He might not be the brightest light in the firmament nor the fastest frog in the race but he was intimate with the beliefs of his people. He knew the common myths well. Which left him certain that he knew his guardian angel. But his imagination was not wild enough to discern her motives.

She would be Arlensul, first daughter of the Gray Walker. Chooser of the Slain, banished from the Great Sky Fortress for having dared to love the mortal, Gedanke. Now a sworn enemy of the Walker and her kin. A cruel, traitorous worm slithering amongst the Instrumentalities of the Night, starved for revenge.

Svavar still told s.h.a.got nothing. Possibly he believed Grim too much a tool of those who trod iron-shod upon the back of the northern world. Or, maybe, those who had done so in the once upon a times.

Today the Old Ones were considered gone. Fairy tales. Increasingly ill-recalled myth. Andoray, nominally, was a Chaldarean realm now. It acknowledged a Chaldarean ruler.

Still, there were old folks back in the mountains there who were convinced that the advance of the wall of ice was due entirely to that adoption of the southern G.o.d. Those fools. Those fools!

A more disappointing horror for the Grimmssons was that the kings of Freisland had succeeded in annexing Andoray. Erief's efforts had meant nothing in the long run.

Svavar harbored a sour suspicion that history always reduced the works of man to naught, a suspicion that nothing mattered beyond four or five generations.

Grim did not care. Grim was sullen, silent, focused exclusively on his mission when he was awake.

Just guessing, Svavar suspected that Grim's devotion to sleep was necessitated by his connection to the Great Sky Fortress. It was difficult for the Old Ones to maintain contact from far away.

IN TIME SVAVAR HOOKED UP WITH A MERCENARY BAND CAPTAINED by a thug named Ockska Rashaki, a renegade Calziran with illusions that allying himself with Vondera Koterba would let him repay a catalog of personal grievances beyond the Vaillarentiglia Mountains. Rakshaki's band numbered fewer than sixty men, thieves and murderers all. They were the sort who gave all soldiers, and mercenaries in particular, a terrible name.

Svavar felt right at home, except for the language problem. s.h.a.got did, too, when he woke up long enough to see what was going on. Between them the brothers kicked a half-dozen a.s.ses and s.h.a.got killed a huge, stupid beast named Renwal who terrorized the rest of the band on Rashaki's behalf.

Rashaki was not pleased by the loss of his enforcer, but he was a realist. He invested no emotion in his followers.

Ockska Rashaki loved no one but Ockska Rashaki. Ockska Rashaki was interested only in what Ockska Rashaki hoped to accomplish.

Svavar and s.h.a.got settled down to await the arrival of the man they were supposed to kill. He would come, s.h.a.got insisted. And s.h.a.got would know when he did.

It was not to be an onerous wait. Ockska Rashaki did not demand much of his followers. And Vondera Koterba did not demand much of Rashaki's band. They had a smugglers' pa.s.s to watch. Koterba made sure they were fed so that they did not start raiding the Alameddine countryside.

s.h.a.got was content to eat, sleep most of the time, and take the occasional s.h.i.t. He, like his masters, was content to wait Svavar endured. He had suffered the world long enough to know that every misery eventually ends.

These days, almost every day, Svavar saw Arlensul, unnoticed by anyone else, lurking around this camp of men with dead souls. He and she were joined in an unspoken conspiracy.

29. Connectens at Sea. and Ash.o.r.e

It was a cloudless day near summer's end. Gulls swooped and cursed. Harbor water stank. Brother Candle watched Connecten fighters board a dozen big Plataduran ships, the most that could be accommodated at Sheavenalle's docks. Navayan and Plataduran vessels stood out in the harbor, among coasters and fishermen evicted so the expeditionary fleet could load. Some of those had arrived already engorged with Navayan engineers, sappers, artillerists, and siege specialists.

Brother Candle wondered if King Peter considered this a rehearsal for Sublime's beloved Crusade to the Holy Lands.

Maybe. There was something going on. Peter had been doing well in Direcia, often allying himself with a lesser Praman prince to overcome a strong one. Why suddenly shift attention and key resources to fighting overseas? Peter was honorable, and dedicated to his G.o.d, but there had to be more to this than honor and love of his Queen's brother.

