“I missed. I told you. The old man isn’t the best teacher. He mostly lets you figure things out for yourself. He isn’t around ninety percent of the time.”
Hecht faced Delari. “You said Heris and I have no talent for sorcery.”
“Inborn, less than some stones, certainly.”
“There are a million magical stones in folklore and myth.”
“My point. But in this case Cloven Februaren is just harnessing the Construct. The magic is in that. You could learn the trick if you spent a few months down there getting in tune.”
“Anyone can learn?”
“Given time and the inclination.”
“Including the people that work down there?”
“Within severely constrained limits. That’s how the women get in and out without falling foul of the Palace guards. Enough, for now.” Anna and the children were arriving.
Anna was stunning in something she had found in the apartment set aside for the family. Vali and Lila were not quite so remarkable but were well dressed, too.
Hecht suppressed a chuckle.
Pella had been outfitted like a young lord, complete with silken hose and slippers with bells on their upturned toes.
“Marvelous,” a new voice opined. And there was the little old man in brown, Cloven Februaren. The Ninth Unknown. “Yet there’s something wrong, here.”
Felske stepped into the room to ask, “Your Grace, Cook would like to know when the meal should be served.”
“When she has everything ready, I expect.”
Almost simultaneously, Februaren said, “These kids don’t fight. Brothers and sisters should be like cats and dogs. The girls should be scorching the boy about being dressed like that.”
Hecht observed, “Some young people are more civilized than others. I saw Hugo Mongoz today. He had a message for you.”
“I heard it. I took it up with him personally after you left. The only man we need to worry about is Bronte Doneto.”
Hecht glanced at his family, all eager to eavesdrop. “Doneto? As a concern other than what we have already?” Doneto was digging. Doneto held Pinkus Ghort’s leash.
“Friend Bronte has his eye on the Patriarchal throne.”
Not unlikely, on reflection. “He seems a little young.” Again, Hecht indicated the family with a glance.
Februaren said, “Might as well bring them in a little way, Piper. It’s true, what they don’t know they can’t betray. But what they don’t know can let them tell things they wouldn’t if they knew what was going on.”
That worried Hecht. Family worried Hecht. Family made you vulnerable. His enemies would not withhold their cruelties because he did not share his secrets with Anna and the children.
“I don’t like it. But you’re the expert. I’ll defer to your judgment.”
“Why, thank you, Piper.” The old man chuckled.
“Teach Heris better aim with the turn sideways trick.”
“I heard. She just needs practice. And more concentration. Well. Here they come. And it looks like Muno has laid on a leg of lamb.”
Principat? Muniero Delari, within the confines of his home, disdained many Firaldian customs. Among his steps away from the customary was, he let children eat with adults. Though he was not so relaxed that he tolerated their chatter during the meal.
Turking and Felske presented the initial courses. Delari remarked, “I’m as uncomfortable as Piper, Grandfather. For different reasons. If you insist on baring souls, I suggest we save it for the quiet room, over coffee.”
“Conceded. One of my failings,” Februaren told Anna, flashing a big, boyish grin. “I’ve never been sufficiently paranoid. Gets me into trouble all the time.”
“So has your childish sense of humor,” Delari said.
“It’s just not possible to resist sticking a pin in, here and there.” The old man grinned again.
Hecht changed the subject. “What’s the problem with the thing in the catacombs? First, I hear it’s been hunted down and destroyed. Then I hear that it’s on the move again.”
Amazing. Principat? Delari actually reddened. “I don’t want to sound defensive. Or whiny. But it keeps getting re-created by the needs of the populace.”
Anna asked, “Why would anyone want a monster that creeps around, doing evil?”
“Nobody wants it consciously. But refugees have a powerful need to be scared of the dark. They’re from rural areas where the Night was never a friend. The city is different. Night is almost as safe as daytime. Pinkus Ghort makes it so. So the monster fills their need to fear the dark. We destroy one, the belief and need seizes another minor Instrumentality and feeds it. Belief channeling power toward its object.”
Hecht asked, “You mean…?” He got no chance to ask.
Cloven Februaren interrupted, “The way to fight that would be to start some rumors that make the believers lose faith.”
Then the earth shook violently.
“What in the hell?”
That was Turking, suddenly terrified.
“Earthquake,” Anna suggested.
Piper Hecht had heard that sound toward the end of the siege of Arn Bedu. But that explosion, of a ton of firepowder under a tower, had not lasted so long, nor had shaken the mountain so vigorously.
“That’s southwest of here,” Delari said.
“Maybe the magazines at Krulik and Sneigon.” The Krulik and Sneigon Special Manufactory produced the firepowder and firepowder weaponry employed by the Patriarchal armies. Its destruction would be a huge disaster.
“Not a good thing,” Cloven Februaren said. “You’d have to start from scratch. Unless somebody had a few eggs hidden in other baskets.”
The three men moved out into the weather. Illuminated smoke rose into the overcast. “That’s not the Devedian quarter,” Hecht said, which was where Krulik and Sneigon were located. “That’s closer. And not big enough to be Krulik and Sneigon.”
“I’ll take a closer look.” The Ninth Unknown turned sideways and disappeared.
Anna and the children saw him go.
“Hush!” Hecht snapped. His lifeguards were closing in. Madouc himself appeared. Hecht asked him, “Any idea what just happened?”
“Your guess would be as good as mine, sir. But I suspect that a firepowder magazine wandered too close to a spark.”
Interesting. Everyone assumed the explosion was accidental. What if it was not?
A flash shone while Hecht wondered how someone outside the military supply chain might have gotten hold of that much firepowder. The rumble did not arrive for several seconds. Hecht immediately guessed that to have been one standard twenty-four-pound firepowder keg.
Cloven Februaren said, “You have more resources than you’re ready to admit, boy.”
Hecht jumped. The old man had returned. Without startling Madouc. Though Madouc was always suspicious of the old man in brown.
“Uh…”
“My sentiments, too. The bang. It was at the Bruglioni citadel. They must have had their cellars filled with firepowder. Everything fell straight down, into the cellars, then on down into the catacombs.”
The light was not good. But Hecht would have sworn the old man was distressed.
Februaren said, “No one in there could’ve survived. It’s worse than the hippodrome collapse.”
Principat? Delari stirred. Having been responsible for that. He had used a keg of firepowder to attack the monster of the catacombs in exactly the worst possible place.
“What shall we do?” Hecht asked.
Madouc suggested, “Staying out of the way would be appreciated by the city authorities.”
Delari agreed. “Good point. They’re irritated enough, having to put up with Patriarchal troops. Sit still. Let them work. They’re competent. If they want help, let them ask.”
Hecht nodded. Reluctantly. He had grown accustomed to doing what he thought was right, without consulting anyone.
Anna took hold of his left bicep. “Why don’t we go inside? Life could get exciting out here.”
The instant he was out of sight of the lifeguards Cloven Februaren turned sideways.