Titus Consent seemed glum. Hecht asked, "Second thoughts?"

"Not exactly."

"Really? Then you know yourself better than I know me. Isn't every Devedian in Brothe trying to make you miserable?"

Consent donned a strange expression. "Sir, who is the last Deve you know of who converted?"

Hecht could not recall one. "A lot must have. Once upon a time there weren't any Pramans or Chaldareans."

That's true. The Founders converted. Some of the Founders Those who weren't Devedian to start. Those who started out Devedian never considered themselves anything else."

"Your point being?"

"That conversion may not be unknown, but it's rare. Brothen Deves can't remember the last time it happened here. So they're sure that it hasn't happened this time, either."

"I see. That'll be handy." He placed no faith in Consent's conversion himself. "That will make my life easier." Maybe.

From Piper's viewpoint, unfortunately, there was too good a chance that Consent knew all about his shortcomings as a Chaldarean.

"How so?"

"I feared your connections might suddenly dry up. Just when we need them most."

Consent nodded. "That probably wouldn't happen even if the Deves did believe I'd converted. It's a tit for tat game, information moving both ways. They really want to know what the Patriarch is thinking."

Hecht understood. Everyone wanted to know that. "Why are they staying cooperative? The war is over." Deve espionage efforts during the Calziran Crusade had bought them immunity from the fury of the invaders there.

"Because they know there'll be more crusades. One after another while Sublime is Patriarch. Maybe longer if his peculiar brain disease transmits itself to his successors. There'll always be Deves who need shielding."

"I have two things for you. Clearenza is the most pressing. We're going to get orders to march. Maybe within a few hours."

"I've been on that since right after Duke Germa had his political stroke. You're in good shape. Move fast. The Emperor's people can't react right now. They're tied up with internal politics."

But Osa Stile was sitting in Principate Delari's lap. "They'll know as soon as we pull our boots on."

Consent nodded. Brothe was awash in Imperial spies and sympathizers. "And the other thing?"

"Somewhere there's a man who really interests the Brotherhood of War. Probably the Special Office. I don't know, who he is. His child has gone missing. The bad guys took her because they want to twist his arm until he helps them with some underhanded plot. I want to know who he is."

"And that's all you can give me?"

"That's all I've got. I was hiding in a shadow in Sonsa when I got it. Sonsa is where the plot is headquartered."

"We're out of Sonsa. You must know that. There's been enough crying about how unfair it is that Deves should stand up for themselves."

Hecht nodded but did not believe Consent. "At least one of the Three Families, the Durandanti, is involved. They had a relationship with the Brotherhood before. The plotters may be getting orders from the Castella dollas Pontellas. When Ghort and I went up they had us take a courier pouch."

"If it's underhanded and involves the Castella, then the Patriarch is probably involved, too."

"The notion has occurred to me."

Consent bowed slightly. "I'll do what I can, Captain-General."

Captain-General Piper Hecht, with two hundred men and two small brass cannons, camped a half mile outside Clearenza's east gate. Two hundred men could not impose a siege. They did interfere with traffic to and from the city, known for its embroidered linens and its exquisitely colored glassware.

Duke Germa chose not to fight. His family were devout Episcopals. He did not want to provoke the Patriarch to the point where he issued Writs of Anathema and Excommunication. But fon Dreasser made no attempt to treat with Sublime's Captain-General. His disdain for the Patriarchate was palpable.

Piper Hecht sat under a canvas awning. It was a miserable winter day. Another in a parade of cold, gloomy, drizzly days. He and Redfearn Bechter shivered and stared at Clearenza. The city was a gigantic gray boar shape behind the misty rainfall.

Bechter said, "We could occupy the estate houses south of town."

"Make it happen. I miscalculated. I thought the hardship of living under canvas would make the men bond. It's been more miserable than I expected."

"I like an officer who's flexible," Bechter said. "It would've taken Drocker longer to see the light." He went on to opine, "Bonded men aren't much use if they're dying of pneumonia."

Hecht grunted. That was an iron truth of warfare. Likely, more lives would be lost to disease than to any enemy effort. Thus had it been during the Calziran Crusade. Most conflicts operated at a low level of violence. The last big western battle had taken place at Themes, eight years ago.

Though Sergeant Bechter was the Captain-General's aide, he had acquired his own assistant, Drago Prosek. The youngster hailed from Creveldia, a province of the Eastern Empire that more closely resembled Firaldia in religion and culture. Prosek was an apprentice member of the Brotherhood of War. For generations most Brotherhood recruits had come from Episcopal Chaldarean enclaves inside the Eastern Empire.

Though never treated as badly as Devedians and Dainshaus, Episcopals were a persecuted minority.

Prosek appeared. "Permission to approach, Sergeant."

Bechter waved him closer. Drago leaned down,'s swiftly and softly. Piper Hecht did not catch what he said. Prosek whispered for nearly a minute. Bechter nodded occasionally. Drago finished, stepped away. He did not volunteer to abandon the shelter of the awning.

Bechter said, "A courier just came from the Castella. He brought the usual sack – and some news. There's been rioting in Brothe. About food shortages and inadequate shelter. Somebody is provoking them. And the first chest of money from Arnhand has arrived."

Would that render the action against Clearenza obsolete? Sublime could buy back Duke Germa's love.

Drago Prosek brought the courier. He presented the document bag to the Captain-General. Verbally, he related more news. "Nobody knows how much Anne pledged but it looks like Sublime will retire all his debts. Even those left over from his election. With money enough extra to finance new mischief."

Not good, Hecht thought. Sublime could start lining up a whole new clutch of creditors. Getting ready to make more people die.

"Sergeant, I fear we'll be visiting the Connec again, before long."

"Sir, I wish I could say you're wrong. And I'm not looking forward to it. Our next visit isn't going to be nearly as sweet as the last one."

"It was sweet last time?"

"It should've been. And would've been. If the black side of the Night hadn't taken hold of Bishop Serifs."

"The man did do everything he could to make people hate him."

"The guys in there now are probably even worse."

"No doubt. Where's Sedlakova? I haven't seen him all morning. I need to know if we can make those hounds bark." He meant the cannons. Devedian artisans had cast and crafted them, based on a design he recalled from the east. The Sha-lug falcon was supposed to be a secret weapon. The Deves of Firaldia, though, had turned out to know more about firepowder weapons than ever he had, and understood them better.

Bechter said, "He's having trouble keeping his firepowder dry enough to go bang."

True. Sedlakova would handle that by baking the powder at a low heat, carefully keeping it away from any flame.

Hecht opened the courier packet. "Messenger. You see any of the rioting yourself?"

"No, sir. The Castella did go on alert. So did the Patriarchal Guard. But the City Regiment handled it."