The Connectens boarded reluctantly. The Unbeliever sailors wore strange garb. They gabbled in a dialect that was a cousin of Connecten but so weird it went over the heads of soldiers taking ship only to avoid having to walk six hundred miles.

No one knew yet where they would debark. Sublime and Johannes Blackboots had not finalized their plans. Or, if they had, word had not been relayed to the troops.

Count Raymone paused beside Brother Candle. "Time to work up your nerve and go aboard, Master. They're already singling up the lines."

Brother Candle sighed. His few possessions were aboard. He was not eager to follow. His reluctance was shared by his companions, each a respected cleric volunteer. Every religion in the Connec was represented in the expeditionary force, including Connecten Praman slingers from Terliaga. Their presence baffled Brother Candle more than did that of several dozen supposedly pacifist Seekers After Light.

The Plataduran Pramans made everyone uneasy. The Chaldareans could not understand why they were allied with Peter against their religious brethren. Though Chaldarean fought Chaldarean every day, across the Chaldarean world.

Brother Candle's companions were the men who had gone to Brothe.

Count Raymone had accomplished marvels in carrying out his orders from the Duke. Although he was in Castreresone when told that he would move his force by sea, he reached Sheavenalle before the Direcian fleet arrived.

THE JOURNEY WAS BROTHER CANDLE'S FIRST ABOARD ANYTHING bigger than a ferryboat and his first on salt water. It was also his first aboard a platform that rolled and bucked and plunged on even the clearest, calmest day. A platform that never stopped creaking and groaning, muttering and moaning, not for a second, nor did it ever fail to make the horizon stand up at strange and terrible angles. The smell was unlike anything he had experienced before, combining barracks, stable, tar and caulk, sea, and frightful cooking, in a mix that ought to revolt the scavenger gulls following the fleet.

The sailors told him he was being too sensitive. Taro was a new ship. She had not yet begun to develop real character.

The cooking generated the worst odors.

The ship's cook served no one but the Plataduran crew. Everyone else cooked on the main deck, amidst the mob, the working sailors, and the daring robber gulls. There was no hot food when the seas roughened up. The Platadurans did not trust Connecten landlubbers not to set the ship on fire.

Sailors feared nothing so much as fire at sea.

The journey was more than just physically uncomfortable. Brother Candle was conscious constantly of the proximity and curiosity of lesser elements of the Instrumentalities of the Night. That was unnerving. Life in antiquity must have been equally uncomfortable. Man had come a long way with the slow task of taming the world.

His touch did not yet lie heavy on the sea.

Off the coastal island of Armun, the one-time summer resort of Brothen emperors, Brother Candle gathered the religious spokesmen for the Plataduran crew and the Terliagan slingers. He was distracted. Armun was far south of Brothe, not far north of Shippen. Meaning they were off the coast of Alameddine, approaching that kingdom's frontier with Calzir. And the fleet showed no sign of turning insh.o.r.e.

The amateur Praman priests remained wary but Brother Candle had worn them down some by insisting that he just wanted to learn.

"I'm wondering where al-Prama stands on the Instrumentalities of the Night. They never cooperate with dogma. They revel in contradicting doctrine."

These Praman chaplains were not inclined toward philosophical discussion. They were practical men interested only in supplying minimal spiritual support to men working far from home. They could perform the basic sacraments of their faith. And that was their limit.

Brother Candle held an abiding interest in the old eternal questions. Did the minds of men create the G.o.ds and the lesser things of the night by shaping the power from the Wells of Ihrian and elsewhere? Or did the Instrumentalities of the Night feed upon that power to establish belief in the minds of those who beheld them?

The chicken or the egg riddle, some called it.

The debate often devolved into speculation about what the world would be like if there were no Wells gushing raw magical power.

For Brother Candle that was a question easily answered.

The Wells of Ihrian were not the only wellsprings of power, just the biggest and most concentrated. There were numerous smaller, remote wells where the power leaked into the world, though the flow there was more often a seep than a gush.

The calculations of generations of sorcerers found that 70 percent of the supernatural power entering the world did so within the Holy Lands. It was a big, strange world deeply scarred by the power, habitable because the power kept the ice at bay.

