Benedocto were sworn enemies of the Bruglioni. This decade. The Madisetti had marched shoulder to shoulder with the Benedocto for a generation.
The Captain-General was immune to most of the feuding. He was not supposed to be part of city politics, only Church politics. Though the former became the latter at every Patriarchal election.
He turned his back on Donel Madisetti. He addressed details of the ambush to Principate Bronte Doneto, the Patriarch's cousin. And one of Sublime's few friends.
Doneto asked, 'Why would these men want to kill you?'
Hecht shrugged. 'That will become more clear once, we know who they are.'
Doneto's gaze shifted to Pinkus Ghort. Ghort said, 'I don't have any ideas.'
'You'll have to answer for the men who led you into the ambush.' Meaning that, while Ghort was beholden to Bronte Doneto already, he was about to be pushed in a whole lot deeper.
'We're on that already, Your Grace. They'll be brought back. I'll see that they talk.' Ghort had sent for his man Bo Biogna. Biogna should be headed north before nightfall.
Hecht said, 'I understand there's a problem in Clearenza.'
Doneto replied, 'I doubt there's a connection.'
'I doubt it myself. There'd be no state interest at this point. Would there?'
'Just so. Donel. For Aaron's sake, stop whining. You're a grown man.' He tossed that at the Madisetti Principate. To Hecht, he said, 'That bolt would have been better spent sped at another target.'
Donel Madisetti shut up. Appalled. He did not expect to be chastised by an ally.
With Principate Delari absent and Principate Hugo Mongoz lapsed into a drooling nap, Principate Doneto took charge. Though he was not the eldest.
Doneto was the sort who wanted to be in charge.
Most of the time he was not unpleasant about it.
Doneto said, 'I sent Colonel Ghort to get you at the same time I alerted the crisis committee. They arrived first because they didn't have to go out into the weather or fight anyone to get here.' Doneto disdained most of the Princes of the Church. The world might be terrified of the Collegium and its supposed wizards, but Bronte Doneto knew most of his colleagues were incompetents appointed via nepotism or bribe.
There were powerful sorcerers amongst the brethren of the Collegium, however. Who was, and who was not, was a puzzle that interested outsiders constantly strove to solve. While the Principates strove to stay masked.
Even Sublime, who had come out of the Collegium but whose qualifications mainly included family connections and being stone deaf and blind to the Instrumentalities of the Night, was kept in the dark.
Doneto said, 'My cousin is worried about Clearenza because he worries about everything. Too much. For him it's all personal. And an insult to God and all the Holy Founders. All blasphemy, heresy, or something.'
Hecht had worked for Principate Doneto for a year. Doneto liked to think that Hecht worked' for him still. Undercover. The Bruglioni and Arniena families, likewise, thought they had a claim on the Captain-General's loyalty incause he had worked for them, too. Hecht felt he owed them nothing. He did not say so. Their silent patronage was useful.
He asked, 'Is there some military cause for alarm? Or am I just here because His Holiness is in a snit?' He needed to show a little respect here. These men had known Honario Benedocto since childhood.
Doneto nodded. 'There is. The Grail Emperor is probably behind fon Dreasser's defection. With an eye to extending his influence into the Aco floodplain.'
'Is that more of a problem now than the last time fon Dreasser switched allegiances?'
For a moment the Patriarch's cousin seemed unwilling to share secrets. Then he shrugged. 'This puts another Imperial stronghold at our backs.'
'So. His Holiness still wants to plunder the Connec.'
The Empire had neutralized a parade of Patriarchs by forcing them to concentrate on protecting the Patriarchal States. The spate of cooperation during the Calziran Crusade was an anomaly. That truce lasted only till the last Praman kingdom on the Firaldian peninsula fell.
'I'm afraid so.'
'Not good, Principate.' Clearenza was ideally sited for interdicting traffic on both the central north-south military road and the east-west highway skirting the foothills of the Jago Mountains and the Ownvidian Knot. Nor would it be a long ride to interfere with barge traffic on the Aco River, or traffic on the eastern military road, which swung inland to cross the most downriver bridge spanning the Aco. 'Especially if Clearenza's neighbors harbor grievances of their own.'
Principate Doneto appeared slightly embarrassed. Principate Madisetti sneered.
Hecht asked, 'His Holiness owes them money, too?'
'
'I don't want to seem defeatist. But if His Holiness won't pay his debts, yet keeps on spending, how can he not expect difficulties? Won't he listen to Your Graces?'
'No,' Donel Madisetti admitted. 'Voting for that man may have been the biggest mistake I ever made.'
Interesting. This was the sort of news Gordimer the Lion hoped to glean when he sent his best captain over here. Though he meant to distance a potential threat as well.
Captain Else Tage had been too popular with the Sha-lug.
Principate Doneto grumbled, 'Sometimes I wish Honario wasn't family. But he does have a flair for intrigue. He has something going in the Connec. He says it will take care of his debts.' Doneto did not sound convinced. 'And Lothar Ege's obstruction…' He stopped. Secrets escaped even the deepest heart of the Chiaro Palace.
Hecht wished Principate Delari had not gone down to question the prisoners.
Principate Delari had a taste for boys. His current favorite was Armand. Armand was an agent of Ferris Renfrow. And of Dreanger. Gordimer had presented the boy to Renfrow during one of the Imperial spymaster's visits to al-Qarn. Armand's real name was Osa Stile. He had been trained and rendered permanently youthful by er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen.
The old man shared everything with his lover. Who, most observers assumed, was too self-absorbed and scatterbrained to care the slightest about things political, religious, or military. Armand just wanted to be spoiled with sweet scents, rich foods, and pretty clothes.
Piper Hecht saw the boy seldom and was glad of it. What had been done to Osa Stile was too terrible. The slavery of the Sha-lug should not be that cruel.
Osa gave every indication of enjoying his life.
Er-Rashal had known what he was doing when he chose the boy.
Principate Delari returned, still angry. 'They knew nothing. Of course. They were hirelings. Two belonged to the City Regiment, Colonel Ghort. The deathmage and his brother were outsiders.'
Pinkus Ghort showed color in throat and cheeks, anger and embarrassment alike. 'Who paid them? Who recruited them? Would the two who got away know anything more?'
'Unlikely,' Delari said. 'But we do know where they're headed, now. The Knight of Wands. An inn in a town named Alicea. The entire team was supposed to reassemble there.'
Hecht and Ghort produced skeptical scowls. Both knew Alicea. They had first met not far from Alicea. Hecht said, 'The West Way runs through the town. Crossing the trace running east from Sonsa. Pinkus, if you sent Bo by sea he could be there waiting for them.'
'I changed my mind. They know Bo. They'd recognize anybody I trust.'
'You have to send somebody who'll recognize them.'
'I don't know. I'm thinking some of your Deve pals might be the answer.'
Grumbling from Donel Madisetti reminded them that I hey were not brainstorming in their quarters.
Hecht's too-friendly association with the Devedian community did cause stress with some Collegium members. 'Won't work. They're only trying to stay out of the way of a crusade themselves.' Which was true, well known, and no doubt would, someday, constitute sufficient excuse itself for a Patriarch with Sublime's twist of mind to go after them.
Devedians, and their less numerous and far stranger religious ancestors the Dainshaukin, were loathed by Episcopal Chaldareans. The more because western society could not function without them. Deves provided an inordinate proportion of the lettered and artisan classes. They kept the records and wrote the letters, made the paper those were written on, and manufactured the pens that did the writing. Not all, of course, but better than
