Drocker said, "You have attracted the attention of the Special Office, Serifs. Don't compel that office to take official notice. We're beholden to no one. Not even His Holiness. Do you understand?"

The bishop subsided into a bitter silence. Life, fate, and the universe itself were completely unfair.

"Excellent Now, let us see what can be done about the problem of heresy in the Connec. Bishop, I require you to deliver straightforward answers. No whining. No self-serving. No excuse-making. You will respond in simple, declarative sentences. If you fail to comply you will suffer the displeasure of the Special Office. Is this clear?"

Evidently not. Serifs rambled angrily.

Then he shrieked.

"Must not have been listening," Pinkus Ghort observed, unable to keep quiet. He chuckled. He had conceived a strong dislike for the bishop based on hearsay.

According to Connecten witnesses, only two people alive had any use for the bishop, the Patriarch and Serifs's pretty blond catamite.

Nevertheless, Serifs did have allies within the Church and the n.o.bility, wherever there was concern about the Maysalean Heresy.

Else tried hard to hear the sorcerer's questions. Drocker had no energy, now. The bishop's answers were louder. Questions could be inferred from his responses.

Questioned closely, prodded judiciously, the bishop made it evident that the main reason the Connec was in critical spiritual straits was because its Brothen Episcopal spiritual shepherd was a bad character.

No surprise to anyone paying attention. The core of that problem was the Church's intransigent insistence that its people could do no wrong.

Drocker pa.s.sed the questioning to one of the Brothers. He had reached his limits.

Else studied Drocker. The man should not be able to do much in the way of sorcery, crippled up and saturated with silver as he was.

Pinkus Ghort whispered, "There's something wrong with that Doneto guy. He's using opium, or something."

It did look that way. "Maybe he got addicted. He doesn't look like the sort who thrives on pain."

The meeting grew less interesting by the minute. Bishop Serifs enumerated steps already taken to combat the Maysalean Heresy. Ideas about what to try next consisted mainly of, "Let's kill them and steal all their stuff." Which view enjoyed considerable support. Potential perpetrators stood to profit Drocker returned to the discussion, "That approach will profit the Church, the Brotherhood, and us, only briefly. Meanwhile, Brothe informs me that Arnhand will be sending an army to a.s.sist us. That news, by the way, doesn't leave this room."

Enforce that, Else thought. That news would sweep the Connec. Because somebody here would have to pa.s.s it on to one special friend. Who would have to ... And so forth.

Drocker could not be that dim. He wanted the news to get out.

PINKUS GHORT PINCHED ELSE'S ELBOW. "SHOW'S OVER. TIME to wake up."

Else grunted, embarra.s.sed. He and Ghort were nearest the door so were first to leave. Ten steps down the hall Ghort walked into Else, who had stopped suddenly. "What?" Ghort barked.

"Nothing. I had a thought."

"Sounds dangerous. Maybe even potentially lethal if it had anything to do with the Church."

"No." No. It had not been a thought at all. It had been a vision. A sighting. A pretty blond boy observing the exodus from behind a tapestry that masked a doorway. Bishop Serifs's catamite, no doubt. And a ringer for someone Else had known in another place and time. But probably not a ringer at all because the boy's reaction to seeing him had been shock followed by outright terror.

Else shook his head. It was impossible. The boy he remembered would be twenty years old by now.

ELSE ON THE HILLSIDE, AMONGST THE VINES. HE STARED DOWN at Antieux but did not see it. He was thinking about that boy. That boy complicated matters.

Antlike comings and goings marked a postern gate on the river side of the city. People went down to the water, then climbed back to the gate. They had been doing so for generations. The path was paved.

Kids from the city were out swimming, in defiance of the besiegers. Else paid them no mind, though something told him he ought to.

What was the catamite's name? He had heard it mentioned. Serifs's relationship with the boy was another reason Connectens loathed their bishop.

A dozen men under a flag of truce left the main gate of Antieux.

Else returned to his company.

It took an hour for the deputation to reach the manor house. By then speculation and rumor were rife. The more thoughtful soldiers, having considered the height and thickness of Antieux's walls, hoped that those men meant to bend their knees to the Church. So there would be no need for fighting.

The lord whose demesne centered upon Antieux was Count Raymone Garete. Count Raymone was a stranger in his own land. He preferred the Duke's court at Khaurene. At Khaurene there were a thousand intrigues to entice a handsome young n.o.bleman. Nevertheless, perchance, Count Raymone was home for the siege and now headed this delegation. He carried no weapons. His head was bare.

