Surrender to the will of the night

25. Alten Weinberg: Bleak Spring

Helspeth appeared grimmer than ever. The Commander of the Righteous asked, “What is it?” He had been summoned to confer in the morning rather than awaiting the usual time in the evening.

“My sister.”

Helspeth was so pale Hecht leapt to a conclusion. “What happened?” There had been a lot of activity at Winterhall lately. Imperial Electors had visited. Members of the Council Advisory had visited. Only Ferris Renfrow had not been seen. And the Commander of the Righteous had not been consulted.

Hecht had put his men on alert quietly. His falcons were charged, manned, and sighted in. Key points were under observation. There would be no deadly surprise.

Helspeth replied, “Nothing’s happened. But this week everyone who’s anyone…”

“Yes?”

“They all agree. It’s time. Something’s got to be done.”

Hecht began to get it.

She stated it. “The Empire is paralyzed. I can’t make commitment decisions even though things happening in Arnhand might affect us.”

King Regard, under fierce pressure from his mother, intended a massive new invasion of the Connec. The Maysalean Heresy would be the excuse. Annexation of the Connec and the taking of titles in reward to the Arnhander nobility would be the real goal.

The Captain-General of Patriarchal forces would invade at the same time, supported by levies from the Patriarchal States. And the jackals of the Society would follow along.

All predictable without spies or the random report from Heris, via pendant.

Hecht was tired of that. He would prefer an occasional visit. But something ate up all her time.

“Are you going to take over?”

“No!” Horrified by the suggestion. “Katrin is Empress till God calls her home. Sainted Eis! Not even the Grand Admiral suggested anything like that. Don’t ever say that again.”

“It was an inquiry, Princess, not a policy suggestion.” He did not check the audience to which Helspeth played. “I had to make sure that I needn’t call my men out to protect my employer’s rights.”

“Nobody is thinking that way, Commander. Nobody!”

“All right. I’m listening.”

“Nobody! Even Brothe’s steadfast enemies are more interested in keeping the peace than pushing their own agendas. Probably because of you. But everyone agrees that things aren’t moving forward.”

He admitted, “I’m nose against a wall myself.”

“So. Katrin has to be pushed.”

Hecht raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“We’ll make her have her baby.” Stated in a tremulous voice. “Or not.” Because only the Empress herself believed in the Imperial pregnancy anymore.

“I see.”

“We’ve collected the most skilled midwives…”

“Don’t give me details. Give me instructions.”

“There aren’t any. Except to stand by to keep order.”

Hecht nodded, not pleased.

Each day Hecht’s force became more of an Imperial bodyguard, in every mind but his own. Most people seemed comfortable with the notion. It promised an alternative to chaos.

Hecht was with his staff when word came two afternoons later. The Empress had been delivered of a male child. The news stunned Hecht, his staff, and, he was sure, all Alten Weinberg.

“How did they manage?” Titus demanded, cynicism kicking in. “Did they ring in an orphan?”

Clej Sedlakova said, “No way. Even the suspicion would poison the succession. There would’ve been a platoon of unimpeachable witnesses.”

A vigorous discussion began, driven by worry about future employment. It lasted only minutes. A second message arrived.

Katrin’s son had been born dead. She had carried a dead baby all this time. It had developed only to about the sixth month.

“Is that possible?” Hecht asked. “Can a woman carry a dead fetus for half a year?” He had no idea how all that worked.

Nor did any of his staff, though Buhle Smolens opined, “She could if there was sorcery involved.”

Sorcery, or the suspicion thereof, soon animated rumor. Some wicked power had stilled the future Emperor in the womb. He would have been greater than his grandfather had he lived. Further wickedness had been worked by spelling the Empress so the death would go undiscovered for months. The finger-pointing began.

The potential villain had a hundred identities. Hecht was on the list, but well down it. At its head, despite Brothe’s romance with the Empress, was the Patriarch. The logic indicting Serenity was convoluted.

If it was not the Patriarch, then surely it must be the Collegium.

Hecht wondered if Katrin had, indeed, been touched by the Night. He seemed alone in his curiosity, though.

The Princess Apparent managed a meeting with just one witness present. The woman was not formally presented but Hecht knew she was the notorious Lady Delta va Kelgerberg. Such a profligate was unlikely to broadcast the indiscretions of her friend.

That birthed an excitement so intense it distracted him almost completely.

Helspeth was painfully aware, too, but fought through. “How is your health? Is your wound still a problem?”

