by Cook, Glen
“Intelligence chief?” Helspeth demanded. “A woman?” Hourli was harvesting a crop of admiring looks from the older men.
Six people chuckled. Hourli did not. “Said the female emperor.”
Hecht said, “She found Anselin. And Titus wants to try other things.”
Renfrow said, “I can vouch for the lady’s competence.”
“Ferris? You know her?”
“A distant relative.” Not strictly true. “She’s brought some family members in to help the Commander. All women, except for her twin brother.”
Hecht added, “And they’re helping out of conviction, not for pay.”
Helspeth did one of those things that would startle people throughout her reign. She dismissed the matter. “All right. Your department, your problem. Talk to me about Anselin.”
Hecht glanced at Hourli. The Instrumentality deferred with a nod. He then glanced at Lady Hilda, who, this time, was not busy with coffee. War in Dreanger had interrupted the smuggling chain. Daedel winked.
“Anselin wanted to see Hypraxium on his way home.” Which was common knowledge, now. “He visited the great buildings and was a guest of the Emperor, who suggested he take an overland route home in order to avoid interception by Navayan or Plataduran warships. Anselin took that advice.”
But once Anselin departed Hypraxium, accompanied by one knight, two squires, a serjent, and a gaggle of servants, including a personal confessor, he had tumbled off the edge of the earth.
“Anselin’s party was too big to go unnoticed but too small to fight.”
“He’s dead?” Helspeth blurted. “Murdered by bandits?”
“No. A false guide took him along a wrong road, into Hovacol. King Stain has him. He plans to auction him off. Stain has been behaving strangely for several years. His enemies claim that he is possessed.”
The Grand Duke opened his mouth for the first time. “How could she possibly know all that?”
“Lady Hourli has unique resources.”
Ferris Renfrow said, “She does.”
“But…”
The Empress interjected, “We’ve been told, gently, that how the sausages get made is none of our business. Be content with the meat on the table.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Hecht said. Then, because Helspeth hated being called that if only because it had pleased her sister, he said, “Sorry. I meant Majesty. And it’s true. Every profession has trade secrets.”
“Do get on with it. Tell us what you plan, Lord Arnmigal.” Rubbing it in.
Lady Hilda winked again. Hecht pushed that distraction aside. “I mean to take Anselin away from Stain. I need your permission.”
“Do you? You must be exceeding confident that permission will be forthcoming. Buhle Smolens and Rivademar Vircondelet, with two hundred fifty men and twenty light falcons, left early this morning.”
That caught Hecht off guard. “Yes. I try to keep the men sharp with field exercises.”
Helspeth stared for several seconds. “A good idea, I don’t doubt. The sword’s edge should be kept polished. Stay a moment when the others leave.” Perhaps a sop to the old men, him facing a dressing down. “I want to hear how much this perfect edge is going to cost.”
“As you wish.”
“Always. Proceed with your plot. Although, I’m thinking, had you dealt with Stain when Katrin asked, this situation might not have arisen.”
Unfair, and even the old men saw that.
“This opportunity would not have befallen us.”
It would have been a different world. The Righteous would not have taken the Krulik and Sneigon works before hearing about King Jaime. The Righteous would not have had the falcons that had made the difference at the Shades. Katrin would be alive and a prisoner of the Church. Serenity would still be Patriarch.
Helspeth stepped back. “You’re right. Anselin would have ridden in here. We’d be trying to get Anne of Menand to bully Serenity into trading him for my sister.”
Said sourly. Helspeth was in a contrarian mood. Hecht glanced at Lady Hilda, seeking a clue. He got another wink.
What the hell was Daedel up to?
“Hilda?” Helspeth said. “You have something to contribute?”
“The Archbishop keeps complaining about something being wrong with the churches.”
Helspeth said, “Since none of these barbarians are inclined to take a cue and ask, what does that mean?”
“I’m not sure. The Archbishop has trouble making himself clear when he’s excited. I think he means that the churches no longer have a holy feel.”
