Lord of the Silent Kingdom

Hecht had overheard the girls talking himself. Chattering, even, almost like kids who had enjoyed a normal childhood.

"Doneto is really interested," Ghort said. "They aren't good buddies. Were almost enemies back around the time the hippodrome fell down. But they patched it up somehow. They tolerate each other, now."

"The way Delari tells it, it was all a misunderstanding. Too many people talking when they should have been listening ended up with them squabbling when they were both trying to get the same job done. Which was to destroy the monster that was murdering people."

Ghort frowned.

A

"What? Of course they did. Principate Delari…" He stopped. He could not explain.

"Then the monster's little brother came round to take over the family business."

Ghort was as taken aback as Hecht. "A

"The murders started up again. Like before."

Hecht watched color drain from Ghort's features. "Pipe. You said Delari dealt with it."

"That's what he told me."

"Did he produce a body?"

"Not for my benefit. And I wasn't interested in seeing one. I was dodging assassins and getting ready for a war."

"You need to find him and see what he thinks."

"Your boss is a consul. And a pretty potent sorcerer."

"You're right. It would be his job. But you still might want to consult Delari."

"I will. We're supposed to have supper at his town house tomorrow night. I assume he'll be there."

"All right. When are you heading back to the Co

"I haven't been told. It's all still rumors. Boniface… I have an abiding suspicion that the bureaucracy around the Patriarch is so dense and so tangled that even though the Patriarch is God's dictator on earth he has to hack his way through a jungle before he can work His will."

"You ask me, it's just a bunch of assholes being obstructionist. He ought to have you clean them out. There's people at Krois belonging to families that have been underfoot there for fifteen generations. All of them take bribes from anybody with a piece of silver."

A conversation about corruption in high places got the attention of all the kids, and A

A

It was Titus Consent, Noe, and their brood.

Hecht said, "Titus, I completely forgot. Let me see the baby." He had not yet met Avran.

Noe passed the infant over, but hovered. In case he decided to take a bite.

"No doubt who was this one's daddy. Look at those eyes. Already calculating." Hecht passed the baby back. His mother proceeded round the room, giving everyone the same opportunity. Except for Pinkus Ghort. Noe Consent was seriously nervous about Pinkus Ghort. Ghort was too outgoing. She was a mouse, the most timid woman Hecht had ever met. Only a powerful pride drove her here.

Hecht said, "Pinkus, I completely forgot about Titus. We have business at the foundry."

Ghort faked a scowl and said, "I can tell when I'm not wanted."

A

"Sure. I love getting my head kicked in."

"Shame on you, Pinkus Ghort. You win sometimes." A

"I've got work of my own that I let slide so I could come down here to talk my best buddy into keeping on being careful."

Titus said, "Noe could play you, A

Consent's wife turned bright red. She murmured some sort of demurement and refused to meet the eyes of anyone but her baby.

Still insisting that Hecht remain cautious, Ghort let himself out. "Best buddy?" Consent asked.

"Not quite hyperbole. We've been friends a long time," Hecht said. "Unfortunately, we find ourselves with different employers. I hope we never butt heads."

"We should get moving." Consent started to say something to his wife. Hyperactive toddler Sharone had vanished with Vali and Lila in hot pursuit. The baby was working his magic on A

Hecht said, "Pella, come on with us."

A

"He's old enough."

Having the lifeguards along frustrated Hecht. But they would not go away. Titus said, "Resign yourself. You're the most important man in Brothe. After Boniface VII. Bodyguards are the price you pay."

Hecht vented his irritation with rambling nonsense about how Duarnenians never had to suffer this kind of crap. Pella walked alongside, nodding as though he agreed with every word.

Their destination was the workshop and foundry of the people who now manufactured all the firepowder and firepowder weapons for the Patriarchal army, a consortium of leading Devedian families.

Ironic, Hecht thought. If that was the proper word. Unbelievers manufactured the weapons and munitions by which the Chaldarean Patriarchy would enforce its will upon the Faithful.

"The Faithful?" Titus asked. "Mainly things of the Night will be affected by what these people make. You want to whip up on an Imperial town or one of the petty duchies, you'll need to do it the old way."

Hecht did not argue. But Titus was only mostly right. Drago Prosek and Kait Rhuk had a hundred ideas about how firepowder weaponry could change the ways wars were fought. Few involved the Instrumentalities of the Night.

Prosek and Rhuk, with a couple more falcon specialists, were there already when Hecht, Pella, and Consent reached the Krulik and Sneigon Special Manufactory. Consent told Hecht, "We've consolidated firepowder and falcon production here. These people are wonderfully cooperative in helping work out new ways to kill people. And things."

"Especially things," Shimeon Krulik told Hecht soon afterward. "You understand, we Devedians aren't overwhelmed by a compulsion to make life easier for Brothen Episcopal Chaldareans."

"Of course. But we have common interests."

"Indeed. Crippling the Instrumentalities of the Night."

Hecht nodded. Not sure of that at all.

Shimeon Krulik handed Hecht, Pella, and Titus off to a Moslei Sneigon. Sneigon was in charge of production and testing. He was a bent little man who would have been right at home in an ethnic joke. But he was brilliant when it came to knowing what was going on inside his business.

"We've cut costs and improved effectiveness by nearly a hundred times this year, Captain-General. Look. We drip molten iron through these star forms. It comes out cooled just enough so each dribble is a rough arrow shape two inches long. That falls into water. The sudden steam expands and distorts the dart's surfaces."

Sneigon produced a severely irregular iron dart just under two inches long. "We pack these in fine sand treated with a vegetable gum inside these wooden forms that are the same diameter as your falcons. The shock and heat of the exploding firepowder breaks up the charge."

Sneigon showed them workers dipping the tips of the little arrows in molten silver. "We produce the darts fast. The bottleneck is silver application. Quantity doesn't seem to matter with the silver. As long as it's there. One tiny bit on the tip is enough."

"We can save a lot on silver, then?"

"Fortunes. Given time, I think we'll work out how to use a hundredth of the silver we're using now. You'll be spending way more for the iron, the firepowder, and, especially, the falcons themselves."

Hecht was amused by how well Pella managed to fake an understanding of the discussion.

Hecht was fascinated by everything at Krulik and Sneigon. These people were determined to produce new and ever more amazing weapons for deployment in the struggle against the Tyra