Lord of the Silent Kingdom

of years. But…

He had not worked it out himself until just a short time ago, despite countless hours spent on the puzzle.

His response in Esther's Wood had been sheer panicky inspiration, silver sprayed out in a blast too wide for the bogon to avoid. He had been lucky. That particular bogon had been especially sensitive to silver. Any iron in the blast would have been there by happenstance.

Now his artillerists nurtured secret charges for their falcons. Three charges of godshot for each of the twelve weapons he now possessed.

Reason eventually led him to the conclusion that it wasn't the fact of the charge that had slain the bogon in the Holy Lands. Nor the Gray Walker at al-Khazen. Instrumentalities of the Night had coped with iron and silver from earliest times.

So what was different now?

Firepowder.

Firepowder weapons, falcons or the light tubes employed by the Devedian fusiliers at al-Khazen, flung their missiles in a velocity too extreme to track and evade.

He read portions of the letter again, amazed that the girl could write such things, then trust anyone to bring them to him unread.

He went to the mill doorway. 'Titus. You still in there? Yes? Find Bechter. I need to borrow Drago Prosek.' He told Drear, 'It'll take a while to organize.'

Drear just nodded.

Hecht led the way inside the mill and upstairs. 'Find yourself a seat.' He collected quill and paper and began to write. Drear waited quietly. Hecht sanded the finished product. He was folding it when Sergeant Bechter arrived, huffing and puffing.

Bechter said, 'Prosek's on his way. What's up?' He spent one glance on Algres Drear. And took the man's measure.

'Our new good friends in the Empire have a problem. Only we can solve it. I want Prosek to go with Captain Drear and handle it.'

Bechter nodded. He gave Drear another glance. 'Braunsknecht?'

'I am. Brotherhood of War?'

'Retired.'

'Of course.'

Drago Prosek arrived. 'Permission to enter, sir?'

'Get in here,' Hecht said. 'Prosek. This gentleman is Captain Drear of the Braunsknecht lifeguard of the Princess Apparent of the Empire. He's brought an appeal for assistance. I've decided to accede to the Princess's request. Her friendship could serve us well.'

'Yes sir.' Without any suggestion of a reservation about his superior's thinking.

'I'm going to give you a chance to show us what you can do.'

'Yes sir. What would that be, sir?'

'Take two falcons to Plemenza. With their crews. I'd recommend Varley and Stern, but the choice is yours. Take two special loads for each falcon.'

Prosek's eyebrows jumped. His eyes widened. 'Sir…'

'There's something ugly in the Jago Mountains. Something of the Night. You were at al-Khazen. Captain Drear tells me this is the monster that got away from us there.'

Prosek's eyes got bigger. Even Bechter showed some reaction.

Hecht continued. 'Go figure out how to ambush it, or trap it, then kill it. Do whatever you have to do. Then get yourself back here because by that time we'll probably be besieging Antieux and we'll want you there to starve with us.'

'Yes sir.' Ignoring his Captain-General's tone. Prosek turned to Drear. 'Drago Prosek, sir.' He extended a hand. Drear seemed surprised.

Hecht met Drear's eye. 'That's what I can do.'

'Good enough. I think. Thank you, sir.'

'Take this letter to the Princess.' He passed the doeskin wallet back. 'Prosek.'

'Sir?'

'Don't let these people tell you what to do. Not even the Princess herself. Make them support you. You're smart enough to know what needs doing. And bright enough to figure out how to do it.'

'Yes sir.'

'All right. Everyone go. I have thinking to do.'

Once the last man left, Hecht read Helspeth's letter for the fourth time. And still could not believe the girl trusted Drear that much. Although, mainly, it revolved around her plea for help ridding the Jagos of the monster.

Titus Consent told Hecht, 'There's a problem getting intelligence out of the Connec.'

Hecht was tired. The less the army did the more work there was for him. He did not want to hear more bad news. He wanted to go to bed. Maybe to dream about Anna. Or Helspeth Ege. Who was an infatuation he did not yet underhand. He sighed. 'Tell me.'

'The Society is killing us. Their attitude toward Devedians is black and white. Not Chaldarean? Bad. Kill. So the Connecten Deves won't deal. And they're all going away anyway.'

'Explain that.'

'The Devedian and Dainshau minorities are emigrating. The Society is so obnoxious that even Maysaleans and some Chaldareans are going with them, some places.'

'Really?' His preconception was that he would face raving fanatics who considered yielding to Sublime worse than martyrdom.

'At the best of times the Connec is a loosely structured realm. Anarchy is one tomorrow away. Connectens have enjoyed a comfortable life since Imperial times. They'd tolerate anything as long as people tolerated them. Until Sublime decided to stick his nose in.'

'So… Oh-oh.' Principate Delari had appeared.

Some people felt no need to get permission to drop in on the Captain-General. All of them were members of the Collegium.

'See you later,' Consent said. He was not comfortable around Principate Delari. Despite the man's sponsorship.

Delari watched Consent scamper downstairs. 'That man is awfully timid for a soldier.'

'You have no idea how much you terrify ordinary people, do you?'

Puzzled, Delari asked, 'Why would he be afraid of me?'

'To ordinary folks you're like Cloven Februaren is to you.' Who was in Hecht's thoughts because Redfearn Bechter had seen him yesterday. 'Only more so.'

Delari was not pleased. But he brushed it aside. 'I hear Colonel Ghort is coming back to us.'

'He will be. I'm glad you came. Saves me looking for you. Pinkus should have prisoners who may explain what we saw there before. Who may tell us who Vali is. But Principate Doneto might want to keep us away from them.'

Delari had not mentioned his conflict with Doneto since that fierce encounter in the catacombs.

'And you're afraid Colonel Ghort is still beholden to Doneto.'

'Yes.'

'Doneto doesn't know what Ghort was doing. Besides taming a republic that wasn't friendly to the Patriarch. He hasn't bothered to find out. That tells me he has no interest in Sonsa.'

'Why is he here?'

'Sublime sent him.'

'But…'

'All very complicated, right?'

'I don't know how you people live the way you do.'