Still no commentary. It was not clear what Hilda meant, either. Lady Hourli, though, looked uncomfortable.
Lady Hilda grumbled, “I’m saying what the Archbishop said. Maybe he meant the churches aren’t blessed anymore. Maybe he meant that God isn’t there anymore.”
Hilda was disappointed by the numb response, obviously. Hecht suspected that she had hoped that someone could clarify Brion’s complaint.
* * *
“No more snow jobs,” Helspeth told Hecht when they were alone.
“Including having Hilandle and fon Tyre in so the old guard doesn’t get its noses out of joint?”
“I can make that exception.”
“What is this with Lady Hilda? She was flirting. Are you testing me?”
Helspeth raised an eyebrow but did not explain. “The Grand Duke of Eathered and Arnmigal is free to do whatever he considers to be in the interest of his Empress, even to rescuing the King of Arnhand. But the Empress would appreciate knowing what Lord Arnmigal intends before it becomes a public issue.”
“Understood. But it’s hard to keep you up to the minute.”
“Really? When you have friends who pop into my bedroom in the middle of the night? Who know intimate details of things happening right now in a kingdom hundreds of miles away?”
Before he could placate her, Helspeth growled, “You want me to take you on faith but you won’t trust me.”
Hecht’s shoulders hunched. The new, imperious Helspeth was disconcerting.
Hecht felt Hourli laughing somewhere close by.
“Very well. But you won’t believe the truth when I tell you.”
“Try me, my lord,” said from inside two feet, head tilted back, eyes narrowed sleepily. Then she reddened.
Hecht was too pressed to respond, with humor or contact. “My Lady Hourli is the old goddess Hourli. Her twin is the god Hourlr. Also helping the Righteous are the goddesses Sheaf, Eavijne, Aldi, Wife…”
“Stop! You’re right. I don’t believe you. I can’t, for the sake of my immortal soul. I know those names from when I was little. My old nurses told me stories about Donner and Ordnan, Hourli and Locke.”
“Excellent. If you won’t believe me I won’t have to explain.” He was sure he heard Hourli laughing. Being the subject of disbelief could be an advantage, sometimes. You could do what you wanted and not be blamed. “Just carry out my recommendations and enjoy the results.”
“Lord Arnmigal … The hell with it! I have no hope of salvation if God does condemn us for sins that that we commit in our hearts.”
Hecht waited.
“Hilda was doing what I told her to. I wanted to know what you’d do. But she went a little further than I wanted. She might mean it.”
“Isn’t that rather juvenile?”
“Yes. It is. But do I know any better? Have I had any chance to learn? I tripped into obsession at first sight with a man I saw for just a few minutes while my father was questioning a prisoner. The prisoner became Patriarch. The man who captured my imagination saved my life under the walls of al-Khazen. My lord, the only other man who ever forced his way into my mind, as a man, was Jaime of Castauriga, which repelled me. He believed he had the right.”
“Uh…”
“He thought he had a claim on any woman he wanted. I infuriated him by refusing. So did Hilda. She’s easy but she has standards. She knows wicked slime when she winds the stench.”
<
br /> “Helspeth! What are you?…”
“I’m sorry, my lord. I am Empress, now. I don’t get much chance to be human. I fall apart when I try.”
Hecht heard divine laughter once more. Probably his imagination. The Instrumentalities of the Night could not penetrate a well-maintained quiet room. It had to be his guilt about his own obsessions.
Helspeth Ege was naïve about the interplay between man and woman but she did know that Piper Hecht was as captivated by Helspeth Ege as Helspeth Ege was enthralled by Piper Hecht. “There will be a hasty coronation next week. We want to get it done before the grandees go home for the winter. After that I can do pretty much whatever I want.”
“I know. That scares me. I’m a weak man. Sometimes I just can’t do the right thing. And this could hurt people who don’t deserve the pain.”
Helspeth nodded sadly.
