Lord of the Silent Kingdom

loud of kuf smoke, confused. Ghort said, 'Just a social visit, guys. We smelled the pipe. Hoped you'd share.'

Pella slid in behind Hecht, armed with a piece of kindling he considered a worthy truncheon.

Ghort continued. 'My name is Pinkus Ghort. My friend is Piper Hecht. The short guy is a famous literary character. You know who we are, now. We'll talk while we're passing the pipe.'

The trio did recognize at least one of the names.

Pella looked at them, back and forth. He did not know those names but was pleased to hear what might be real ones.

Ghort warned, 'Don't be that way. You aren't killers. We're professionals. You pull a knife, you get hurt.'

One man did not listen.

Ghort moved so fast he startled Hecht as much as the man he disarmed. 'So, what we're going to do here is, we're going to share a pipe and talk about assassinations.'

Ghort collected the fallen knife. 'Pipe? Want to throw anything in here?'

'You're doing fine. But let's not dawdle.'

Ghort flipped the knife. It stuck in the throat of the man farthest from him. 'You,' he told the next farthest. 'Take care of him. He'll live if you pay attention. Unless you all want to be stubborn. Then none of you will. And you'll ruin a lot of good oats before you stink enough for them to dig you out.'

'Sit,' Hecht told the man Ghort had disarmed. 'Talk to us. Who are you?'

After a brief consultation with his courage, the man said, 'We're priests. Lay brothers, actually.'

'Priests don't murder people.'

'They do it all the time, Pipe. They just dress it up in mumbo jumbo. Do go on. This could get fascinating. Our own Church is trying to stab us in the back.'

'Not the Church. Not your Church. Not the Usurper.'

'She-it! Viscesment! Immaculate?'

Hecht found that hard to swallow. It was a given that the Anti-Patriarch was weak and ineffectual, little more than a joke. The consensus was that Immaculate II would drink himself to death and the dual Patriarchy would fade into history with him. Immaculate's line, though it had sound legal footing, would end.

'That will take some explaining,' Hecht said.

'Are you really the Captain-General?'

'Yes. Why?'

'The Advisory concluded that you are the most dangerous weapon the Usurper has in his arsenal. If you're removed Sublime will never pull together forces able to impose his will outside his own territories. Especially once the Emperor dies.'

The Empire was expected to weaken and become chaotic when Lothar died. His sister Katrin would succeed. And she would have to deal with scores of Electors and lesser nobility who would chafe under the rule of a woman.

'Explains the incompetence of the whole thing,' Ghort muttered. 'The Anti-Patriarch. Who'd of thought he even had a hair, let alone a complete set of balls?'

'Supposing anyone is telling the truth,' Hecht observed. 'I can think of several men who have the nerve, supposing there's any real point to killing me.' There must be. Attempts had been made regularly.

He watched the other two pray over the wounded man. He pushed Pella back out into the darkness. 'Take care of Vali. You don't want these men to know you're with us, anyway. They're not nice people.'

The fight had gone out of the three, though. Ghort asked, 'What now, Pipe? I didn't expect no priests from Viscesment.'

'Nor did I.' Where to? Race the news from the Connec to Brothe with no hope of beating it?

'We didn't give this enough thought before we hared off on an adventure.'

A young man's game,' Ghort philosophized. 'A game for men who don't got nothing to lose.'

'Yes. Gentlemen. Priests. This is an important question. The fools you just paid. What did you send them into?'

'They're going to run into robbers. If they don't fight, all that will happen is, they'll lose the money.'

'It isn't supposed to turn lethal?'

The priest acted offended. 'We don't murder people… All right. Yes. There's no need to harm them. They'll disappear into Grolsach's population. They don't know anything, really. But we can't afford to let them keep the money. It'd ruin Immaculate's treasury.'

Meaning the conspirators were never meant to be paid. 'Why?'

'Because we have almost no income anymore. The Usurper's…'

'I mean, why kill me?'

'I told you. You're the only…'

'Not true.' There was no sense whatsoever in that claim. He was not that important. He was not irreplaceable. Ghort could do what he did.

Ghort said, 'He believes it, Pipe. Somebody sold him.'

Hecht growled. 'Stupid.'

'Can't fix stupid. Hey, Pipe! You know you've made it big when people you don't even know think they got to kill you.'

'Jealous?'

'Not quite. Brother, I don't need nobody wanting to cut my throat. Unless maybe a jealous husband. Sometime next century.'

'You say that only because your faith is weak,' one of the priests said.

'Weak ain't the word, godshouter. I been around damn near forty years. I ain't yet run into an Instrumentality what's out to improve my life.'

Hecht interrupted. 'No religious debates. It's the middle of the night. I'm tired. I'm crabby. This is what's going to happen. You're going back to Viscesment. With a message. Anyone tries this again, I take it personal. The men I'll send won't be incompetents like Sublime's. There won't be any warning ahead of time from the Empire's spies.' Osa Stile's espionage had thwarted an attempt on Immaculate II by Sublime's agents.

Ghort eased past the wounded man. He moved a few sacks of oats, came up with a leather money bag that was almost empty. 'This is sad. It looks like they did give it all to Aubero and Ogier.'

Hecht said, 'We'll take their horses, then. You don't mind walking in order to stay alive.'

One priest responded with a sullen nod.

Ghort offered battlefield medical advice for the care of the injured man. 'Keep the wound clean. He'll be fine if it don't get infected. Find a healing witch. Have her make a poultice.'

'Let's call it a night, Pinkus.'

'What? You don't want to find out who handed these guys the job in the first place? You guys didn't make this up yourselves, did you? Neither did your hero, Immaculate. You set up for something like this, you do a lot of spying and recruiting and training and rehearsing. You guys are just paymasters. Maybe with different sets of instructions, depending on what happened in Brothe. Right?'

Both uninjured men grew more frightened.

'You see?' Ghort said. 'You need to ask the right questions. Who sent you guys?'

A short course of vigorous, nonphysical interrogation produced a name. Rudenes Schneidel.

Rudenes Schneidel had managed everything. Planning. Personnel. Scouting the target. Paying bribes. Recruiting the paymasters, who were otherwise unemployed lay brothers. Offered easy money, in hard times, they had no problem signing on.

Ghort asked, 'Rudenes Schneidel? That somebody from back home with a big-ass grudge, Pipe? You ruin his sister?'

'Never heard of him before.'

'Sounds like it comes from those parts, though.'

It does. I admit it. Any of you deal with Schneidel directly?'

The spokesman shook his head. Feeling bad for talking too much. 'He used an interlocutor.'

'Can you describe him?'

Of course not. Not well. The spokesman volunteered, 'I asked the go-between about Schneidel. He said he