From confrontations in the east, Else understood this to mean that the Count intended to submit. Later, it came out that the leading men of Antieux had decided to yield to most of the Patriarch's demands. They would submit to the will of the Brothen Patriarchs. They would ban the Maysalean heresy and exile any Seekers After Light who refused to renounce their false doctrine. They would expel those Episcopal priests determined to maintain their allegiance to Immaculate II.

Bishop Serifs, stinking of brandy, rudely interrupted the Count before he could say more than a few words. "Just close your mouth, boy. I'll tell you what you're going to do." He produced a scroll. "These persons are to be arrested immediately and bound over for trial before a tribunal of Holy Father Church."

Coldly, Count Raymone responded, "The Church does not try laypersons. That is the logical and obvious corollary to the Church's insistence that secular courts have no right to try ecclesiastical persons."

That remark shattered Serifs's civility and self-control. He began raging about grievances so petty that everyone forced to witness his outburst was appalled.

Count Raymone interjected, "What does that have to do with the works of the Church? Or with its rights?"

Four of the men accompanying the Count were Episcopal priests. Three of those were supporters of Sublime V. Until today they had remained unswerving in their support of Serifs simply because Sublime had a.s.signed him.

One priest said, "It isn't the peoples' responsibility to harvest your grapes, Bishop."

A second suggested, "Perhaps if you sent the boy to a proper orphanage those things wouldn't be written on the cathedral walls."

The people of Antieux put on airs about their main church. It was large and grand but not a true cathedral, yet they applauded that bit of Serifs's hubris. Even if most people who lived in Antieux were Seekers After Light or Episcopate who recognized Immaculate II as the True Patriarch.

Grade Drocker appeared at the peak of the bishop's diatribe. He was angry but did not interfere. He consulted Brotherhood henchmen who had seen the whole show. He sighed, glared, shook his head, but did not intervene.

He was content to let Sublime's pet idiot make a complete a.s.s of himself. And Serifs piled up the reasons why he ought to be reduced to itinerant brother status and sent to convert the pagans of the Grand Marshes, such a mission being a common fate for truly bad priests.

Count Raymone said, "We came here to submit, in the name of peace, despite our experience of the Brothen Church and its people. Our efforts have been rejected and reviled. Hear me, all of you who serve the Adversary, and especially the usurper Honario Benedocto Antieux rejects you completely and utterly. Let the Lord Our G.o.d look down upon this abomination of a bishop and understand why. Let him examine each of our hearts. Then let Him proclaim where the right of the matter lies."

Obliquely, Count Raymone had declared war. And had placed the outcome in the hands of G.o.d.

As Raymone and his companions returned to Antieux, a hundred minds were hard at work already trying to determine how best to guide the hand of G.o.d toward a favorable conclusion. Even Bishop Serifs himself did not fail to notice that all three pro-Brothen priests returned to the city.

Else Tage thought that G.o.d must spend a lot of time being amazed by the words men put into His mouth.

"THEY DIDN'T MEAN IT WHEN THEY MADE THEIR OFFER," ELSE told his troops. "They were pretending in hopes that we would go away. Raymone Garete's family are almost all heretics." He regurgitated the official position recently articulated by Grade Drocker. He intended to parrot the sorcerer as long as he remained caught in his current role.

He needed time to digest what the folk of Antieux had just tried to do.

No Sha-lug would have yielded an inch, religiously, in similar circ.u.mstances. But you would not expect unbelievers to do the same, simply because they were wrong.

Bo Biogna expressed a common sentiment. "Sounds like the smart thing to do, you ask me."

"Oh?"

"There ain't twenty guys in this crowd who give a f.u.c.k if they worship rocks or snakes down there, Cap. An' most of them is probably thieves like that f.u.c.kin' buzzard bishop."

Else nodded. What Bo said was, largely, true.

He glimpsed the pretty blond boy in a second-story window, watching Garete's party withdraw. Else studied him until he realized he was being watched.

"The idiot bishop's play toy," Pinkus Ghort said, following Else's gaze.

"Yeah."

"You up for some close-order training? My guys against yours?"

"If you keep your rat-face Berger away from my Pico and Justi."

"You afraid he'll hurt them?"

"No. I worry about what Just Plain Joe might do if he figures Berger is bullying them."

"Good point. I've never seen n.o.body as strong as that Joe. Now what the f.u.c.k is going on down there?"

A big clatter and uproar was developing beside the river.