Hecht said, “That old man who turns up in odd places at odd times would know right away. He knows my mind already. Others suspect.”
He was rehearsing the facts more to convince himself than to caution Helspeth. She had crossed her last river already. She might offer him no more choice than Katrin had.
But Katrin was between him and God, now. He had been profoundly lucky, there.
Those watching Helspeth were, no doubt, circling in hopes that something damning would happen right now, tonight.
“Anything that happens will touch more lives than yours and mine.”
“And if nothing happens, that will diminish lives as well.”
“We have to make choices, dearest. Amongst them are, who has to suffer the hurt caused by the attraction between us. Us, by denying ourselves? Or those who…?”
“Stop. I can do no more of this now. Go back to your demons. Catch Anselin. Let me get my heart under control. We’ll talk Imperial business later.” Helspeth had recovered.
“As you wish.”
A dozen palace denizens contrived to be close by when the Empress and new Grand Duke emerged from the quiet room. Each felt a letdown. Scandal had been avoided. The couple looked like they wanted to fight.
* * *
Hecht found Lila waiting at the Still-Patter mansion. She had brought Vali. He groaned.
Lila was quick to have her feelings hurt.
“Sorry, girls. It’s been a hard day. I was looking forward to bed. What is it?”
“Nothing important. This was Vali’s first long transition. We thought we’d see how you’re doing. There isn’t any real news except that Brothe has calmed down.”
Vali said, “And a lot of priests are yammering about there being something wrong with the churches. Some say it’s because God is turning away since the Church allowed a layman to overthrow an elected Patriarch.”
“Wasn’t the first time that happened.” Hecht sighed. “It might be heresy but I suspect that God could not care less about the Patriarchy.”
“We can go away if you want,” Lila said.
“No.” He needed contact with reality. “I don’t see you often enough. You remind me of what I have when I’m not Commander of the Righteous.”
Both girls were pleased.
Vali said, “We saw Pella on the way. Him and that dwarf are only about forty miles from here, now.”
“Dwarf?” Startled.
“Oh. No. Not like Iron Eyes. That Armand creature.”
“The freak,” Lila opined.
“Girls. Armand can’t help being Armand.”
“Yes, he can,” Lila said. “People have choices. Maybe limited, like ours in that place where you found us. But nobody has to embrace their own humiliation. Armand is a freak because he does. You’ll see. He gets here, he’ll find himself a keeper who’ll treat him like shit.”
Vali said, “That’s why he split with grandpa Muniero. Grandpa treated him too good.”
“May be, but I don’t care. Tell me how Anna is.”
Neither girl seemed eager to address that. Vali finally said, “She’s just Anna Mozilla while Piper Hecht is away. She goes along in kind of a daze.”
Lila said, “She’s doing better now that she’s back in her own house.”
Another twinge of conscience. But they had worked that out at the beginning.
Anna did not expect him to be faithful. She was a mistress, not a wife, and he was a man. But she would surely suffer from anything as public as a liaison with the Grail Empress.
“When you get back I want you to remind her that I think of her all the time.”
“We could take you.”
“That won’t happen, girls.”
“Fraidy cat,” Vali said.
“Absolutely. Now scoot on out of here.”
They went, but not before needling him with observations between themselves about how attractive some of the younger officers were, especially that Carava de Bos.
De Bos had a definite reputation.
* * *
Piper Hecht did not participate in Helspeth’s coronation, even as a witness. He and his key staffers avoided the end of the political season by joining the expedition to Hovacol. Pella accompanied him.
Asked politely by a purported ambassador—Hourlr in mortal guise—King Stain refused to surrender Anselin. He summoned his host.
Perceived bullying by the Grail Empire guaranteed an excellent response despite Stain’s recent lack of intimacy with rational thinking. More than five hundred horse and a thousand foot awaited the Righteous in a sound foreslope position behind a stream spanned by a wooden bridge eight feet wide.
The consensus of Hecht’s staff was, “Oh, shit! What have we gotten into here?”
