'The way Dugo would.'
'The way Dugo would. Though now it seems he's started to catch on. He knows that he has to start doing the right thing. For the family's sake. Meantime, his major adviser, which would be me, might not be any smarter or subtler.'
'Really?'
'My genius and my gullibility got us into this. Sylvie Obilade manipulated me. I sold Paludan on the priest. Like his ideas were mine. I thought Obilade wanted the best for the Bruglioni.'
'Maybe he did.'
'Sure, he did. He was a good priest. But he wanted to be something more. He wanted to make the Church all-powerful, temporally as well as spiritually.'
'That doesn't sound exciting.' Dreanger was not terrible but there were smaller principalities within the Realm of Peace where religious rule smothered everything.
'We need to make peace with the Church over Father Obilade.'
'Being a country boy from the far frontiers I'm obviously missing some critical local angle. Six members of the Bruglioni household were killed. The priest caused that. The men who murdered them were killed themselves.'
'So you think the scales are balanced?'
'Yes, actually.'
'The Church wouldn't agree. If Church people screw you you're supposed to take it with a smile and beg for more because it feels so good.'
'This will take getting used to.' It might be the sort of thing he could use to stir confusion and distract the Patriarch from organizing a new crusade. 'I need to know Brothe better. Like Paludan said. Even taking into account the natural arrogance of people who believe God speaks with their mouths, there's a lot of flawed thinking in this city.'
'Going out there could be dangerous.'
'How? Even if word is out that I've been hired nobody knows what I look like except a few Arniena. And they're on our side.'
'I don't know.'
'Uhm?'
'I'm not sure we should trust anybody out there, right now. I'm not sure why Paludan and I decided Rodrigo Cologni would defect. Father Obilade probably sold us. We know that wasn't true, now. Rodrigo kept faith.'
“Treachery is the most popular sport in town. I'll learn what I can, outside. You get Paludan to decide what he wants to accomplish so we can start planning. Find out if he wants to hire real swords. Those bodyguards were make-believe.'
'I don't think he'll stand for the extra expense. Right now we're completely clear on who to blame if anything goes wrong.'
'I'll do my utmost to ensure that your faith in me is justified.'
Else parted with Saluda still unsure of the man. Was he bright or dim? Was he manipulating Paludan Bruglioni? Was he Paludan's dedicated friend?
Brothe was unique among cities Else had known. It showed its age much more than did even the oldest pities of Dreanger. There were ruins everywhere. In Dreanger they cleared the old away in favor of the new. In Dreanger the surviving ruins were not inside cities, they were out in the deserts and mountains and, as it had been from the most archaic times, they were occupied only by the dead.
The priests who had tended them had been massacred by Josephus Alegiant a thousand years ago. Alegiant's successors had been massacred in turn by warriors of the Praman Conquest five hundred years later.
Reminders of the glory days of the Old Empire were everywhere, usually overgrown by creeping vines and brush. Remnants of triumphal arches still spanned the streets. Weeds and brush grew atop them. Else wondered where the soil came from.
Today's Brothe stood on ground ten to twenty feet higher than it had been in antiquity. In places the old low ground lay buried even deeper.
In Brothe the past was as omnipresent and intrusive as the Instrumentalities of the Night in the Holy Lands. It meant more here than elsewhere. Brothe's yesterdays defined its todays.
Sublime enjoyed local popular support because people thought he might resurrect the ancient glories.
In Brothe even the poorest of the native poor worshipped the city's past glories. And seemed indifferent to its present.
Yesterday's toppled memorials loomed large in the lives of squatters and drifters.
Poverty was ubiquitous, too. But that did not touch Else. Poverty and misery were the natural state of humanity wherever he went.
Else strolled around in what he hoped looked like random rambles. He noticed no obvious tail. Which might mean that someone with superb skills had been assigned to track him. Or someone with a supernatural assist.
He did not count on his new employer not to spy on him. He would never allow a stranger deep into his world as easily as he had gotten into that of the Bruglioni.
Else drew dark looks wherever he went. He did not understand. He did note that other foreigners drew equally malignant attention, though.
He had been on his own a long time. Had he forgotten a critical detail of his contact regime? Could life's vicissitudes have claimed Gordimer's local agents? He knew no names, just places to visit. The embassy of the Kaif of al-Minphet was to be approached only in extreme circumstance. A sailor's tavern on the riverfront, as far downstream as you could go and still be inside the wall, was just too far away. The only convenient contact resided inside the Devedian quarter.
Brothe was a vast sprawl south of the Teragi. It seemed to go on forever.
'Hey, Pipe! Piper Hecht! How the hell you doing, asshole?'
Pinkus Ghort jogged across the street, dodging between donkeys and camels, oxcarts, dog carts, and goat carts. Brothe's streets were busier than those of al-Qarn. And twice as ripe. Little effort was made to clean up after the animals. Else had seen some amazing shit drifts.
'Ghort! You been following me?'
'No. Shit Man. It's pure coincidence. I was just heading over to the … How the hell are you doing?'
'As good as could be hoped, I guess.'
'They get you in over there yet?'
'In?'
'The Bruglioni thing.'
Curious. 'They don't keep you in the know?'
'I've been out of town. There was a problem up the road that Doneto needed handled. I got back last night. So are you in?'
'I think. I'm worried about how easy it was, though. I can't believe anybody is as dimwitted as those people let on.'
'Believe it. This is the town where dumb comes to stay. Two-thirds of them still think they rule the world. Basically, the whole damn town has their heads up their asses.”
'I'll take your word for that.'
'We need to work out a way to communicate.'
'I know where the Principatй lives.'
'How do we get a message to you?'
Else considered briefly. 'I can't imagine an instance where you'd need to. Can you?'
'Uh … Maybe you're right. But you'll have to make contact sometime. Just so we can keep each other posted.'
Ghort had a point. Ghort was supposed to be his eyes inside Doneto's establishment. 'That shouldn't be hard. I don't suffer from excessive supervision. My job hasn't been defined yet. Paludan wants to hurt the Brotherhood because he thinks they killed his sons. Gervase is afraid the Brotherhood might come after the Bruglioni because of
