Hecht consulted Drago Prosek often. Just three falcons remained functional. He wanted them instantly available for any confrontation with a major Instrumentality. He was sure something would come from the deeps to attack the fleet. There were old thalassic Instrumentalities uglier than any revenants stirring ashore.
A little voice told him he was wasting his worry. This enemy had no traffic with gods of the sea, nor with any lesser Night thing living on or under the water. Hecht refused to be reassured.
The first day the fleet followed the Connecten coast eastward, barely making headway. It was ninety miles from Sheavenalle to the mouth of the Dechear River. The fleet reached that around noon the second day. It hugged the coast thirty miles more, then turned directly south. The sailors expected to spy Artecipea before sundown the third day. Winds permitting. They would then follow Artecipea's western coast to the landing site.
Piper Hecht experienced it as a far longer journey ihan the actuality. The first day was intense, the second more relaxed. There was nothing to do but talk. He pulled rank and forced himself on the ship's master. He wanted charts showing the land he had to invade.
Horatius Andrade was cooperative. So much so that Hecht became suspicious. But he trusted almost no one lately, Consent reminded him.
The charts were reliable, Andrade insisted, but concentrated on the waters off Artecipea, noting only those land features useful as navigational aids. Hecht asked, 'Have you been this way before? Have you seen these coasts?'
'A long time ago. On another ship. It's never been a friendly coast.'
'You know Homre?'
'Only by repute. It's a glorified fishing village at the mouth of the Sarlea River. I haven't been past in over twenty years. Sea levels have dropped. But even then we couldn't have brought any of these ships into that harbor.'
'Are there beaches we can use?'
'Not there. Farther south. Do I know you? Your voice sounds familiar. Have you been aboard
'No. But I did sneak through Sonsa on a secret mission last year. Caused a big stir around a sporting house with galleons in the name.'
'Maybe. Strange. I remember voices better than faces.'
'I used to not have the beard and wore my hair in the Brotherhood style. Thanks for your help. I don't think we'll land at Homre.'
Clej Sedlakova joined Hecht late the second afternoon, after what little information anyone had about Artecipea had been talked to death. 'Sir, I don't know how, why, when, where, any of those damn things, but when I dipped into my locker to dig out something for supper, I found these under my stuff. Sergeant Bechter says he thinks we have a guardian Instrumentality.'
'An interesting find, Colonel. An interesting find indeed. And so conveniently timed.'
'Maybe Bechter is right. Maybe not all the Instrumentalities are our enemies.'
'That occurred to me, too. Let's hope it's true.' Sedlakova had discovered copies of several ancient maps. The commentary on them was in Old Brothen. Not the Church version, either. They showed Artecipea as two islands. In modern times an isthmus joined them. Titus Consent said, 'Sea levels have really dropped since classical times. Which means the changes in the world have been going on for a long time.'
The Unknowns had been following the process for centuries.
There were too many secret things going on. And too many perfectly banal, openmouthed evils driven by ambition or fanaticism distracting everyone from the creeping apocalypse.
Hecht saw no man in brown that day. Februaren must have polished his turn sideways trick. Neither Jokai Svlada nor Redfearn Bechter was particularly uneasy, either, so it might be that the old man was no longer aboard.
The Ninth Unknown had skills more frightening than those boasted by er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen. And the man was his ancestor? How deep did this madness run? What had he stumbled into?
'Who are you talking to?' Consent asked.
'Huh?'
'You're muttering. You do that a lot these days. How come?'
Hecht told the truth. 'Trying to get advice from my grandfather's grandfather.' Titus would not believe him.
'All right. That might be useful.'
'Tell the captain I want to talk. We're definitely going on down the coast.' Would the Direcian Principate accept that? How would he get word to the other ships?
The sailors were more clever than Hecht expected. They used signals and fast boats to communicate between ships. They had done this before.
The Principate did not object. He asked Hecht to explain his thinking. The Captain-General did so. Ships forced to lighter cargo ashore needed beaches more congenial than the dangerous, rocky coast around Homre, where sea levels had dropped a dozen feet since Andrade's most recent charts had been drawn. The boats would be too easily broken up in the pounding surf.
Landfall came the third day, just after noon. Soon pillars of smoke arose inland. Hecht said, 'They were watching for us. So much for surprising them.'
Brother Jokai observed, 'Surprise shouldn't be necessary. There can't be two hundred thousand people on all Artecipea. A lot live in the cities and are good Brothen Episcopals.'
'Or Deves, or Pramans, or Dainshaus, from what I hear. But I also hear that Rudenes Schneidel has found a lot of followers back in the mountains.'
Another reason Hecht had moved the landing. The northern lobe of Artecipea featured an almost complete circle of mountains forming a vast natural fortress. Someone seemed to have thought he should fight through that and dispose of the Unbelievers there. Hecht saw no point. The soul and center of the problem lay inside Arn Bedu, in the western mountains of the larger southern lobe.
'Why are they fighting?' Hecht asked. 'Any of them?'
'To restore Seska,' the Witchfinder said, shuddering. 'To resurrect one of the darkest, oldest Instrumentalities.'
'I get that. But, why? The pagans in the mountains, maybe they've fallen under the spell of a glib talker. But what's in it for Rudenes Schneidel? What is he promising them? What does he get for opening the way?'
Jokai cocked his head, considered the coast. 'Immortality? Power? The things that turn up in all the stories about wicked sorcerers? Ascension? That sort of went out of fashion after Chaldareanism and al-Prama began promising an eternal afterlife.'
'I have no idea what you're talking about.'
'In ancient times a clever, powerful man, unencumbered by any concern for his fellows, could ascend to Instrumentality status. Could become a god. Which explains those old Dreangerean gods with the heads of animals and bodies of men. They started out as real priests who elevated themselves by preying on the rest of Dreanger. Facilitating their own ascension through alliances with older Instrumentalities. Seska was a particular favorite.'
'Is that what Rudenes Schneidel is up to?'
'I think so. The Special Office thinks so. We've had no luck convincing anyone else. This expedition isn't about that. This is Pacificus Sublime paying off King Peter for making him Patriarch. Peter wants Artecipea for its location and resources. And because it will make him lord of more lands than any Chaldarean but the two emperors.'
'Things to think about.'
The fleet raised Homre late in the afternoon. Too late to land. The shoreline was inhospitable. The bottom was muddy and not far down. The vessels closed up and anchored. The charts showed the mouth of a small river, the Sarlea, which was not obvious to the eye. There was none of the brown outflow common at the mouths of major rivers.
Brother Jokai went ashore to find his Brotherhood compatriots. He returned with six lean, hard men within hours. Only one was injured.
Jokai said, 'You're right to move the landing site. There are thousands of pagans in the hills up there. They