Kait Rhuk suggested, “Roll the falcons up to the riverbank. Take them under fire. That will make them come at us.”
Drago Prosek nodded. “I’m considering starting with half charges so they have time to watch the shot come in.”
And Rhuk: “Keep the falcons near the bridge so we can concentrate fire when they charge.”
“All good thinking,” Hecht said. He glanced at the sky. “We have two hours of light left. Pity that ridge is behind us. It wasn’t, the sun would come down in their eyes. Vircondelet. Break out twenty men. Start making camp. We’ll stay here tonight.” That should buoy their confidence. He checked the shadow of that ridge. It was creeping eastward.
The men set to work siting falcons and raising berms to protect their crews. Stain’s men first seemed puzzled, then uneasy. The invaders were behaving strangely. They should have turned back once they saw what awaited them. But the Righteous were, all workmanlike, preparing to become unpleasant.
Hecht summoned Kait Rhuk. “Kait, did you put my kid on a crew?” Pella loved the smoke and thunder.
“Over there. Last on the left. He’s the powder boy.”
“All right. Good.” He sighed. Powder boy was a dangerous job. On the other hand, Rhuk had sent him to the weapon farthest from the bridge.
The shadow of the ridge passed the Righteous. Hecht tightened his cinch, mounted up. “Be back in a minute.”
He crossed the wooden bridge and headed for the waiting army. Some looked like veterans. Their arms and equipment were better than he expected. King Stain might know what he was doing.
Hecht stayed behind the line of shadow, halted beyond bowshot. The men ahead did not know what to make of him. Had he come to parlay?
Hecht did not know himself. Intuition moved him.
The shadow began to claim the men of Hovacol.
Hecht raised his right hand high. “Now.”
Thunder rattled off the hills. A pair of horrors twice man-size swept out of the shade behind the Righteous, hurtled toward King Stain. Their shrieks melted spines.
Hecht felt himself being pulled in the ferocious psychic wake of Fastthal and Sprenghul, the Choosers of the Slain, this time come before the fight, spreading terror. Those men up ahead would not recognize them but would imbibe the dread surrounding them.
The animals were more frightened than the men. The formation began to crumble.<
br />
The Choosers came round again, sweeping in from the ends of the Hovacol line. That fell apart. Only King Stain stood his ground.
Hecht lowered his hand. He was confused. How had he caused all that?
Brokke, Sedlakova, and Consent joined him. Behind and below, the Righteous crossed the bridge.
Consent, eyeing bewildered stragglers ahead, blurted, “What the hell just happened?”
“What do you mean?”
Brokke said, “Something happened to you up here, Boss. And it was damned scary.”
Consent said, “You turned into a pillar of shadow. You had lightning in your hair.”
“I did not. Stop messing with me.”
Sedlakova said, “Boss, you ain’t going to bullshit nobody about this. Everybody saw it. On both sides.”
A makeshift lifeguard assembled around Stain, up the slope. The King of Hovacol was not short on courage.
Hecht was inclined to argue. “I don’t remember it that way.” He did not remember at all. “Clej, go up there and make sure they don’t have a surprise waiting across the ridge. Catch me a straggler. I want to know what they think just happened.”
He had an elusive recollection of the Choosers. Startled, he looked around, saw nothing remarkable—except the attitudes of his companions.
“Hagen, go on and finish making camp. Let the creek be our moat. We’ll move on tomorrow. Drago. Kait. They’re not here? Remind me to tell them to watch their powder. It might rain.”
There were but a few wisps of cloud, set ablaze by the sun beyond the western ridge.
Hecht’s companions looked him askance again, probably more because he wanted to caution Rhuk and Prosek than because he was predicting the weather. Those two needed no advice in their chosen field.
Hecht said, “Gentlemen, the rest is yours. I’m going to lie down.”
* * *
Hecht was loosening his boots when Pella slipped into the tent. “You all right, Dad?”
“Just worn out.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I wish people would stop asking.”
“Are you scared?”
