particular task. It has little to do with the ambitions of those holding al-Khazen.'
Svavar did not respond.
'If you help me here, now, I'll throw the weight of the Empire behind you in your mission.'
Svavar felt Arlensul would want him to agree. 'We'll help, then. In exchange. We won't tolerate…'
'Johannes Ege never…. Enough. I need entry into that city. And someone who can distract the powers there while I do what I have to do.'
Svavar cocked his head, listening.
Arlensul encouraged him.
'We can do what you want done.'
Whatever the denizens of the city planned, whatever engines of despair lurked behind those walls, a Chooser of the Slain was no part of their calculations.
The daughter of the Gray Walker was clearly visible for half a minute. Imperial soldiers saw her. Praman soldiers saw her. Mute wood and stone beheld her. Svavar worried that far powers in the Great Sky Fortress might mark her presence as well. Shagot might see her. But he had to trust her. Over the months he had become her ally completely.
Shagot remained unaware of her.
The event at el-Khazen's eastern portal was so violent that not only did the gates cease to be a barrier, the entire barbican and fifteen yards of wall to either hand collapsed. Imperial troops rushed into al-Khazen, encouraged by the Emperor to obliterate anyone and anything not Crown Prince Lothar.
Svavar and Shagot were first to enter the city, Shagot holding that demon head in front of him. Howling devil faces swarmed them — and fled away, repelled by Arlensul. The fury of the assault increased. Svavar was impressed. The sorcerers here were truly terrible. He was fortunate to have a Chooser of the Slain for a guardian angel.
He nudged Shagot whenever a course change became necessary. He was surprised that they did not need to head for the citadel. Not after they covered the first quarter mile.
The Grimmsson brothers fought inside a bubble of invincibility. That did not extend far. Outside it the battle was harsh. It was dark out there. The onslaught of the Night was terrible. The Imperials remained steadfast only because of the power of the soultaken.
As blood flowed, Shagot became more awake and alert and connected to the Great Sky Fortress. Where, Svavar guessed, the Old Ones were becoming more awake and alert and connected themselves.
Shagot carved up three Pramans in a blur of haunted bronze. Done, he asked, 'What's going on, Little Brother?'
'We're helping Johannes get his son back from the Pramans.' The Emperor was a short distance away, rising boldly above the chaos on his charger, Warspite. 'After which he'll devote all his power to helping us find our man.'
Shagot seemed doubtful. But his connection with the Great Sky Fortress was strong, now. “This way. He was here not long ago. He went this way.'
Wow, Svavar thought. He looked for Arlensul, did not see her but suspected that she was the force stemming the tide of darkness rolling down from the citadel.
The Praman soldiers fled. Their dark sorcery was less powerful than that attacking them.
Shagot said, 'This way. The raiders went this way.'
'What raiders, Grim?'
A commando band from the Patriarchal army had ambushed Lothar's captors and claimed their prize.
Johannes flew into a scarlet rage. He sent couriers to hasten the arrival of the rest of his army. He would purge al-Khazen of the Unbeliever, then he would find his son.
Shagot entered a low, square stone building that stood by itself. It had unglazed windows and doorways without doors.
Svavar asked, 'What's this?'
'A well house. The women come here to get water.' Shagot looked down into the cistern. 'They climbed down here.' An iron ladder going down into the cistern had had the rust worn away. Blood discolored its rungs.
A face appeared below. A Praman face. It betrayed astonishment and terror. It disappeared, shrieking a warning.
Shagot swung over the lip of the well and jumped down. Svavar cursed and followed more carefully. At first, the Braunsknechts refused to go down into the earth.
The Emperor entered the waterhouse. He grasped the situation immediately. He gave orders for troops to circle west of the city in search of a storm water outlet. Below, the soultaken engaged the hindmost of those Pramans who had chased the Episcopal raiders underground.
Hansel stamped out of the waterhouse. He swung onto Warspite's back. For an instant he stared uphill, toward the citadel. He would aim the soultaken that way next.
As he flexed his wrists to shake the reins to urge Warspite forward, an arrow out of the darkness entered his open mouth. Its head severed his spinal cord as it exited the back of his neck.
35. With the Direcian Combine: Cold Spring
The winter was long and bitter but not inconvenient for the combined forces of Direcia, Platadura, and the Connec. They did little but stay warm and get to know the people of Calzir. They saw no fighting.
Brother Candle did not feel he was part of a real war. He had become part of the court round King Peter, in the castle al-Negesi, atop an eminence from which, on a clear day, the hills where al-Khazen lay could be discerned. Peter felt no need to move closer. The Pramans were unable to overawe the forces already facing them.
Brother Candle understood. Peter had tripled his territories at no cost. He had created — and continued to create — a network of personal relationships with foreign nobles and people like Brother Candle, Bishop LeCroes, Michael Carhart, and Tember Remak. The lack of danger, other than from the passage on winter seas, had lured the curious from Direcia and the End of Connec. Duke Tormond and his sister spent a month on Shippen, she enjoying her husband and he learning more about the world and the men who would stand beside him in the dark times to come. Tormond was impressed by how much Count Raymone Garete had matured.
'We'll go home come spring,' Bishop LeCroes predicted. 'This war is over. It's just a matter of the Pramans figuring that out and laying down their arms.'
If Lucidia and Dreanger did not send reinforcements.
Brother Candle doubted the Praman world would blaze with passion for a countercrusade in Calzir. Not when wealthier and more romantic little kingdoms in Direcia were being devoured by King Peter's Reconquest to resounding indifference across the remainder of the Realm of Peace.
Brother Candle was enjoying a leisurely breakfast. Bishop LeCroes stopped to say, 'Loafing season may be over. Something major is happening at al-Khazen.' His voice was so strained Brother Candle went looking for a high place.
He used his elbows more than was appropriate for a Perfect. Everyone had gotten there before him, equally curious. When he got a good look in the right direction he saw what looked like a tower of black smoke rising from a huge fire a long way away. Only … It looked more like a small but intensely ferocious thunderstorm. 'What is it?'
'The Night gone mad. Trying to devour itself. It was much gaudier when it wasn't as light out.'
King Peter, Count Raymone, and a few others in a higher turret were engaged in an animated discussion.
Brother Candle had a sense of portent. The world was about to change again. Chances were, the change would not be for the better.
Peter and his cronies sent riders to find out what was happening. And couriers to alert the various garrisons that something was afoot. Inasmuch as nobody to the east was inclined to keep their overseas allies posted.
Brother Candle had little sense of the Instrumentalities of the Night. Those who did, like Michael Carhart,
