Surrender to the Will of the Night (38 page)

“We’ve got to close the gateway.”

“Who just did what, sorcerer?” Iron Eyes demanded.

“Get the gateway shrunk down as small as you can without leaving us locked up here.”

The ascendant arrived at a trot, moving fast for the first time in months. “Best do as he says, Gjoresson.”

The dwarf wanted to bicker but sensed that wasting time might prove uncomfortable shortly. This was not a moment for reasoned, deliberate, parliamentary discussion.

Februaren was not unreasonable. He tried to explain again while Iron Eyes worked. The dwarf just did not understand.

Another divine racket arose, a staccato salvo of screams that got Februaren to imagine a hundred elephants being slowly roasted alive.

The ascendant asked, “What was all that?”

“The Windwalker taking an involuntary, full emersion dip in the Andorayan Sea. Keep shrinking the gateway, Iron Eyes. The wave is coming. I promise. In fact, the rest of us ought to be headed for higher ground.” He told the crowd of dwarves, “Shoo! All of you! Find someplace high. Run! Argue after I turn out to be an idiot.”

Iron Eyes reduced the gateway to ten feet wide and five high before the wave arrived. That was taller and wider than the opening. Water exploded through the gap. It shattered the Seatt escape boat, pounded the barge, and sank the smack belonging to the striped killers. But it did not have energy enough to drive on inland.

***

“Let us celebrate our wet feet,” Cloven Februaren declared. “And then let’s get to work.”

The water had subsided. The gateway had started growing again. The harbor was a plain of jade glass. The sea outside was calm, clad in its bleak winter colors.

The screams of the Windwalker continued. Februaren pictured the god clawing his way along the foot of the ice cliffs, looking for somewhere to drag himself out of the torturing water. “Sounds like he’s having serious problems.”

Gjoresson said, “The sea is eating at him like a weak acid. It will devour him completely. If he can’t get out. Though that could take years. There’s a lot of him. And the water is freezing. If it was hot it would eat him up a lot faster. Still, he’s in so much pain he can’t concentrate enough to use his divine power. So, for now, he’s just a big, stupid brute wracked by agony.”

The Ninth Unknown and the ascendant were pleased. The longer Kharoulke remained immersed the weaker he would be once he escaped the water.

Februaren said, “I bought time. Now give me one of Kharoulke’s bully beasts and take me outside the gateway.”

Hours passed. The barge needed repairs. Eventually, the Aelen Kofer took it out into the Andorayan Sea. They went only a hundred yards beyond the opening. They crowded the decks, soaking up the rich magic of the middle world.

Februaren had two of Kharoulke’s artifacts. He would not need to return for a replacement if one died. He worried that he might be doing the wrong thing.

The ascendant and a dozen Aelen Kofer were watching. Everyone would pay devoted attention to whatever he did now.

No help for it.

He pulled his prisoners in close, thought of a particular place, made his sideways turn.

He stepped into a grove in Friesland. Heris was waiting. She had a fire burning. No need to fear discovery. The people had gone away. The Instrumentalities, great and small, had run off toward the waning power in the Andorayan Sea. She said, “Let’s go home. I need to get warmed up. Then I need to check on Piper.”

He made sure of the constraints on his cargo. “What took so long with those explosions?”

“I had to make sure Piper settled in safely. What the hell are those things? If they were any uglier we’d have to kill them to put them out of their misery. Why are they tied up like that?” And, “You need a rest. You look awful.”

Februaren knew of no reason why he should appear unusual. He snapped, “Tell me!”

“Your plan called for me to set off firepowder in a dozen different places. I did fourteen. But you gave me no help coming up with the firepowder. I had to deal with that on top of wet-nursing Piper.”

“You should’ve taken it all from him.”

“He watches his. So. I had to raid eight different armories, five of which I had to find for myself. So don’t get snippy. I do know where I can swipe a couple more that I could set off under your cranky ass.” She glared, daring him to say something.

“All right. All right. The job got done. Big Ugly God got dumped in the drink. And he’s in too much pain to do big ugly god stuff. We’ve bought time.”

“Thank you, Heris.”

“Thank you, Heris.”

“All right. Now. What the hell are these things, all bundled up in ropes and blankets and stuff?”

