The Great Adversary had wrought a thousand deceptions while hiding amongst the Instrumentalities of the Night. It was impossible to untangle the skein of lies. Because there was always another lie in line.
Brother Candle relaxed and observed as the discussion drifted to reincarnation, which had leaked into the Maysalean Creed despite being an oriental concept.
The group wanted to examine the moral implications of reincarnation. Some thought rebirth gave you an out if you behaved badly. You could do your next incarnation as a makeup.
Brother Candle had not yet worked out where he stood regarding reincarnation. He found the idea comforting. Reincarnation meant a second chance to get life right. It was the Great Wheel of Life.
Someone wanted his attention. "Yes?"
Madame Scarre asked if he believed Seekers After Light were obliged to fight back if attacked.
"Absolutely. It's one more way to resist evil. If we don't fight evil we become accessories to evil."
Nothing but hurried breathing sounded in the Archimbault household. A great Maysalean mind was about to share a thought.
Brother Candle disappointed everyone. "That's it. That's the truth. The lines are never clear. There is no absolute right. There is absolute wrong but it's hard to identify. It manages to adopt a great many disguises."
Scarre the Baker asked, "What do you mean, Brother?"
He began to preach. "We are slaves to reason. Reason exterminates every argument our enemies throw up. Righteousness slides through their fingers like water. All they have left in hand is emotion. Our weakness is, we don't recognize it when dreams and emotion guide us. So we're as much victims of the Instrumentalities of the Night as those we disdain for being less thoughtful."
Brother Candle was afraid he had failed to express himself in a way the others could understand. Not even he was equipped to comprehend the full nature of mankind's relationship with the Instrumentalities of the Night.
Despite a moral code being part of every religion, with innumerable admonitions to do good put into the mouths of the gods, Brother Candle had yet to see any direct evidence that the Instrumentalities of the Night, at any level, demonstrated any innate moral polarity. Like earth, wind, water, and fire, they just were. And, like life itself, they wanted.
Good and evil were concepts imposed by men, through their perceptions and beliefs, or directly by force of sorcery.
Brother Candle found it difficult to be a spiritual adviser and guide in a world where there were few absolutes to serve as navigational beacons when he charted his own course.
He said, "If we Seekers After Light disappear from the grand pageant of history it won't be because logic and persuasion overwhelmed us. It will be because a superior weight of arms and terror were deployed."
Brother Candle dreaded any future that had roots sunk into the ordure of Duke Tormond's incredible decision to try dealing with Sublime V. The Brothen Patriarch was not a man like him, simple and moved by goodwill toward all.
Perhaps Honario Benedocto was a cosmic prank being played by the Instrumentalities of the Night. Some old religions declared their gods capable of far worse, just for the amusement to be gained by kicking the anthill.
21. Brothe, in the Gathering of the War
Brothe was in a ferment. Neither a Patriarchal nor a Collegium delegation came out to greet Principatй Doneto. Sublime's limited forces were desperately trying to keep order, busy as a three-legged cat in a room full of mice.
The Five Families hurled accusations and pointed fingers. Their young men found excuses to duel. Every duelist who came in second added fuel to the emotional holocaust The law forbid family forces larger than a personal guard. In the past they had shown themselves unable to refrain from throwing swords at every little problem. Now they sought ways to get around the law.
The Brotherhood of War was mad at everybody.
Word of the troubles, with mystic swiftness, reached the Calziran pirates. A small fleet tried to come up the Teragi River but was driven back by the Collegium.
Then there was the Brothen mob, which had behaved itself for far too long. Riots and looting broke out most every day. Luckily, the civil disorders remained small and localized.
The Devedian and Dainshaukin minorities, working together, resisted the madness. Though they did incense the Episcopal mob by kicking the snot out of would-be looters.
Their situation never grew as bad as had that of the Deves of Sonsa.
The worst was over by the time Bronte Doneto's band reached the city. Today's Brothens couldn't live up to the standards of bad behavior shown by their forbears.
The party's passage through the streets was uncomfortable, though the day itself was clear, cool, and crisp and recent heavy rains had swept away most of the offal usually lending piquancy to the city air. Doneto moved as fast as he could. He wanted to be off the streets before his return became common knowledge.
Everyone who really cared had, of course, been aware of his approach for days.
THE PRINCIPATЙ GAVE HIS PEOPLE JUST TIME ENOUGH TO EAT, clean up, change clothing, and take a few minutes to relax. Then he summoned them to the central hall of his home. That structure was a minor fortress constructed of dirty old limestone less than a bow shot from the larger Benedocto citadel. The Benedocto home was a true castle.
The Five Families all had their true fortresses within the city – despite being denied the forces to defend them. The Benedocto castle was the biggest family stronghold.
Else arrived to discover that Doneto had wasted no time on his own comfort. He wore what he had worn on the road. He was as dirty as he had been when he entered the city. He carried a wooden bowl containing olives, pickled garlic, and onions, plus bite-size chunks of sausage and cheese. He ate as
he moved around.
Else presumed that the people he did not recognize – everyone but Doneto and Pinkus Ghort – were Doneto's own people who had stayed behind when their master had gone off to salvage the Connec.
The Principatй's staff had done a superb job of keeping the household ready for its master's return.
"Or somebody warned them that he was on his way home," Ghort said. "Like maybe the guy who paid his ransom. Meantime, it looks like we've lost a friend and gained a boss."
"Must you always be cynical?"
That process – the one where Doneto returned to old form – had begun before their exit from Plemenza.
"Look out," Ghort cautioned.
Doneto was headed their way. He said, "Affairs here are tailor-made for us, Hecht. There's so much confusion that nobody really knows what's going on or who is who. Originally, I planned to set you up inside the Arniena family, so we could keep them steering close to the Patriarch's course after they revealed themselves by voting with us in the Collegium. But with Rodrigo Cologni dead there'll be one less vote against Sublime to negate so we won't have to leverage the Arniena into backing him. They can go on pretending to be against us. So we can employ you even more daringly. You are, by the way, in Arniena service now, have been for months, and don't even know me."
Else asked Ghort, "Who is this handsome stranger, Pinkus?"
Doneto showed a flash of irritation, then a moment of amusement.
Else said, "But I do know who you are. Anybody who got out of the Connec will know that. And that includes all those Brotherhood types who ran away to Brothe. And everyone who knows about our stay in Plemenza. Hansel can trip us up anytime he wants. Remember, I'm supposed to be an imperial spy, now."
Doneto scowled. "I suppose you're right. So here's what I'm thinking now. Because of the disaster that hit the Bruglioni they're desperate for competent help. If Inigo Arniena tells Paludan Bruglioni that he can give him a couple of his best men…"