by Glen Cook
She refused to ask even one question about that Anna Whoever.
Renfrow did nothing to help her relax.
“You talk like you were gone a long time. It’s been two days.”
“Time moves differently there. There’s no fixed ratio but, right now, it’s at least ten days to one.”
“Is he coming? Are they coming here?”
Though she kept her voice neutral, she knew she was not fooling Renfrow. But she was not thinking of the spymaster. Someone might be eavesdropping.
“Those people didn’t worry about keeping Ferris Renfrow informed. They know too much about me. But life produces patterns that we can interpret. The Commander of the Righteous will rejoin his troops on the road. He may bring the boy, Pella, because the lad has become too much for his mother to handle. The rest mean to stay in Brothe. The girls are being educated in one of the Church’s more exclusive academies.”
“So everything will go back to where it was before Jaime got killed and Katrin went crazy.”
“Except that we’ll have a new Empress. And, now, I believe I’ll go have that bath you wished on me.”
“And then off on another adventure? Or dare I hope you’ll become a little more accessible?”
“Possibly. I’ll be here throughout the transition, after the news about Katrin gets here. I saw the Graf fon Rhejm a while ago. See him if you can. He and his brothers would be valuable friends.”
The Graf and his four brothers were the brothers of Hildegrun Machen, Katrin’s mother, who had died when Katrin was an infant. The uncles had been Katrin’s guardian angels. Overall, Helspeth had gotten on with them better than she had with her half sister.
She watched Ferris Renfrow leave. What had he told her that could not have waited another hour? Or even another day? She noted that he had not recovered his mystic sow bugs. Perhaps there were none left to recover.
* * *
The little man who came out of nowhere by turning sideways did so as Lady Hilda started to bring Lady Delta and the other ladies into the sewing chamber. Lady Delta had been given coffee. The implied honor had brightened her mood.
An instant before the sorcerer appeared time stopped for everyone but Helspeth and the little man himself. He sniffed the air. “He’s been here. The Bastard. He’s quick. I should’ve kept a better eye on him, back when.”
“What do you want?”
“I meant to bring you up to date on the Commander’s adventures. But the Bastard seems to have brought the news already.”
“If by that you mean Ferris Renfrow, yes. He just left. From what he said, you must be Cloven Februaren, the so-called Ninth Unknown.”
“That’ll save a lot of palaver. Outline what he told you. I’ll fill in what he left out.”
Would Renfrow keep her in the dark? Yes. Almost certainly. Even close allies were not honest all the time. She hit the highlights. And understood by the old man’s amusement that there had been points ignored or passed over lightly. “So what did he leave out?”
“Not much that you really need to know. Just little things, like the fact that he worked for me a long time ago. And just how successful we were in a world that our religious leaders promise us doesn’t exist.”
“So how successful were you?”
“Extremely. Though the whole truth remains to be seen. I’ll reserve some facts myself. Ignorance could save you a lot of grief someday. In any event, we don’t want you distracted when the news about your sister gets here. But take heart. Piper Hecht and the Righteous won’t be far behind.”
He turned sideways.
Time resumed.
“Captain Drear. I want to see the Graf fon Rhejm or one of his brothers. Go.” She turned to Lady va Kelgerberg. The sooner dealt with the sooner that misery would end.
* * *
Captain Drear found three of Katrin’s uncles. All three responded to the Princess Apparent. Helspeth told them, “Thank you for coming so quickly. I barely dared hope that any of you would.”
The Graf fon Rhejm inclined his head slightly. “The fact of the request made it clear that it was important.”
Albert fon Rhejm reminded Helspeth of her father. He was not a big man, unlike the other two, who were built in the long, lean, blond mode of their niece, Katrin.
“I apologize because I have no quiet room. I picked a bad time to find out that they were all compromised. But what I have to tell you will be common knowledge soon enough.” The youngest brother, Friedl, must have come twenty years after Hildegrun. He had a touch of that same appeal that drew her to the Commander of the Righteous. He also had a wife and was faithful.
