by Glen Cook
“I’ll be at Anna’s house.”
***
THE NEARER HECHT GOT TO ANNA’S HOUSE THE MORE uncomfortable he became. He could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. He tried to catch a stalker but had no luck. There were too many people in the streets.
“You look like hell,” Anna said as she let him in. He gave her an edited version of recent events. She asked, “How can you expect to get along with Principatè Doneto, now?”
“He doesn’t know I know what he’s up to.”
“Don’t bet your life on that. And what about Pinkus?”
He had been examining that question from every angle he could imagine. “What about him?”
“Where does he stand? He’s never pretended to be anything but Doneto’s man. What’ll he do in a pissing contest?”
“I don’t know. I doubt that he does. That’s the kind of question you can’t answer until you have to. I’m not even sure about me. I think I’m Principatè Delari’s man. I want to think I am. But the Church pays my wages. Doneto, at least publicly, will go right on being Sublime’s biggest supporter.”
“Just be careful.”
“I will. I promise. You been out much lately?”
“Only to get water. With the children. Why?”
“What’re they saying around the fountain?” As everywhere, the neighborhood women took their time getting water, indulging in gossip.
“Today they were more relaxed. And they all knew it. But not why.”
“That isn’t hard. The bad thing is dead.” The children entered the room, Vali carrying the tea service.
Pella had a book. He wanted to show off his reading skills. Hecht allowed him to do so, certain he could not have improved much in just a few days. He had not. “Good job with the tea, Vali.”
Vali did not stumble. She shot him a look that said he would have to be more clever than that. He smiled and winked. Vali winked right back.
Hecht told Anna, “I’m worried about what Delari is up to.”
“Meaning?”
“When we found him he told me he caused the cave-in by exploding a keg of firepowder. Which he blew up in order to kill the monster.”
“And? You don’t think he could carry a powder keg? Or that one keg wouldn’t cause that much damage?”
“It could do the damage. The stuff is amazing. When it’s made right, by skilled artificers. No. My problem is what he didn’t explain. Which is all that sorcery we saw happen. After the hippodrome fell down.”
“Oh. I see.”
“If the explosion killed the beast, then why was there a lot of sorcery?”
Hecht glanced at Vali. The girl looked like she was about to explode. She grabbed the tea service and headed for the kitchen, dragging Pella.
Anna chuckled. “You’re about to hear an interesting theory.”
So. Maybe the way to lure the girl out was to engage her intellect.
Someone knocked on the front door. Hecht asked, “You expecting somebody?”
Anna shook her head. “It’ll be for you. Or the kids.” Even so, she went to see who was there. Pella returned from the kitchen and leaned on the back of the chair Anna had just quit.
The boy said, “The thing that died in the underworld would’ve been almost a god. Right?”
“A seriously powerful Instrumentality, yes. But a demon. There is only one God.”
“So what you saw happening coulda just been it dying? Right?”
Death throes? All that? “Maybe.” Impressed.
He tried to recall what had happened with the Old God who died outside al-Khazen. And found a hole in his memory. One that made itself evident by the fact that he knew it was missing when it ought to be there. But there remained a vague recollection of a dramatic conclusion.
Was that what happened when gods died? Even their memory fled the world? But there were a lot of ancient gods still around, lurking in myth and old stories.
Maybe remembered because they were not yet dead.
Anna called, “Piper. This must be for you.”
Hecht had been easing toward the door already. He peered out the gap allowed by the heavy security chains. “It’s all right. I know him.”
Bo Biogna stood on the stoop, short, wide, dirty, and a bit scary.
Anna whispered, “I’m not sure I want that man inside my house.”
“It’s important.” Though why Biogna would turn up here was a puzzle. “I’ll see him in the kitchen.”
“You can’t take care of it outside?”
“No, darling. There might be eyes out there. I’ll make sure he doesn’t put anything in his pockets.”
Anna was not amused.