“I’m better. Some. I can’t go riding. I can’t indulge in work that requires physical effort.”

Helspeth glared. The va Kelgerberg woman flashed a knowing smirk. “Why do you ask?” An out for the Princess.

“I want an honor guard. Yourself leading. For the funeral.”

“Funeral?”

“For Katrin’s baby.”

“There’s a baby?” He blurted it, surprised.

“Of course. Haven’t you been paying attention?”

“I thought…”

Helspeth leaned in to whisper, “There is an infant. Katrin has been holding it and crying for two days. We’ll take it away soon. Even in this weather it will putrefy. It will lie in state tonight. Tomorrow we’ll inter it with my father and brother. The lighting will be bad. Katrin won’t look so awful with the shadows around her. I hope she’ll have her hysteria controlled. Come dawn we’ll close the casket. You and your men will guard it and Katrin during the night, then take the casket down to the crypt. Katrin’s favorite churchmen will handle the rites and prayers. Then Katrin can get back to ruling the Empire.”

“I see. Of course. I’ll play my part.” Never being sure what was real and what was playacting.

All the appurtenances of a state funeral-for a stillborn child. But without them the Empress might be lost.

Hecht had a hundred questions. He dared ask none. The va Kelgerberg woman might have no part in the plot. If there was a plot.

Helspeth saw his confusion. “Someday. As pillow talk.” Boldness on which she almost strangled.

The Commander of the Righteous stationed himself at the end of the tiny gold casket. He wondered where it had come from on short notice. Titus, beautifully turned out, stood at the other end and gently urged people to keep moving.

It would not do to have the little corpse examined too closely.

So Hecht felt.

He thought it looked nothing like the Empress. It was as dusky as King Jaime. He thought it looked nearer full term than six months, too. Though in the available light it was hard to tell, and he was no expert.

Katrin occupied a light throne behind and overlooking the casket. No reason had been given. It was not customary. But she was Empress. She could do what she wanted. She had cried a lot. Then she had fallen asleep.

She slept well, except for one brief crying jag and a short absence to relieve herself. She did not reclaim her place among the living till after the viewing ended. Hecht’s picked men were about to close the casket.

“Wait, Commander. I want one last look.”

Hecht signed his men to step back. Katrin rose with difficulty. Hecht asked, “Do you require assistance, Your Grace?”

“No. But I’ve decided not to look. I just slept for the first time. I should let go now, not torment myself any further. Close it. Take it away. Priests! Do your duty.”

Hecht performed the stiff, shallow bow expected of a senior officer. “As you command, Your Grace.” And wondered how Katrin would have reacted to seeing her infant in the light of day.

The funeral was appropriately somber. Hecht saw nothing to suggest that anyone considered this playacting for the benefit of the Empress. These people really believed.

“Maybe I’ve gotten too cynical,” he murmured to Titus Consent. “I was sure this was all set up so the Empress could save face. Yet, near as I can tell, everybody believes it but me.”

“Sometimes the unlikely can be true, too. And villains don’t have to be black-hearted all the time.”

“Yet I hear no conviction.”

“What I think doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” Hecht brooded. In time, he decided that only Katrin’s conviction mattered, but she was not alone in her conviction.

If Helspeth and others had worked a scheme, its outcome was good for Empress and Empire.

The Empress who had lost a son was a new Empress: harder, more focused, and less tolerant than the Empress who had gone into confinement. This Empress meant to slay her pain by working herself to exhaustion. And she meant to carry Alten Weinberg along with her.

The Unbeliever had better beware. A furious storm was gathering.

Hecht’s weary staff cornered him one evening. Clej Sedlakova said, “I’ve been elected to speak for everyone.”

“Can you hurry? I have a meeting with the Empress.”

“The woman is eating you alive.” Someone snickered. These were soldiers. “She’s devouring all of us. We need a leader here. We need a decision maker. If you want to spend all your time dancing attendance, leaving us to work ourselves numb best-guessing what we’re supposed to do… Well, you need to delegate somebody to be in charge if you aren’t going to be yourself.”

Surprised, Hecht had to admit that the one-armed man was right. For nineteen days he had spent most of his waking time with the Empress. And not just preparing for her crusade. She insisted. He had become her emotional crutch. He tolerated it because it gave him a chance to see Princess Helspeth, often in circumstances less chaperoned than when he had conferred with her every evening.

They had moments to talk and-more or less-flirt.

Two days ago Katrin had asked, clumsily, “Did you two manage to dampen your ardor for one another while I was confined?”

