'It couldn't be just that he needs to relax with someone he's known since before the responsibilities started piling on?'
The Captain-General closed his eyes. He drifted into a fantasy realm where he, Ghort, Bo Biogna, Just Plain Joe and the mule Pig Iron, and a few comfortable others surrounded a campfire, swapping tall tales. The good old days, when they were hungry but had the luxury of being able to relax.
'Could be, Titus. How scattered are we? How disorganized? How long to pull it all together to march on Khaurene?'
'I don't want to get above myself. But these guys need some rest. They need to relax. They need to get in out of the Night. Which won't get any better because we took Castreresone. Despite Prosek's efforts.'
'What's that?'
'The racket? Probably Archbishop Farfog insisting on seeing you so he can give you your orders.'
'Here are some orders for him. Go away. Stick to robbery and saving souls. I'll handle the war business.'
'Sure you want to offend him?'
'I don't mind. Do you?'
'Sir?'
'They say he keeps records. On everyone. I'm sure you're one of his favorite suspects.'
'I hadn't thought of that.'
'It won't be a happy world if Farfog is running free. Maybe we ought to help him become Patriarch.' He enjoyed Consent's startled response. 'The Patriarch gets so isolated he has to drill through layers of hangers-on to have much impact outside Krois. Farfog isn't a leader. He's a pusher. He'd drown in the bureaucratic swamp.'
Consent chuckled. 'Interesting idea. Disarm the idiots by putting them in charge, then let their own incompetence destroy them.'
'Something like that.' Hecht did not think Farfog would destroy himself. But he was venal and corrupt enough to render the Church a cripple, incapable of undertaking another massive religious offensive. 'When you tell him to go away, feel him out about how much the army's support might be worth to him.'
Consent did not like that. But he did not question it.
Principate Delari wakened Hecht. Who wondered how the man had gotten past his bodyguards. 'Problems in Brothe, Piper. I have to leave.'
'What is it? Saluda and Linczski have gone already.'
'And Doneto. He has a big lead.'
'What is it?'
'Sublime is gone. Or going. His gang is trying to keep it secret.'
'We've been hearing that for months.'
'It's true, now. All the Principates away from Brothe will be moving that direction. Like flies to a cow flop. Wanting to reach the Chiaro Palace in time to get in on the first vote.'
Members of the Collegium not on hand for the initial vote could not participate in subsequent polls. The rule helped keep the Patriarchy in the hands of members of the Firaldian primates.
'You've been sharing wine with Pinkus Ghort.'
'With my grandfather. I don't see him often enough.' Nor sounded like this opportunity had gone that well.
'I'll miss you. I'll feel naked, having you go just when the Night has begun this escalation.'
'You'll be protected. He'll be out there somewhere. Hovering. Trying to make the world run according to his own weird prejudices.'
'I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about the other twenty thousand men…'
'Talk to him about that. I need to get busy. I'm way behind.'
'Take a boat down to Sheavenalle. Then a ship across to Brothe. You'll get home weeks ahead of everybody. You can fix it up to be the next Patriarch yourself.'
'I don't want it. Wouldn't take it if it was handed to me.'
'If you get a chance, see Anna and the kids. I think that would mean a lot to them.' He did not know what else he could do. 'I'll give you a letter for them before you leave.'
Hecht told Ghort, 'I liked it better down in Inconje. This place is dark, dank, and smells bad.' He exaggerated. The keep had not been built for comfort. The offending smell was the result of generations of cooking with unfamiliar spices.
They were alone except for a couple of lifeguards. Ghort was sampling local vintages.
Hecht asked, 'What's really on your mind?'
'I don't know if we can take Antieux. An assault would just get a lot of people dead. They aren't getting hungry in there. They aren't getting thirsty. The walls won't come down. Winter is closing in. We're starting to see sickness in the camp. Probably brought in by all the hangers-on we've accumulated. And we're having trouble with Night things. Trouble that looks like it could get bad.'
'We have that here, too. I've got a man, Drago Prosek, who seems to be on track to controlling it.'
'I heard the falcons.'
'That's for the big ones. I've got more falcons being cast, including a test kind that can be fired faster. But that's in Brothe. Which doesn't do us any good here. Where he is doing good, here, is with traps. You should see the things he's caught. A whole menagerie of stuff that should've been extinct since the Old Empire. Stuff no one's ever seen before.'
'But not dangerous?'
Hecht shrugged. 'I don't know. I'm short my adviser on those things.'
'Delari? Yeah. Doneto was useful that way, too. When you figure on moving west?'
'It'll take a week to get organized. Then it depends on the weather. Much more snow and mud, I may just sit down here and keep warm. May just wait to see what happens in Brothe.' If Sublime went, would all his lunatic drive to rid the Chaldarean world of heresy and Unbelievers go with him?
Should Sublime's successor be indifferent to goals set by the present Patriarch, what would become of the Captain-General and his army?
'My guys aren't going to like winter… Oh! This is awful!' Ghort shoved an earthenware bottle away.
'Have you been getting ready?' Pinkus Ghort, Hecht suspected, had let things slide on the assumption that long-term thinking was a waste of time for a soldier.
'Probably not enough,' Ghort confessed. 'Sedlakova, more than me.'
'Then you know what you need to do.'
'Winter is coming. We don't have a lot of stores. Count Raymone cleared the countryside.'
'You're on a river, Pinkus. And there's a road to Sheavenalle. I have no trouble supplying my people.' That Ghort was less than fully prepared was no surprise. He was not a born manager. Which was why Clej Sedlakova was in charge at Antieux. Sedlakova recognized his own weaknesses and chose under-officers to deal with them. 'Is Sedlakova having trouble? Are you managing things separately?'
'I've got to, Pipe. Even working for pay, I'm City Regiment, not Patriarchal.'
'Point. But the fact remains. You need to do the scut work. Or find yourself a Titus who can.'
Admonished, Ghort nodded. Understanding the message behind the message. Friendship could not trump the welfare of the soldiers. Not with Piper Hecht. Who stared pointedly at the wine in front of his friend.
He had reason to believe that Pinkus spent too much time sampling the vintages at Antieux. Time better spent preparing for winter.
Ghort asked, 'What do we do if Sublime does die?'
'We may have to look for work. If Joceran Cuito succeeds.'
'The Fiducian? Why him?'
'I don't know. I've heard he's the front-runner. Backed by King Peter.'
Madouc, the lifeguard captain, entered. 'Hagan Brokke has arrived, Captain-General. You asked to be informed.'
'Thanks. I'll see him as soon as he feels up to it.'
'He isn't in good shape. He may need time with the healing brothers.'
'Then I can go to him.' He shifted to Ghort. 'Any chance you'll take Farfog with you when you head
