by Glen Cook
De Bos replied, “Not for several days. Last report had him at the Arnhander frontier being cranky because there was nobody there to meet him. The King’s mother was busy with raiders out of the Connec. Brokke said he was going to go on, cautiously.”
“He should probably try harder to keep us posted.”
De Bos and Consent both gave him a hard stare.
“All right. I see.” He had espoused the philosophy of giving a man a job, then getting out of the way, for as long as he had been less than the man who was ultimately in charge. He had waxed quite bitter about the waste of time and manpower needed to run messages to people far from the head of the spear, whose input could not possibly do anything but make things more difficult for the men doing the actual, everyday work.
“All right. Suggestion withdrawn. We have plenty to do here.” But he did understand the other side now, some. “We’ll need to screen my appointments more tightly. I want to push this…”
Consent said, “Boss, don’t change anything. Let us deal. That’s our job. You aren’t a worker bee anymore. Your role is to be the lightning rod for everybody who thinks they should be able to use us. Just go right on having fun doing that.”
Titus was right. And Hecht did not like it. “I’m wondering if it’s too late to fire you.”
“Probably.” Consent chuckled. He beckoned the steward. “You can take this stuff away, now, Maxillan.”
* * *
The meeting with the Empress and her advisors stretched interminably. Several councilors were blatantly obstructionist in their efforts to extort concessions. Helspeth was, after all, only a woman. She did not have that much strength behind her—though every one of those men quelled under Hecht’s glare.
Hecht was patient. He contributed little. He refused the bait when challenged to offer assurances no commander could provide before a campaign. Each time someone came at him directly he responded with a knowing smile that left them uncomfortable.
The Shining Ones made it sound like the entire Chaldarean world was excited about liberating the Holy Lands. Even in the Connec commoners and nobles alike were finding money and men to contribute. In Arnhand, despite the flood of specie that had gone away since the advent of Anne of Menand, they were raising noble companies of dedicated adventurers. Inside the Grail Empire the folk seethed with eagerness. Many of the nobility remained oblivious to that. They seemed interested only in locking horns with the Grail Throne while it was occupied by a woman with no strong man coming up behind her.
Hecht stood. “I would like to request a recess, Your Majesty. And permission to approach with intelligence recently received. Intelligence I will share with the Council following the recess.”
Helspeth was tired of the bickering, too. “One hour, gentlemen.” She rose, ignoring all protests. “Lord Arnmigal. Follow me.” She left the council chamber. Lifeguards and ladies-in-waiting scurried. Helspeth went straight to the closest quiet room. She let no one in but Hecht. She was rude to one dowager who said something about propriety.
To Hecht’s consternation Helspeth threw herself against him the instant the door clicked shut. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”
“You did. But you didn’t expect it to happen.”
He extricated himself reluctantly. “We’ll see about that later.”
“Always business first. What is it?”
“You have been tasking me about my intelligence crew not producing.”
“We never see them. They don’t seem to be doing anything.”
“This morning they delivered a six-hundred-page stack of reports. The detail boggles. There are minutes of scores of conspiratorial gatherings, many featuring some of those men out there. I brought a representative sample.” He pulled the sheets from beneath his shirt.
She had not stepped back when he peeled her off. Now she turned away but leaned back against him while she read. He did not push her off. In fact, he discovered his arms around her, his hands clasped. He felt her anger build.
“Is this stuff credible?”
“It is.”
“How could anyone get that close?”
“You know who they are.”
“I didn’t really believe it. I have to, now.”
“I’ll never tell you anything but the truth.”
“That might not always be smart, love.” She turned. They kissed.
* * *
Algres Drear and a dozen Braunsknechts entered and lined the walls. The councilors eyed them nervously.
Helspeth announced, “I am going to read from an intelligence report. Captain Drear, I am not to be interrupted.”
Drear clicked his heels and bowed.
Helspeth read from the record of a meeting that had taken place eight days earlier. Four men now present had participated, two of whom had made a great, mocking show of firmly supporting the new Empress. Subjects discussed had included the possibility of ridding the world of the Commander of the Righteous to facilitate the subsequent deposition of “that Ege chit.”
The truth was made obvious by the ghastly pallor of the conspirators.
Algres Drear kept order, though he faced no real challenge. None of those men were prepared to fight his Braunsknechts.
Hecht could almost hear the conspirators thinking the Imperial lifeguard would have to be disbanded once the Ege chit went.
Interestingly, Ferris Renfrow had come in with the returning recess crowd. He made certain his presence was noticed. Too, Hourli, in frumpy middle-aged form, blocked the main exit. Hecht was sure she was recognized as his new head spy.
Helspeth said, “Graf fon Gerilein. This conversation took place in your home. Care to comment? Without bluster or wasting time denying the facts?”
The Graf shook his head, conceding that he was well and truly caught.
Helspeth polled the other conspirators. None cared to comment.
“The Ege chit is not pleased. There are more of these transcripts. Hundreds of pages. Here is one that pleases the Ege chit even less. It is a blatant praise of treason.” She read.