Februaren explained. Then, “If you take one and I take the other, we can get home in a couple of skips.”

“They really stink, don’t they?”

“They do. They’re dying. Kharoulke is too busy saving his own scary butt to keep them topped up.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste time swapping tall tales.”

Februaren indulged in a small smile as he seized an artifact and turned sideways. The woman had shown dramatic growth over the past two years. Maybe, just possibly, she could be primed to assume the calling that Piper could not.

Muno was no pup anymore.

***

The Ninth Unknown took one of his captives into the heart of the Construct and tested it to destruction. When he took the healthier one in he knew enough to mine the communal memories of the Krepnights, the Elect, who were all the same beast.

***

Jarneyn Gjoresson jumped into the air, literally. Februaren said, “Sorry. I’ve never seen a startle response that dramatic.”

The dwarf scowled more fiercely than usual. He growled, “You have something to report?”

“I’ve found a place to look for the Bastard. It was in the group memory of the monster. One of the first accompanied a band of Chosen raiders into the wilds of the Empire. They were supposed to kill a particular man who could be found at a particular rustic fortress. The Windwalker gave no reason. But there was a sense that Kharoulke foresaw a dire threat. The mission failed. The god has been too busy since to send another expedition against a target now aware of the interest of the Night.”

Iron Eyes immediately confounded Februaren. “What is the Empire?”

So the Ninth Unknown spent several hours updating the dwarf on the middle world.

“Things happen fast there,” the dwarf said. “Last time I was over for any length was during the hunt for Grinling.”

“Oh?” Februaren had heard Piper mention that magical ring. “And?”

“It evaded us. Even me, and I did most of the work making it. A lesser Instrumentality from the south threw it overboard in the deepest part of what you call the Mother Sea.”

Februaren grunted. Not good. Legendary magical artifacts could not be banished that way. They always found a way back.

Februaren said, “I need you, and the other Aelen Kofer, to come to my world for a while.”

The dwarf grunted.

“It will take strength and cleverness to capture the Bastard’s stronghold. Thirty picked Chosen and a Krepnight, the Elect, had no luck.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“They were slaves of a god. Not Aelen Kofer.”

“Transparent, mortal. But still in need of response. Tell me where you want us to go and what you want us to do.”

Cloven Februaren said, “I found the place. I walked around it before I came back here.” He described what he had seen and told Iron Eyes what he thought needed doing. After consideration, the Crown Prince of the Aelen Kofer agreed that Februaren’s strategy was appropriate. For the moment. Given the intelligence available.

Preparations began. Hurriedly.

This would be a long mission. There was no way to reach the target other than by walking. In winter. Across a realm no longer in awe of the Aelen Kofer. Across a world where, for the most part, the Aelen Kofer had been forgotten.

21. Empire City: The New Life

Alten Weinberg was extremely quiet. The Empress and Princess were away, on a progress, though Katrin was supposed to be far advanced in her pregnancy. Most of the Imperial hangers-on were out there with her, creeping from castle to town like a swarm of locusts. Personages of note remaining in the capital city were careful to avoid being seen anywhere near Katrin’s new general. They were sure everyone still in town would be a spy for the Empress, her sister, or Ferris Renfrow. Nobody wanted to get onto a list of suspects.

Hecht was pleased. Mildly. Both at being left alone and at seeing how far the sisters had managed to wriggle out from under the thumbs of the Council Advisory.

The daughters of Johannes Blackboots made everyone around them nervous. If they continued strong, they would rival their father in a few years.

Titus Consent had a stream of spies in to visit and report. Some had been at work since the Captain-General’s wedding visit. Few had learned anything of interest. The absence of the Imperial court had left Alten Weinberg in a state approaching hibernation.

Rivademar Vircondelet said, “There are other spies everywhere, boss. Anybody who isn’t an apprentice or employee is watching everybody else for somebody who can’t be here personally.”

Vircondelet began to ramble.

“Stop!” Hecht said. “I understand. They’re all watching each other. I knew that already. How about something less obvious or more interesting?”

“There’s this. Something is wrong with the Empress’s pregnancy.”

“Explain.”

“She insists she’s pregnant. That she’s carrying Jaime of Castauriga’s son, who will unify the Direcian and Imperial lines into one grand dynasty.”

“But?”

