"And they still won't keep Pinkus on," Hecht muttered. The Five Families wanted to shed the costs of the City Regiment, finding it not worth the price if they could not use it against one another. "Go ahead," he told the courier. "I'm listening." He read while the man talked.

Titus Consent was right about his former co-religionists. They remained cooperative.

Consent had joined the expedition. He was inside Clearenza now. No siege had been set. Hecht was mounting a demonstration meant to intimidate Duke Germa. If fon Dreasser remained stubborn, and his Imperial friends lent no more support than they had to this point, he would summon additional troops and lay a real siege.

The other side knew the plan as well as he did.

Word of Sublime's financial windfall would be spreading. The troops would be more cooperative.

Hecht's natural cynicism made him wonder if Sublime hadn't planted the story.

How could Sublime be thwarted if the Anne of Menand story was true?

How would that much specie be moved from Salpeno to Brothe? Any number of people might be tempted to interfere. Grolsach, in particular, would be dangerous. Those people were hungry enough to dare holding up the Church itself.

A roll of thunder off toward Clearenza got his attention. Sergeant Bechter, Drago Prosek, and the courier started, suddenly frightened.

They had not heard the hounds bark before.

Hecht said, "I hope that stone comes down somewhere that will impress the Duke." He had no real hope, though. The hounds threw a stone that weighed about ten pounds. That would not do the damage caused by traditional stone-casters. But the hounds were impressively loud and smoky and could hurl their missiles a lot farther.

"Unless we have a spot of luck they'll put holes in a few roofs and let in the drizzle," Bechter said.

"Tell you the truth, I'd as soon go home and get out of the weather."

"Sir, if I had a woman like yours I wouldn't ever have left."

"I'll mention your appreciation, Sergeant. I'm sure she'll agree."

Bechter reddened.

"And here's a note from the boss himself. Wants us to be quick and wrap this up on account of he's got other work for us. Are you sneering at our master, Sergeant?"

"Not me, sir. He's the Infallible Voice of God."

Drago Prosek was appalled. Hecht said, "Prosek, go check out the houses south of the city. Find us a place. Duke Germa's would be good, if we fit. You. Courier. There's a mess tent about thirty yards back there. Go get warmed up. Get some sleep. I won't have anything for you to take back till tomorrow."

After a moment, Bechter asked, "Why did you get rid of them?"

"You were giving them apoplexy. They both really believe the Patriarch is the Living Voice of God."

"They'll get older. What else?"

Bechter was getting to know him. "Titus Consent is headed this way. He shouldn't be back this soon."

There was another boom. Different. Louder. Less directed. Hecht sighed. "I hope they were behind something before they matched that fuse. Because that sounded like it blew up." Which had been a big problem during the development of the weapons in Dreanger.

Titus Consent slipped in through the closed back of the tent, looking for eavesdroppers hiding in corners that were not there.

"You found out something special?" Hecht asked. "I didn't expect you for a few more days."

"Plans have to adapt to circumstance."

"Good news? Or bad?"

"Depends on what you want to do and who you are."

"You going to play games with me?"

"No. I came back because I thought we could… Shit!"

"Language, young man. Language."

Consent grinned, showing bright, perfect teeth. "What was that?"

"One of the hounds barking. I didn't think you'd be surprised." A second boom followed a moment later. Which meant that there had not been a blowup, after all. Hecht told Bechter, "Go check that out. Find out what that odd bang was before."

Sergeant Bechter nodded. "Of course, sir. Of course."

A moment later, Consent said, "You didn't need to send him away."

"That wasn't the point. I do want to know what happened. There was an explosion. It sounded like one of the hounds blew up. Those things are expensive. And almost as dangerous to their crews as to their targets. So. Why are you back already?"

"They aren't taking us serious. It's business as usual over there. The Duke's men and some advisers from the Grail Empire have been looking at the defenses and talking about reinforcing the gates, but they aren't in any hurry. Two hundred men don't scare them. They don't expect us to get help from our garrisons. And they expect reinforcements of their own."

"How soon?"

"I don't know. Because they didn't. But Lothar promised to send a company of Braunsknechts."

"Not good, that. But the first shipment of money from Anne of Menand has arrived. That should alter the balance of power."

Consent looked skeptical. "In that case, I recommend we move right now."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

Titus Consent had in mind jumping on Clearenza with both feet before anybody thought there was the least chance that the Captain-General would do anything but show the flag.

The night sky began to clear as the Patriarchals stole toward the city. They made very little noise, except by snarling at one another to keep quiet. A fragment of moon kept trying to peek through cold clouds that promised snow.

Clearenza's north gate was a minor one. It served agricultural traffic. The gate was shut, but not so the sally port built into it. That was not secured because illicit traffic, avoiding tariffs and customs duties, moved in and out by night. Titus Consent and several obvious Devedians took point. Those who were not Episcopal Chaldareans were subject to a weighty head tax by day.

The guards were not alert. So much not so that all the sneaking went to waste. The only guard awake enough to demand bribes was so focused on a jug of wine that he found himself tied up before he understood what was happening. His only comment was, "Oh, shit!"

Piper Hecht muttered, "Is this a trap? Can they possibly be this lax with an enemy outside?" Though he saw the same loose attitude every day, everywhere. There was no professional tradition amongst Firaldian soldiers. Maybe because they did not get into many real fights. "Please tell me this isn't a trap."

"They've been setting it up for ten years if it is."

"Really?" Did Pinkus Ghort's adventure here predate that time? Or was his story about service here another tall tale?

"This was the easy part," Consent said. "Now we have to reach the citadel without raising an alarm. If they lock us out…"

"Thought the Duke goes whoring every night."

"Not every night. He's not as young as he used to be. But a lot."

"None of us are as young as we used to be. Send your lead teams."

Three teams of three men each headed for sporting houses Duke Germa was known to frequent. They would do nothing but find out if the man was there. That would be obvious. He dragged a retinue everywhere he went. A runner would carry word from each location to Consent. He would be waiting outside the citadel. If fon Dreasser was out, they would try to capture the citadel gate. The Duke always left it open when he went out on the prowl. Or such had been his custom since the advent of the Patriarchals had forced him to abandon his manor outside the wall.

Hecht told Bechter, "If we don't bring this off, I'll make him hurt by using his manor for our headquarters."

"Aren't we supposed to respect his properties? Sublime wants him back in the fold."

"I must've misunderstood my instructions."

Bechter grunted. He was recovering from the hike from camp. He was in shape for his age, but he was his age, trying to keep up with men mostly younger than the Captain-General.