Lord of the Silent Kingdom by Glen Cook Page B

largely unaware of the full implications of what he had done. The Devedians were not unaware. Their Elders knew who Piper Hecht used to be. They knew what he had done. They knew he had won a fierce reputation amongst the Instrumentalities of the Night, and that those forces would have exterminated him long since had they been better able to distinguish one mortal from another.
    The biggest had to use something like the soultaken to find an individual.
    Although a brilliant commander and leader, Piper Hecht, under whatever name, sailed through life in near ignorance of what he really was. He was feared by powers and people of which and whom he was unaware or was insufficiently suspicious.
    “What about them?” Hecht did know that he was woefully ignorant about all that. Other than that a string of murders had culminated in the emergence and passing of major Instrumentalities during the Calziran Crusade.
    Hagan Brokke observed, “The soultaken were just a fore-taste of what’s coming, I think. The gods themselves have begun to take a real interest in mundane events.”
    “Gods?” Clej Sedlakova demanded. “There is only one God!”
    “Excuse me. For want of another label. High Demons, if you prefer. To borrow from the Dainshaukin.”
    Those monotheists recognized a mind-boggling array of lesser supernatural entities arranged in several parallel and inimical hierarchies.
    Hecht smiled. “I don’t much care.” No one took exception. Even Sedlakova was disinclined to insist on strict conformance to dogma. “I’ll think about it. Though that’s something more suited to the Collegium.
    Colonel Smolens. To my earlier point. I’ll be out of touch. You’ll have to deal with whatever comes up. I shouldn’t be gone long.”
    Smolens asked, “Do we know where you are? Do we admit that you’re not around?”
    “If you’re pressed say I’m not available. You really won’t know where I am.” Though he would not bet against the Deves keeping track.
    “How long? At the most?” Titus Consent asked.
    “As long as it takes to finish what I need to do.” Meaning do not get up to anything he should not. “Good.
    Enjoy yourselves. Oh. You wanted a private word, Titus?”
    Consent betrayed what might have been a glimmer of fear. He whispered, “Outside the Castella. I’ll walk with you.”
    Hecht nodded. Not inside the keep of the Chaldarean religion’s most ferocious defenders? What a surprise.
    Hecht waited till after they crossed to the shore and were headed downriver, toward the Memorium.
    “More problems with the Elders?” The Seven, the Elders of the Brothen Deves, were a pain as big as the heads of the Five Families, or members of the Collegium. They could not leave Titus Consent alone to get on with his sacred work.
    “Not yet. I’m sure there will be. That isn’t it. Yet.”
    “Well?”
    “Noë is almost to term.”
    “Uhm.” Hecht knew Consent’s wife and sons by name but had yet to meet them. Deves did not mix with Chaldareans socially. “Congratulations.”
    Consent stopped. He shuddered. Hecht halted, back to the jungle of monuments to Old Brothen emperors, generals, and dictators, and their triumphs. “What is it?”
    “Noë and I have discussed this for months. We want you to be the baby’s godfather. And Principatè Delari to sponsor us. If he will.”
    Hecht did not get it right away. He still had to get the hang of being Episcopal Chaldarean. “Godfather? I didn’t know Deves did that.”
    “Not the Chaldarean way. My brother would do it. If I had one. Since I don’t, my uncles should get the job.”
    Hecht finally caught on. “Are you talking about converting?”
    “I am. If you’ll be the baby’s godfather. And if Principatè Delari will sponsor us. We’ve been studying in secret. We already know most of what we need to.”
    Hecht was stunned. “But you’re the Elect.”
    “They never asked me. I don’t want to be the Elect. It’s eaten me up for twenty years. I want out.