Hecht said nothing. He pursed his lips. He would gut it out.
'I think er-Rashal discovered something distressing after he armed you with the amulet and sent you our way. Maybe from the mummies. Maybe because of what happened in Esther's Wood. Suddenly, you were more valuable dead than alive. But he can't strike directly because of the amulet. His hirelings failed the straightforward attempt in Runch…'
The old man was thinking out loud, now. 'Failure in Sonsa. Not er-Rashal's fault. Grade had been warned there might be a person of interest aboard ship, but that wasn't why he was traveling. Failure in the Ownvidian Knot. Substantial failure by Starkden and al-Seyhan, here and at al-Khazen. Failures by the soultaken and even by He Who Harkens to the Sound. And numerous failures since. It's almost as if you have a guardian Instrumentality.'
'Thank you.'
'I nearly failed with the firepowder cart. Can I be lucky forever? The amulet. I know what a boon it's been. But it's coming time for it to go. It's how they track you.'
Hecht had begun to nod. Exhaustion was wearing him down.
The old man told him, 'I'll replace it with something better. As soon as I can. Does it cause much pain?'
He was too tired to dissemble. 'When something big gets close, it's bad.'
'I'll fix that. Er-Rashal isn't half the sorcerer he thinks he is. Sit back down. Let me see your wrist.' Februaren dropped down cross-legged, took Hecht's left hand, ran fingers lightly over his wrist. 'The madman was cleverer than I thought. This is difficult to sense, even knowing it's there.'
'Ouch!'
'Cleverer. That stung me, too. And here's the problem. He'll know the instant it comes off. And he'll know where. That offers us a strategic opportunity to switch it out in the right place, at the right time, and panic someone.'
'Sir, I don't feel like being clever. I feel like cutting throats to get a message out. Leave my people alone.'
'I understand your anger. Your frustration. How many of my family have I seen victimized? But people who behave that way aren't often persuaded. They haven't yet gotten the message when you start shoveling dirt into their faces.'
'I'm in a mood to fill a big hole.' 'If we must, we will. There's one more thing. The ring.'
'Uh… Ring?'
'The ring accidentally given you by Principate Bruglioni. The ring of forgetfulness. Where is it?'
Wow. He had forgotten it. That quickly. 'I gave it to Principate Delari to study. Why?'
'It's of no consequence right now. But it could be, someday. If it's the ring I think it is.'
'Grinling?'
'Excuse me?'
'A ferociously nasty and treacherous magical ring in northern mythology. Shares some characteristics with this one.'
'Not that ring. Which probably does exist. Buried under the ice, one hopes. That sort of artifact can be crafted only with the connivance of the Instrumentalities of the Night. But it exists independently afterward. If Grinling, or any number of mystic swords, hammers, lassos, runespears, and whatnot, failed to get folded up inside the pocket reality forged by the rebel soultaken, we'll have to deal with them as soon as they seduce a suitably foul character.' Hecht stared.
'All real, remember. There is no God but God. And ten thousand other beings equally wicked.' Sarcastically.
'Your Grace!'
'Spend another century on this vale. Or just one decade inside the Construct. You'll see this world through new eyes.
If you retain any religious inclinations at all, it'll be to buy into the dualist heresies of the Maysaleans and their theological cousins.'
'I know nothing about the Maysalean Heresy, Your Grace. But I'm sure it won't be long before I get to see some heretics up close.'
'It won't be long, no. Get that ring back. And keep it close.'
Groggy, drained, Hecht went down to the street. One of his lifeguards helped him mount the horse they had brought. The sergeant in charge glowered but did not chide him for wandering off yesterday.
The Castella was in a ferment. Hecht did not notice. Colonel Smolens observed, 'You seem distracted.'
'Uh. To put it mildly.'
'Anything you want to talk about?'
'It's family.'
'Woman trouble.' Buhle Smolens had off days related to conflicts with his wife.
'Yeah.' That was good enough. 'What's on the table?'
'Rumors running hot and heavy this morning.'
'Worse than usual?'
'Way. And Consent says Dominagua, Stiluri, Vangelis, and some others mean to try to slide out from under their obligations if we call up their field contingents.'
'We knew there'd be problems with Dromedan and the Patriarchal States in Ormienden. The heretics have a strong influence there. Brother Sedlakova. Good morning.'
Clej Sedlakova observed, 'Convenient as the dualists are, blame really comes from a deep disinclination to do the Patriarch's bidding.'
'Meaning?'
'Meaning they think Sublime is out of his head. Meaning the Maysalean Heresy doesn't bother them enough to make them kill their cousins and neighbors over it.'
Titus Consent invited himself into the conversation. 'The Patriarch
'Excuse me?' Bronte Doneto snapped. 'What did you say?'
How had Doneto managed to sneak up? Hecht said, 'The man stated a plain fact, Your Grace. Reporting what people in the Patriarchal States are thinking. And elsewhere, as well, I expect.'
Sedlakova's credentials as an Episcopal Chaldarean were beyond challenge. 'There are hundreds of bishops and princes who pray daily that God will call His infallible servant home, Your Grace. That's truth. It won't go away if we just wish hard enough.'
The Principate scowled but dropped it. He was not blind to his cousin's ever-expanding unpopularity. 'Captain-General, I need you to come with me.'
Two of Hecht's bodyguards had followed him into the planning center. They were not about to let him get away again. They closed in. Hecht said, 'We can trust His Grace.' And what good could they do if that were untrue?
Doneto started walking. Hecht followed. The Principate asked, 'Are they all so disdainful of my cousin? Are you?'
'They are, in the main. I try to reserve judgment. I've seen the man only a few times, never to talk to.'
'Not that you know. Keep up. There isn't much time.'
'I'm still suffering the effects of that explosion.'
Doneto went into regions of the Castella Hecht had not seen before. Down and into passageways obviously seldom used: cold, damp, creepy, and lighted only by clay lamps carried by the visitors. Doneto said, 'This isn't pleasant down here. I always expect to bump into a minotaur or some other monster out of the old myths.'
'It's the kind of place where I'd expect to meet all the Instrumentalities of the Night,' Hecht puffed. 'Where are we going?'
'Krois.'
Hecht said no more. He made sure he could see Principate Doneto all the time. Not that he expected anything. Not here and now.
Underground. Again. This time under the Teragi. Imagining all that water overhead dampened his spirit.
