Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,94

man kept staring at Anna’s lower half.

Februaren pointed a finger, spoke a word. The word hung in the air, glowing like hot, violet metal.

Hecht loosed a violent belch, first in a gassy chorus that embarrassed everyone.

High-pitch shrieks erupted from the folds of Anna’s skirt. Shadows fell out, writhing, looking like foot-tall humanoids with scorpion tails and an extra set of arms. Nothing cast them. For an instant each shone the same dark glow as Februaren’s floating word. Then they collapsed into little piles of black sand. That sand quickly decayed to black dust.

The Ninth Unknown said, “A few seconds more, if you please, Anna. Heris, scatter that dust. Gently. You should find two tiny amber beads. Patience, Anna.”

Heris did as instructed. “I don’t see any beads. Just two flakes of gold.” She placed those in front of Februaren.

“Well, well.”

Anna asked, “Can I go, now?”

“Certainly. Catch hold of that word and drag it along. That’ll keep any others from sliding in while the door is open. Once you close that, give the word a shove to put it in motion. It’ll drift around and rout out any more lurking things. Lurking! I love that word. It should last twenty minutes. The floating word should, that is.”

Anna followed instructions, refusing to be impressed or intimidated by the unexpected.

The door chunked shut.

“So what do we have?” Hecht asked.

Everyone stared at the flakes. Hecht downed some more coffee. Finally, Delari said, “Bronte Doneto has gone clever on us.”

Heris asked, “Why do you think it was him?”

“Because of the flakes. Any true Night thing would’ve left an egg. In this size, a bead. These were specially created from Night things, then trained by a sorcerer who had the inclination to spend a lot of time shaping them.”

“All that from a couple flakes?”

“All that. I’d guess they represent years of work.”

Heris asked, “How did you know?”

Februaren tapped the side of his nose. “Talent, sweetling. Talent. Take my word. Since you don’t have it yourself you’ll never really understand.”

“I understand when somebody is blowing smoke, though.” Heris was irked but only mildly so. Februaren had not been condescending. “Won’t their disappearance tell him you’re on to him?”

“He has half a brain. He should assume that anyway.”

“When he doesn’t know you’re still alive?”

“He’ll know that as soon as he gets the news from the show downstairs.”

Principaté Delari said, “I have no love for Bronte Doneto. But I have an almost boundless respect. He’s done an amazing job of crafting himself, almost entirely in secrecy. I still have no real idea what he was up to in the catacombs with the Witchfinders that time. You be careful of him, Piper. He must have figured out that you and Armand helped me escape.”

Februaren added, “Keep an eye out for rogue Witchfinders, too.”

“Rogue Witchfinders?”

“You’ve been around the Brotherhood of War most of the time since you arrived in Firaldia. Have you figured out what the Witchfinders were up to in the catacombs? Or in Sonsa, at the Ten Galleons?”

“No.” And he had tried to find out. Cautiously.

“Chances are, nobody knows anymore. Except maybe Bronte Doneto, the only survivor. Barring Lila or Vali knowing something they’ve never reported.”

“There’s nothing there.”

Heris said, “You could always ask the Patriarch himself.”

The others chuckled charitably.

The Ninth Unknown asked, “How soon till you go haring off after your impossible fantasy, Piper?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sure you won’t resist the blandishments of Alten Weinberg. I’m hoping you hold out awhile. So Muno can get you connected to the Construct.”

Hecht’s response was instant aversion.

Februaren revealed a lot of teeth. Those could have used more attention. “You aren’t in the Realm of Peace anymore, Piper. And it’s important.”

Delari observed, “The Realm of Peace turned its back on you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I get it. But I don’t like it. I don’t like being an exile, either. I’ll spend as much time with the Construct as I can.”

Heris remarked, “Note that he denied nothing about Alten Weinberg, nor the Empire, nor the two pullets running the farmyard there.”

Februaren said, “Oh, we noted.”

Hecht’s cheeks grew heated.

* * *

Breakfast at Anna Mozilla’s house. The Consent family visiting. Noë in the kitchen with Anna. Little Consents infesting the place like they were twice their actual number, playing some game where they fled from Pella and the girls, shrieking and running.

Hecht slumped in a comfortable chair, sipped a mint tea, and enjoyed the domestic chaos. Titus occupied a chair facing him. He had said nothing since they finished eating. He sipped from a showy Clearenzan