The world grew darker, colder, and stranger as you moved away from the magical leaks, into the bizarre realms of legend.

There were further, more troublesome questions. If human imagination created the G.o.ds and the vectors of the night, then who created Man?

Brother Candle could not conceive of a world without sentient beings to appreciate the Instrumentalities of the Night.

The Praman priests were laypeople. They saw sophistry as the work of the Adversary. They had learned the truth when they were young. No preacher who was a heretic within his own false faith would seduce them with h.e.l.l-born free thinking.

Brother Candle discovered that these Pramans believed pretty much what most Chaldareans believed. The significant point of conflict was who got to claim responsibility for the glorious revelation. The Holy Founders from Chaldar in the Holy Lands? Or the later Founding Family, from Jezdad in Peqaa?

One Praman observed, "The real contention is idol worship."

"Idol worship?" Brother Candle asked. "I'm a long way separated from my Episcopal childhood but I don't remember any idols."

"Chaldarean churches are filled with them."

"Those aren't idols. They're statues. Images of the Founders and the saints, not the Founders and the saints themselves."

"They're graven images. Isn't that an idol? By definition? Not the G.o.d himself but an image of the G.o.d that's there to remind everyone that the G.o.d is watching?"

"Not being an Episcopal anymore, I can't argue effectively. Maybe Bishop LeCroes can explain the difference."

Brother Candle had lived long enough to be skeptical of dogma. Dogma reflected the human need to believe there was something bigger and more meaningful than the mayfly individual. That there was a cosmic plan.

Horns called across the water.

The Platadurans signaled between ships using a variety of horns where other navies used signal flags or drums. The Navayan navy had adopted the same system.

The admiral of the fleet was Plataduran. The commander of combined armies was King Peter, who had invited himself along because he did not trust Firaldians. Especially not Firaldians from Brothe. And, least of all, any Firaldian who was the latest in a line of false Patriarchs. Despite his support for the Church as an inst.i.tution.

Peter's great talent was flexibility. He adopted methods and tools that worked. That included a Patriarch who was not legal but who did control the power of the Church.

The Platadurans and Navayans believed Peter would conquer all Direcia in his lifetime. Many of the peoples of Direcia looked forward to his success.

"What's happening?" Brother Candle asked as sailors flew around, taking in sails. Taro was a broad-beamed, long bireme, like most of the Plataduran fleet. She could fight if necessary but was intended for commerce. She did not normally put out oars while on the deep water, unless becalmed. Sails were Taro's preferred means of making headway.

A Plataduran told Brother Candle, "The captains have been called to a meeting aboard Isabeth."

The great lady of the war fleet was named for Peter's queen. The armada reduced speed and closed in. The ships dropped anchor and launched boats that carried the captains and leading soldiers to the flagship.

THE SHIPPEN COAST WAS LIKE NOTHING BROTHER CANDLE had seen before. Smaller vessels ran insh.o.r.e to either hand of a fishing village named Tarenti, which possessed a small but deep harbor. Veteran Navayans isolated the town. Transports headed in to unload.

The same happened at other minor ports. Brother Candle was only marginally in the know. The plan seemed to be to deny Shippen's resources to mainland Calzir. Which should not stand up long if Shippen's produce was not available.

King Peter and Count Raymone meant to subdue an island more vast than half the kingdoms in the Chaldarean world. With Connecten and Navayan forces combined numbering fewer than four thousand men. The Platadurans would not fight ash.o.r.e.

Brother Candle's military experience consisted of having been present at the Black Mountain Ma.s.sacre. He did not understand that Shippen need not be conquered in its entirety in order to keep its resources from reaching the mainland.

Local resistance ended quickly.

Historically, Shippen never sustained a fight once an invader gained a solid foothold. The working population did not care who was in charge. The arrogations of the ruling cla.s.ses had no abiding impact on everyday life. As long as the mines produced copper and silver and the fields and orchards yielded surpluses of grain and fruit. The weather was usually favorable and there had been no natural disaster since a series of volcanic eruptions in pre-Brothen antiquity.

The great disasters in Shippen's past were the handiwork of Man, sometimes a war but more often a demonstration of excess by some sorcerer self-deluded into thinking that he could master the Instrumentalities of the Night.

