Petronus rubbed his temples. He still wasn’t sleeping well. His dreams were full of fire and screams, but he couldn’t tell if it was Windwir that he imagined burning or if it was that Marsher village so long ago. Either way, he slept less and less each night.
“Did you call me out to tell me what I already know? That the mad Overseer will come for us soon enough?”
The shadow rose and stepped back. “No,” Gregoric said. “I came to tell you more than that. I think you are more than you are telling me. I think you are a man who needs to know what has transpired.” He paused and changed position again. “Sethbert used a metal man to bring down Windwir. He bought a man inside the walls of Windwir who wrote the scrolls for these mechanicals and scripted one of the mechanicals to recite the Seven Cacophonic Deaths of Xhum Y’zir in the central square of the city.”
Petronus shuddered. He felt his heart stop a moment, felt his skin go cold. “I wondered how it went.” He paused, wondering how much he should trust this Gypsy Scout. But then he continued. “I thought at first that the damned fools brought it upon themselves-that somehow they called down the city upon their heads.” He picked up a rock, weighed it in his hand and then tossed it out into the river. “I guess I wasn’t too far from wrong.”
“No,” Gregoric said. “I guess you weren’t.”
Petronus stood. “So why have you told me this?”
“I thought you should know what kind of man you’re up against,” Gregoric said. “You’ve heard the new Pope’s decree-otherwise, you’d not be so careful to remain outside the city’s gates.” He waited a moment. “His accusations against Lord Rudolfo are untrue. Sethbert killed the Order with its own sword.”
Petronus’s eyebrows went up, but he said nothing.
The silence grew uncomfortable, then Gregoric spoke. “We found the metal man that Sethb? math=ert used. Lord Rudolfo sent him back to the Ninefold Forest with Sethbert’s former consort, Jin Li Tam of House Li Tam.”
Petronus felt the ice again moving over him. He remembered the mechoservitor that the young acolyte had demonstrated for them. They’d kept at it, after all. They’d built their metal servants and they’d continued their study of the spell.
And in the end, they’d brought doom upon themselves.
“I told them they should burn it,” he said to himself quietly.
“Burn what?” Gregoric asked.
Petronus didn’t answer. Instead, he turned toward camp. The sky was graying now and he could see their tents huddled together between what had once been the docks and what had once been the wall of the best and brightest city in the Named Lands.
“If Sethbert could do this to an entire city, I can’t imagine dealing with a bunch of interlopers would give him much pause,” Gregoric said. “We’ll watch out for you, but you should know that there are not many of us. Lord Rudolfo has sent the Wandering Army back to the east and has ridden for the Papal Summer Palace to parley with Resolute the First.”
Petronus nodded. “Any help you can give us would be appreciated. We’ve much work to do here.” He started walking toward the camp, suddenly aware of how utterly tired he was, feeling the exhaustion soak through him, dragging at his feet and pulling at his head.
Gregoric whistled low, then called out to him once more. “Why are you doing this, old man?”
Petronus stopped and turned. “We all have debts to pay at one time or another,” he said.
He glanced at the moon again, that blue green sphere that was now merely a sliver on the horizon. He wondered what the Younger Gods would think of what their wayward sons had done.
Chapter 13
Rudolfo
The gates of the Summer Papal Palace were closed and under heavy guard when Rudolfo and the caravan approached. They’d seen the piled-up stack of old stone buildings shoved in against the high peaks of the Dragon’s Spine from a long way off, but it was midday before they were near enough to see the somber men in gray positioned at its entrance.
The remainder of their journey had passed without incident, and†='0 along the way they’d picked up a few more stray Androfrancines making their pilgrimage at the new Pope’s request. The first small group was a document-retrieval expedition that had been waiting at Fargoer Station near the edge of the Churning Waste for the Gray Guard to escort them home to Windwir. Watching from his place on the far fringes of the caravan, Rudolfo studied them. They were quiet and kept to themselves, a small locked box between them. Their robes were deep blue, marking them clearly as set apart from the others.
The second group they added to their number was a handful of Whymers-including a medico and a mechanical engineer-accompanying a cartload of books to the Papal Summer Palace.
Rudolfo shook his head. Ordering the return of all Androfrancines and Androfrancine property seemed an error in judgment on the part of the new Pope, though others might see it as sound strategy. And he understood the motivation beneath it. The Order had been dealt a mortal blow by the Desolation of Windwir, and when light fades, huddling in the dark with what and who were left seemed the right course of action.
Better to scatter, to disappear, to wait until morning, the Gypsy King thought. As his Wandering Army had done.
By now, they would be home and quietly preparing to defend Rudolfo’s prairies from the armies that even now were marching on Windwir to support Sethbert.
Twice along the way, birds had found their way to him. The first, from Vlad Li Tam, had encouraged him. The shipbuilding banker stood behind him, his iron armada in place around the massive whitestone port cities of Entrolusia. But Rudolfo knew that despite the best intentions and despite the new arrangement between them, House Li Tam was one house against many. And with a new Pope wearing the ring and crown, even
Still, it had been welcome news to hear the Ninefold Forest Houses had a friend.
The second note had disturbed him. Certainly, he couldn’t expect his words to weigh more than a Pope’s, but he’d hoped that Isaak and Jin Li Tam would stay put in the relative safety of the Ninefold Forest. Learning that even now they journeyed toward him blackened his already dark mood.
When they were close enough to see the gates and the guards, he called his scouts to a halt and rode in when Cyril beckoned him closer.
The arch-scholar extended a hand up to Rudolfo and he took it, gripping it firmly. “You’ve seen us through,” Cyril said. “You’ve earned my gratitude for that.”
Rudolfo forced a smile to his lips. “I am happy to help.”
“If I can return the favor,” the arch-scholar said, “I surely will.”
Rudolfo nodded. “Do you know this Pope Resolute the First?”
Cyril glanced from left to right to make sure he was out of earshot. “A newer archbishop-one of Introspect’s back-scrubbers. He worked in acquisitions and land law. I believe he’s kin to the Overseer of the Entrolusian City States.”
A key turned in a lock somewhere buried in Rudolfo’s brain. Interesting, he thought, that this archbishop was away from Windwir and now suddenly the Pope after Sethbert’s move against the Androfrancines. His hand moved up to his beard and he nodded slowly. “I see.”
“I’m sure he’ll treat fairly with you,” Cyril said.
Rudolfo studied the old scholar’s face. Dark circles hid his eyes and a week’s stubble grayed his face. “Let us hope so,” he said.
He looked up to the gates beyond the cluster of stone outbuildings that made up the surrounding village. The guards there were watching them but not moving to investigate.
Cyril shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I’m not sure what happened to Windwir. I’m not sure anyone