“In,” Hecht told Ghort’s man. “Follow me.” He led the way to the kitchen. “Pella. Find us a couple of stools. Vali. Get Mr. Biogna a cup. Assuming you’d like tea, Bo.”
“Tea is fine. But I didn’t come to socialize.”
Anna joined them. She took over the tea preparation. While keeping a wary eye on the visitor. Biogna sensed her discomfort and suspicion. He seemed more amused than offended.
“What’s up?” Hecht asked.
“Colonel Ghort sent me. Said you need my help. That you need me to get on something right away.”
“It isn’t that critical. You can work on it while you’re doing what you’re doing already. There’s a man I need found and identified. He was out there in the Closed Ground right by you.” Hecht described the man he had seen in the mob.
“I know the one you mean. Surprisingly enough. I noticed him because he was creepy. And he smelled bad.”
“Find out whatever you can. Who he is. Where he lives. That sort of thing.”
Biogna studied him from beneath shaggy brows. He had grown stocky. He looked much more like a prosperous thug than the starving refugee Hecht had met on the road to Brothe. “You got somewhere for me to start? Brothe covers a lot of ground.”
“I don’t. I’ve only noticed him a few times. At a guess, spying. My man Bechter noticed him before I did.
He seems to be keeping an eye on me and my staff.”
“Imperial?”
“That would be my first guess. If not that, then Connecten. Or possibly Arnhander.”
“Or maybe our big boss is keeping an eye on you?”
“He has people on the inside to handle that.”
“Probably. You asked for me on account of you want to keep this quiet. Right?”
“Yes.”
Biogna nodded. “You got it. Good tea, ma’am. Thank you. I’ll be shoving off.”
Hecht did not argue. He accompanied Biogna to the door. As the man stepped out, Hecht asked, “You still see Just Plain Joe?”
“All the time. He’s easy to be around.”
That was true, Hecht remembered. Just Plain Joe was not much smarter than the animals he cared for but he was a comfortable companion. “Sure is. Next time you see him, tell him hello from me. And ask if he’s happy where he is.”
“Hell, Pipe. Of course he is. He’s Just Plain Joe. Joe is happy. Wherever he’s at, that’s the best possible place to be.”
“I could use a man who’s good with animals.”
“He’ll be looking for a job before long. We all will. Unless something scares the Five Families so bad they figure they’ve got to keep us on.”
“You find yourself out of work, come see me.”
Biogna bobbed his head, glanced around to see who might notice him leaving, then took off.
Hecht watched him go. How much could he be trusted?
The better positioned he became the more vulnerable he felt.
“We are being watched,” Hecht said when he returned to the kitchen. Where Anna seemed to be taking inventory in case Bo was a thief with illusionist’s skills. “And I won’t ask Biogna in again if he makes you that uncomfortable.”
“Good. And next time one of your henchmen turns up, ask me before you let them in.”
There it was. The root of it all.
>
“Absolutely.”
“What about us being watched?”
He had seen a familiar face on a man lounging against a wall a hundred yards toward the sunset. A face he had not seen in years. The man’s name was al-Azer er-Selim. He had been the Master of Ghosts of the special company once commanded by the Sha-lug captain Else Tage. Az was an old hand. He would not be spotted easily unless he wanted spotting.
Az wanted to make contact.
Later, though. When there would be fewer witnesses. There’s a man out there who doesn’t have any business around here.”
“Who sent him?”
“That would be the grand question. That’s the off side of being Captain-General. Everyone — including the man paying my salary — wants to track what I’m doing.”
Anna nodded. She had completed her inventory. Now she dug amongst her pots and pans as she got ready to cook. “I’d as soon they stayed away from here. All of them.” Her wealth in utensils declared her status in her own mind. A new pan was always a welcome gift.
“Even Pinkus?”
“Pinkus I can suffer. Barely. Titus is acceptable. If he was willing to socialize and would bring Noë and their kids. But not as business. I’ve got a good life here, Piper. I’d as soon forget the past.”
“Little pitchers.”
