Hecht did not know what to do. Crossbowmen being at a premium, he had left his at Castreresone.
'We have to go. Now. Lay down some kind of harassing fire. Burn some firepowder for the smoke. The breeze is blowing their way.'
It was close but the Patriarchals escaped. The Navayans evidently had no enthusiasm for their tactics and so did not move forcefully. Nor did they show any desire to enter the foul firepowder smoke.
Prosek caught up with Hecht. 'You saw how the smoke bothered them? Sir?'
'Of course. It was my idea.'
'Make some with more sulfur in it. For that purpose.'
'Do it. Add captain of chemical warfare to your job description.'
The Patriarchal forces reassembled farther east. Infantry there had been skirmishing with the mercenaries all afternoon. The mercenaries were waiting on their paymasters. Hecht did not press them.
The Navayans were not inclined to be drawn in, either. Titus Consent opined, 'This could be a long, nasty war if there are never any battles.'
'It's long and nasty now. These people have been crippling each other by ruining one another's agriculture for several years.'
'We can turn the country into a desert.'
'And God will love us more. Apparently.' Redfearn Bechter scowled the whole time. He was a cynical old man himself, but this talk smacked of heresy. He sent a look of appeal to Madouc. The chief lifeguard shrugged. Doctrinal indiscretion was not his problem.
The Captain-General said, 'Sergeant, disrespect for the intellect of the Patriarch isn't heresy. It isn't sacrilege, either. It's not even insubordination. We're doing what he tells us. We're just not sure he's hearing what God is whispering in his ear.'
No explanation would comfort the old soldier. He had lived his life for God and the Church. He said, 'The men we have hidden in the hills are having a lot of trouble with Night things.'
'For example?'
'Just little things. So far. But always something wicked. Spoiling wine. Making beer go skunky. Stirring up hornets. Spooking horses.'
'Where's Principate Delari gotten to? He should've been here long before us. I started him off early.'
Bechter said, 'I kept him going back to Castreresone. Assuming you didn't want him exposed to misfortune out here.'
'Of course. Damn! No, you did right. It's just inconvenient. I wanted to ask him why the Night is ganging up on us all of a sudden.'
Consent asked, 'Is it? I'd bet it's being just as obnoxious to those people back up the road.'
The skirmishing ended at nightfall. The Navayans withdrew into a tight encampment. Which suggested that the Night was, indeed, being impartially obnoxious.
Something big came after midnight. Something that made Hecht's amulet burn his wrist. Something that reeked and birthed terror with its stench. The animals nearly revolted.
The Captain-General summoned Drago Prosek. 'There's work for the falcons.' The first weapon barked ten minutes later. There was no need for a second to comment.
Instantly there was an absence of any sense of supernatural presence. The falconeers reported a vast, panicky rustle a moment before the falcon spoke.
Then there was excitement to the west. Fires blazing up. Distance-muted shouting.
Nothing more happened. Hecht told Prosek, 'Keep a crew standing by. They don't need permission to fire but they better not waste charges on their imaginations.'
Prosek nodded, expression grim. Knowing perfectly well the nervous falconeers would fire first and worry about weathering the Captain-General's displeasure once they had survived.
Hecht headed for the shelter his lifeguards had thrown together. And discovered that he would be getting no sleep anytime soon.
Cloven Februaren sat in a corner, barely discernible. Hecht said, 'I thought we'd lost you.'
'I'm always around. Somewhere. You're getting comfortable with destroying Instrumentalities.'
'It's easier than killing people. Emotionally.'
'You should keep yourself inside a circle of ready falcons. From now on.'
'Yes?'
'The Night sees you finding it easier than killing people, too. The Night doesn't understand that the djinn can't be shoved back into the lamp. It hasn't gotten over Man having gained the secret of fire.'
Hecht nodded. He was exhausted. Dawn would come sooner than he liked. 'You always turn up when something awful is about to happen. What will it be this time?'
'Not this time. Just passing through. Wanted to caution you to be careful with Isabeth. She's in a tight place. She has to be seen trying to do something. But neither she nor her captains know what. This war is nothing like what they're used to in Direcia, where they know who the enemy is. And people don't change sides when the whim strikes.'
Hecht knew of no fickle, shifting allegiances, except during the little county wars that faded once the Grolsacher and Arnhander incursions began. 'I haven't seen any of that.'
'You will. All those towns and castles you're taking, that have sworn fealty to Sublime and the Church. They'll turn in an instant if they sense any weakness.'
Hecht had not thought about that. It sounded true, though. Those people were not joining the Brothen cause for love of Sublime V. 'Makes sense.'
'I have further advice. Whatever you hope to accomplish here you'd best get done soon. Big changes are coming. And round up any Artecipeans you can. They're behind the resurgence of the Night. They're a third side in this war. They aren't friends of the Connecten factions but they're helping them because they're your worst enemies.'
'Why?'
The old man bowed his head as though in contemplation. He said, 'They want to destroy you for the reason they've always wanted to destroy you. A conviction on the part of certain Instrumentalities that you could become the mechanism of their destruction.'
'Every encounter I've suffered has been initiated by the Night.'
'Amusing, isn't it? Them bringing on what they dread by trying to get even first?'
'Isn't the same thing happening every day, somewhere?
This prince, that duke, a random count, strikes before some enemy can carry out a potential attack?'
Februaren chuckled. 'Every day. And half the time it's a damned good idea. Hitting them back before they can hit you back first.'
'I'm tired. And, as usual, you're just being vague. So I'm going to sleep. You can get back to watching over me.'
'Sarcasm? Interesting.' The old man grinned. Despite his antiquity, he had a full set of teeth. 'Go ahead. I'll hover like a guardian angel.'
News came early. A fresh contingent of forty-day men from Firaldia, not told not to, had attacked the White City through breaches from the New Town. The defenders were unprepared for a heavy assault. The invaders were running wild in Castreresone's streets.
Hecht said, 'We have to go get a bridle on this before the officers go loot-crazy, too.'
Titus Consent asked, 'What about those people over there?'
'They'll hear about it. They'll have to make a decision. Let Castreresone go? Or charge in where their prospects are grim?'
'We'd have the hammer by the handle if we caught Isabeth.'
'We would. Yes. But don't expect it to happen.'
Hecht withdrew toward the White City. The mercenary infantry remained in contact but avoided serious combat. The knights followed on, still looking for that opportunity to exploit their advantage. The wind picked up in the middle of the morning. A drizzle began soon after noon. That turned to freezing rain. Shortly afterward the Patriarchals reached hastily prepared defenses meant to break a cavalry charge.
The Navayans attacked, without enthusiasm, because the situation compelled them. Their appearance
