The third man said, "The Arniena have been having trouble meeting financial obligations because of the pirate raids."

Paludan grunted. "Those have hurt everybody."

"Them worse than anybody but the Benedocto. They aren't getting their rents or fees."

"Is that true, Hecht? Are they trying to reduce their expenses?"

"I don't know. There was talk that things aren't going well. But nothing concrete. Oh. There was something about selling an island. In the Vieran Sea. To the Sonsans. The Scoveletti family, I think. There's some kind of marital connection."

That got some attention. "Sogyal?" Paludan asked. "They're considering turning loose of Sogyal? Ha-ha!"

Rogoz had said that a mention of selling that island might seal the deal. Else did not know why. "I don't know. They didn't talk about it when I was around. I overheard by accident I think it's a big secret that's supposed to stay secret even after the deal is done. There's a lot of worry about Dateon and Aparion finding out too soon."

"Ha! Sogyal. Those fools never have understood how valuable that island is."

Paludan Bruglioni launched a long, rambling tale of treachery, marriages of convenience, more treachery, dowries, and even more treachery, that put a particularly well-located and easily defended island into the hands of the Arniena halfway through the previous century. Sogyal was so strategically located that the Patriarch, both Emperors, all three mercantile republics, and several lesser kings and dukes had tried to buy it. The Arniena would not sell. Their intransigence had led to unsuccessful attempts to take the island by force as Dateon and Aparion strove toward supremacy on the Vieran Sea.

Else just nodded, tried to look wise, and observed, "All Firaldian stories are long on treachery."

"This's wonderful news," Paludan said. "We can profit from knowing this. Gervase, Hecht looks like the man we want. Work out the details and get him set up. Let him have Polo permanently."

ELSE SPENT A DAY ROAMING THE BRUGLIONI CITADEL. NOTHing was off limits. "You don't want to go down there, though," Polo told Else when he considered a descent into the cellars.

"Thought I could go anywhere."

"You can. I'm just hoping you won't."

"Why not? What's down there?"

"Dirt and cobwebs and bad smells. Maybe a haunt or two. Nothing you'd want to find. Then a long climb back up."

"You're sure about that, Polo?"

"There're childhood fears, too. The boogerman lives down there."

"The boogerman is real, Polo. If you're in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and you're not ready for the boogerman, you can find yourself in a world of trouble. It happens all the time where I come from."

"This is Brothe, sir. This city exists because the Instrumentalities of the Night are real. You don't have to convince Brothens."

Else did descend the long stair.

The Bruglioni cellars could have come straight out of a spooky story. They had cobwebs, vermin, slime in places, puddles of seepage, and an impressive range of unpleasant odors.

And a few minor, unhappy spirits, hidden in the reservoirs of darkness.

Else soon understood Polo's reluctance to face the return climb.

Polo puffed and told him, "In olden times the whole city had cellars under it Still does, actually. Some way down deeper than this. Every ten or fifteen years there's a cave-in somewhere when part of the underground collapses because of what all has been piled on top since."

"Bet some interesting antiquities turn up when that happens."

"The antiquities were all looted in antiquity. They never find anything but dead people. Some of them old-timers but mostly ones that haven't been dead long at all."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning there's a class of Brothen who use the old catacombs. For shelter. And to hide bodies they don't want to turn up in the Teragi or an alley somewhere. Any loot down there will be something stolen in the last few days that is cooling off."

First glimpse of another side of the city, Else thought. A side that was always there, in every city, though always more so where the state was weaker. A side that had to exist so that there would be men to condemn to the galleys or the mines.

PALUDAN BRUGLIONI SUMMONED ELSE TO AN EVENING MEETing four days after his arrival. Bruglioni's quarters were austere enough for a monk.

Several Bruglioni youngsters, with bodyguards, were there to meet the new man, whose as yet ill-defined duties included teaching them how not to end up like their kinsmen in the Madhur Plaza. The bodyguards did not look comfortable. Only a glance was needed to see that they were not what they pretended.

Paludan and Gervase Saluda made no introductions. The senior Bruglioni asked, "Have you been using your time wisely, Hecht?"

"That's a subjective question, but I think so. I've been getting to know this place and the people who make it work."

"I've seem him," one of the young Bruglioni sneered. "Always with the cooks and servants. There's a valuable pastime for a warrior."

"If you'd known your staff you might have recognized Father Obilade's inconsistent behavior beforehand. In which case, those who perished in the Madhur Plaza wouldn't have been there in the first place. The man you discount, overlook, or take for granted will be the man who brings you down."

"Be quiet," Paludan told his youngsters. "You're here to learn, nothing more." The rage that drove him was close to the surface tonight.

The kid who had mouthed off was not yet sixteen. Dugo Bruglioni was a grandson of Soneral Bruglioni and the son of the oldest Bruglioni slain in the Madhur Plaza. Dugo bullied the staff. And did not do much else.

The help dared not fight back. Jobs were scarce and precious.

Paludan continued, "I don't want to hear anybody talk. Hecht. How well do you know the city?"

"Not well at all, sir. The Arniena gave me no chance to explore. My role in their scheme was defense and instruction."

"Learn your way around. Without attracting attention."

"Yes, sir." He was being told to go live his secret dreams, with pay.

"You worked with the Brotherhood in the Connec. Did you develop a passion for their ways?"

"None whatsoever. They're arrogant, self-important fools. They deserved what they got Though they were executing orders from the Patriarch. Which got modified every five minutes by the Bishop of Antieux. Serifs was such an idiot that nobody who didn't know him will believe the truth. I hear Principatй Doneto had him thrown off a cliff because he was such a miserable excuse for a priest."

"I've heard that rumor myself," Gervase said. "But it isn't true. Bishop Serifs did die in a fall, but while trying to escape from a Braunsknechts officer after he'd been captured by the Emperor's men. His death really was an accident"

"Really?" Else said. "That is interesting."

"Rumors make everything more exciting."

Paludan asked, "So you have no love for the Brotherhood of War?"

"None. As an organization. There were individuals I found likable. Why?"

"The Brotherhood murdered six Bruglioni. Including my only sons, Acato and Gildeo. And several nephews, one of them the family's hope for the future. If I fall down dead right now, Dugo will take over. And would ignore you and Gervase. And would put the family down the shitter in a year. Unless one of our country cousins has sense enough to cut his throat"

Else said, "It may not fit the Bruglioni way but I have a suggestion."

Paludan brightened dramatically. He did entertain genuine worries about the Bruglioni future. “Tell me."

"Change the rules. Call in the best Bruglioni who've left the city."