Pella and Vali seemed very interested. Anna said, “Don’t you two go telling any of your … Any of Piper’s friends that I don’t like them.” She was wide-eyed when she looked at Hecht again.
No one missed the fact that she had come near calling Hecht their father. Which betrayed much of what was going on inside her head.
The uncomfortable moment was shattered by another knock at the door. This one seemed urgent. Hecht said, “Pella, you go.”
He stepped forward and caught Anna by the elbows, stared down into her coffee and amber eyes. He did not know what to say. She seemed unable, or unwilling, to offer any cues.
He did not get the chance to work it out.
“Captain-General. A moment.”
Pella said, “I’m sorry, Anna. I couldn’t stop him.”
Hecht gaped momentarily, reflecting on the old saw, “Speak of the Adversary.”
“Titus? What the hell are you doing here?”
“We have a situation.”
“Well?”
“A world-altering situation, sir. A courier killed two horses bringing the news.”
“And?” Dread crept into the back of Hecht’s mind.
“Here, sir?”
“Yes. Here. Now. In front of everyone. Spit it out.”
“As you will. The Emperor is dead.”
“Lothar?”
“That one. Yes. Right now we’re the only ones who know.”
And the Devedian community, of course. And all the Instrumentalities of the Night. And anyone who had congress with them.
Hecht turned to Anna. Before he could speak, she said, “It’s time to go. And waste no time. The whole world just changed.”
9. Hochwasser: Ceremonies of Death and Life
Princess Helspeth, Grafina fon Supfer, Marquesa va Runjan, Contessa di Plemenza, and so forth, thought she had herself under control. She had known it would come. She had had time to become intimate with the truth during the bone-breaking rush from Plemenza to Hochwasser, where Lothar had been gathering a small army for a limited campaign in northern Firaldia. But seeing Mushin in a coffin, in a room lined with blocks of ice, took it out of the realm of the intellectual, into that of the intimately painful and real.
She threw herself onto the boy’s pale, still form. Mushin was so cold. And so much smaller than he was inside her memory.
She lost control.
A hand squeezed her shoulder. She looked up. Katrin stood over her. Katrin’s eyes were red and hollow. The pain had razor-slashed her soul.
The sisters fell into one another’s arms. They wept together under the scowls of Katrin’s women and several of the Empire’s leading men. The majority and most powerful of the Council Advisory, however, had not yet arrived. They seemed in no hurry to present themselves for Emperor Lothar’s final ritual obligation to the Grail Empire.
Helspeth pulled herself together before Katrin did. To the surprise of the younger sister, Katrin was the one they called the ice maiden. Katrin was the one who concealed everything happening inside. But Katrin was the one who had focused all her strained and stilted emotion on her beloved Mushin.
Katrin said, “My world has ended, Helspeth.”
Helspeth wondered why Katrin had no pet name for her.
“This is worse than when Papa died. Though we’ve always known that it would happen.”
“Father was hard to live with,” Helspeth said. Parroting Katrin explaining her lack of distress after Johannes’s fall at al-Khazen. Helspeth was too rattled to engage her own wit. “Who are those men?” She indicated three priests who seemed intent on remaining unnoticed.
“Father Volker. My confessor. I don’t know the other two. Father introduced me but I was too distracted to remember. One of them is a bishop. He’s going to preside at the funeral and my first vows.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t want to be Empress, Helspeth. I don’t want to deal with Omro va Still-Patter and all those coldhearted vultures. Help me, Helspeth.”
“Always, dear sister. I am your most faithful and devoted subject. Whatever you ask of me, I’ll do it. Just tell me.”
A flicker of cold suspicion crossed Katrin’s features.