Then she read from several other reports. Finally, she asked, “Have I made my point? You didn’t hear your plot mentioned? I have six hundred more pages to examine. Should you feel a need to know if your own flirtation with treason is on record, consult the intelligence arm of the Righteous.” She paused, glared. Men began to shift nervously. “The answer will be yes. Your villainy is known. Now that you know that I know, we can wipe the slate. I will take no action on any of these reports, however foul the crimes contemplated. A new era begins. This is now One Empire ruled by One Will. Future bad behavior will not be tolerated.”
Hecht killed a frown. She was being too dramatic. From now on the worst of them would make sure they spoke no treason outside the tightest quiet rooms.
Hecht immediately wondered what more clever and dangerous plots had been hatched by smarter conspirators, protected by quiet rooms.
Helspeth scanned the chamber. She made eye contact with the cream of the Imperial nobility. “Again. A new start. The function of this gathering is to finalize mobilization of the Empire for the Enterprise of Peace and Faith. To which I say, to you, join in or not, as it pleases you. Do not obstruct. Be part of the process or stand aside from it. If you get in the way, I will trample you.”
She was in an Ege mood, now. They had best have the wit to listen.
Again, Hecht thought the villains would just be more careful. A tiger could not help being a tiger.
Helspeth called for his readiness report.
He had little to say that interested those people. It was not political. He did lock gazes with known villains while he talked.
It would be interesting, watching them squirm in Helspeth Ege’s new New Brothen Empire.
* * *
Lady Hilda Daedel drifted between pillars to Hecht’s left, a wisp of white departing, pretending not to see him, pretending she was not a party to what might be about to happen. Her presence unnerved him, though
it was expected. That Helspeth had managed to get out unencumbered by Algres Drear was a testament to her cleverness.
The pattern of the women coming here for prayers had been set. St. Miniver’s remained a holy place. The few who visited it told no one. They did not want it swamped.
Visits by the Empress and her women were no longer a matter for speculation, though some gossips wondered if Lady Hilda might not be connecting with one of her several lovers.
Hecht was more concerned about other eyes.
How could the Shining Ones not be watching? Or Ferris Renfrow? Or the Ninth Unknown? Or Heris or Vali or Lila. Any of them could be on to him.
His feet refused to turn back.
Yes. Those perfidious feet.
There she was, kneeling before the altar. A few votive candles burned to either hand. Her simple white gown matched the one Lady Hilda wore. For an instant he worried that Daedel meant to lure him into her tender snare. But, no, Hilda was neither that slim, that tall, nor that blond.
He stepped up on Helspeth’s left, dropped to a knee in respect to the altar, then stepped to the votive candles. Only a handful were burning tonight. He used one to fire the massive candle given him by Hourli.
Time stopped everywhere but inside a circle ten feet across. He saw dust motes, illuminated by the candles, hanging motionless. The flames of the candles and their rising smoke had gone still.
Helspeth, shaking, took his right hand in her left. He said, “This doesn’t have to happen.”
“Oh, yes. It does. I’ve waited years too long already. I knew under the walls of al-Khazen. Every day since has been wasted.” She went on shaking. This was a momentous choice.
“This is treason, under the law. Even for you.”
“Stop talking.” She faced him. The hunger in her seemed a beast looking out of the drowning-pools of her eyes. She had been working herself up for hours.
He knew it was too late. Rational thinking would not intercede. What was about to happen between one man and one woman could impact the lives of millions. Empires might stumble because two people could not help being a man and a woman.
Helspeth asked, “What just happened?”
Hecht explained about the candle.
Her face filled with wonder. “Our God would never be so kind. And … oh! We have all the time we want. It doesn’t have to be like vermin hastily coupling.”
“No.”
The cost to Hourli’s candle was imperceptible when Hecht snuffed it. He stared at it like it was a magical artifact from a fairy story that would, in the end, become the bane of the lovers who had defied the natural order. He could not help thinking of Arlensul, Gedanke, and Ferris Renfrow.
He and Helspeth had said everything that needed saying, and had shared all the final tender moments, before he silenced the flame. When it went out Helspeth appeared to be praying while the Commander of the Righteous rose from a briefer stint of worship. A watcher might sense an instant of dislocation but nothing to stir suspicion.
Hecht went away, neither looking back nor turning back. He glimpsed Lady Hilda amongst the pillars, maybe sneaking back to peek.
Hecht thought he would lie awake for hours in a grim feud with his conscience. Not so. He fell asleep the instant his head hit his pillow.
* * *
Hecht was not yet dressed when Carava de Bos brought a stack of papers. He was troubled. “Can we talk, Boss?”
“Sure. What’s all this?”
“More news from your spy lady. Mostly boring, but you need to know.”
“So you wanted what?”
“An honest answer. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You seem awfully tired lately. And your lifeguards keep complaining about you sneaking out at night.”
“Carava, I don’t sneak. The Empress and I meet in her chapel for evening prayers. That gives us a few minutes when nobody is clamoring for our attention. She’s properly chaperoned, usually by Lady Hilda Daedel but sometimes by another lady of the court.”
