All the fighting, so far, had occurred on the southern lobe.

Pacificus Sublime wanted to land an army behind an enemy focused south and east. A powerful, veteran army commanded by a man who had scores to settle with Rudenes Schneidel.

Hecht understood the thinking. He could not find fault with it. He could not imagine Schneidel having anticipated what was about to happen.

A change of Patriarchs changed the world.

Titus Consent, scarcely able to keep his eyes open, brought news Hecht would have waited, willingly, years to hear. "It's a day for harsh news, boss," Titus said.

"Give it to me. I'm numb enough to take anything, now."

"King Charlve suffered a massive stroke and died. It looks legitimate. Anne of Menand was nowhere around when it happened. But she was ready to go. She got hold of the instruments of power before anyone could catch their breath. That's just in from Salpeno."

"What's it mean for us?"

"Not much. It may mean a lot for Arnhand and the Connec. Despite her loose behavior, Anne is very religious. And ambitious. The Connec, with its heretics, has already given her excuses to express the one through the other."

Hecht frowned. "Oh? Which is which?"

"Write it yourself. It doesn't matter."

"We're out of it now, though, aren't we?"

"We should be."

"Are you going home? Or are you coming with me?"

"I'm going to Artecipea. Reluctantly. I have a child I've never seen."

"Noe deserves sainthood. On a throne in Heaven right beside Anna."

"Anna is more used to being her own mistress."

"Do you wonder about the Night determining times of drastic change? About what forces might be in motion?"

"You just lost me, Captain-General."

"In an historically minuscule time span we've lost a powerful Grail Emperor, a driven Patriarch, and the sovereign of the most militantly religious Episcopal Chaldarean kingdom. All harbingers of dramatic change. Especially considering the advance of the ice."

Titus grunted indifferently. He was too tired to worry about it. "I'm going to bed. Court-martial me if you want. Execution is starting to smell sweet."

"So waste your life on sleep, weakling." Hecht settled into a chair, out of the way, and tried to relax, rest, and recuperate while he eavesdropped on his deputies and the men from the fleet.

Hecht's ears hurt suddenly, briefly. For one instant the air. seemed dense and oppressive. He did not care. He was too tired.

"False alarm," someone breathed into his ear. "Muniero is fine. Heris is fine. Anna and your children are fine. I've brought letters from all of them. There was some damage to the town house. Likewise, certain other properties. There is little likelihood of further problems. In the short run. Joceran Cuito has a new vision for the Church."

Piper Hecht pretended he heard the voices of distant ancestors, out of nowhere, all the time. "What will the new situation in Arnhand mean?" Hoping to catch the Ninth Unknown out He did not. "Misery for the End of Connec. In time. You'll be able to throw up your hands and say it wasn't your fault You were gone before the real wretchedness started."

Hecht had no idea what the ancient was babbling about. He did have brainpower enough to realize that his mutterings were attracting attention. Jokai, in particular. The Witchfinder had that constipated look again. Hecht said, "Gentlemen, I need to go lie down. I've started talking to myself." His staff could see what needed doing and could get on it without detailed instructions.

Hecht removed his boots before lying down. Nothing more. "I meant what I said about resting. There's nothing that needs talking about so desperately that it can't wait till I'm able to uncross my eyes."

"I brought letters."

"They'll be there in the morning. Go away." He closed his eyes. Briefly, he wondered how Februaren accomplished so much in so little time. Then his lifeguards were rousting him out. One told him that Madouc would survive his wound. Again. "The man needs to retire. You can't win, you keep throwing the bones with Death."

That got him some looks.

Despite obstacles and confusion, a dozen loaded ships warped out next day. To Hecht's surprise, most of the Patriarchal soldiers had chosen to stay. He blamed that on the harsh times.

Those who had become part of the army during its progress through the Connec were those most inclined to leave. Men with families did not want to leave them behind.

HECHT WAS ABOARD SHIP AND EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTable. He did not like travel by ship. And this ship in particular disturbed him.

Titus Consent joined him at the rail, in the waist of the vessel, where he stared back at Sheavenalle. "It's official, sir. The ships will have to make two trips. We're moving more people and animals and stuff than I would've thought possible."

"It's pretty impressive when you lump it all together." Hecht caught a glimpse of a man in brown trying to avoid notice on the crowded deck. That was good for a boost.

Consent asked, "Why the bleak look?"

"Ever been out on the Mother Sea?"

"No."

"You'll figure it out."

"When were you ever out?"

"When Ghort and I sneaked off to Sonsa." Sonsa? The wrongness about the ship hit him. He had been aboard her before, coming over from Staklirhod.

"What now?" Consent asked. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I just remembered how awful it got when we hit bad weather. Pray there aren't any storms. Are there storms sea this time of year? Do you know?"

"No. Of course not."

Hecht caught a passing deckhand. "Are there storms out there this time of year? What's this ship's name?"

Head cocked, not quite sure about the Captain-General's sanity, the deckhand said, "Not so many storms this time of year, sir. In another month, month and a half, maybe. Her name is Vivia Infante, sir."

Consent asked, "Why does the name matter?"

"Where I come from people worry about the names of ships. Crewman, do we have a veteran crew? Men who have been aboard a long time?"

"Yes, sir. All experienced hands. We'll get you there safely, sir. I promise." He got away from the crazy man as fast as he could.

Consent said, "Sir, you'd better get hold of yourself. You're being watched. The men have never seen you show fear or a lack of confidence. Headed into a war with a sorcerer of the apparent stature of Rudenes Schneidel is no time to strain their faith."

"You're right. Of course. You always are." He had meant to mask his interest in the possibility that there might be someone aboard who could recall a down-on-his-luck, homeward-bound crusader named Sir Aelford daSkees. "But I can't help thinking about what's swimming around down there, waiting to eat me."

"It's good to see you have a human side, sir."

"Sarcasm duly noted, Lieutenant. In your intelligence capacity, find out why Sonsa is suddenly best pals with King Peter. They've been in a halfhearted war with Platadura for the last hundred years."

"That one's easy. Economics. Sonsa lost. They've joined the winners. It's their alternative to economic extinction."

Probably true, Hecht thought. But… was there still some hidden connection with the Brotherhood of War?

Good thing it was Pinkus Ghort and the City Regiment who occupied Sonsa. Otherwise, these sailors might see a chance to pay off a grudge.

THE CROSSING WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO TAKE LONG. A little voice in Hecht's ear promised him good weather all the way. He stayed out from underfoot and, when opportunity afforded, dipped into the letters from Anna and the kids. Over and over. Anna was stoically living the life of a woman whose man had a career that kept him away, a sort of benign, resigned, artificial widowhood. The children were living the excited lives of kids who had no wants and few fears. Pella's letter was, in the main, a vehicle for showing off his rapid grasp of learning. Hecht was impressed but thought Pella needed to improve his penmanship.