sloshed behind Deepened Silo’s eyes. There would be paybacks for this humiliation. But, right now, he just wanted the pain not to get any bigger.
“Yes, sir. No, sir. I was just …”
Hecht drew back, ready to indulge himself again.
“Sir, the Patriarch sent me to bring you to see him. He wants to consult you. In person.”
Curiously put. A summons, but just slightly soft.
“Is that so? Then I’d better get going.” He strapped on the sword that Pella handed him. He tested the ease of its draw. As encouragement to Mr. Silo. “Thank you, son.”
* * *
An interesting journey, that to Krois. The Patriarch’s men had not come with a coach or horses. They walked, soaking up the morning sun. The Patriarch wanted to deliver a message to the rabble. Hecht did not think they were getting the one Serenity intended. He saw anger over what appeared to be the arrest of a hero.
So. Maybe Bronte Doneto felt threatened by Piper Hecht the way Gordimer the Lion had felt threatened by Else Tage.
Everywhere he looked, along the way, Hecht saw a tall, hard-eyed blonde watching from the shadows. Silo and his henchmen failed to notice.
Heris must have made herself familiar with every inch of Brothe.
Absent his amulet, Hecht felt countless focal points of malice, low-grade concentrations of the Night he would not have noticed normally. His companions, though, sensed nothing at all, or just ignored what was there.
Must be something to do with Cloven Februaren’s amulet.
What was that old man up to these days?
* * *
Hecht was searched and checked and found free of both offensive and defensive weapons and sorceries. During the process he belched twice, massively. That problem had grown steadily during the walk to Krois. He belched again, violently, as he entered the Patriarchal presence.
During his obsequies he tendered an apology. “My stomach refuses to adjust to Brothen cuisine.”
“Is that painful?” as another, smaller burst gained its freedom.
“It is, Your Holiness. It is.”
Serenity seemed pleased. He got to the point. “I’ll be straightforward, Hecht. I’m not pleased with you.”
Without saying so, and without demonstrating defiance, Hecht made it plain that he did not care. He could argue but would not. There was no point. Bronte Doneto’s universe revolved around Bronte Doneto. The rest of the world existed to advance Bronte Doneto’s ambitions.
“You have nothing to say?”
“No, Your Holiness.”
“The Penital is putting it about that you’re transferring your allegiance to the Empire.”
“I find myself unemployed. The Empress has offered me work.”
“I understand she offered you work before. You turned her down.”
“I had a commitment.”
“Suppose I forbid you?”
Hecht shrugged. “I don’t work for you.”
“I’m the Patriarch.”
Hecht shrugged. “The Empress might consider that an inappropriate incursion of the Church into Imperial prerogatives. At a time when she’s under tremendous pressure to return to the policies of her father.”
“Are you trying to bully me?”
Hecht belched thunderously, accompanying that with a toot from the nether orifice. “Your Holiness? No! I’m trying to make you aware of how other people might perceive your actions. And how some might respond. I wouldn’t want to bring up painful memories.…”
“But?”
Hecht waved a hand to hasten the dispersal of gas he had jut passed. “Please recall what happened in the Connec, with other people who didn’t admire you so much as you do yourself.”
Ouch! Not the best way to say that.
Anger floated across Serenity’s face, went away. The Patriarch suspected that he was being baited, probably not intentionally. “There is one other matter. Well, two other matters. One is the disappearance of weapons and equipment belonging to our forces.”
“Your Holiness? Everything was accounted for when I turned over command. My staff kept meticulous records. The kind of corruption you see in most forces wasn’t allowed to take root under my command.”
Serenity did not sound pleased when he admitted, “So I’ve heard. I heard complaints during the Interregnum.”
“People actually complained because I wouldn’t let them steal from the Church?”
“They did. Though they made it sound like something else.”
Hecht released more gas, less quietly. “You Holiness, if you’re having problems with things going missing, you should talk to the people you sent to take over.” Now he passed a long, silent stream of gas, moved to evade the worst of it.
“I was hoping it would be simpler than that.”
“Pinkus has the records.” He hoped Ghort was not stealing. “We had inventory numbers marked on everything. Who had what will be in the records.”
“I’ll take another look, then.”
“The other thing?”
“The relationship you’ve developed with Muniero Delari. I’m curious about that. And