"Good for him."

"Pig Iron lives like a king."

"Good for him, too. I have to go, Pinkus."

"The Castella?"

"Yes. They've brought in a painter who's trying to create a portrait of Starkden based on my memories. I think it's a waste of time. But who argues with the Brotherhood of War?"

"Especially the Special Office. Bechter's all right, though. He's just a soldier. He don't preach at you."

"He is a good man."

"Look out for that asshole Drocker."

"Hey, I'm careful of everybody who hasn't shown me any reason to trust them."

"Ouch."

"I trust you, Pinkus. I trust you to be Pinkus Ghort. I trust you to look out for Pinkus Ghort. And I think I know Pinkus Ghort well enough to know when I need to strap my chastity belt on."

Ghort snorted. "Is it true, what I hear? The Bruglioni are really gonna give you a company to take down to Alameddine?"

"I don't expect many real Bruglioni to be involved. Except my man, Polo. He's Uncle Divino's spy. He's obvious and inept. We've worked things out. He pretends he's just my batman. I pretend I don't know he's watching me. Appropriate greetings to Bo and Joe. And see that Pig Iron gets a turnip from me. I have to get going. I can't be late."

Ghort grunted.

Else was right. He could not be late. Because he was not expected at any specific time. The summons from the Castella had not mentioned a time to show up.

In addition to working with that painter, Else was being wooed by the Brotherhood. He had, twice, turned down the chance to join. Which, according to Redfearn Bechter, actually pleased Grade Drocker.

Drocker did not consider Piper Hecht Brotherhood material. A blind man could see that Piper Hecht was not devoted to God.

Irony in the extreme. Else thought. Irony worthy of a divine chuckle.

The Brotherhood had been having trouble recruiting for decades. Modern Chaldareans were not prepared to endure the austerity and poverty expected of God's Soldiers.

Lamenting the headed-to-Hell-in-a-hand-basket state of the Chaldarean world, Divino Bruglioni claimed, "What this century needs is a good plague to revive the old values."

REDFEARN BECHTER WAITED AT THE BLUE POSTERN. THAT was not remarkable. A lookout on the Castella ramparts would have seen Else coming.

"You're later than we'd hoped."

"The letter said the morning."

"I understand."

"It's like a mausoleum in here." The halls and rooms and corridors were empty and still. The day-to-day austerity of the Brotherhood was intimidating in itself. Else found them every bit as committed and determined as the best Sha-lug.

"Those Brothers who were able went to Alameddine with the Emperor's scouts. Those of us who stayed are too old, too sick, too injured, or too involved in the planning to go." Bechter added, in a whisper, "I'd rather be out there myself. Not that I like fighting."

"Not enough men left to dilute Grade Drocker's venom, eh?"

Bechter chuckled. "You said it. I didn't. But I won't have to gut it out much longer. The convoy from Runch should show up before the end of the week. Hawley Quirke will be back. The sorcerer can stew in his own juice."

That made Else uncomfortable. He was not sure why. "Who Else is coming? Anyone I know?"

"How would I know? Hell. How would you know any of them?"

"By reputation, I mean. I wouldn't know any of them personally. Unless they shared those happy days in the Connec with us."

"Those men are either all dead, here, or down south. Scouting out the best ways to stomp Calzir."

They entered a room where, to Else's surprise, nearly fifty men sat quietly while Ferris Renfrow employed a long wand to point out areas of interest on a map of mainland Calzir painted on a blank wall that had been plastered, then whitewashed beforehand. The map had south toward me top, as the foot of the Firaldian peninsula appeared from Brothe. Artists continued painting the map while Renfrow talked about the Calziran kingdom. The painters wore Imperial livery. The major stuff, coastlines, cities, passes, rivers, and fortresses, were on the wall already. The artists were adding finer details.

Else was impressed.

He was more impressed by the gathering. He was late, yes, but not very. The audience had not yet begun to show the inevitable signs of boredom. Several major personalities including Johannes Blackboots himself and numerous members of the Collegium, were there. He saw Grade Drocker, of course, and some of the most senior commanders of the Patriarchal States and of the Grail Empire. Representatives of the Five Families were present as well, including Rogoz Sayag.

Else did not see Pinkus Ghort. Of course. He had left Ghort on the street, as unaware of this gathering as he had been himself. But if Piper Hecht belonged here, so did Pinkus Ghort. Ghort would be closer to what was going on.

Bechter led him to a seat on the left side of the room. So. His presence was not exalted.

A servant brought tea, a luxury Else had enjoyed only a few times before, long ago in al-Qarn.

Ferris Renfrow watched, apparently amused. But the man did not interrupt his monologue.

Renfrow talked about Calzir as though he had been there.

This was a dangerous man. How well did he know Dreanger? How much time had he spent in the Holy Lands, amongst the Wells of Ihrian?

Ferris Renfrow was a compelling speaker. He brought Calzir to life. He made it sound like a desert in the making, except for scattered olive groves, orange groves, and vineyards. The rest of the country supported sheep and goats. And fishing villages wherever there was an excuse for a harbor.

"A handful of noble and wealthy families control the best land. Which reflects a reality that obtains throughout Firaldia. The political landscape is similar, too. Calzir consists of a dozen principalities, none of which acknowledge the Mafti al-Araj el-Arak, and some more names, at al-Khazen. The Mafti is about as relevant as Immaculate II at Viscesment. Depending on factors involving conflicts between different visions of the Praman faith, the principalities recognize either the Kaif of Qasr al-Zed or the Kaif of al-Minphet as their proper spiritual leader. In practical terms, the kaifates have no more control than el-Arak. Neither kaif receives any revenue. This large island part of Calzir, Shippen, has silver and copper mines that have been in production since before men started keeping histories. Wheat is the island's great agricultural product. It's been an exporter forever. It also produces fruits, olives, and sheep. Fishing is important, but not the way it is on the mainland.

"The inland parts of the island are wild. Nor have the population all gone over to the Unbeliever. A third of the populace are still Chaldarean, even in the main towns – though mainly Eastern Rite. In the deep wilderness, there're still some practicing pagans."

Never saying so, Ferris Renfrow made it plain that Hansel had had his eye on Calzir for a long time.

That made Else wonder if Johannes had engineered the Calziran piracy, through Starkden and Masant el-Seyhan.

Hours later, after hearing more than he ever wanted to know about the topography, geography, economy, and people of Calzir, Else finally found out why he had been brought in.

He got the news during the afternoon meal break.

He started out eating alone. He did not want to attract attention by pushing into one of the circles of his betters. Redfearn Bechter approached him. "Drocker needs to see you, Captain."

Else lifted an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"He figures you're probably curious about why you're here."

"Other than just because I was told to show up? The man is smarter than he looks."

"Bring your chow. This'll be a working lunch."