News about the capture of Sonsa swept across the End of Connec. No one could figure out what the Patriarch was doing. Sublime's enemies were sure some foul scheme lay behind that action.

Not long after the news about Sonsa, word came that Brothen soldiers had surprised Viscesment and had captured the city against minimal opposition.

"I HEARD AN INTERESTING STORY TODAY, MASTER," SOcia Rault told Brother Candle as they settled down to a late, simple supper.

"Yes?" Sure it would involve bloody behavior somehow.

"You remember Father Rinpoche? He was at Khaurene when we were there. That hideous little hunchback."

"I remember. There aren't many men more arrogant or obnoxious. What about Rinpoche?"

"They made him an auxiliary bishop. And gave him permission to raise his own force to deal with the Maysalean Heresy."

"Hard to believe how much stupidity can be loose in the world at one time."

"Not for me. Anyway, Rinpoche's gang have been plundering the far northwest part of the Connec. He nearly got killed for his trouble, too."

"Due to his own stupidity, no doubt." Brother Candle's exposure to Rinpoche had been limited. But a man did not need to pigeonhole the hunchback. Rinpoche did that for himself. You're bursting. So tell me."

"He was on the wrong side of the Dog River to attack Calour. There are a lot of Seekers there."

Brother Candle knew. He had visited Calour. That was wild country.

Socia continued. "The local men of substance got Rinpoche talking. They stalled him for almost a month, keeping him thinking he might get what he wanted without fighting. That they'd turn over the local Seekers if he treated everybody else all right. But they used the time to bring in two hundred Sevanphaxi darters."

"I think I see what's coming."

Sevanphax was a remote mountain principality between Direcia and Tramaine. Several neighbors claimed suzerainty. The Sevanphaxi acknowledged none. They fought anyone who tried to tame them. And hired out as mercenaries.

Their reputation far exceeded that of the Grolsachers. They were exceedingly professional. They favored a short throwing spear, or dart, smaller than a javelin but longer and heavier than an arrow. Those darts would penetrate all but the thickest plate. And Bishop Rinpoche had only a handful of destitute knights backing him.

"The darters dropped the Arnhanders by the score when they tried to ford the Dog. The Sevanphaxi captain, named something like Ghaitre, let them force the crossing, though. He fell back to the town. Crossbowmen on the wall covered them till they got inside. The Arnhanders were tired and wet and cold after forcing the river crossing. They didn't press the attack against the town."

"So…"

"So while all that was going on townsmen who swam the river the night before attacked Rinpoche's camp. They destroyed his stores, killed his animals, scattered his camp followers. Rinpoche nearly drowned in the rush to get back over the Dog to salvage what he could. And he might've been killed later, when the darters came out to finish his mob off."

So now there would be leaderless bands plaguing that part of the Connec. Hopefully, trying to get home to Arnhand. Defenders of the Connec would do their damnedest to keep them from making it, no doubt.

The news became less grim after Rinpoche's embarrassment. The flood of refugees began to dry up. Brock Rault got a message through to Antieux. Caron ande Lette's occupants had escaped to Ormienden. Now they were with Count Raymone. Several small encounter engagements against disorganized Arnhander forces had gone well.

Socia told Brother Candle, "It's coming together. The villains will be defeated."

Pessimistic of late, the Perfect observed, "There's still a fat Patriarchal army waiting in Ormienden."

That was the great puzzle. The Patriarch had launched his might out of Firaldia with apparent gleeful anticipation of the damage it would do. But now all those soldiers were just sitting there.

Rumor suggested ongoing diplomacy. But with whom? Negotiating what?

The fighting tailed off. Count Raymone managed to protect almost all agriculture south of Yperi, the town that marked the southernmost advance of the Arnhander invaders. Raymone's jubilant but exhausted followers began to arrive in Antieux. Most tarried only briefly before heading home.

Brother Candle remained pessimistic. He predicted, "Next time the Arnhanders will have a strategy. And they'll have someone in charge who'll see that things get done. If the Patriarch leaves anything to attack." He looked northeastward, toward Sublime's Captain-General and his Collegium accomplices, poised like vultures waiting for the body of the Connec to expire.

There were a thousand dark rumors about the upsurge in activities of things of the Night. Every outsider brought tales about old wickednesses resurfacing. Especially where there was fighting.

Brother Candle reminded anyone who would listen, "None of those people have seen anything themselves. You realize that, don't you? Every single tale-teller is retelling something he heard from somebody who heard it from his cousin, who wouldn't ever lie about anything."

Socia never failed to remind him, "You were there when Rook went by so close you ended up squishing maggots in the morning."

He would growl some nonsense back but could not dispute the truth.

Bernardin Amberchelle slipped into Antieux with a group of pilgrims headed west, to the shrines in Khaurene and thence to the waters at St. Overdret. He had put his ferocious nature aside. He seemed a reasonable middle-aged gentleman, typical of the wealthier quarter of any Connecten city. He was portly, dark of hair and eye, and had bee-stung lips. More immediately, he stank, was dirty, and was clad in rags.

He insisted on seeing the Perfect Master and his cousin's fiancee immediately.

Neither knew Bernardin well. Count Raymone's local staff assured them that the man was devoted to form and ceremony. Yet he insisted on seeing them without taking a day to recuperate and prepare for the courtly behavior he loved. Socia observed, "He does come from Raymone."

Amberchelle met them in Raymone's room lined with stone from the Holy Lands. He could not suppress his fearful excitement. He told them, "Count Raymone has a plan. You two are critical to it. The first step is to prepare Antieux for an extended, harsh siege."

They frowned, puzzled.

"Raymone has discovered unexpected friends. He knows our enemies' plans. And what some unanticipated allies are up to, too."

Deeper frowns from the old man and girl.

"The Society has planted agents here. They aren't supposed to reveal themselves until Antieux is under siege. Then they'll seize the gate in the night and open it. The enemy will rush in and kill everyone, Maysaleans, Deves, and Dainshaus first."

"Dainshaus?" Brother Candle asked. "I've never seen a Dainshau here."

"They're here, Master. Several families. The Society plans to exterminate them. Here and everywhere. Deves and Maysaleans, too. And here in Antieux they plan to kill everyone else, too. Even their own. As an example to the lesser cities that owe fealty to Count Raymone. So they'll surrender without a fight."

Socia said, "That's the insane rationality you find only in the gods…"

Brother Candle squeezed her arm.

Amberchelle said, "Its sanity is irrelevant. I've been told to ready the city for a long siege. Your job is to lead the Deves, Dainshaukin, Seekers After Light, and Immaculate's adherents out of here while that can still be done. The Unbelievers need to go to Sheavenalle. The Seekers should go to Castreresone or farther west. Or into the White Hills."

Socia took one deep breath, then another, getting ready to argue. Amberchelle forestalled her. "There'll be some surprises. I haven't been told all about them myself. I do know we all need to do our parts according to Raymone's design, without question or debate, as fast as we can, if we want to see another summer."