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“I’ll take your word. Here’s the story, Titus.”

Hecht sketched the facts. He skipped some key points, like his death from that assassination attempt and an explanation of how he had survived.

Consent muttered, “We didn’t need to take this to a quiet room?”

Renfrow had done something. Bits of darkness were on patrol.

Asgrimmur said, “Find work for the Old Ones. They’re getting into mischief because they don’t have anything to do.”

“Tell them to stop. Bad behavior isn’t productive. And it attracts attention.”

“Just like that?” the ascendant asked. “When they haven’t seen the middle world in ages?”

“They need to understand that this isn’t the middle world they knew. In this middle world people know how to kill gods. In this middle world some people have dedicated their lives to that.”

“You want to threaten them when they’ve already agreed to help you?”

“No. I want them informed. They can call Heris or me Godslayer. We earned it. But we weren’t doing it for sport. They need to understand that some people want them exterminated because their existence threatens them. The Special Office, for example. Those people saw what happened in the Connec. They were there.”

Renfrow said, “With the wells of power so weak no new gods will arise. If the Old Ones feed on other Instrumentalities they won’t get stronger, they’ll just buy time.”

Hecht said, “If the wells don’t come back the Special Office will get what it wants without lifting a finger.”

“In the sense that the Night will keep getting weaker. The Instrumentalities will never go away completely. Unless they get on the wrong side of your sister.”

Asgrimmur said, “Some are clever. They may find ways to beat the drought.”

Hecht had a thought so disconnected he shook his head as though to dislodge it, or, at least, to shake loose an explanation of why it had gone off ninety degrees to nothing.

Titus stood. “Boss? You all right?”

“I don’t know. Strange ideas just bubbled up out of nowhere. I’m not used to that.”

“Huh?”

“See, I had this sudden notion that we have to do everything we can to get hold of Grinling.”

His companions all made puzzled noises. Consent went a step further. “Evidently another mystery where I’m no initiate.”

“Grinling is a magic ring. Built by the Aelen Kofer. It got lost in our world ages ago. Dumped into the Shallow Sea, or maybe the Mother Sea. I don’t know much about it so I don’t know why I’d think about it now.”

The ascendant said, “If you knew how to work it you could use it to control the Shining Ones and make yourself Master of the Nine Worlds.”

Again Titus expressed confusion.

“The Shining Ones, or Old Ones, were always collective names for the old northern gods,” Renfrow explained. “To confuse things, these days country people call elves and other minor Instrumentalities the Shining Ones, too.”

Consent said, “I was angry about being left out. Now I’m not sure ignorant wasn’t best.” He looked desperate. “Boss, how do you get your head around all this?”

“Sometimes I can’t. Mostly, I just remember that it’s the Night. You shouldn’t have trouble adapting. You handled the revenant hunt in the Connec.”

“Oh,” Renfrow said. “The Connec. Bad news out there. Count Raymone caught a gang of Arnhanders trying to sneak Serenity through to Arnhand. He got hold of the dirty end.”

Hecht demanded details. Raymone was neither a friend nor an ally but he had thought well of the man. And the Count’s determined enemy, Bronte Doneto, seemed equally determined to be an enemy to Piper Hecht.

Renfrow had few details. He had seen nothing himself. He had visited the scene days after the event.

“No Anselin?” Hecht asked.

“No Anselin. That rumor may have begun as a lure for Raymone, but I doubt it. The Arnhander force wasn’t that strong. It was one of those shit happens things. Serenity was lucky to get out with his ass still attached. He was badly hurt. You really want, send the old man to cut his throat. He’s nowhere near Salpeno yet. He’ll move slowly because of his wounds.”

Hecht had traveled with a recuperating Bronte Doneto, escaping the Connec early on. “He’ll be making somebody miserable. He doesn’t handle pain well.” He ignored the suggestion about loosing the Ninth Unknown. “You’re on the inside, now, Titus. Forget what you believed before you sat down. Open your mind to what is.” Then, “I know that isn’t much help. I have trouble and I’ve lived with it for several years.”

Renfrow said, “I have for seven hundred. And Asgrimmur has for three hundred.”

The ascendant disagreed. “It must have been longer than that. I was asleep in the Realm of the Gods for ages. The dreams weren’t pleasant.”

“Easy,” Hecht said. The old insanity had begun to surface, there. “Here’s a thought. If the Shining Ones need to stay busy have them find Grinling for me. Have them find Anselin. He’s got to be somewhere.”

Asgrimmur said, “I’m sure they’re looking for Grinling already. Whoever finds it would have a leg up. You might’ve noticed that they’re not team players.”

Hecht said, “I’ll see the Empress soon. Till I get different orders, Titus, assume that we’re still headed for the Holy Lands. No big thing for you, Renfrow, but our livelihood for the rest of us.”

Grimmsson stirred uneasily. “I said I’d help once my other business was done. It is. What should I be doing?”

“Running my special operations force.” It came smoothly, without forethought. “You’ll manage our rescued friends, plus Zyr and Red Hammer if Heris can get them back.”

“I understand you lost the Zyr egg.”

“No, I didn’t. But while we were transitioning it changed somehow. Heris is trying to work out what happened.” But he feared that whatever had, it could not be undone. Zyr might be gone forever.

The ascendant said, “I transitioned with Heris before. It was so awful I won’t ever do it again.”

“It was never easy for me, either. Renfrow. Your part is done. What’re you going to do now?”

“What Ferris Renfrow always does. Stay out of sight. Be a phantom threat that protects the Throne and spies on its enemies.”

“Who do not include the Righteous.”

“At the moment. Times keep changing.”

Hecht betrayed his irritation.

“Easy, Commander. A jest, no more. I foresee no problems.”

Hecht caught a glimmer of motion in the corner of his left eye. He turned. So did Renfrow and Grimmsson. There was nothing to see. Renfrow’s black beads did not become active. Hecht asked, “Titus, how much do the men know about Asgrimmur?”

“Enough to be nervous.”

“How about we don’t tell anybody who he used to be? We could come up with a hook or a claw, couldn’t we?”

“Well … call him Sweetling, keep him from going all hairy and rustic again, make him dress like he’s from this century, he can get by. People who have to depend on him will want some sense of who he is, though.”

“We’re mercenaries. We lie about who we used to be. We lie about where we came from. Trust we earn now.”

Asgrimmur might not have been listening. “The Old Ones will have their hands full dealing with Vrislakis and Djordjevice. We didn’t get the cream of the Shining Ones.”

Piper Hecht steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “I’m going to let you explain that.”

“What?”

“Back when, the implication was that you put the whole gang out of business. Permanently. Plus, the top god and the Exile are gone. Right? So. Some were trapped, but not the whole bunch. Right?”

Asgrimmur nodded. “Twelve, about half of them not first rank.”

Hecht grunted. “And the others? I could probably think of seven or eight more names.”

“They were away when the Aelen Kofer closed the gates between the worlds. They’re in Eucereme, now, where they’ll stay till the end of time unless the dwarves reopen the ways. You met Iron Eyes. Will he suffer a change of heart when there’s nothing but servitude in it for the dwarves?”