There was a dearth of determined true believers on both sides, on that island. No one demonstrated any special interest in making sure his G.o.d would be the sole survivor of the contest.

BROTHER CANDLE ENJOYED HIS TIME ON SHIPPEN THOROUGHLY, loafing and debating nonsense with anyone who felt like bothering. Elsewhere, though, if overly dramatic dispatches could be credited, cataclysms were being brewed.

No one on Brother Candle's side of the Strait of Rhype much cared to find out what those might be.

30. Alameddine and Calzir

All things move slower and take longer. In most cases they also cost more. The Grail Emperor hoped to push through the Vaillarentiglia Mountains in time to distress the Calziran harvest. Only a few of Vondera Koterba's companies made it. A handful of Imperial scouts went with them. They were feeble but had little difficulty fending off the few ragged, undisciplined Calzirans they encountered. They encountered none of the dreaded Praman sorceries they had heard about since childhood.

Calzir's political landscape was as chaotic as elsewhere in Firaldia. Several minor warlords offered to change sides if they could retain their holdings. That availed them nothing. Sublime did not want Unbeliever allies.

The Lucidians and Dreangereans dealt harshly with Calzirans they suspected of unstable loyalties.

Forces like Else's Brothen City Regiment, swollen to more than four thousand men, with attendant animals and hangers-on, were much delayed. Practicalities and political infighting hamstrung progress.

Else and his staff performed miracles of organization and training. Their efforts received universal kudos. Even Ferris Renfrow offered the occasional grudging nod during brief respites from spying on Calzir.

No matter how well prepared the City Regiment became, it never marched. The orders to do so never came because of squabbling on high.

Similar petty behavior hampered volunteer formations throughout the Patriarchal States.

The Five Families all wanted more than a fair share of what might be gained in Calzir. On a lesser scale, the Patriarch, the Collegium, the Brotherhood of War, and every city raising forces, were equally driven by greed. There was so much confidence in a Chaldarean victory that none of the players concerned themselves about the cost of impeding progress.

"MY PATIENCE IS EXHAUSTED," ELSE SAID. "WE HAVE TO GET away from these insane, overgrown children."

"And here we go," Pinkus Ghort told him. The occasion was a small, private staff meeting more than a month past the target date Hansel had set for first operations. "We send the ready companies south now. One a day. t.i.tus has the transit stuff set. It's going to fall apart if we don't use it."

"Interesting." Moving single companies was something Else could do without getting approval from a dozen interfering Brothes. "How long before the bigwigs start squawking?"

"That'll depend on who's paying attention. Renfrow ought to catch on first. But he spends most of his time in Calzir. Spying. The Deves down there have been producing some great intelligence. But they're getting nervous. We're taking too d.a.m.ned long. The Lucidians and Dreangereans have gotten real active, lately. The Deves are scared they'll figure out what's going on and deal harshly with the infidel community."

Else asked, "t.i.tus, what do you think about that?"

"He's right. Calzir's Devedians are scared. Devedians everywhere are scared. It's part of being a Deve."

"I'm in no position to rea.s.sure anyone."

"You don't concern them much, sir."

The Devedian community had given him no cause for disappointment. Though their efficiency at pulling things together stirred old, deep suspicions. Was there any truth in those old tales of secret Devedian brotherhoods out to control the world surrept.i.tiously?

Gledius Stewpo always mocked that notion. He could spark off scores of plausible arguments against it, but there were times when one had to wonder. As, say, when one found Deves armed with firepowder weapons capable of bringing down the most powerful sorcerer.

"Don't be silly," Stewpo told Else. "If we had a quarter of the power those stories claim we'd never suffer the kind of c.r.a.p that happened in Sonsa."

"Uhm?" Else grunted.

"Whenever you b.u.mp noses with the notion that Deves are the secret masters, ask yourself why all the Deves you know live the way they do when everybody else lives the way they do."

Else confessed, "I don't care about the religious business. I don't care who believes what as long as the job gets done."

Stewpo grinned. He lacked a front tooth, on top. A bit more hair, Else thought, and the dwarf would bear a striking resemblance to a creature out of a tale where runt folk spun straw into gold.

Stewpo's whole race hailed from a land where fairy tales reigned, though.

"No secret overlords," Stewpo promised. "If every Devedian agreed that that was the best idea since the Creator declared us His Chosen People, it would fall apart as soon as you pulled four Devedians together to make it happen. You think pettiness, vanity, and envy are exclusive to your world? Try being part of the Devedian undercla.s.s. Where every carat of status is jealously nurtured-and becomes a target for anybody who thinks he can profit if you lose."

Else nodded. He could pretend to believe anything "t.i.tus. The companies have to move south. Now. Advise your correspondents. Gledius. I know you don't speak for Brothe's Deves. But you're the big bull Deve who's here right now. Is there going to be a Devedian company or not?" For weeks the Deves had muttered about adding a company of their own to the city regiment. But their leaders never seemed quite sure what they wanted. Nor was Else sure that the Patriarch and his henchmen would permit it. Though it was common knowledge that King Peter's combined Navayan and Connecten force including not only Chaldarean heretics but Devedians and Pramans, with the latter more numerous than right-thinking pro-Brothen Episcopals.

