Clej Sedlakova handled most personnel matters and developed uniform standards for training and equipment for city militias. He had a reputation as a siege engineer, too. He was intent on participating in planned field exercises despite his physical shortcomings.
Sedlakova appeared displeased by Hecht's response.
'It's generous. And I do appreciate the thinking. Seriously. But I'm suddenly buried in people who want to protect me. And ever since I recovered consciousness yesterday people have been telling me they're going to hunt down whoever did it. So add on the Brotherhood… Wait a minute. Wait a minute. You do have other resources, don't you?'
'Sir?' Puzzled.
'A name came up when Colonel Ghort and I chased down the men who ambushed us. Rudenes Schneidel.'
'I've heard it.' And it had meaning, apparently. 'A sorcerer.'
'Schneidel was supposedly associated with Immaculate. Ghort sent people to Viscesment. They couldn't make that connection. And couldn't find Schneidel. He'd gone to Artecipea.'
'Another one from the mystery nest. Like Starkden.'
'Exactly. And Starkden was big on the Brotherhood's list before I ever heard of her.'
'The Special Office's list. The Witchfinders.'
'Maybe Schneidel is on their list, too. Maybe they could tell me something useful about him.'
Sedlakova shrugged. 'I can try to find out. But I may need a Witchfinder finder to manage it. Those people have become damned scarce lately.' He went away, the parts inharmoniously headed the same general direction.
Consent murmured, 'You almost made a mistake, there. You don't want to offend any part of the Brotherhood.'
'I'm learning. I do have to see Principate Delari. Thank you.' He thumped the courier wallet.
Principate Delari had several people who came in to work, seldom more than one at a time. All were retainers of long standing. An ancient answered his knock. Hecht did not know his name. He cooked for the Principate.
The old man said, 'Good evening, sir. I'll announce you to Master Armand.'
'Thank you.' So he was expected. But why bring in the boy?
Osa Stile appeared shortly. 'He's not here right now. He's down in one of his secret places. He shouldn't be long. He said you should wait.'
'He did, did he? How did he know…?'
'It's a logical assumption.'
'I suppose. I'll wait.'
'You hungry?'
'Yes. But don't go to any trouble. I don't need entertaining, either. I brought work.'
'As you will. I have work to do, too.'
Hecht concealed his surprise. He made himself comfortable. The old man brought wine and cakes, cheese and sausage. Always, there was sausage in this part of the world. He ate. And read what Bo Biogna had reported to Titus Consent.
Clever Bo. He had related everything Piper Hecht needed to know using words that Consent could misunderstand. Too bad Titus was clever himself and likely to see through Bo's efforts.
'Piper.'
Startled, Hecht scrambled to his feet. 'Your Grace. I'm sorry. I was reviewing some documents. I fell asleep.'
'Bad night last night? Not much sleep?'
'That's true. That's partly why I'm here.'
'I haven't identified the responsible party but I've eliminated the obvious suspects.'
'The responsible party is an Artecipean sorcerer named Rudenes Schneidel. I have no idea why he wants me dead. He's walking the trail blazed by Starkden and Masant el-Seyhan. I'm out of patience. He shouldn't be trying to kill Anna and the kids. Or my neighbors, just to get me.'
'Calm down.'
'Sorry, Your Grace. Rudenes Schneidel isn't why I'm here. That would be Cloven Februaren.'
Startled, Delari said, 'The Ninth Unknown? What brought that on?'
'First, tell me what happened to him.'
'As far as I know, he's dead. Why?'
'Did you see the body?'
'I didn't. Why?'
'A man keeps turning up wherever there's some excitement. I've seen him half a dozen times. The night of Lieutenant Consent's conversion. In Anna's neighborhood. In the Closed Ground the day the hippodrome came down. Among the spectators watching when we captured the Duke of Clearenza. Redfearn Bechter has seen him more than I have. He's the one who pointed him out. Colonel Ghort has seen him, too. I expect Anna and the kids will have, as well.'
Delari frowned. Puzzled. 'I don't see where you're going.'
'Just laying groundwork. When the man showed up in the Closed Ground Hugo Mongoz took a squint and said he was Cloven Februaren. He was certain.'
'Principate Mongoz is older than most Brothen monuments. And his mind is more weathered.'
'Stipulated. But the man does fit the only description of Cloven Februaren I ever heard. I borrowed a man from Ghort. I told him to find out about the man. Giving him not much more than that to start with. His report is in this case. It's illuminating. The key point being, the man lives in your town house.'
Delari looked frightened. For an instant so brief Hecht was not sure he saw it. 'No.'
'What?'
'If it's a ghost… Cloven Februaren owned the house. Long ago.'
'Really? I thought it belonged to your family. That they built it.'
'They did. Cloven Februaren was my grandfather.'
'Oh.' Why was he surprised? He was, though.
'This bears thought. And investigation. Are you getting along with Heris?'
'Who? Oh. The blond woman.'
'Yes. Her. Heris. My granddaughter. As I've mentioned more than once. Are you getting along? Have you talked?'
There was an odd, added level of distress in the old man's voice. He was looking for something. Hecht was not providing it.
'We talked about how to avoid getting on each other's nerves. She isn't comfortable having us there. She seems reclusive. Anna didn't like her until she made coffee. That helped.'
That was not what the old man wanted to hear. 'Do you have more work to do here, Piper? Or at the Castella?'
'There's always work. But nothing that has to be handled tonight.'
'Then we'll deal with this directly, right now. Otherwise… A reliable source tells me you won't be here much longer. Sublime has made a decision about the Connec.'
Though unsurprised, Hecht swore. Delari said, 'You're right. It's stupid. But he's the Infallible Voice of God. And God will shut Sublime up when He doesn't agree with what he says.'
'And if someone takes exception and tries to silence the Voice?'
'That would be the Hand of God in motion, wouldn't it? The outcome would be in accordance with God's Will, wouldn't it?'
Almost a Praman way of looking at the world. A way of justifying almost anything, however wicked.
'Armand!'
Osa Stile appeared almost magically. He had been eavesdropping. Or trying to do so. 'Your Grace?'
'We're moving to the town house. Make the arrangements.'
The boy bowed his head slightly. He seemed puzzled. He had not overheard.
