Fourteen riders left Brothe with Hecht and Consent, a larger party than Hecht wanted. His men would not let him travel with less protection.
Heris quickly developed a habit of turning up when nobody was looking, like her remote ancestor before her. She kept Hecht posted on wickednesses hatching inside Krois. As had been the case with Sublime V, Serenity had almost no idea what those around him were doing in his name. He might not want to know. He refused to hear what the Collegium had to say. He was almost completely fixated on next spring in the Connec.
“And what would be the plan for today?” Titus Consent asked, the fifth morning. He became more surly and suspicious daily. Hecht was too obviously shutting him out of the secrets.
“Your choice today, Titus. Either road will bring us to the Remayne Pass day after tomorrow.” They were crossing the rich farmlands of the Aco River floodplain, well east of the direct road from Brothe to the pass. Heeding Heris’s warnings, Hecht was directing his company out of harm’s way. He had not explained. Not in detail. “By now the villains will have decided to catch us at the mouth of the pass.”
“I won’t ask how you know. You wouldn’t give me a straight answer. But I am interested in why you’re determined to avoid these villains. There are sixteen of us. None of us virgins.”
“All right. I have a friend. A sorcerer. He watches them and keeps me informed. That’s all you need. I’ve avoided the fight because I don’t want it to reflect back on the Empress.” Which was true. Though mainly for show. He had no objection to renewed conflict between the Patriarch and Empire.
“Things are changing. And I’m not comfortable with some of that.”
Hecht shrugged. “We’ll get back to normal once we get to Alten Weinberg.” He hoped.
Consent remained sullen for hours, upset because he was not trusted. Which could lead to trouble someday. Though, intellectually, Titus had to see that trust was not the issue. What a man does not know he can never reveal, no matter what.
Consent came to Hecht later. “I know how we can deal with these people who worry you so much.”
“Tell me.”
“We have a thousand men on the move. Maybe more. Mostly behind us. Why don’t we just sit down and let them catch up? Your villains won’t take on a whole army, will they?” Consent had a hard time believing that Serenity, or his henchmen, would risk angering Empress Katrin by attacking Piper Hecht. But the former Captain- General was adamantly attached to the opposing view.
There was a faction inside Krois that was as stubbornly anti-Imperial as the Anti-Patriarchal faction in Alten Weinberg was stubborn. It had not gotten much voice under the last three Patriarchs. But the new one was not paying attention. The new one had obsessions in another direction.
“You’re right, Titus. Why not just show them so many spears that they’ll just run away?”
Hecht entered the Remayne Pass accompanied by key staff, three hundred veterans, and armed with an up- to-the-moment scouting report from Heris.
There were people up ahead. Their intentions were not friendly.
Drago Prosek had found a dozen falcons somewhere. Hecht had not checked their inventory numbers. Prosek put them out front. Random blasts of creek pebbles thrown up the brushy slope flushed the ambushers. Who would have tried nothing against such numbers, anyway. There were scarcely two dozen of them.
Prosek brought prisoners. “Shall I have them put to the question, Commander?” As Hecht had no official title those who dealt with him direct called him whatever came to mind.
“To what end?”
“It might be instructive to find out who hired them.”
“I already know. You’ll be happier being ignorant.”
“You think?”
Titus Consent shook his head slowly. “Silly-ass discussion.”
Hecht said, “You prisoners. Two of you were with us during the Connecten Crusade. So you know where you stand. Remind your friends. And keep it in mind when Mr. Consent talks to you.”
Consent wasted no time. He asked questions. The prisoners answered. They had nothing illuminating to say. They had been recruited by a Race Buchels. Buchels had paid well, half up front.
There was no trace of Buchels. He had gone missing as soon as the smoke from Drago Prosek’s falcons rolled over his position.
Most of the prisoners thought Buchels had worked for somebody in the Collegium. A few picked Anne of Menand. And one liked those nobles in the Grail Empire who did not want the Empress getting any stronger.
Hecht told his inner circle, “Buchels works for one of Serenity’s associates. An idiot who decided to do his boss a favor and eliminate the nuisance Serenity is always grumbling about. An idiot who can’t look past the moment far enough to see that he could start a war with the Empire.”
Heris said the fool’s name was Fearo? Durgandini. She thought that was funny. Durgandini meant “woman of bad smells” in one of the languages she spoke. This Durgandini was the illegitimate son of a Doneto cousin. He was determined to make his mark handling Serenity’s unpleasant chores. Heris suspected that Durgandini operated under deniable orders.
Titus Consent observed, “It doesn’t matter in the end. We’ll go where we have to go. Whoever gets in the way will get trampled.”
There were no more human intercessions. The road was busy now that no monster lurked in the high Jagos. And the season was late. Travelers were trying to get through before weather got in the way. The Night took no more than a normally malicious interest. After a few small punishments it pretended indifference.
“Bayard va Still-Patter offered the use of his house, gave me letters to prove it, and I don’t intend to be shy about taking advantage,” Hecht declared as he neared Alten Weinberg. To va Still-Patter retainers sent by the Ambassador’s father to discourage the hiresword interloper from taking advantage of the son’s generosity. “I won’t let my men steal whatever they overlooked last time.”
He faked a light, playful mood. He did not look forward to the incessant politics plaguing every center of power. He was exhausted. Though the threats had been minimal the mountains left him wanting nothing more than to disappear and recuperate.
The pass had been colder than ever for the time of year. And, though the Night itself had shown little interest, someone had sent numerous noxious minor Instrumentalities to make him miserable, presumably in hopes he would turn back.
Heris had been no help.
He had not yet had time to pull off his boots, once inside Bayard va Still-Patter’s, when the invitations and petitions started. He told Rivademar Vircondelet, “You’ve been here a week. You’re rested up and familiar with the local situation. This crap is on you. Anybody wants an audience, tell them to go through the Empress. I work for her. If it’s the Empress, though, say I’m too sick.” Hecht did not strictly lie about being sick.
“Won’t be the Empress, boss. She’s out in the sticks doing what they call a progress. Which sounds like just showing herself off so people know she really exists. At their expense, of course. I hear Johannes started it so he could save on what it cost to run the court. Anyway, we’ll actually have a few weeks where the load stays kind of light.”
“That’s good. That’s real good. It’ll give me a chance to recover.”
He did not like being sick. He could not recall the last time he was really sick.
Titus told him exactly, when he arose, recovered but weak, three days later. Titus had consulted his personal journals. But it did not matter, other than to illuminate the fact that people pushed old seasons of pain out of mind.
“What’s on the schedule?” Hecht asked.
“It’s really piled up while you were loafing, boss. Everyone wants a piece, now that you’re here. Both of them.”
“What?”
“Almost everybody who is anybody is out making progress with the Empress. The elder va Still-Patter is not here to aggravate us only because his gout is so bad he can’t get out of bed.”
“Again, then. That’s real good. I want you all to learn everything about this city while you have the chance.
