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Five senior staffers waited in the master pla
Clej Sedlakova was an observer for the Brotherhood. They insisted. The Captain-General was using their facilities.
Hecht could not operate without their approval and support.
Sedlakova was new, too, but there was no doubt he knew his way around a battlefield. He had lost his shield arm. His face bore two ugly scars, one down the right side and one across his forehead. The latter was permanently purple. He did not say much. Nor did he interfere.
The other three men had been with Hecht since he had taken over the City Regiment in the run-up to the Calziran Crusade. They were Hagan Brokke, a Krogusian who had
been a private soldier at the time of the first pirate attacks.
He had risen swiftly by demonstrating outstanding abilities. He was Hecht's pla
The others were Titus Consent and Tabill Talab, chief intelligence officer and lead quartermaster. Both were Devedian, which made folks like Clej Sedlakova uncomfortable. Consent was in his early twenties.
Sedlakova might be uncomfortable but he was implacably tolerant. Both Deves were exceptionally competent. And unobtrusive with their religion.
All five men were accompanied by assistants. Managing the Patriarch's armed forces was not a minor enterprise.
Hagan Brokke said, "We're working on that, sir." He indicated a vast wall map of Firaldia. That was a permanent feature of the room. Every little county, dukedom, principality, city-state, kingdom, and republic was delineated. Political entities were identified by color, in a dozen shades. Isolated parts of the same entity were co
Brokke said, "If we have to attempt the absurd we have garrisons here, here, and here that can support us. I've sent warning orders."
"Excellent."
Titus Consent said, "The Imperials will expect that. It shouldn't worry them. They won't expect anything to come of it. Our side talks loud but never actually does anything."
"We might break that precedent this time."
Consent continued. "Couriers will alert our intelligence assets in the region, too." He tended to talk that way.
"Good again." Consent meant messages had been sent to the Devedian ghettoes.
There were Deves everywhere. Going u
Which was useful but embarrassing. Deves were little more popular than demons. They were too educated. Too prosperous. Too smart. You did not want to associate too intimately with that sort. They were the source of all the world's evil – if there were no handy Pramans or Maysaleans, other loathsome Unbelievers or heretics, or the Instrumentalities of the Night, to blame. Being literate, Deves wrote things down. Often things you did not want retailed accurately later.
The literate were as mistrusted as those who had congress with the Night. Either could destroy you with arcane knowledge.
Hecht said, "Bring me up-to-date. Can fon Dreasser protect himself?"
Titus Consent was a tall youth, slim, dark of mien, usually cheerful. He was talented in the extreme and thoroughly competent. He was not obviously Devedian. He handled rampant prejudice mainly by refusing to acknowledge it. He was a solid family man. Early on he had told Hecht that he had been raised from infancy to become a sort of savior for the Deves of the western diaspora.
He said, "We haven't had time to find out. I can tell you that it would be smart to get some arrears money to the garrisons out that way. Blatantly obvious, but every time we pry back pay out of the Patriarch we win more friends among the men with the sharp iron."
That sort of thinking had gotten Hecht exiled from Dreanger when he was Else Tage. Else Tage had been popular with the soldiers.
"Any chance we can find some money?"
"We talked to the Fiducian, Joceran Cuito." Cuito was director of the Patriarchal treasury. He was a Direcian archbishop who was in line to join the Collegium. On merit, and because he had Peter of Navaya as a sponsor. "He means to employ a battery of limited, secured loans."
Sublime was inclined to avoid securing his loans with anything more substantial than a signature. But ink was no longer enough for Brothe's moneylenders.
"Property?" The Church was the biggest landowner in Firaldia. Since earliest Old Brothen times land had been the critical measure of wealth. Only land could provide a stream of income.
"Fiducian Cuito would rather pawn art treasures and rare books from the Krois Palace. He won't say why, but he's sure the Church is going to receive a substantial windfall before long."
"Then something's going on under the table. And Sublime's kept it inside his i
"Exactly."
"Considering the time of year and general economy, I'd say they're going to steal something. Or sell something. Big. They've already sold all the seats in the Collegium that they can. And all the livings that anybody will pay for." A thought. "Could it be a fat bequest?"
"I don't know of anyone with one foot in the grave and the inclination to bribe the guardians at Heaven's gates."
"Would they hurry somebody off to the Promised Land early?" Sublime had not yet been accused of murder for profit. But his predecessors had.
"We don't have access to their records. We haven't heard of any pending legacies."
"Keep an eye on it." Hecht settled in to listen to other reports, not just about Clearenza. He had some responsibilities regarding the ongoing effort to suppress diehard Praman partisans in Calzir.
Calzir would never reclaim its independence. If Sublime recalled his garrisons the Grail Empire and Navaya would flood the vacuum. Making Sublime's two biggest competitors even stronger.
Fate conspired to thwart Sublime at every turn. But he refused to see the stumbling blocks as an expression of God's will.
Few men took their own reverses as God's will. Instead, they worked hard to adjust God's will to reflect their own.
Sublime probably spent a lot of time asking God why it all had to be so hard.
Moving close, Titus Consent asked, "Can I see you privately after we're done?"
"Absolutely. I need a word with you, too. Colonel Smolens, are you confident enough to take over if I take a few days off?"
Smolens showed surprise, then curiosity. "I know my way around, now."
"Your biggest problem would likely be having to deal with our masters. None of them are the least bit reasonable."
"No problem, Captain-General. I can pretend they're my extended family." Buhle Smolens was perfectly formal. He demonstrated the ideal military courtesy, uphill and down, always. He had brought his family to Brothe. Nobody had met them yet. Smolens mentioned them only in passing. His eldest son supposedly wanted a subaltern's position, if one came open.
Smolens had several interesting ideas for installing a more professional attitude in the Patriarchal armies. His big fault was his conviction concerning the earthly and moral supremacy of the Episcopal vein of the Chaldarean faith. Though he did not buy the doctrine of Patriarchal Infallibility.