"Ah, d.a.m.n!" Else swore. "I knew this was going to happen. This is why I make my guys get their water on this side of the hill."

Water for the camp came up from the river. The manor's cisterns could not sustain an army. Not even a pathetic little mob like this.

Water carriers from the camp. had gotten into it with city youths who were swimming. There were more of the latter than of the former. The situation was a nightmare that found a way to be born.

Younger soldiers camped farther downhill whooped and ran to help me water carriers. Ghort said, "Ah, s.h.i.t. Here we go."

Else said, "Bo, go tell our guys I want them to fall in here, right now."

Ghort asked, "You're not going to get into this, are you?"

"No. I'll take them on a march so they don't get into it."

"I'd better get mine going, too. Or half of them will end up dead due to their own stupidity."

The situation developed too fast, and with a mad inevitability. More mercenaries raced downhill. More young men came out of the city. Their meeting became a big street brawl beneath the city wall. Count Raymone Garete was still on the far side of Antieux so was unable to stanch the stupidity of his city's youngsters. In the vineyards overlooking the town the Patriarch's authorized Brotherhood officers failed to take notice. They were all inside the manor house, pouting and avoiding the weather.

Else finally figured out what he had missed about the situation down there. While the town boys frolicked in the river and traded insults with the besiegers, hundreds of people were carrying water into the city. Antieux's cisterns were not ready for a siege. Initially, neither side brought weapons to the fray. But it was not long before the mercenaries seized that advantage.

It took only a few killings to panic the people of Antieux.

The mercenaries pressed forward. A seething mob fought around the postern gate, trying to get inside. People inside did not shut the gate. They put up no resistance when the mercenaries began pouring in. Archers on the walls sent a few shafts down, to no effect. The flood would not be stemmed.

Else could not stop his own company from rushing down there once talk of plunder started. Only Bo Biogna, Just Plain Joe, and Pig Iron, of course, controlled themselves and stayed back.

Of Ghort's company only Ghort himself failed to surrender to the reek of blood on the wind.

Redfearn Bechter finally came charging out of the manor house, demanding, "What the h.e.l.l is going on? Where did everybody go?" There were not thirty men left in camp.

"Our boys have gotten into Antieux," Else told him. "I imagine they're murdering everyone in sight."

"Who told them to do that?"

"The Patriarch and Bishop Serifs seemed pretty clear on the no mercy stuff."

"How long has this been going on? Why didn't somebody come tell us?"

Ghort observed, "Us riffraff aren't allowed in the house. Unless somebody comes out and invites us. I a.s.sume because we might track mud and pig s.h.i.t all over the parquetry."

The city was not far enough away for the screaming to go unheard.

"You don't need to be a wisea.s.s, Ghort." Bechter hurried back into the house. Soon all the Brothers came outside. Then the bishop materialized. And flew into a rage that worsened dramatically when no one paid any attention to his orders. He knocked one of the Brotherhood soldiers down. Before he could do anything more obnoxious, Grade Drocker arrived.

The sorcerer's fell stare calmed the bishop. In a moment Serifs announced his intention of finding a horse so he could get over to his city in a hurry. He had properties in Antieux. Somebody had to protect them.

Drocker spotted Else and Ghort. "You. With the att.i.tude. What happened?"

Ghort did as he was told. He explained.

Drocker asked, "Why are you still here?"

"I was told to make war on enemies of the Church, not to murder no women and children. Whether I'm there or here won't make no difference. You've seen this stuff before. These things are like fires that have to burn themselves out If I stay here-and I ain't got orders to go nowhere else-I won't stain my soul with no more sins than it's got on it already."

"And you? Hecht?"

"I agree with Pinkus."

Drocker grunted. "From what I see, you who stayed are men who have seen this beast before. As have I. But I must show my face over there, even so." That face was in such a state that no expression could be read there. He did seem to be inviting comment, however.

Else did nothing to attract any more attention.

Drocker said, "You men stay here. Protect the Princ.i.p.ate. And the bishop's property. If that's your inclination. I'll try to salvage Antieux. But I fear that G.o.d has turned His back."

The moment Drocker was out of earshot, Ghort asked, "Where you figure on heading when we're done here, Pipe?"

"Uh? I don't know. I haven't thought about it Why?"

"I'm thinking there's a good chance we might be out of work tomorrow morning. We might even be running for our lives."

"What?"

"There's a big slaughter going on over there right now. Because them people did something really stupid. And then they panicked. But there's a lot more of them than there are of our guys. Who are just overgrown kids who don't really know what the f.u.c.k they're doing."