with Sublime's Captain-General. His disdain for the Patriarchate was palpable.
Piper Hecht sat under a canvas awning. It was a miserable winter day. Another in a parade of cold, gloomy, drizzly days. He and Redfearn Bechter shivered and stared at Clearenza. The city was a gigantic gray boar shape behind the misty rainfall.
Bechter said, 'We could occupy the estate houses south of town.'
'Make it happen. I miscalculated. I thought the hardship of living under canvas would make the men bond. It's been more miserable than I expected.'
'I like an officer who's flexible,' Bechter said. 'It would've taken Drocker longer to see the light.' He went on to opine, 'Bonded men aren't much use if they're dying of pneumonia.'
Hecht grunted. That was an iron truth of warfare. Likely, more lives would be lost to disease than to any enemy effort. Thus had it been during the Calziran Crusade. Most conflicts operated at a low level of violence. The last big western battle had taken place at Themes, eight years ago.
Though Sergeant Bechter was the Captain-General's aide, he had acquired his own assistant, Drago Prosek. The youngster hailed from Creveldia, a province of the Eastern Empire that more closely resembled Firaldia in religion and culture. Prosek was an apprentice member of the Brotherhood of War. For generations most Brotherhood recruits had come from Episcopal Chaldarean enclaves inside the Eastern Empire.
Though never treated as badly as Devedians and Dainshaus, Episcopals were a persecuted minority.
Prosek appeared. 'Permission to approach, Sergeant.'
Bechter waved him closer. Drago leaned down,'s swiftly and softly. Piper Hecht did not catch what he said. Prosek whispered for nearly a minute. Bechter nodded occasionally. Drago finished, stepped away. He did not volunteer to abandon the shelter of the awning.
Bechter said, 'A courier just came from the Castella. He brought the usual sack-and some news. There's been rioting in Brothe. About food shortages and inadequate shelter. Somebody is provoking them. And the first chest of money from Arnhand has arrived.'
Would that render the action against Clearenza obsolete? Sublime could buy back Duke Germa's love.
Drago Prosek brought the courier. He presented the document bag to the Captain-General. Verbally, he related more news. 'Nobody knows how much Anne pledged but it looks like Sublime will retire all his debts. Even those left over from his election. With money enough extra to finance new mischief.'
Not good, Hecht thought. Sublime could start lining up a whole new clutch of creditors. Getting ready to make more people die.
'Sergeant, I fear we'll be visiting the Connec again, before long.'
'Sir, I wish I could say you're wrong. And I'm not looking forward to it. Our next visit isn't going to be nearly as sweet as the last one.'
'It was sweet last time?'
'It should've been. And would've been. If the black side of the Night hadn't taken hold of Bishop Serifs.'
'The man did do everything he could to make people hate him.'
'The guys in there now are probably even worse.'
'No doubt. Where's Sedlakova? I haven't seen him all morning. I need to know if we can make those hounds bark.' He meant the cannons. Devedian artisans had cast and crafted them, based on a design he recalled from the east. The Sha-lug falcon was supposed to be a secret weapon. The Deves of Firaldia, though, had turned out to know more about firepowder weapons than ever he had, and understood them better.
Bechter said, 'He's having trouble keeping his firepowder dry enough to go bang.'
True. Sedlakova would handle that by baking the powder at a low heat, carefully keeping it away from any flame.
Hecht opened the courier packet. 'Messenger. You see any of the rioting yourself?'
'No, sir. The Castella did go on alert. So did the Patriarchal Guard. But the City Regiment handled it.'
'And they still won't keep Pinkus on,' Hecht muttered. The Five Families wanted to shed the costs of the City Regiment, finding it not worth the price if they could not use it against one another. 'Go ahead,' he told the courier. 'I'm listening.' He read while the man talked.
Titus Consent was right about his former co-religionists. They remained cooperative.
Consent had joined the expedition. He was inside Clearenza now. No siege had been set. Hecht was mounting a demonstration meant to intimidate Duke Germa. If fon Dreasser remained stubborn, and his Imperial friends lent no more support than they had to this point, he would summon additional troops and lay a real siege.
The other side knew the plan as well as he did.
Word of Sublime's financial windfall would be spreading. The troops would be more cooperative.
Hecht's natural cynicism made him wonder if Sublime hadn't planted the story.
How could Sublime be thwarted if the Anne of Menand story was true?
How would that much specie be moved from Salpeno to Brothe? Any number of people might be tempted to interfere. Grolsach, in particular, would be dangerous. Those people were hungry enough to dare holding up the Church itself.
A roll of thunder off toward Clearenza got his attention. Sergeant Bechter, Drago Prosek, and the courier started, suddenly frightened.
They had not heard the hounds bark before.
Hecht said, 'I hope that stone comes down somewhere that will impress the Duke.' He had no real hope, though. The hounds threw a stone that weighed about ten pounds. That would not do the damage caused by traditional stone-casters. But the hounds were impressively loud and smoky and could hurl their missiles a lot farther.
'Unless we have a spot of luck they'll put holes in a few roofs and let in the drizzle,' Bechter said.
'Tell you the truth, I'd as soon go home and get out of the weather.'
'Sir, if I had a woman like yours I wouldn't ever have left.'
'I'll mention your appreciation, Sergeant. I'm sure she'll agree.'
Bechter reddened.
'And here's a note from the boss himself. Wants us to be quick and wrap this up on account of he's got other work for us. Are you sneering at our master, Sergeant?'
'Not me, sir. He's the Infallible Voice of God.'
Drago Prosek was appalled. Hecht said, 'Prosek, go check out the houses south of the city. Find us a place. Duke Germa's would be good, if we fit. You. Courier. There's a mess tent about thirty yards back there. Go get warmed up. Get some sleep. I won't have anything for you to take back till tomorrow.'
After a moment, Bechter asked, 'Why did you get rid of them?'
'You were giving them apoplexy. They both really believe the Patriarch is the Living Voice of God.'
'They'll get older. What else?'
Bechter was getting to know him. 'Titus Consent is headed this way. He shouldn't be back this soon.'
There was another boom. Different. Louder. Less directed. Hecht sighed. 'I hope they were behind something before they matched that fuse. Because that sounded like it blew up.' Which had been a big problem during the development of the weapons in Dreanger.
Titus Consent slipped in through the closed back of the tent, looking for eavesdroppers hiding in corners that were not there.
'You found out something special?' Hecht asked. 'I didn't expect you for a few more days.'
'Plans have to adapt to circumstance.'
'Good news? Or bad?'
'Depends on what you want to do and who you are.'
'You going to play games with me?'
'No. I came back because I thought we could… Shit!'
'Language, young man. Language.'
Consent grinned, showing bright, perfect teeth. 'What was that?'
'One of the hounds barking. I didn't think you'd be surprised.' A second boom followed a moment later. Which meant that there had not been a blowup, after all. Hecht told Bechter, 'Go check that out. Find out what that odd bang was before.'
