"They were all city residents. Disgruntled Brothens who wanted to bash whoever was in charge for being in charge when they're disgruntled. If you follow."

Hecht did not and said so.

"There's an upwelling of revolutionary sentiment out there. Which doesn't seem to have caught any official attention yet."

Hecht understood that. 'The Deves haven't bothered to warn us?"

"Say, rather, that a man in my position can't logically trust the cooperation and faithful support of people who follow false gods."

Hecht considered reminding the Principate that Aaron of Chaldar never declared his god a deity different from that of the Devedians. What Aaron and the Founders set forth bore only passing resemblance to its Episcopal descendant.

"Were there Deves among the dead?"

"No. Mostly unemployed Episcopals, according to relatives – who had fallen in with a crowd that blames Sublime for all the world's ills."

"Interesting. After centuries of being told that the Holy Father is infallible. Would the ambush be part of a broader conspiracy?"

"My sense is that it was, yes, but it was just slapped together, on the spur of the moment, by drunks in a winehouse egging each other on. They didn't mean it to go as far as it did. It wouldn't have if the Brotherhood hadn't been there."

"No half measures there. For them it's all black and white."

"A certain kind of man likes everything inscribed in absolutes. He gravitates to the Brotherhood naturally."

Pinkus Ghort had inherited the problem of the dead. He had arrested none of the claimants of the corpses. He hoped to find out who was connected to whom, and how.

"Maybe Pinkus organized it so he can keep his job. No, sir. I'm joking. It doesn't look like the Five Families see much point to maintaining the City Regiment."

"Oh. I have trouble recognizing it when you aren't being serious."

"You aren't unique, sir."

"Yes. So. Let's go examine your corpse."

Hecht stayed out of the old man's way. Delari muttered to himself. Hecht worried that the body might betray its origins.

The Principate observed, "A Calziran, presumably. A Praman, certainly. His one true God didn't protect him from this horror, though."

"Sir?"

"We have a problem, Piper. Of a sort I've only read about."

"Sir?"

"There's a necromancer among us. A sorcerer who kills people in order to effect his sorcery. And he's thrown it in our faces. He's daring us to come after him. Possibly to draw us out."

"Really?" Hecht did not want to believe it. Firaldia was civilized. That sort of thing had not happened since the black heart emperors of the Old Empire had indulged their egos. "If some human monster did this for sorcerous reasons, wouldn't that mean that there are Night things around strong enough to need rough handling?"

"It does. We should've anticipated this. It could become a real crisis."

"What can I do?"

They were headed for Principate Delari's apartment now.

"Nothing. Pretend you haven't noticed. This animal won't watch his back if he thinks he hasn't gotten our attention."

"All right."

"You seem rattled."

"I am. This is outside my experience. Outside my imagination."

"Then loosen your mind up. Because horror and madness is coming."

"Sir?"

"I'm not supposed to know. Sublime's party lumps me with Hugo Mongoz. Failing to realize that Mongoz is more than he seems, too."

Hecht stirred impatiently. Which made Delari smile. "In that case, you get to enjoy a short lecture before I give you the bad news."

Piper set his expression in stone. The Principate could ramble endlessly if so inclined.

"Don't throw yourself on your sword, Piper. I'll keep it short. Here in the Chiaro Palace we not only fall into pro-and anti-Benedocto parties – siding with the high bidder – we also form factions according to our talents for manipulating the Instrumentalities of the Night. And our inclinations to use those talents. So while Doneto and I are at odds over Sublime's idiot ambitions, we're in lockstep about harnessing the powers of the Collegium."

"I thought. You and Principate Doneto don't squabble nearly as much as you should."

That thin old man smile again. "Good. You didn't ask for it. So you shall receive. Sublime wants to punish Duke Germa fon Dreasser and Clearenza after all. He's heard that Lothar is sick and not expected to recover. The Imperial court is distracted by succession concerns."

Hecht kept his opinion behind his teeth. Even Principate Delari operated under serious misapprehensions about the Imperial court. Other than Pinkus Ghort, nobody Hecht knew took Ferris Renfrow seriously. In Delari's case it was obvious why. Osa Stile would have put a swarm of bugs in the old man's ears. And would report everything Delari

learned as soon as he learned it.

Ferris Renfrow would know about Sublime's shift in attitude toward Clearenza before official word came out here.

"Would it do me any good to protest the stupidity of it all?"

"If you argue with Sublime he just gets more stubborn."

"I know the type. My sister… Sir?"

"Piper? Oh. Nothing. Just surprised. You never talk about vour family."

"I don't think about them much. And wouldn't mention them at all around anybody I didn't trust." He hoped he sounded suitably mysterious. He dared not stop not being who he really was.

They reached the Principate's apartment. The old man halted a few steps inside. "You need to get to work. You'll get your orders in the morning. I'll start sniffing around for this necromancer."

Hecht glimpsed Osa Stile. The boy had a talent for lurking. If there were a curtain or tapestry nearby Osa Stile might be closer than you hoped.

Hecht said, "Don't count Lothar out. He's always sick. But he always comes through."

Delari frowned. He did not want to hear that any more than Sublime did. Probably not for the same reasons.

Hecht ran into Pinkus Ghort before he left the Palace. Ghort said, "I see you've heard. My boss would be interested to know how."

"How come you know?" Not asking what Ghort meant.

"My boss is a crony of your boss. And I have friends who get on the eary with anything he says. He talks to himself you know. When he thinks he's alone."

"As long as he doesn't answer."

"But he does. He really does. It's kind of spooky."

"Must be because of all that time he spent locked up with you and me in Plemenza."

Ghort chuckled.

"So what did you want?"

"To let you in on what was coming."

"Thank you, then. I appreciate the thought."

"And to ask about last night. Bad?"

"Worse than you think." Hecht explained about the dead man found near Anna's house.

"Crap. Sounds like big-time shit. Black fairy-tale stuff."

"Don't talk it up. We don't want this monster to find out that we've caught on."

"No problem, buddy. I'm staying far away from that shit. This other stuff with people who want to stir up shit, though. I'm all over that. If I don't see you before you go off to your war, good fucking luck."

"I'll need it." He was being paid well not to think but to execute the Patriarch's will, however ill-conceived. If the man distracted himself from his ambitions in the Holy Lands, then the diversionary insanities needed to be nurtured.

Hecht often wondered about Sublime's mental state. He did not know the man. Had been in his presence rarely. Might have exchanged words with him once, on demand. Did not think Sublime would recognize him without an introduction, though he was the Church's top soldier.

He did not expect a more intimate relationship to develop. Orders would be relayed by Bronte Doneto or another of Sublime's cronies, mostly relatives less public than Principate Doneto.