Helspeth had reddened and sputtered. Hecht had done nothing. He was in no position to contradict the Empress, nor to argue with her outside the realm of war planning.

“Ah. You didn’t. Ellie is still valuable on the marriage market. But she is getting past her bloom. How droll. How sad for you both.” There was a cruel edge to her laughter.

Katrin was going through changes. Hecht feared she would turn into one of those tyrants who practiced their worst cruelties on those nearest them.

Katrin said, “You two don’t hide what you’re thinking. You look at each other like ferrets in season. But, never mind. As you will. So long as it doesn’t sabotage Imperial policy.”

A small cruelty, there. After suggesting that Helspeth might be on the marriage block again.

Hecht did not speak into the silence. Nor did Helspeth.

Katrin tired of waiting. “I’m pleased with what you’ve done, Commander. Especially during my confinement. I’m also pleased with your efforts, Ellie.”

Hecht smelled a “but.” “Thank you, Your Grace. It was a strain. I’m sure it will be less so now that we have you back to guide us.”

“You have requests and reservations?”

“Nothing new, Your Grace. It’s all in the reports. Excepting recent difficulties having to do with me overworking my staff. If you like, I’ll have my recommendations separated out of the body of the reports so you can review them without the distraction of drayage censuses, blanket and tent inventories, and the like. A messenger could have that here in the morning.”

“Yes. Do that.” Said in a way implying that she had not had that in mind.

The Empress had moments where her mind slipped its moorings. When she went away somewhere. She never explained, never acknowledged that anything had happened. Perforce, those in her presence shared the pretense.

“As you command, so shall it be.”

“In all things?”

Uncertain of his ground, Hecht went for cautious honesty. “Almost all things. There is my higher obligation to God. I won’t sell my soul. I won’t surrender to the Will of the Night, though I love you as a man must love his greatest earthly lord.”

“An answer Mother Church and all her swarming little priests would applaud. Good enough. Suppose I were to order you to carry my sister into one of these private chambers and spend the rest of the night making her fantasies come true?”

That edge of cruelty was back in Katrin’s voice, stronger than before. Time to be very careful.

“Much as I might, as a man, wish for such a night, I think that the situation, as you present it, would come near asking me to sell my soul.”

The devil left its place behind Katrin’s eyes. The urge to be cruel evaporated. “Very well. If I can’t help, I can’t. You two will just have to manage it by bumbling and sneaking. Go, now, Commander of the Righteous.” A hint of mockery there? “I want that report right away.”

The Empress seemed to lose interest. Hecht’s meetings with her came further and further apart as winter headed toward spring. He was not alone in enjoying less of her time. She was withdrawing. Her periods of distraction grew longer and more frequent. There were rumors of physical complications left over from her delivery.

There was talk of erratic behavior, though Hecht never faced it during his visits. He did see the harsh consequences suffered by some who managed to displease their Empress.

The same period saw the Princess Apparent growing ever more frightened. She told Hecht, “She’s worse than she was when she sent me off to die in exile. It’s only a matter of time before she turns on me. On all of us, eventually. Nothing we do will change that.”

Hecht wished he could reassure her. But the Empress he saw in meetings was not the Empress others saw when he was not around. There was plenty of smoke to give that fire away.

“Piper, she’s clever at covering it, but my sister is quite mad.”

“Maybe. You should be less melodramatic, though. The walls have ears.” Katrin kept setting up situations where they might think they were alone. But someone was watching. Possibly Katrin herself.

There were ugly whispers about the Empress ordering persons from the court to couple while she watched.

That, Hecht suspected, was enemy talk. Somebody wanted to paint Katrin in a repulsive array of colors. But caution would not hurt.

Helspeth whispered, “We need an exorcist. Something dark got into Katrin that night. It’s taking over.”

“Which night?”

“When she had the baby. Don’t be an idiot.”

“The night she… But… I thought…”

“What?”

“That you took a dead baby and made the whole business up. To stop her self-delusion.”

“You really did?”

“Of course I did. That’s what a lot of people think. While admiring how well all of you in the conspiracy have held your tongues.”

“Understand this, Lord Commander of the Righteous. One last time. It was real. Katrin’s pregnancy, Katrin’s delivery, Katrin’s baby. All real. I was there. I saw that thing come out. It was awful. The midwives made it look a lot better before they put it in the coffin. They were terrified. They kept babbling about sorcery and the Night.”

“Hold on.” Even now Hecht had trouble believing in Katrin’s pregnancy. “Any chance somebody besides Jaime could have been the father?”