“People are starting to wonder if it isn’t all in her imagination.”

Hecht had his staff spend time on the biological math — with and without Jaime as a factor. He had them mine every rumor, hundreds of those, for anything that might be factual. Katrin faking would be huge. Her relationship with Jaime had become so strained that it was unlikely she would ever see the man again. It could be that the strain was not exclusively due to Jaime’s distaste for his wife’s bony charms. There might have been an incident, vigorously covered up, involving the Princess Apparent. Jaime might have made inappropriate advances that, to his amazement and wrath, were soundly rejected. Continued importunities resulted in Helspeth arranging for Katrin to witness what she would not have believed otherwise.

Ferris Renfrow might have put a warning bug in King Jaime’s ear. Jaime was too arrogant to listen but people around him did enjoy a more intimate relationship with reality.

Hecht said, “So our new Crown Prince should arrive anywhere from next week to ten weeks from now — if Katrin takes about a full year to deliver.”

Sedlakova said, “She’s still doing a progress, boss. Maybe she isn’t as pregnant as she thought. Noblewomen usually go into confinement about the time they start to show.”

Kait Rhuk opined, “If I was King Jaime about now I’d be starting to have my doubts about me being the daddy.”

“Indeed.” Disdain for the behavior of women of estate was owned by lower-class culture everywhere in the Chaldarean world.

Titus suggested, “She may not be following routine because she’s afraid to withdraw. She’s surrounded by jackals.”

Hecht said, “We’re all enjoying this, but in the end it’s something that will take care of itself. I need to know more about the people around the Empress. The ones who think they have some influence, or want to have some influence. The ones convinced that the future of the Empire has to be reflected in their own special mirrors.”

Hecht cringed. This time he would have to play the political game. “Titus. Find Algres Drear.”

“Drear?”

“The Braunsknecht captain.”

“I remember. I was just surprised.”

***

Katrin’s condition compelled her progress to proceed more slowly than usual. The date of her return kept getting pushed back. Unseasonable weather did not help. Communication through the Jagos ended six days earlier than ever it had before. Hecht’s quartermasters made sure of a fuel supply early, before prices started to rise. Hecht’s status as favored of the Empress made his credit good.

Consent observed, “This might be a bad winter. By the time it’s over maybe nobody will be interested in gallivanting off to the Holy Lands.”

“More likely they’ll all want to go because it’s warmer there.”

Titus shrugged. “Just thinking out loud.”

“A man can’t help that, can he?”

Unsure if he ought to be miffed, Titus went off to do something useful. Hecht muttered under his breath, something about Consent turning into a gossipy old woman. About having to bring Noë and the children north next spring. Titus was more tractable with his family close by.

Once he chose his quarters Hecht gave orders that no one should enter without invitation. He wanted to create a space where Heris or Cloven Februaren could appear unnoticed. He did not want to be accused of having secret congress with the Night.

Heris turned up soon after Titus left. Hecht said, “You don’t look so good.”

“Grandfather’s grandfather is testing us all to destruction. And it’s hard to argue with somebody who has two hundred years on you and does more than he wants you to do. That old bastard don’t believe in sleep, Piper.”

“He’s just showing off.”

“I’d say it’s more like he’s trying to prove something to himself.”

“So. What news?”

“Anna is well. Sends her love. The girls are well. Not thrilled about school. Pella has the whooping cough. The rest expect to have their turns. Grandfather has, in my way of thinking, been getting too bold in the Collegium. He’s deliberately provoking Serenity.”

“Of course. There’s a history. And he’s counting on Serenity to be worried sick by the continued existence of Cloven Februaren. The Ninth Unknown had a nasty reputation in his time. Several old-time Patriarchs regretted attracting his ire.”

“Piper, Serenity doesn’t know any of that. He’s almost completely ignorant about the Unknowns. And about anything before his own grandfather’s time. He doesn’t care about old times. And he was never invited in on the Construct project. Hardly anyone knows about it anymore, other than the orders involved and those who do the funding. Meaning just a few members of the Collegium. Grandfather’s cronies, who are all sure that the fall of the old world is right around the corner. The last Patriarch who expressed an interest in the Construct was Pacificus Sublime. When he was still the Fiducian. He wanted to know where the money was going but never looked at the project up close. Something blindered his thinking.”