"Too spooky for me. I'll keep thinking you're a bunch of crooks." I punctuated with a grin, telling him I knew what he'd say next.
"And the vast majority of people would as soon keep thinking in the symbols to which they're accustomed."
"All of which doesn't get us a step closer to cleaning this mess up before those guys turn TunFaire into a battleground. Symbols haven't been getting killed."
"The crux. Always the crux. The practicalities of everyday life. The early kings did what they had to when they exterminated an insidious and vicious enemy. Only a handful survived to rebuild. That solution is impractical today because we couldn't convince the agencies of the state that a threat exists. Symbolism again. A threat must be perceived to exist before the Crown will act. We have bodies all over the city? So the lower orders are slaughtering each other again. So what?"
I glanced at the Dead Man. He seemed amused. "Old Bones, you were going on about a rogue Loghyr the other day. This guy hasn't said anything about that."
He does not know, Garrett. The possibility of a true, cynical manipulation of men and their beliefs has not occurred to him, except in his own feeble way.
Ah! There is no contradiction, as you are about to protest. I am aware that I mentioned a great evil being created because some people needed it to exist. That is what the Warden has been saying. The rogue created a god in order to manipulate men. Men then created that god with their belief. Agire is right. There is a thing in a tomb. It can be released. It could destroy the world. It is a product of the imagination that has taken on life. Now it rules the rogue who imagined it. It has sent him to find the key.
"But..."
To end this you must find the rogue. You must destroy him.
"Oh boy." I glanced at Agire and Jill. The Dead Man had let them listen in. Jill seemed lost, Agire just frightened. "And how do we pull that off? How do you put an end to a Loghyr when even death doesn't slow him down?"
We will discuss that later. You are too tired to act, let alone think. I will consider means while you sleep.
Just dandy.
51
The Dead Man must not have let Dean rest while I was sawing logs. When I went downstairs the place was a zoo. The most exotic animals in TunFaire were there. They included Chodo Contague (who never leaves his estate) and his top two lifetakers, Morley, a man I didn't know who was obviously oaf the Hill, several species of priest old enough to have gray hair or no hair, and—wonder of all wonders—that character Sampson who'd been Pendent's assistant. At least fifteen people united in a conspiracy to exhaust my food and potables.
Were they talking about how to get shut of the Sons of Hammon? No. All they had on their minds was Glory Mooncalled, whose latest stunt had come earlier than expected and had people reeling everywhere. He had won his biggest victory yet, his slickest, and his most treacherous.
He let himself be discovered by the last Warlords of Venageta. He led their three armies a merry chase until they ran him to ground and he caught them. At the same time his agents guided even vaster Karentine armies into the same area. Those jumped right in figuring to end the war with a single day's bloodwork. They killed all three Warlords and most of their men. But the victory didn't turn out the way they hoped. Glory Mooncalled extricated himself early, engaged only to keep the Venageti from fleeing. The night after the battle he attacked the Karentine camp and killed all the officers, commanders, witches, warlocks, storm-wardens, firelords, and what have you. He sent surviving enlisted men to Full Harbor with word that the Cantard's nonhuman peoples had declared it an independent state. Any Karentine or Venageti presence would be considered an act of war.
The man's audacity was amazing.
The Dead Man had gotten the news.
"You don't seem as smug as you should be. What did he do that you didn't predict?"
He declared creation of an independent republic. I had foreseen him turning on Karenta, as you know, but never considered the possibility that he had such lofty ambitions.
"The way I read it he just wants to be the warlord of the Cantard republic."
A convenient fiction. He permits the creation of an assembly representing the various sentient races of the Cantard. But who owns the power? Who controls the hearts of every veteran capable of wielding a weapon? Today he is not just a king or emperor or even a dictator. He is a demigod. If Karenta and Venageta continue to make claims to the Cantard, his power will not wane while he lives.
There was no "if" about what Karenta and Venageta would do. There were vast silver deposits in the Cantard. They were what the war was about. Sorcerers need silver to fuel their sorceries. Sorcerers are the true, hidden masters of both kingdoms. The war would continue with Karenta and Venageta as tacit allies until Glory Mooncalled's republic collapsed.
So it goes.
"What's this hungry horde I have filling up every nook and cranny? I've gained a few marks in this mess but at the rate they're going they'll eat up the profits."
Bring them in. I suggest you bring Mr. Sadler, Mr. Crask, and Mr. Chodo first and place them near the door, then bring the others, then come yourself with Mr. Dotes and Miss Stump. There could be some excitement when those priests realize they are in the presence of a Loghyr. Caution Mr. Chodo and his associates.
I didn't have any idea what he was up to. I decided to humor him. It was pleasure enough to see him awake and working without carping.
When Sadler heard my warning he asked what was up. I told him I didn't know. He wasn't pleased, but what could I do? Chodo was more understanding—on the surface. He would await events before making judgments.
Morley and I stood to either side of the door as the others filed in. All I detected was a rising note of excitement. Then Sampson strode by. He looked at me like I was something with a hundred legs he'd discovered crawling in his breakfast.
He started violently when he saw the Dead Man. He turned, saw me and Morley blocking the doorway, and turned back again.
We went in, me frowning, looking at the Dead Man as though he might give me some physical clue. Maya closed the door behind us. She didn't look pretty today. She looked mean, like the street kid she'd been so long.
Garrett, ask Mr. Sampson to disrobe. Mr. Contague, would you lend us the aid of Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler in the event Mr. Sampson is reluctant?
Everyone but Chodo looked at Sampson. Chodo looked at me and his henchmen, lifted a finger granting permission. I said, "Sampson?"
He headed for the door. Maya knocked him up side the head with a brass goblet. That slowed him down. Crask and Sadler held his arms while I hoisted the skirt of his habit and yanked down his pants. Morley leaned against the wall and made a crude remark about human perversion.
Mr. Sampson of the Church, heir to the Grand Inquisitor, had a bald crotch.
If you dress him in peasant garb and put him into a doorway I believe witnesses would swear he was the man who assassinated Magister Peridont. I believe he is the only one of his kind present.
"Good enough for me," I said. "Pity there's no one else from the Church here. It would save us the trip to turn him over.''
We will keep him here. He knows who in each denomination is what you call a ringer.
Sampson went rigid as a stone post. I had Crask and Sadler set him to one side. I glanced at the Dead Man.