"There will be a small force of specialists. Men with the technical skills to help you solve your special problems."

Else supposed that meant clerks and accountants whose most important function would be to serve as the conscience of the regiment.

THE SUMMONS WAS SO LONG COMING THAT ELSE HOPED HE WAS being overlooked. A dozen companies had gone south, headed for an encampment near the border town Pateni Persus. One of those companies was Bruglioni. Two hundred strong, it included a dozen actual members of the family. The Arniena force, commanded by Rogoz Sayag, was as large. The well-armed Devedian contingent, gone early to blaze the way, numbered more than three hundred. Quite a lot of specialists.

Eight Princ.i.p.ates sat behind a long table. Else recognized them all. One represented each of the Five Families. Princ.i.p.ate Doneto undoubtedly stood in for his cousin. A senile octogenarian did nothing but make strange noises and drool while a thirtyish bishop read his mind and spoke for him. Finally, there was Princ.i.p.ate Barendt from Smoogen in the New Brothen Empire. Hansel's man.

The Madisetti Princ.i.p.ate was blunt. "What do you think you're doing, General Hecht?"

Else stifled impulse. After all, he had just been promoted. In one man's mind. "Could you be specific, Your Grace? I was hired to train and command a regiment that the City would place at the Holy Father's disposal. I've done that The Holy Father has often said that he wants Calzir's punishment begun. First, it was before the harvest. Now it's before winter. But we're still here, far from Alameddine and the Vaillarentiglia Mountains, while the Five Families squabble over loot that's still in Calziran hands."

To Else's astonishment Grade Drocker made a surprise appearance while he spoke. Drocker interjected, "Presenting this sort with the accomplished fact is the only way things get done, Hecht. Listen up, Your Graces. I have a message." Drocker sounded far stronger than he had in more than a year.

Else considered the Brotherhood sorcerer warily. He had not known that Drocker was in town. The Brotherhood kept its secrets well.

Drocker continued, "I came back to find out why the delays continue. It isn't a journey I fancied. I have little stamina anymore. It's past time to begin, gentlemen. The Connecten and Direcian forces have established themselves on Shippen. Hunger flirts with mainland Calzir already. The strategy originally approved by the Holy Father is working perfectly. He has expressed frustration, though, because the next step continues to be delayed. The key group of soldiers remain tied up here."

Drocker glowered. He dared. The Collegium dreaded him. Everyone feared the Brotherhood of War. Most especially, they feared the displeasure of the Special Office. Not even the Patriarch himself could compel the Brotherhood of War.

"Colonel Hecht, I commend your initiative." There went the promotion. And here came several new enemies. "His Holiness has bid me take control of the City Regiment, heeding advice from none but its appointed commander." Drocker's battered features dared defiance as he surveyed the Princ.i.p.ates.

The Special Office would turn on the Collegium someday.

The extinction of sorcery was the fountainhead mission of the Special Office. Drocker said, "The Patriarch has decided that all forces raised for the Calziran Crusade will move to Alameddine now. He told me to deal with obstructionism however I see fit."

Someone tried to raise the point that the city regiment was not a Patriarchal force. Contradicting its specific charter.

Grade Drocker said nothing. His ruined face, intense and cold, was sufficient to close debate. That was real power. More power than Else would have guessed that Drocker possessed.

ELSE REACHED THE PATENI PERSUS ENCAMPMENT ON A DAY reported to be unnaturally cold for Alameddine. Snowflakes flashed amongst the drops of misty rain. Snow and ice had begun to acc.u.mulate on the peaks of the Vaillarentiglia Mountains for the first time in centuries. Else did not care. He was miserable enough right where he was. He had ridden all day under conditions that had worsened by the minute.

Perhaps what they said about winter in Calzir was no exaggeration.

Else was not eager for a campaign in this, which could only get uglier. But Hansel, Sublime, and Drocker all were eager to follow up on King Peter's successes on Shippen. The weather did not trouble them.

The last few hundred of the city regiment accompanied Else. If Pinkus Ghort had done his job, those in camp already would be ready to move on south.

"They finally ran your a.s.s out of Brothe, eh?" Ghort asked when Else arrived, though he saved the familiarity till they were in private. He had set up the regimental headquarters inside a deserted church.

"Drocker came to town. He made them turn me loose. They're mad as hornets, too. But they're mad at Drocker."

"And that won't do them no f.u.c.king good, right?"

"Not even a little. What kind of shape are we in?"

"You won't be unhappy with the troops. Some of the officers, though... My heart wouldn't break if some kind of plague came along that only kills incompetents."

"Take it up with G.o.d. Because you won't get help from any earthly power. I tried three times, with three different gangs of power brokers. I might as well have been speaking Lindrehr from back home. They don't comprehend merit or competence. ... Come on. I'm serious. What shape are we in? We're going to move real soon, now."