“And that would be?”
“I’ll preface by saying this comes from Ferris Renfrow. He recommended that I let you know immediately. He has unusual means of acquiring information.”
“So rumor would suggest. So?”
“It’s hard to just throw out. He says Katrin is dead. For reasons no one understands she went galloping along the bank of the Teragi, in Brothe, fell in, and drowned. And that’s all he told me.”
Katrin’s uncles said nothing. The younger two eventually turned to the Graf fon Rhejm, who choked out, “God has a black sense of humor indeed, to take the daughter that way after what He let happen to her mother. You have no other details?”
“No. But she must have been upset about something if she was out galloping. That was one of the ways she coped.”
“It was. She must have been. Though agitation had become her natural state. She had begun to suffer bouts of insanity. There’s a congenital inclination in the family.” He bowed his head as though to pray. Helspeth did not interrupt.
After some moments the Graf looked up. “Her end could be a blessing for the Empire. For some of us the disease persists for decades. The damage she could have done is inestimable.”
Helspeth noted moisture on one of the Graf’s cheeks. His brothers were doing their best to remain hard and silent. She said, “We’ll get the full story when the Righteous arrive. Several witnessed the actual event, I understand. And several drowned trying to get Katrin out of the river.”
“Helspeth, I’m grateful that you took time to tell us all this. Katrin wouldn’t have done anything of the sort.”
The middle brother, Rodolf, who had said nothing yet, mumbled, “This explains why the Braunsknects are all stirred up.”
Helspeth admitted, “It does. They don’t know why, yet. They’ll find out when everyone else does. But they will have key points already secured.”
The Graf fon Rhejm thanked her again. He and his brothers departed, the Graf pausing at the door. He considered her enigmatically.
She hoped she had done the right thing.
It would not do to make enemies of those men.
11. Antieux: Deathwives
Two days after Bernardin’s return to Antieux a troop of forty lances left the city with orders to travel fast, far, and light. Still, with equerries, serjents, and servants, and with every man sharing the workload, the party really consisted of a hundred souls and three hundred animals.
Everyone had to ride. Everyone had to bring food, tents, and equipment. Warhorses, usually asked to do no more than amble along till fighting time, ended up carrying supplies.
Brother Candle watched from above the city gate. He marveled at what these fighting men considered light. Nothing like the horse soldiers of the east, though he had heard that those riders often had vast trains of camels in trail.
The Perfect was troubled. Those men were in dire awe of their captain. Even the animals might be a little intimidated.
Countess Socia had given Kedle Richeut command, then had disdained all dissenting arguments. Nor had she been reluctant to be heavy-handed with anyone who tried to thwart her.
There had been surprisingly few attempts at that.
* * *
Kedle’s reputation had grown since events in Khaurene. And Socia had been around Antieux long enough to have made an abiding impression. No
one forgot her massacre of those men at Suralert Ford, all privileged by birth or status in the Church.
Most folk of Antieux had been satisfied with Count Raymone’s rule. The Countess promised more of the same, possibly more intensely.
But…! A woman commanding warriors? However fierce a woman? That was legendary stuff. It did not happen in modern times.
Against that argument Socia named Queen Isabeth herself, Anne of Menand, and Empress Katrin and her sister Helspeth. Both daughters of Johannes Blackboots had seen combat during the Calziran Crusade, when they were younger than Kedle Richeut. Then there was the Countess of Antieux herself. Socia Rault had been handling weapons against armed foes since she was sixteen. And she was sending Kedle Richeut out only because she could not yet sit a saddle herself.
The Countess was who she was and Count Raymone’s judgment was trusted. Socia’s wishes were accepted by the nobles and magnates.
Antieux would ignore the unnatural arrangement as long as Socia and Kedle produced results.
Brother Candle watched the riders head into the dewy sunrise and blamed the moisture on his cheeks on the morning damp. He was sad. Kedle was walking away from her life to do this thing.