Only the most brilliant minds could convince themselves that they were capable of exempting themselves from the Tyranny of the Night.

BROTHER CANDLE AND TARO'S CONNECTENS NEXT WENT ash.o.r.e at Caltium Cidanta. The town stank of decaying fish entrails. Clouds of shrieking gulls swirled overhead. Caltium Cidanta had no modern significance. In antiquity it was important, though. It was from Caltium Cidanta that the Colpheroen general Eru Itutmu left the Brothen Empire to go defend his homeland, Dreanger-after he and thousands who believed him to be a G.o.d spent a generation plaguing the adolescent empire. Eru Itutmu killed a quarter million Brothens but suffered defeat, both in Brothe and at home. Those early Brothens were stubborn. They fought Eru Itutmu for decades, and conquered every ally Dreanger found anywhere around the Mother Sea.

Far memories of Eru Itutmu were all Caltium Cidanta had to recommend it.

Bishop LeCroes grumbled, "This place is like every other d.a.m.ned town on the island. There aren't any boats. There aren't any men younger than sixty or boys older than twelve. And the women come in three types homely, homelier, and homeliest."

Brother Candle chuckled. "I'm just a simpleminded heretic, Bries, but I picked up the notion somewhere that we're supposed to treat the local females the way we'd want our stout Connecten wives treated. Not to mention that celibacy is part of your job."

"You're a major pain in the fundament, Candle. A total fun-killer."

"I do what I can."

The real point was, there were no women of breeding age, however liberal your outlook.

LeCroes grumbled, "Anything female that might tempt a sinner, including ewes and nannies and sows, is hiding in the mountains."

Occupation of Caltium Cidanta and its environs was anticlimactic. The sole casualty was a Terliagan slinger who broke a finger while showing off to some local boys. Those villagers still in place betrayed no overt resentment. They did demonstrate a healthy wariness.

Brother Candle sensed a high level of resignation.

"It's part of the culture," the Plataduran chaplain a.s.sured him. He had come ash.o.r.e because he was familiar with the Shippen dialect "Shippen has been invaded a lot. The people know they'll get through it."

"Yet they'll go out pirating." The fact that they would had nothing to do with how they responded to occupation. The piratical inclination existed because of the island's history.

Most invasions had begun with pirate types who came to plunder and found little worth carrying away. But they did find Shippen to be a good place to hide from their enemies.

The Plataduran chaplain indicated a hazy indigo line of teeth. "If the boys get an urge to misbehave they'll have to jog all the way over there. They'll lose the mood by the time they get there."

THE OCCUPATION OF SHIPPEN PROCEEDED WITHOUT FANFARE or much conflict. n.o.bles of standing had gone over to the mainland to resist the Unbeliever's attack there. They added to and shared in the privation and misery enjoyed by those who served in the armies of G.o.d.

On Shippen, natives and occupiers lived comfortably and harmoniously. The Connectens helped bring in the harvest. The women returned from the hills, a few at a time, bringing their livestock. The Connectens were not impressed. The joke went that Calziran women explained why Calziran men had picked a fight with Chaldarean Firaldia.

Brother Candle pitched in. And talked about his own beliefs. Local Pramans found him amusing. Native Chaldareans, a third of the population, thought the Maysalean Heresy might be on to something.

Brothe, the Episcopal Church, and the Patriarchy were not beloved of Shippen's Chaldareans.

Brother Candle wished Bishop LeCroes considerable distress. The Bishop was out of his element, a chaplain without a flock. The Connectens off Taro were all Maysaleans, Terliagans, and Episcopal Chaldareans who favored Sublime V over Immaculate II.

"I'm not trying to cause you misery, Bries."

"I know. I dug my own grave when I decided I'd rather sail with a friend. If I had any sense I'd lay down in it and stop whining."

"Buy a donkey and catch up with Count Raymone." It was evening in Caltium Cidanta. Brother Candle was sampling the local vintage, which was surprisingly good. His expedition was turning out to be a vacation from life.

On Shippen the fact that there was a war on, that men were dying as great religions strove to resolve their relative merits in trial by combat, no longer seemed due much interest.