Katrin Ege assumed the Imperial honors the day following Helspeth’s arrival at Hochwasser. She did so in the absence of the Council Advisory, with the blessing of Bishop Hrobjart of Carbon. The Bishop administered a preliminary oath in the interest of state continuity. The official coronation was set for late summer, during the Feast of Kramas. The Feast was an ancient celebration, the reasons for which were lost in time. Grail Emperors were elevated officially on that date. They had been since the New Brothen Empire was imagined by the Patriarch Pacific II. Some who indulged an interest in matters historical believed Kramas commemorated a victory by tribesmen over invading Old Brothen legions. The Battle of Carmue, in Brothen history, had had an impact so great that the emperors never again tried to conquer the heart of the continent.
There were arguments. Those of the Council Advisory already on hand insisted on delays. The full Council was needed.
Unsaid, but understood, was that the full Council had less trouble bullying Katrin.
Helspeth was careful to say nothing negative about those ugly old men.
Privately, Algres Drear suggested, “If you want the Empress to know anything special you’d better deliver the message before Hilandle shows. Once he does Katrin will be hard to reach. He’ll make sure access to the Empress is strictly managed.”
Helspeth was impressed. That was the most the man had said since Lothar placed her under his protection. His advice was sound, too. “Captain, I need you more than ever. How do I assure your loyalty?”
“My loyalty is assured, Princess. It was the will of the emperors, your father and your brother. Only death can separate us. I’ll be closer to you than I am to my wife.”
Literally. Drear’s wife refused to travel to Plemenza.
“I wasn’t made for this, Algres.”
“No one is till it’s thrust upon them.”
“But …”
“You are the daughter of Johannes Ege and Terezia of Nietzchau.”
Helspeth wanted to argue but was too tired and too depressed. She hated her life. And it was unlikely to get better. Even Plemenza was losing its charm.
“I’m not sure that will be sufficient.”
Drear turned grim. “You have enough on your mind. Get some rest. But see your sister as soon as you can.”
Katrin did not answer Helspeth’s message. She had gone into seclusion with her confessor and the other churchmen.
Ferris Renfrow arrived before the Grand Duke, in time for the interment and
a hasty succession ceremony performed by Bishop Hrobjart. Just materializing behind Helspeth’s left shoulder. She knew he was there without looking. The overcast began to clear from her emotional skies. The slump went out of her shoulders.
She felt guilty.
Algres Drear was supposed to make her feel this way. That was his mission. She could not manage without Captain Drear and his Braunsknechts, but he never inspired her the way Renfrow did.
Sad, too, because Ferris Renfrow’s first loyalty was always the Grail Empire, not the sad second daughter of its penultimate Emperor.
Katrin sank to her knees before Bishop Hrobjart. After a murmured exchange, Hrobjart turned to his left and accepted a coronet from the nameless churchman who accompanied him everywhere. Father Volker swung a censor with one hand and sprinkled holy water with the other.
All three priests wore white. Father Volker’s robes were simple. The unknown priest’s were austere.
Bishop Hrobjart’s, though, had lace, uncut gems, and seed pearls all over it. The last time Helspeth saw priests in white was at Lothar’s coronation. Normally, they wore gray or brown. Or black.
Helspeth loathed the new crows in black. They served the harsh orders: the Patriarchal Society for the Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy; the Brotherhood of War; the Knights of the Grail Order. And the former two grew more powerful by the day across the Jagos.
Grail Empire disdain kept the Society and Brotherhood from developing much power north of the Jagos.
But the Grail Order — a sort of northern Brotherhood — was immensely influential where the Episcopal faith collided with the pagan world.
Ferris Renfrow summoned her from her reverie. Time for the witnesses to take a knee before the new Empress. Then both knees while the Bishop of Carbon invoked the blessing. A long responsorial followed. She did not need to pay attention to keep up. It was standard back and forth in Church Brothen. A five-year-old could keep up and have attention left over for mischief.
***
AS THEY LEFT THE CHURCH, RENFROW SAID, “YOU MAY face dramatic challenges on your return to Plemenza, Princess.” He seemed not to care if someone overheard. The Patriarch is sure to test the new order.”
“Sublime will find the Ege daughters no less formidable than their father.” She thought of the Captain-General. Their paths might not cross again.