Kedle meant almost as much to him as Socia did. He had known her since she was in diapers. She was the only surviving child of two good friends. He had brought Raulet and Madam Archimbault to the Good God before Kedle was born.
Raulet and his wife were distraught. They had not been able to bring themselves to watch Kedle ride away, armed, surrounded by a hundred crude men. Her hunger for bloody action pained them deeply.
Pacifism was ingrained in the Maysalean Heresy. Although the Good God insisted that evil be resisted by all means, including use of arms, most Seekers would not fight. Brother Candle himself never raised a hand in anger. Kedle not only embraced violence, she abandoned her children to follow its call.
* * *
The time between Bernardin’s return and the departure of Kedle’s expedition was full for Brother Candle. He spent a lot of time with Raulet and his wife, reminding them to remain strong for the sake of the grandchildren. He had to endure, in silence, Socia’s robust pogrom against all things Brothen Episcopal, including public execution of eleven members of the Society for the Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy. She imprisoned forty-three suspected agents of the Brothen Church, then ordered the expulsion of Episcopal priests known to have been honestly active before Count Raymone’s misadventure.
The priests got to go only due to Brother Candle’s appeals. Socia wanted to herd them together and burn them the way the Society did with Seekers.
* * *
Brother Candle left the wall for the house Socia had provided for Kedle and her fellow refugees. Scarre the baker and his wife had set up on the street level. They were developing a clientele for Khaurenese soft breads. The Archimbaults, with Guillemette and Escamerole, and grandchildren, all crowded in there. Guillemette and Escamerole took care of the children and worked in the citadel, mostly caring for the Countess and Lumiere. The Archimbaults had not yet found full employment. Raulet was a tanner. Antieux’s tanning industry was depressed. So was the butcher trade. Invasions, attacks, and sieges had eliminated the livestock once common in the countryside.
Leatherworkers, too, were having a bleak season.
Twice during his walk to the refugee home Brother Candle witnessed purported friends of Count Raymone rounding up the Count’s supposed enemies. The old man was sure Bernardin had someone inside the Society. He knew who they were. He knew their fellow travelers. A settlement of old scores had begun.
Brother Candle dared not poke his nose in. The Maysalean creed was strong in Antieux but many Seekers had been rendered harsh by the wars and sieges. They had no forgiveness left and no tolerance for him who preached it.
Raulet Archimbault observed, “The wolves are loose. That’s why we didn’t see Kedle off.”
Not true, but the Perfect offered no challenge. Raulet had his right to disapprove of his daughter. “I came by to see how you’re doing. I can’t stay long. The Countess keeps me busy.”
She did. She had a big political problem: what to do about the ducal throne to which Raymone was supposed to ascend. With Raymone gone that was lost unless, implausibly, Isabeth let the dukedom devolve on Lumiere.
Brother Candle had to handle the correspondence because he knew Isabeth. There had been no answers, so far. But it could not be long before the disappointments began to arrive.
Brother Candle’s visit let the Archimbaults follow Kedle’s progress without them having to set aside their disapproval.
A Maysalean family could generate as much drama as any other.
Brother Candle visited the grandchildren, finished chatting with the Archimbaults, then headed downstairs to see Scarre and his wife. His knees ached from the up and down. He promised to see everyone at weekly services, then headed for the citadel armed with a fat loaf of Scarre’s best. Socia had developed a taste for soft bread while she was hiding with the Perfect, at the Scarre bakery, in Khaurene. Brother Candle delivered the loaf to the Countess three hours after Kedle led her hundred off to war.
Socia expected a lecture. She had a guilty air. She was behaving badly according to her religion. Brother Candle failed her expectation. He saw no point. He could no more control her than he could convince a storm to withhold its fury.
Socia’s rage had to run its course.
She asked, “They got off all right, then?”
He pretended his news would be the first she had heard. “They did. They moved out briskly, like well-motivated men.” He tried to appear content. He did not want to argue. He was too old to keep on fighting the stubborn fight.