“Piper! None! How dare you…”

“It’s a process. Seduction of the truth. Save your indignation. So. Before, your sister was rude, self-centered, uncaring, and bullheaded. Everything we admire in a monarch once they’re safely dead. But now she’s more of all that, and crazy religious besides.”

“Yes. She lives according to her faith. As she sees it. But what she sees keeps changing and getting uglier.”

“If she’s devout, then she didn’t have knowing congress with the Night. That she birthed a monster wouldn’t be her doing.”

“Wrong! Of course it’s her fault. She let that animal Jaime spill his seed inside her. She wanted him to. She begged him to.”

“It wasn’t a match ordained in Heaven.” Hecht looked around hard. Where would an eavesdropper be lurking? Along with what else?

He tried to caution Helspeth with a hand sign.

She forged on. “For Katrin it was. It still is. She’s blind about Jaime. Say something against him and you’re on her bad side for sure. I loathe myself for it, but I feed her fantasy.”

Hecht had trouble staying with the discussion. Just sitting there, frightened, Helspeth distracted him. She stumbled over her words. “It’s different when something really could happen. Consequences start rattling around inside my head.”

“It’s not naughty letters to somebody hundreds of miles away anymore.”

“The consequences…”

“Could be awful. Could be deadly.”

“Katrin talks about it every time I see her.”

Hecht frowned. And stared. And could think of no response.

“It’s her new way to torture me. She couldn’t enjoy my misery when she sent me to Runjan. This she can. She asks embarrassing questions in front of people.”

Hecht sighed. An enduring fantasy seemed doomed to a humiliating demise.

“She’s looking for a husband for me again, too.”

“You’d expect that. Now that she isn’t carrying the next Emperor. She’ll feel more insecure.”

“I did expect it. It took her longer than I thought. I did good looking out for her and her interests. She needed time to find some arcane way to think that was all a plot.”

Still concerned about eavesdroppers, Hecht said nothing.

Helspeth understood. “I just wish there was some way to make Katrin understand that I’m not her enemy.”

Her good intentions could be irrelevant. The Princess Apparent was not just a person, she was a symbol. She represented a ready alternative to an unpopular monarch.

Helspeth changed the subject. “How’s your wound? Can you go to the field?”

“Do you know something?” Spring was not far off. Hecht had men training to help with the floods. If they came. They did, three years out of five. “I still have some pain when I’m not careful.”

“Katrin might be thinking about using you against her critics.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Oh?”

“It’d create more problems than it could possibly solve.” Stated for the possible audience.

Using foreign hirelings against her own nobility would enrage the whole class, who resented the central authority already.

“And if she orders you?”

“I’ll carry out my orders. After I do my best to explain why there must be a better way.”

Helspeth winked. “We haven’t gotten much done. But you’d better go. I can’t restrain myself much longer. I don’t want to reduce my market value yet.”

“Nor do I.” Inasmuch as that would be a lapse of trust on a par with outright treason.

Even Titus Consent seemed to be hoping for salacious news. “It was just another meeting, troops. Nothing for any of you. Though I did gather that our employer’s reason is slipping. You all go on to bed. Except you, Titus.” Alone with Consent, he said, “Katrin is thinking about giving us crazy orders once the weather turns.”

“Not good, considering the foreign situation.”

“You’ve had news?” Having no regular contact with Heris or Cloven Februaren left him feeling blind.

“I had two reports today. Just coincidence, that. One came from Arnhand, the other out of the Eastern Empire.”

“Bad news?”

“It could be. In Arnhand they’re preparing a massive invasion of the Connec. Anne of Menand bought a truce with Santerin by giving King Brill most of what he claims is his.”

“Guaranteeing bigger trouble there, someday. And it doesn’t bode well for our friends down south, now.”

“I’m sure Anne had her fingers crossed. She’ll turn on Santerin as soon as Arnhand controls the wealth of the Connec.”

“Probably. And King Brill deserves it if he lets her get away with it.”

“Anne hasn’t bought the Empress off, though.”

“Uhn.” Hecht thought he might suggest that Katrin just overlook whatever her frontier barons did to take advantage of Anne’s Connecten preoccupation.

“But the other report is the real bad news. Krulik and Sneigon have begun offering their weapons and firepowder. The Eastern Emperor and Indala al-Sul Halaladin have shown a lot of interest.”

“Not good from our point of view.”

“No. They’ve heard from Serenity and the Patriarchal States, too.”

