how strong they still were. The Dreangereans' seamanship was awful.'
Else offered a silent prayer on behalf of those Sha-lug who had perished. Gordimer built his fleet too fast. Its sailors hadn't had time to learn. Dreanger was last a naval power before the rise of the Old Empire.
Wilbe said, 'There was a powerful sorcerer with their fleet. His presence made the difference.'
This got uglier by the second.
He had to lead a major force against er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen?
He would fight Lucidians and Calzirans only. Weakening the Lucidians would benefit the kaifate of al- Minphel
At some point, unannounced, the Emperor drifted in. He remained in the background, small, silent, unnoticed until he declared, 'This isn't a disaster. Unless you didn't get away. Adjust your thinking to the new reality.' He indicated the wall map that showed only Calzir, Alameddine's cantonments, and the marches of several small principalities bordering those two. 'We block the passes through the Vaillarentiglia Mountains. Here. Here. Here. We blockade their harbors. Their crops are going to come in short. Fishing will stop because their fishermen and boats didn't come back. Prefamine conditions will obtain by winter's start. Burdening Calzir with thousands of unproductive soldiers and animals will hasten the bad times. The Lucidians and Dreangereans won't be able to import food.'
'Why?' one of the Principals asked.
'Brother Wilbe said they offended Sonsa, Dateon, the Eastern Empire, Vantrad, Triamolin, and Staklirhod. All those sovereignties will be watching for a chance to even scores.'
Else studied me big map intently. And saw a potential Praman disaster much bigger than that festering in the Emperor's mind. Johannes was not looking at Calzir as a whole.
Someone, with the stink of er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen on him, had plotted and schemed, pulled strings and machinated, until he was sure he had engineered a situation where Sublime and his Episcopal brethren would become bogged down in their own quarter of the world, unable to make themselves obnoxious in Dreanger or the Holy Lands.
But -
Er-Rashal's dream was about to become a nightmare. That chance meeting of fleets had killed any chance that Patriarchal and Imperial forces could be lured into a huge ambush. The Praman allies, despite their victory at sea, were caught in a bottle. And Else suspected that they would not realize that before the hunger started.
Else glared at the map. He saw nothing but disaster for the Faithful. Hansel was too pessimistic.
Unless er-Rashal did have some deep, unfathomable scheme proceeding, he had clevered himself into the loss of two fleets and two armies of seasoned soldiers. Unless defeat was part of the plan.
Else still had no idea why er-Rashal had wanted the mummies from Andesqueluz.
Was er-Rashal as uncomfortable with him as Gordimer was? Gordimer issued orders. Er-Rashal instigated them. Gordimer would not be interested in mummies. But he would not be heartbroken if a potential rival failed while trying to bring in a collection of old bones.
'Captain Hecht?'
'Your Grace? I'm sorry.' Principal Divino had closed in on Else. 'That map is trying to tell me something. But I'm not hearing what it has to say. It's something bone obvious.'
'Nobody else is spewing ideas like a holiday firework.'
'Of course, Your Grace. If it was obvious everybody would see it.'
“Tell me what you see. When you see it. And what you think. Because I don't see this new situation benefitting the Bruglioni. Or anyone underwriting the city regiment.'
'I disagree. Nobody's contributing anything but money. It isn't like an actual member of one of the Five Families might actually find himself face-to-face with the actual possibility of actually getting hurt.'
'Your cynicism is worthy of a born Brothen, Captain Hecht. But.'
'Your Grace?'
'Are we in a bad way? Regarding Sublime's grand adventure?”
'I can't give you the answer you lust after in your heart of hearts. We're at the mercy of what the top people decide. The Unbelievers have behaved stupidly. They should've conserved their forces. They should've turned back and let Calzir fend for itself.'
Principate Doneto eyed Else uncertainly. 'Explain.'
'The Lucidians and Dreangereans wasted a big part of their naval power. They wanted to be able to challenge the western fleets. Or that of the Eastern Empire. Worse than them losing their ships, though, is them losing their best soldiers and sailors when we have a Patriarch who wants another Crusade.'
'I guess I don't have a military mind. All I see is how those troops will make it tougher for us in Calzir.'
'Of course. That's their mission. But we'll destroy them, ships and men. The time and treasure invested in them will have been wasted. They won't be there when the crusaders arrive. Unless Sublime or Hansel make some boneheaded decisions of their own.'
There was a stir. Principate Doneto said, 'Excuse me. I have to go. The Patriarch is here.'
Sublime did make a surprise appearance. He contributed nothing. He went away twenty minutes later. Else was disappointed. For years he had heard the Patriarch built up as a great horned and hoofed demon. This was a half-bald, squinty, pinch-mouthed pudgeball who looked more like a dull shopkeeper than a powerful, lunatic religious warlord. He did not seem able to understand what was going on here.
Well, he had been a compromise candidate. Which was why the Church could not now afford his overseas ambitions.
Later, Principatй Divino Bruglioni insisted that what the Patriarch showed publicly was a persona meant to disarm those who did not know him.
Else fixed the man's appearance in mind. Perhaps Honario Benedocto, like Rodrigo Cologni, slipped away to appraise the tenders of the Adversary in person, in disguise. The bodyguards would give him away.
He had no idea why the idea seemed obvious to him but no one else. Everything was right there, in the great map. Everything you needed to know to destroy Calzir and those good soldiers sent to defend that barren realm.
Else asked around. Hardly anyone could name the Mafti al-Araj el-Arak, or any prince or warlord of Calzir. The few who had visited it said Calzir was a realm of chaos, mostly small states run by petty warlords. Much like the Chaldarean stretches of Firaldia.
Lying with Anna trapped in his arms, sated, Else whispered, 'You put new charms and fetishes on the doors and windows.'
'Something kept trying to get in. The charm maker didn't believe it could happen here. But she took my money.'
'Can't happen in Brothe?'
'Exactly.'
'They're fools.'
'You'd think it doesn't get dark at night.'
'Are the charms any good?'
'I picked a woman with good references.'
'Who doesn't take her clients' fears seriously.'
'I wasn't born yesterday. Sonsa was no den of virtue, darling.'
'Good.'
'You think it's because of you? Does somebody want to spy on me in order to spy on you?'
He could not assure her otherwise.
'Oh, my! The serpent is still alive.' She reached back and squeezed him. 'Well, woman's work is never done. But I'll tame the monster yet.'
Else had known just one woman before Anna Mozilla. His wife. She submitted. She endured because that was her lot and duty. She did not become involved.
Anna was always involved, absolutely and completely. Frequently more so than he was. She claimed, 'I would've made a great whore. If I could do it with men I don't know. Because I'd go twenty times a day if you could keep up.'