And, maybe, the girl would think if she was not focused on defending herself.
He was sure that Kedle had permission to go beyond recovering the fallen. That would be done, surely, but the fiercest riders would hurry onward, hoping to overtake the injured Patriarch.
Serenity, as Bronte Doneto, had survived several collisions with Antieux, all at his own instigation. Kedle would try to end his run.
Privately, Brother Candle implored the Good God’s intercession. He did not want the stain of what would follow Serenity’s capture besmirching the souls of Socia Rault and Kedle Richeut.
* * *
Eight days after Kedle’s departure a ragged gaggle of peasants and carts appeared at Antieux’s gate. Kedle had hired them to transport the fallen, all in an advanced state of putrefaction. The corpses included all the local fallen—Count Raymone, too—and those of Serenity’s companions whose relicts might be ransomed.
The peasants, all of whom claimed to worship Count Raymone, brought some live bodies as well: two men who had ridden out with Kedle, now wounded, plus a dozen Society brothers, several Episcopal priests, and six Arnhander prisoners.
Kedle had run into an Arnhander force three hundred strong, also looking for Serenity. They were inexperienced and led by Society vermin associated with Anne of Menand. Kedle launched a massacre. Her force suffered one dead and the two walking wounded.
Two hundred enemy had fallen, supposedly.
Kedle was headed north. Her soldiers had fallen in love with her. Socia was jealous.
Later, in the privacy of his cell, Brother Candle muttered, “The Adversary moves in strange and mysterious ways.”
12. Brothe: Brief Homecoming
Piper Hecht and his family arrived inside Principaté Muniero Delari’s Brothen townhouse. The place had been damaged badly during the fighting when the Righteous occupied the Mother City.
Hecht and his sister each began bleating about how the other should have remembered that the townhouse was not habitable.
Pella said, “Dad, I’ll check on Anna’s house. We can’t stay here.” He took off before he could be pelted with unwanted instructions.
Pella’s estimation proved to be inaccurate. Delari’s staff—Turking, Felske, and Mrs. Creedon—remained in place, in
charge, and adequately housed.
Heris told Hecht, “Keep a low profile, little brother. You don’t have an army behind you now.”
He had begun to brood on that already.
Years ago, when he was another man, er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen had armed him with a wrist amulet that warned him against danger from the Night. The Ninth Unknown had replaced that with another that er-Rashal could not track.
In times of no threat he forgot the amulet. He had done so in the Realm of the Gods, though Februaren did say that it would not work there. But now Hecht was back in a world where the charm was efficacious.
He felt a continuous, low-grade, maddening itch around his left wrist.
“And where is my egg?” Heris demanded.
“Right here.” Inside his shirt. But it felt different. It was cold, and lighter. “Here.”
“What happened? It’s dead. Or something. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. You were there. You know.”
Mrs. Creedon, Principaté Delari’s cook, intruded upon their attention. “Don’t argue where the workmen can hear. Come with me. Turking will inform the master that you have returned.”
“Good point,” Hecht said. “Let’s go. And that was the easiest transition yet. I hardly felt it.”
“I’ll save your butt from the local villains by jumping it back out before word gets around.”
“It’ll take all of you.” He was not prepared to transition with Heris alone. “What about the egg?”
“I don’t know. I expected something like, it would go away if Zyr connected with his other soul. Maybe the old old man can figure it out. I’ll be damned. This part of the dump held up pretty good. Looks like hell from outside, though.”
The cook had taken them into the kitchen, pantries, and servants’ quarters. “The cellars are fine. We can put you down there.”
Anna appeared glum. She would be on her own again, soon. And the children had had a taste of adventure. The girls in particular were sure to get into mischief. And Pella wanted to get back into the field with his father. He insisted that the education Hecht wanted him to get he could pick up from Titus Consent, Drago Prosek, Kait Rhuk, and others. And that was hard to deny. They all indulged the boy.
