Hecht left the tower. He had no desire to watch the slaughter.
More disaster awaited the pagans if they chose to flee to southern Artecipea. More Patriarchals awaited them where the land narrowed into that tiny, low isthmus.
'A few got away,' Clej Sedlakova said. He had gotten into the fight briefly, with the light cavalry, tied into a saddle. 'They always do.'
'Let's hope we took the fight out of them for this lifetime.' The men had counted near five thousand dead. They were still finding bodies.
The chieftain of Porto was aghast at the magnitude. 'It's going to be a hard winter in the mountains.'
'It'll be a hard rest of their lives with so many hands not there to do the work anymore,' Hecht said. 'It's bound to be a better world once we get this Schneidel beast. I'm going to walk through the camp and talk to the men.'
A lifeguard said, 'That wouldn't be wise, sir. If there's a counterattack, there'd be no better time than tonight, when the men are worn out. You should stay here, with the falcons around you.' He was worried about the Night.
'I'm going walking through the camp.' He needed to burn off nervous energy.
'As you wish, sir.' With great unhappiness.
'Yes.'
Hecht visited the hospital tents first. The army's few surgeons were hard at work. So were any veterans who could manage minor field surgery. Hecht found everyone cheerful. Some of the wounded seemed grateful as puppies that he had come to visit.
'What are these men doing here?' He meant men from Porto who were being treated, but by gesture expanded the question to include a dozen pagan captives. Why waste resources on men who had been trying to kill him only hours before?
'The locals got hurt helping hunt down fugitives. The pagans are supposedly men of standing. They say they might be willing to change sides.'
Hecht's inclination was to have them killed. But if northern Artecipea could be pacified… That would be useful. 'Good for now. If they show willing, and aren't lying, we'll work something out. Has anyone seen the Principate? I can't find him.'
'The Direcian?' Redfearn Bechter asked.
'Preferably. If we have another one underfoot, he'd do.'
'Principate de Herve left with the fleet.'
'He did, did he?'
'I assumed you knew.'
'And the Witchfinder? Svlada? What about him?'
'Here, Captain-General,' Svlada said from the far side of the tent. 'Sewing men back together.'
'Good. Tell me. Why did de Herve run away?'
'I don't know. Maybe he thought his work was done.'
That matched Hecht's suspicions.
Minutes later he reached the area where the animals were tended. He heard a familiar voice. 'Bo? That you?'
Biogna jumped as though ambushed by a ghost. 'Oh! Sir.' He looked at the bodyguards. 'You startled me.'
'What're you doing out here?'
'Helping Joe. This's when he needs a friend. It breaks him up when the animals get hurt.'
'It bothers me, too.' Beyond Bo Biogna's small fire Hecht saw Pig Iron, Just Plain Joe's signature mule. Strictly speaking, Joe had broken the rules by bringing the mule to Artecipea. Pig Iron did no work.
'Pipe.' Just Plain Joe came into the light. He carried a big copper bowl full of surgical instruments and bloody water.
'Joe. How bad was it?'
'I'm only glad you're not a cavalry type. We haven't had to put too many of them down. But even one is cause for tears.'
Hecht felt the sorrow rolling off Just Plain Joe, potent enough to make his own eyes water. He rested a hand on Joe's shoulder while the man cleaned his instruments. Items he had less business having than he did Pig Iron. There would be complaints. The Captain-General would ignore them when they came. 'You keep on, Joe. You're the truest man I've got.' He left the man to his calling.
Nowhere did Hecht find cause for complaint. The work of recovery was under way everywhere.
He climbed his observation tower, considered the moonless night. To seaward the stars shed just enough light to give hints of breakers rolling in. Elsewhere, torches floated through the woods like will-o-the-wisps. A mortal shriek explained that. Chaldareans from Porto were sending their pagan countrymen to their rewards in order to grab loot not worth whatever they called their fractional copper here.
Fires burned in Porto. Were they celebrating?
He stared at the town. Something had come to mind during the fighting, a question he wanted to ask those people, but he could not now, for the life of him, remember what it was.
Another squeal from the woods sapped the last of his energy. Exhaustion hit like a boulder falling. 'All right, men. I'm over it. I can sleep, now.'
One of the falcons barked. Just once. 'Must be a false alarm.'
But one side of his shelter was smoldering when he arrived. Kait Rhuk looked him in the eye and made a dramatic showing of letting a little egg thing clunk into a small iron box. One of a dozen such that Drago Prosek had acquired in Sheavenalle.
Nobody said a word. Everybody looked at Hecht.
'I get the point. Everybody. Good night.'
He refused to let the lifeguards inside.
His dreams were terrible.
Someone shook Hecht's shoulder. 'Wake up, boy.'
Hecht surged up, not quite aware that he was not in the grasp of the thing that had stalked him through his nightmare. He did not rise too high. The Ninth Unknown possessed surprising strength.
'Calm yourself.'
Hecht did so. With an effort. 'I was having a bad dream.'
'Probably not. They know what happened. They're hunting you. They can't find you because of the amulet. And the ring. The thing they sent forgets what it's supposed to do when it gets close.'
'They?'
'Rudenes Schneidel. And the thing he's trying to resurrect. Seska.'
'Through my dreams?'
'They can't get to you in the wakening world, day or night.'
'Then I should stay awake?'
'No. You're safe. I won't be far off. Trust the amulet, the ring, and me. And your lifeguards. You'll be all right. Your suspicions are on the mark, by the way.'
'Which suspicions?'
'About you and your army being sent here mainly to keep you from intervening in Firaldia.'
One candle burned inside the shelter. It was all the light and heat the Captain-General enjoyed. 'I suspected that?'
'Or the like. The Patriarch expects you to be chasing Rudenes Schneidel for years. He doesn't know about me. He doesn't plan to bring you out of Artecipea once you do bring Schneidel down. Though King Peter might salvage you.'
'He would? Why?'
'While we were preoccupied in the Connec, and while Brothe was getting a new Patriarch, al-Halambra gained a new Kaif. Not a Direcian Praman, this time, but an old-fashioned, hard-core Believer from beyond the Gebr al Thar. Something Sabuta Something al-Margrebi. Who's preaching a holy war to recover the lost provinces in