"They told you any more about what they want us to do?"

"Everything. I mean, we have to do everything. Like overrun everything west of al-Khazen. While keeping the folks in al-Khazen fixed until the rest of the country has been mopped up. Do we have a movement plan?"

"Thanks to the Deves. They're bringing in some great info. You got something on them?"

"I promised them we'd treat them right. And their Calziran cousins, too. That shouldn't be hard. Should it?"

Ghort shifted uneasily. "I don't know."

Ghort's orderly poked his head into the room. "Captain, there're some Deves out here who say they have to see you and the colonel right now."

Ghort grumbled, "Presumptuous a.s.sholes. Tell them ..."

Else said, "Hang on. I was going to send for them, anyway."

"Bring them in, Colon."

Else asked, "How are Bo and Just Plain Joe getting on?"

"Believe it or not, they both turned competent on us. Bo makes a good noncom. Bo knows all the scams and angles and heads them off before they start to smell. And Joe is a wizard with animals. He isn't the guy in charge but he's the one who makes things work. The critters stay healthy and fed."

"Good. I've always thought that everybody has at least one special talent. An officer needs to figure out what, nurture it, and... h.e.l.lo."

There were five Deves. Else knew Gledius Stewpo, Shire Spereo, and t.i.tus Consent. The others wore odd clothing and were damp, dirty, and darker than the Brothen Deves. t.i.tus Consent said, "Our apologies for disturbing you before you've gotten settled, Colonel, but there's important news from al-Khazen."

So the dusky Deves would be Calziran. "How bad is it, t.i.tus?"

"Not bad at all. Since we're now forewarned."

"Well?"

"The sorcerers who ran the pirate campaign have established themselves in al-Khazen. They believe they've done so without being noticed. They're planning a major ambush. They want to lure the Brotherhood into a trap where they can get Grade Drocker. Along with lots of his soldiers."

Else was impressed. Someone must have been present during a planning session.

"Speak not the Name of the Demon," Ghort muttered, retailing an adage known in all lands touched by the Instrumentalities of the Night. Meaning in all the lands of the unfrozen earth.

Ghort muttered with cause.

A voice said, "I hear my name." Drocker oozed into the room, on crutches. No expression shown on the ruin of his face.

Else said, "I've just learned that Starkden and Masant al-Seyhan have moved into al-Khazen. They hope to lure us into a trap." He told Consent, "Go ahead."

"There's more to it than that."

"Of course. Go ahead." He hoped Consent did not think he could play games with Drocker.

"Starkden and Masant al-Seyhan won't be the only Masters of Ghosts involved. There's another. Our people can't get close, though. We know he exists only by implication. Because there are places no one is allowed to enter."

One of the Calziran Deves said something. Else could not penetrate the dialect. Consent interpreted. "The wizard that n.o.body sees is ..." Pause. "... one of the foreigners from overseas." Pause. "He came disguised as a foreign soldier." Pause. "Mostly Lucidians came to al-Khazen. But also a few engineers and soldiers came from Dreanger."

Drocker demanded, "Do I know you, dwarf?"

Gledius Stewpo had been easing his way into deeper shadow. "I don't think so, sir." Stewpo laid on an accent Else had not heard before. There was nothing of Sonsa in his voice.

"Perhaps. Yet... it seems I ought to. Never mind. This is interesting. I'm curious. Why did they think they could keep that a secret?" Drocker eyed the Calziran Deves intend, barely controlling his abiding distrust.

Consent posed a question in dialect. The spies responded. He translated, "The foreign Pramans don't believe any Calziran would betray them to the Patriarch. They made examples of several warlords who offered to acknowledge the Emperor."

That got right up Sublime's nose. n.o.body, anywhere, offered allegiance to the Patriarchy. Which was the case in Direcia and parts of the Connec where Pramans accommodated themselves to Chaldarean rulers.

Consent continued to translate. "There is also a sorcery on al-Khazen that conceals most of the foreign Pramans."

Else suspected that there was something missing from that explanation.

Consent added, "But you can't conceal forever that which lashes out unpredictably. Nor that which has to eat, especially in these times."

Drocker asked, "What are these men doing here if this sorcerer is so powerful?"

Else got a glimmer of what was bothering Drocker. This could turn deadly in seconds.

Consent understood. "These two can come and go because they're agents of the Mafti of al-Khazen. The Mafti believes they're gathering information from Devedian communities in Chaldarean Firaldia." Beads of sweat stood out on the young man's brow.

"Ah," Drocker said. "I see."

Drocker controlled his hatred, perhaps because Consent was so direct.

"I see," the sorcerer said again. "And how will you convince me that they're betraying their Mafti to us instead of betraying us to the Mafti?" Everyone understood that lives were at stake.

t.i.tus Consent was little more than a boy but he found the right answer. "It's a matter of racial interest, sir. A blind man-pardon..."

"Go ahead. I know about my eye."