'She had bad news?'
'My uncle Shire. You met him. Shire Spereo. He died.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Thank you. But it isn't your problem. What I don't understand is, he committed suicide.'
'Wow! That doesn't seem like him.'
'You're right. But there have been several unlikely suicides since Gledius Stewpo went.'
'Is something going on?'
'If there is I can't work it out. They were all old guys. Except for Stewpo and another refugee from Sonsa, they hadn't left the quarter in twenty years.'
Principate Delari asked, 'Were they wealthy?'
'Sure. That's about all they had in common. Though they all knew each other.'
Delari nodded to himself. 'Bring me your notes about sightings of old Instrumentalities. On the other matter, ask how those men became wealthy. Could their consciences be catching up?'
Consent cocked his head slightly, mouth open. 'That's an interesting thought.' He shuddered. 'I'll get the journal.' He clumped down the stairs.
Before Hecht asked, Delari said, 'No. Not me.' Then, 'But maybe Grade's mission didn't die when he did.'
'Small world. If that's it.'
'It is a small world when it comes to the people who shake it. And there are far fewer coincidences than we want to believe. The Instrumentalities of the Night weave schemes that arc across generations. We can't see ourselves caught in the web.'
Hecht had created Piper Hecht so thoroughly that he was not tempted to challenge that heresy.
'You're amused?' Delari asked.
'The normal course of business here could put us on the Society's list. To do my job right I have to take into account the misbehavior of beings that I'm not supposed to believe exist.'
'You can believe. You just can't call them gods.' The old man chuckled. 'We need to find out what unusual things have happened in the areas the rings marked.'
'But…'
'Not just something that might be Rook scattering maggots. Any unusual, unexplained events. Any unusual histories. At this remove, even the most ancient folklore.'
'Titus could send people to find out. But we can't twiddle our thumbs while he does.' The Connec was growing less restive. The flood of Grolsacher refugees had begun to dry up. The disorganized bands of Amhander crusaders had decided to wait on Sublime because it had begun to look like the Patriarch meant to let them do the dying before he swooped down on a province too exhausted to resist.
'Doneto's party must have the upper hand, now. That can't last. But I've had a thought about the ring business. Suppose those are places where someone liberated scattered bits of the Old Gods?'
'Deliberately?' Hecht asked.
'Deliberately.'
'Why would anyone do that? The Night is bad enough now. Who'd want to bring back the Old Ones?'
'That would be the question, wouldn't it? Who and why. And is it real? Is it just a partisan campaign using fragments to create terror? Are the fragments themselves genuine? I could pull together an artificial monster able to ape the more blatant traits of one of the Old Gods.'
'There was a god in the north. Who predated the Old Gods, even. Kharoulke the Windwalker. Who couldn't come past the edge of the ice. There's a Windwalker supposedly loose, now. Almost as bad as the original. That couldn't be a modern re-creation, could it?'
'Today's Kharoulke the Windwalker is an example of an unforeseen consequence.'
'Your Grace?'
'Certain fading Old Gods sent soultaken to destroy someone they called the Godslayer. Because they did, several unwittingly positioned themselves to be slain. One of the soultaken, connected too intimately to divinity, ascended to become a Great Demon himself. The ascendant, lusting after revenge on those who conscripted him, went after those still surviving. He confined them in a pocket world he created inside the pocket universe they had created for themselves as their realm of the gods. That isolated them so completely that they couldn't constrain the monsters they put down in the dawn of their time. So things like the Windwalker can now come back.'
Hecht stared. He realized his mouth was open. 'Uh… How did you put all that together?'
'I pay attention. You can pick the trick up if you want.'
Titus Consent rematerialized. 'Here's the journal, Your Grace.'
'Thank you, Lieutenant. Are we in imminent danger from a ferocious Connecten horde?'
'There may be ferocious Connectens, Your Grace, but those people couldn't put together a horde if they promised twenty gold pieces to every man who showed up.'
'Then you can afford to take time to relax, Piper. That would be good for your soul.'
Pinkus Ghort returned. In his train were prisoners, plus hostages given by the Three Families of Sonsa. The Captain-General arranged a meeting as soon as he could.
Ghort came in saying, 'Shit, Pipe, that was exhilarating. Ain't nothing better than catching your target with his pants down.'
'I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I'll let you try your luck on Antieux next.'
'I'll hang back and take notes on that one, you don't mind. Them folks won't get caught napping or stupid again in this lifetime.'
'So what did you get?'
'I got Bit and Tiny but the Witchfinders was long gone. Bit thought they ran off to the Durandanti but we didn't find them there. It does look like they made that one gold shipment disappear, though. What's this I hear about Bronte Doneto running off to Viscesment?'
'We surprised them, too. He went to take charge of Immaculate.'
'He didn't do so good, eh?'
'One wonders.'
'Meaning?'
'Let's talk to Bit.'
'Figured you wouldn't want to give her no more time to think. She's downstairs.'
'Good. Two more Principates turned up. They haven't come to see me yet. They're very interested in Sonsa, I hear. One is from Aparion. Keep him away from our newfound friends. If you can. Bring her up.'
Ghort bellowed down the stairs.
Two men brought the woman. Titus Consent trailed them. Principate Delari came along behind Consent.
Ghort whispered, 'You all right with them?'
'They may be useful.'
Bit remained uncowed. Not defiant, though. Just accepting. Fate had overtaken her. That happened in life.
She had chosen a hard profession.
She recognized Hecht immediately. 'Mathis Schlink. I thought you were more than you seemed. Why drag an old whore all the way up here?'
'I have questions. I'm too busy to come to you.'
She forced a smile. 'Of course.'
'Be seated, if you like.'
The old woman settled into a canvas chair. She glanced around. Principate Delari examined her intently, moving several times to get a different view. That troubled her, clearly. Maybe she feared recognition.
Hecht said, 'You know Buck Fantil. The youngster is Titus. He's more dangerous than he looks. The other gentleman is an eye for the Collegium.'
Bit was a practical sort. 'What do you want to know?'
'You were involved with men from the Special Office of the Brotherhood. What were they up to?'
'Special Office? They didn't mention that. Some had been hiding at the Ten Galleons since the Deve riots.'
Principate Delari positioned himself behind Bit, out of her sight. He nodded. She was telling the truth.
