'Why am I tied down?'
'So you can't hurt yourself. They'll cut you loose after I leave.'
'What happened?'
'You found Seska. Then Seska found you.'
'And?'
'You survived. Seska didn't. It might have done if everything hadn't been in place ahead of time.'
'Everything? In place?'
'You with the proper amulet. You with the ring. You with the falcons behind you. And me behind the falcons. You need to leave this place, now. The Night is in chaos at the moment. But it does know where the Endless was before it was ended.'
'It wasn't really the Endless, though. Was it? Wasn't Rudenes Schneidel building himself an imitation Seska?'
'It was Seska, Piper.
The old man had grown ferociously excited. 'You definitely filled the role of Godslayer this time. You've won the attention of all the Instrumentalities of the Night, now. The human race is lucky that the wells of power have weakened so much.'
Hecht had trouble following the old man. His mind had not yet fully cleared.
And his amulet had begun to itch. And more. 'Something is coming.'
'I feel it. I'll deal with it.'
Time resumed as Hecht sank back down. He fell asleep vaguely aware that Madouc and Titus had begun a troubled
analysis of why such a sudden chill had developed inside the boss's shelter.
The Captain-General had no strength in his legs. He was on crutches. The healing brothers assured him he would recover. He needed to be patient.
Patience was not a virtue he had had to observe much since Sublime V loosed him on the End of Connec.
Jokai Svlada and some Special Office henchmen finished scourging Arn Bedu. Piper Hecht had come to the great hall there to witness the last Special Office purification ritual. That included Just Plain Joe and a big-ass sledgehammer. Drago Prosek placed an egg-shaped object the size of a toddler's head on an anvil captured with the fortress. The biggest man in the army swung his hammer. The shimmering egg shattered into a million fragments, most as fine as talc. Larger fragments returned to the anvil for further attention.
A voice in Hecht's ear whispered, 'Once this dust washes down into the Mother Sea, there'll be no chance ever of pulling Seska together again.' Which Hecht took to mean that there was no way to be rid of any Instrumentality eternally. That the Godslayer had not, really, slain the Endless. Not the way he left mortal men forever slain.
He murmured, 'Seska is gone. Negated. The power it used to suck up is now available to Instrumentalities as yet undefeated.'
'Clever boy.'
Jokai Svlada and friends swept up dust, mixing it with acids or corrosives.
These Witchfinders definitely meant to end the rule of the Night.
Ceremonies done, Hecht commenced the long descent to the coast. On crutches, with lifeguards round about threatening to drive him crazy with their fussing. Wishing he had had more opportunities to talk to Nassim, Az, or Bone. But those men had gone as soon as they got hold of Rudenes Schneidel.
'If wishes were sheep.'
'What?' Redfearn Bechter asked.
'Condemning myself for wasting time on wishful thinking. I know better.'
'I see.' Clearly meaning he had no idea.
The nearest usable port was Hotal Ans, a fishing town of fewer than four hundred souls. Hotal Ans meant something special in one of the old languages once used on Artecipea but nobody remembered what, now.
Piper Hecht arrived minutes after a ship from Sheavenalle tied up at the pier, bringing supplies and, more importantly, news.
A courier brought plenty of that and took the critical stuff directly to… Titus Consent. Who, minutes later, told his Captain-General, 'Pacificus Sublime is dead. Of apoplexy, supposedly. He collapsed during a furious argument with members of the Collegium about his favoritism toward Peter of Navaya. He went red in the face, collapsed, and was gone before anyone with a healing talent could help. There were dozens of witnesses.'
Buhle Smolens observed, 'Sounds like God didn't approve the results of the last election.' Invoking a timeless joke ascribing the final, definitive vote in any Patriarchal election to the Deity Himself.
Hecht asked, 'What's our financial situation?'
Consent said, 'There isn't a lot left in the war chest.'
'Enough to get us off this island?'
'Some of us. What are you thinking?'
'That I'd like to have me and a convincing number of our hardest veterans in Brothe in time to monitor this new election.' Having spoken, Hecht ground his teeth. Anticipating unfriendly seas during any crossing to Firaldia.
Miraculous staff work made it possible for the Captain-General and a thousand picked men, with all the firepowder weaponry of the Patriarchal army, to land in a suburb of Brothe just below the most downriver of the chains across the Teragi. A vast sympathy for a successful Brothen general made that possible. Titus Consent acquired a crucial bit of information before anything inexcusable took place.
'Principate Mongoz was elected Patriarch on the second ballot. My guess is, the main business of the Collegium right now is trying to decide who steps in after Hugo Mongoz.'
Hecht asked, 'How much did Peter of Navaya spend to get Joceran Cuito elected? He sure didn't get value for his money, did he?'
'He didn't? Think. Where does Peter stand today?'
Hecht could not refute the vast good fortune the Direcian King had enjoyed of late.
There was no resistance to the return of the Captain-General and his troops. Rather, the opposite. Crowds came out to cheer as they marched toward the heart of the Mother City. It could have been a triumphal procession in olden times.
'What is this?' Hecht asked his staffers, most of whom had accompanied him. 'It isn't like we did anything for them. They won't benefit.' Buhle Smolens and Jokai Svlada were the main left behinds. Hecht felt guilty about having left Smolens. His number two had family he wanted to see, also.
Clej Sedlakova said, 'They're just thrilled to be associated with victories, boss. You had big successes in the Connec, then you wrapped the war in Artecipea practically overnight.'
'Five months is overnight?'
'Compared to what the Patriarch counted on, sure.'
On some thoroughfares the City Regiment held back the crowds. Pinkus Ghort's men did not seem pleased to have the Patriarchals home.
Hagan Brokke observed, 'We've started losing men, boss.' And that was true. A few were falling out when they spied families unseen since their departure for the Connec.
'Can't blame them. It's what I want to do. It's damn well what I plan to do before nightfall, too.' But first he meant to present the troops in the Closed Ground. To force the new administration to show him its attitude toward its soldiers. 'As long as a few hundred stick we'll be fine.' The problems would all be on the Church's side until the new Patriarch came to an accommodation. The troops would not tolerate the machinations of another Pacificus Sublime. They would not let that happen under this regime.
Hecht would not be able to control them. Nor would he try to stay their righteous anger if it was baited.
Brothe had laws against garrisoning Patriarchal troops inside the city wall. Hecht intended to test those, though not to the point of conflict.
The majority of the men stuck, knowing their captains were as eager as they to see their families. They