“That would be Pinkus’s fault. Bet you. He’d want to stock up. He loves falcons almost as much as Prosek and Rhuk do. But with all the demand, how will Krulik and Sneigon manufacture enough weapons?”

“They might not. They’ve only made sample deliveries so far. They’re taking orders against future delivery, no credit offered.”

“That’s smart, considering the people they’re dealing with. Pinkus might never see a new weapon. Unless Bronte Doneto is a better money manager than his predecessors.”

“Yes. Here’s a problem. They’ve figured out how to make big lots of firepowder. They’re experimenting all the time, trying to improve it. One formula includes nephron from Dreanger. I don’t know what that means but someone thought we should know.”

“Nephron is used by mummy makers. I know that. I’ll have to tell the Empress about this, first chance.”

“What good will that do?”

“Who knows? Maybe none. But she has those moments when she’s as fierce and brilliant as her father.” Hecht knew what Johannes would do, Monestacheus Deleanu be damned. “Have your agents dug out Krulik and Sneigon’s future plans?”

“No. But they’re obvious. Get filthy rich producing the instruments of murder.”

“The very best instruments. Of which, you’ll agree, they can produce only so many.”

“Of course. Maybe they’ll go to auctioning their weapons.” That was basic economic sense, every man’s daydream-and a good way to get butchered by an exasperated prince.

“Or?”

“Or what?”

“Or they could pick and choose who gets what. They could steal the power to decide winners and losers.”

Titus grunted unhappily.

“Does that noise have meaning?”

“Krulik and Sneigon moved out to that wilderness in part because they’re so greedy their own people would have turned on them if they had stayed in Brothe.”

“A point you made last year.”

“Keep it in mind.”

“I’ll consider it. I need to rest. The wound is really barking tonight.”

“Want something?”

“No. I don’t want to get addicted.”

That night Hecht spent an hour tapping on his pendant. He received only a curt acknowledgment from Heris.

He had not seen Heris in months, nor Cloven Februaren in twice as long. He had not weaned himself from emotional reliance on the Lord of the Silent Kingdom. The protection of the Ninth Unknown had been there as certain as the dawn.

The pain in his left shoulder was a solid reminder of the change.

What were those two doing? Why such focus? How grim had it become?

A warm wind came up around the end of the Jagos, putting smiles on every face. Though pessimists like Titus Consent still talked doom and gloom through their exposed teeth.

The snows might melt in a rush. The Bleune and its tributaries could flood. That was the case, three years out of five.

The Commander of the Righteous felt no compassion for those who would suffer. “The waters do rise three years out of five. Anybody who keeps living where they’re sure to get wet deserves whatever they get.” But he would help with the relief effort.

Piper Hecht was out reviewing his troops. They, with their animals and equipment, had assembled in the Franz-Benneroust Plaza, in front of the main citadel. Franz-Benneroust had been a weak, early Grail Emperor, forgotten except for his public works, though he had ruled longer than any Grail Emperor since. He had spent most of his income improving Alten Weinberg and Hochwasser, and building bridges. His own descendants did not recall him well enough to connect him with the name attached to so many buildings and bridges.

Hecht knew because he accumulated such knowledge. It was a compulsion and a defense mechanism. The more he knew the safer he felt. He was better able to fit in.

For the first time in an age he wondered where he would be if er-Rashal had not made Gordimer fear him.

For the first time in an age he examined the question of why the Rascal needed him dead or out of al-Minphet permanently. As ever, he found no answers.

For the first time in an age he wondered if Gordimer and er-Rashal knew he still lived. Or if they cared, since he was out of their way.

Him leading an Imperial crusade ought to remind them. He could go south from the Holy Lands. It should not be hard to convince Katrin that Dreanger needed liberating, too. Dreanger had been critical to the early history of the Chaldarean faith. Definitely more important than Firaldia had been till the Praman Conquest inundated that end of the world.

He reminded himself that Katrin Ege was the daughter of the Emperor Johannes III and far more clever than she pretended. She would not be led easily.

The parade went off with minimal difficulties. His soldiers were paid up, well fed, not overworked, had several sorts of sharp new uniforms, and could not be in better morale. There were fourteen hundred of them now. Almost to a man they were living the dream that had drawn them into service. Only absent was the part where they got to smash enemy cities and get rich on the plunder.

They were sure that part would come soon.

Drago Prosek and Kait Rhuk concluded the event with a thunderous concert from their falcons. Sulfurous clouds of firepowder smoke drifted through the city in sulfurous clouds, potent reminder of where the power lay.