"Her? Daughter?"
"You didn't know? I suppose not. There in the ruins of Anderle, you wouldn't. The memories have washed away. The books have been burned. Time is a cleansing rain. Yes. Nevenka Nieroda was female." "But the Toal ... And I slew ..." "The Toal are sexless. They never were human. They just possess the bodies of humans. But Nieroda was a Queen, in a land called Sommerlath, ten thousand years before the Immortal Twins were bom. She was the greatest witch who ever lived. So great she elevated herself to virtual demigod status." They walked a way in silence.
Ahlert was thoughtful. "A lot of people have tried. A lot more will. We all want to grasp the stars. Nieroda came closer than most. But like the rest of us, she overreached and drew back fingers webbed with damnation."
Overreaching had been Anyeck's flaw, Gathrid reflected. That last time she had gotten her hands on pure damnation. "You place your bet and take your chances."
"Exactly. Here we are."
"Here we are where?" They were among crumbling structures now. Gathrid had a feeling these were far older than they looked. There was no gnawing weather down here.
"What I call the House of the Eye." Ahlert stooped to pass through a low doorway. The cave dwellers had been small people.
There was a man inside. Gathrid rested a hand on Daubendiek's hilt.
"Magnolo Belfiglio," Ahlert said. "He lives with the Eye. He's the only one who can manipulate it.
He watches the west for me. Any news, Magnolo?"
"Nothing good, Grace. Nothing good. The Sixth Brigade has gone over. Gone over. That leaves the Imperial and the Ninth. The Ninth."
Belfiglio was incredibly old. And shaky. And confined to a wheeled chair. He was the first truly old person Gathrid had seen since entering Ventimiglia.
"The Western army is gone, then. I trust that Tracka and Marcagi have withdrawn."
"They have, Eminence."
To Gathrid, Ahlert explained, "The Imperial Brigade has to support the crown, no matter what. The Ninth is Ahlert family. It was my command once."
The Ventimiglian military was a curiously cobbled structure. Some larger families and trade associations maintained their own privately financed brigades. They were indistinguishable from those maintained by the Empire, but were loyal to their paymasters. The public units seldom took part in private ventures. The private units could be called by the Emperor at need.
There were also mercenary brigades raised by adventurers from among the free peasantry. Such armed associations had made up most of Ahlert's Western army. They had been the first to defect.
The Mindak's western adventure had, in reality, been instigated only by the man who wore Ventimiglia's crown, not by the crown itself. Ahlert had been acting not as Emperor but as a plundering warchief.
"And Rogala told me Ventimiglia had the advantage of a monolithic command," Gathrid muttered.
"And here at home?" Ahlert inquired of Belfiglio.
"The Corichs have repudiated their war captains. War captains. They know what Nieroda is, although they agree with her arguments. Her arguments."
"Have there been desertions from the brigades? Anyone coming back?"
"Very few, Luminence. Mostly career and family men with home ties stronger than their greed. Their greed."
"Then it'll be Ventimiglian against Ventimiglian. Damn! What think the Corichs?"
"Few will join an expedition, Grace. But none will hinder, nor will any support rebellion. There's been talk of denying the peasantry the right to form associations. Form associations."
"There always is. People change their minds when they need a few hired swords. Did you see any discernible lean anywhere?"
"No, Might. They await the rising wind. Rising wind."
"How does he know all that?" Gathrid asked. "I see no mystic Eye."
"It's all around you," Ahlert replied. "It's the room itself."
Gathrid glanced round. "Unusual. But not that unusual."
"I forget. If you had a mind like Magnolo's, you'd have noticed it right away. But Magnolo is unique."
"Oh?"
"You're thinking that makes him powerful? It does. He is. He's the factor that won me the crown.
My enemies would give anything to see him slain. Yet he's only a slave."
Were slaves less subject to temptation than free men? Ah. Of course. Ahlert had the Diadem. He could monitor Belfiglio's thoughts.
"What brought you here?" Ahlert asked.
"I don't know. Maybe I meant to destroy it."
"I see. Moved by Suchara. Want to see more of An-sorge? You'll see how hopeless it would be for one man to try anything."
Gathrid suspected he was being maneuvered away from the Eye. How could he harm it, though? By slaughtering the old man? "Might as well."
Later, he asked, "And why are you here? You should be getting your army under control."
"Those brigades have been written off. A while without pay, supplies or word from home will make them more amenable. But you're part right. I can't wait forever. Sooner or later, Nieroda will turn eastward. Probably after defeating Cuneo, while the troops are heady."
"That's not saying why you're here, only why you're not there."
"The will of Chuchain? I think the Great Ones mean us to be allies."
Gathrid half expected that. Visions of Kacalief returned. The excesses there had been committed by the Toal, but this was the man who had given the order to march.
"I know," Ahlert said. "It's ridiculous. We're enemies. I destroyed everything that meant anything to you. I lured your sister to her death. And you slew my myth of invincibility by slaying her. My throne will never be secure again. I can't raze Ventimiglia to expunge that memory. And you stole my chance to control all four Powers before they fully wakened. I had Chuchain, Bachesta and Ulalia. I would've had Suchara but for foul luck. All ambition is vanity."
"Still ..."
"Where lies the greater evil?"
It had been laid out like playing cards face up. Gang up on Nieroda. Make alliance with the old enemy, or face the Dark Champion alone.
Gathrid did not like it. It forced another questionable decision. He had faced nothing else since discovering the Great Sword. Nothing in this mad world, now, could be reduced to black and white.
"You convince the mind but not the heart."
"I know. I have the same conflicts. Let the intellect rule passion for a while."
Gathrid recognized a rock formation. "You're headed for the surface?''
Ahlert nodded. "We'll have to move fast if we do ally. The Toal up there will know instantly.
It'll act. We'll have to be there to stop it."
Gathrid pondered. The Mindak, though harsh, was human. Nieroda was something undead, something come back from the grave to torment the living.
Assuming Ahlert was telling the truth. This talk could be all maneuver... . "How can I believe you?"
"A touchy point. You could wait and see. That's always good. But in this case it would be too late by the time you got proof.''
"It would," Gathrid agreed.
"I'm strong. Ventimiglia is strong. But our system makes it impossible for me to command the Empire's whole strength. I depend on the support of the Corichs, the organizers of the peasant brigades. They're frightened. Nieroda is a mistress of elder sorceries. Horrors we can't comprehend these days. If you had time to go down and see the past ..." He seemed to disappear inside himself.
"Yes?"
"What? Oh. I can't win alone. She'd seize control of Ventimiglia. With the Empire and her ancient sorceries she would tear at the world like a wounded tiger. She'd destroy everything."