-be killer was but one starving, deranged spearman who charged out of the darkness, shrieking, intent on throwing his weapon.

“What did he say?” Hecht asked after the man had been rendered unconscious, tied, and turned over to local troops drawn by the bark of a hasty hand falcon.

“Something about Castreresone. We did something there that he didn’t like.”

Winterhall resembled the va Still-Patter house, built larger. Why did the Empress want to meet away from her palace? The grandeur there would overawe a beetle like Piper Hecht.

Madouc opined, “She knows you’ve seen Krois. You’ve seen the Chiaro Palace and the Castella dollas Pontellas. Her palace wouldn’t intimidate you. And she might want to be away from all the eyes and spies that go with a palace. Here she can talk with only a few noses poking in. Here she can get away from her fiancé.”

Rumor had King Jaime making himself thoroughly unpopular by acting like he was in charge. Katrin supposedly would not admit his bad behavior but had taken steps to neutralize it.

“Be interesting to see how much control she lets him have after the wedding,” Hecht said. Katrin Ege was used to having things her way. Often even over the objections of her Council Advisory.

“Indeed,” Madouc replied.

“What is that?” Hecht indicated construction they were passing. It could not be seen well by torchlight.

“Something being built by