They had wrung special enjoyment from sinning vigorously under the nose of Lady Delta va Kelgerberg.
“Even so, you must stop giving your lifeguards the slip. Don’t become overconfident because your strange friends are rooting out all these conspiracies. They can’t read minds.”
“What?”
“There must be hundreds of people who wouldn’t shed a tear if an assassin nailed you. There may be dozens willing to try. What happens if a loner decides to take a crack? He could be watching you right now. When would he be most likely to strike?”
“You’re right again. And you know how I hate it when any of you are right about stuff like that.”
“Just you letting people look out for you is good enough for me.”
Hecht grunted, pulled the new reports closer, skimmed the first. Whoever recorded it had a wonderfully readable hand.
“Sir?”
“You still here?”
“I am. There is another matter.”
Hecht felt defensive immediately, for no discernable reason. De Bos said, “And here we have the further problem.”
“Carava? The further problem?”
“You seeming to be different men at different times.”
Hecht felt deep discomfort immediately. For no reason he was ready to fight de Bos. He stifled the reaction. “Explain.”
“You seem tired all the time.”
That would be Helspeth’s fault. Every assignation stretched a little longer. How did she manage her prolonged days?
“You’ve started nodding off during meetings. When you wake up it’s like you’re a different man, determined to get things done, fast and right the first time.”
“Excuse me? That’s unlike me, how?”
“The you with me right now wants to figure people out. He wants to understand. He wants to talk about things. He wants to form consensus. The other you cares about none of that. The other you tells us how it’s going to be, accepts no excuses, and always guesses right. The other you is a dictator who is frightfully efficient. This you wants to convince people that they should do things your way.”
“Carava, I’m wondering what you have been drinking this morning.”
“The other you wouldn’t care. The other you would have tossed me out with some potent admonition about wasting time.”
“This one is about to give you a whack upside the head.”
“The other you would use his left hand.” De Bos made his exit.
Hecht stood leaning forward, unmoving, for a dozen seconds. That remark had been a hammer blow. But why?
He stared at his left hand.
25. Lucidia: Living and Dead
Nassim Alizarin and a half-dozen hardy veterans reached Shamramdi at sunset, to no welcome. Nassim had been summoned. The Great Shake wanted to know why the crusaders no longer faced a challenge in the gap once commanded by Tel Moussa.
Nassim had an answer. Indala might not accept it but he would stand by it. He had done remarkably well with what he had been given. He had been bested by a determined enemy, nature, and the indifference of those who were supposed to support him.
Nassim Alizarin was angry. He felt that he had been betrayed.
News of his arrival ran ahead. Azim al-Adil ed-Din materialized. He told Nassim, “If Uncle’s summons has you worried, don’t be. It isn’t your effort that he wants to review.”
The Mountain was not prepared to believe that. Neither did he argue. “Good to see you again, youngster. I don’t expect to be here long. I hope we can find a few moments for one another.”
Young Az was as fond of the old wolf as the General was of him. They were kindred spirits looking at life from its nether ends.
The youth led Nassim to the house he had occupied before. “A messenger, probably me, will come when Indala is ready.”
And so it was.
* * *
Nassim Alizarin and Indala al-Sul Halaladin faced one anoth
er across a low table burdened with shelled nuts, fruits, and some spicy shredded lamb. No one else was present. Indala’s own brothers made sure that there were no eavesdroppers.
The General did not stint. “I haven’t eaten this well since the last time I visited.”
Indala inclined his head in response to the implied gratitude. “Your due, General. You haven’t been afforded any opportunity to live well, for which I apologize.” He meant that in a limited and diplomatic sense. The behavior of his people toward Nassim had dishonored him.
“You are most gracious.” Nassim understood Indala’s position.
“Azer tells me you brought documents.”
“The daily logs from Tel Moussa. I understand that you’re impatient with such things. I ask only that you have a reliable reader report their gist. My scribe was not Sha-lug. He wrote in the Lucidian script, which I do not read well, so I present his record on faith. The man came here with me should you wish to talk to him.”
The Great Shake smiled. Nassim thought that might be hard work. Indala’s wounds still troubled him more than he cared to admit.
Indala said, “Present the basic argument. Be as neutral as you can.”
Nassim told his story, actually downplaying the lack of support he had received.
“These journals will say the same, in finer detail?”
“Yes.”
“So. What now?”
“Me? When you’re done with me I’ll go back to my band of survivors. I’ll release the men who don’t want to roam the haunted desert with a crazy old man. The rest of us, with the Ansa, will hunt and kill the Dreangerean sorcerer.”
Indala was startled, confused, and inclined to disbelieve.
Nassim observed, “Lately it seems that no one who is not Sha-lug understands who we are or what we really believe. I’ve been away so long that I’m no longer sure myself.”
Nassim could barely admit to himself that Bone’s report had produced a disappointment more painful than his wife’s rejection. Bone had not found one senior Sha-lug who wondered if the Mountain would be interested in becoming Marshall. Bone had not asked anyone. Nassim had not asked Bone to do so. But it was clear that the idea had not occurred to anyone in al-Qarn.
