Working God's Mischief

26. Arnhand: Harsh Encounters

The Widow and three hundred fifty men who worshipped her emerged unexpectedly from a forest in the northern Roessen. The Widow rode in a litter. Counts vied for the honor of bearing her.

Dawn was breaking. The Vindicated attacked immediately. The surprise was complete. Those Vindicated who recalled the massacre of Antieux, not so many years ago, meant to murder every man, woman, child, animal, and blade of grass that constituted Mestlé. Anne of Menand had sown the whirlwind. Harvest time had come.

The Widow was outnumbered three to one. Those odds did not daunt her. She rolled across Anne’s estate like a flood. She left dead everywhere, few of them Vindicated.

The Widow told her champions, “Today the world changes. Arnhand without Anne to whip it on will be just another impotent Chaldarean kingdom wracked by internal squabbling.”

Lady Hope, unseen, assured success. In little more than an hour the Vindicated killed four hundred and captured as many more. A dozen structures were fired. Vindicated not in direct contact with Anne’s people began systematically destroying everything. Mestlé would become a desert.

Lady Hope roamed the outskirts, making sure no one important escaped.

The Queen Mother tried treating with the Vindicated. The deposed Patriarch made an effort of his own. Neither had any luck.

Lady Hope discovered soldiers approaching from the east. She leapt to an unfortunate conclusion. They were not Vindicated so they must be friends of the besieged. Hastily collected troops rushed to meet them, intending only to scare the newcomers off while the Widow finished Anne and Serenity, now cowering in a stone watchtower from ancient times.

The newcomers did not scare. The Vindicated assailed them, and encountered something outside their experience-massed falcon fire laid down by professionals. Chastened, the survivors fell back to lick their wounds. The newcomers improved their position systematically, using their firepowder weapons to perfect advantage.

The Vindicated were using their own three falcons to hammer the watchtower, where Anne and Serenity now believed that rescue was at hand.

Hope erred by assailing the newcomers herself before determining who they were. She got a quick, sharp awakening. These men had dealt with revenant gods before.

In deep pain, stunned, she fled. Out of range, she consulted her intellect at last.

Those men yonder could not be Anne’s friends. They had to be the Righteous. No other force could have bloodied the Vindicated with such composure.

Still hurting, Hope found the Widow. Kedle was in a frustrated rage because her leg left her able to do nothing but observe. “What is it, Hope? You look awful.”

“I have made a huge mistake yonder. Those men haven’t come to rescue Anne. They are Prince Anselin and a lifeguard from the Righteous. I may have started a war with people who weren’t our enemies.”

Kedle’s pain made it hard to focus. “Not our enemies?”

“They weren’t before, though they would not have been allies, either. Now, I don’t know. It could turn ugly.”

Kedle pushed her pain down into the place she had created for it, with Hope’s help. It would not go away indefinitely, but it might stay there long enough to let her deal with this rationally. “Go back. Stop the fighting. Find their commander. Make our situation clear. They may be after Anne themselves.”

The Instrumentality said, “I understand.”

“Don’t let them hurt you any more.”

“Thee can count on that. I am permitted to make peace, am I not?”

Kedle nodded. “Go. Be craven if you have to. Promise them anything but get them out of the action.”

Lady Hope did not appreciate that attitude. Still, “I will do what is needful. I must caution thee. Thee must do nothing to give further offense. The Righteous enjoy the protection of my aunts.”

Pain helped Kedle restrain her excitement. “The Commander of the Righteous used to be Captain-General. His army razed the Connec.”

“And he was there, watching, at the time of the Massacre. But now he is neither. I warn thee, even a malicious glance his way will bring my aunts down upon thee. Be content.”

Kedle heard fear. “Hope?”

“They are here, Kedle. There may be others watching, too. The Bastard, almost certainly. For the next few hours thee and I must be extremely circumspect. Go root thine enemies out of their hide. I will placate the Righteous.”

Kedle suspected that her obsessions had led her into something bigger than her private war. Today was not just another black pearl on the strand of incidents defining her rush toward self-destruction.

Not since leaving Antieux had she thought beyond her next chance to vent her rage. She had thought little about her children, her parents, or that maddening old Perfect who had infested her life since she was a toddler. Recollections surfaced. Being invited, at just thirteen, to speak to a gathering of Maysaleans. Her wedding. The birth of Raulet, that had taken so long and had been so painful, yet had seemed so wondrous once they laid the baby at her breast. Loosing the shaft that had killed the King of Arnhand. Putting aside the grim fury that made her the Widow, in deepest secret, to lie in the embrace of her demonic consort …

Should the Society for the Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy ever catch her she would be one prisoner whose guilt they could not exaggerate.

A runner’s arrival scattered her dark reverie.

“Ma’am, the Whore of Menand wants to parlay.”

“Again?” There was a great deal of silence. No falcons bellowed. Trumpets had nothing to say. Nor were there cries or screams from the dying, man or animal.

Amazing.

How long could this last?

“Show me the way.” Though there was no point. That woman would never recognize the truth of her situation.

* * *

Lady Hope lacked no confidence. She was what she was. In this instance, though, with the old women of the Shining Ones watching, she had few options. She had no room for fun. Nor did she want to make trouble for Kedle. She needed Kedle’s angry Connectens.

She could not adequately credit the changes in the world. What the Shining Ones wanted to be true no longer signified. Only what middle-world mortals believed was relevant now.

The Vindicated and Righteous stopped fighting. Bruised, stunned, the Vindicated withdrew to defensive positions. The Righteous maintained contact without combat, trying to get a better understanding of the situation.

Good. Their anger did not control them.

Lady Hope became young Aldi, with the sensuality constrained, a pretty girl lost and distressed but bearing up bravely. She strode toward the Righteous, who had moved into a field disposition resembling no military formation of the Instrumentality’s experience. The danger was as sharp as it had been those first few minutes out of captivity in the Great Sky Fortress. Death was a single misstep away.

She did her best to appear unthreatening.

She still hurt, when she let that impinge on her consciousness.

A man came to meet her, cautiously. Light falcons with long barrels backed him, positioned to fire past him.

They knew what she was. They were ready.

Men yelled at someone to get back to his place in the line. A boy charged forward. Aldi reached out so she could eavesdrop.

The boy told the man, “She knows me. We can talk.”

“Yeah? You being the Commander’s kid, I’m not even going to ask you how.”

Aldi did recall the boy from the Great Sky Fortress. She would play to him, but carefully.

Man and boy halted where falcon fire would remain a serious argument. Aldi focused on what was going on behind her.

Anne of Menand’s request for a parlay had failed. The Widow would accept nothing less than unconditional surrender.

The boy said, “Hello, Aldi. You look pale this morning. Why did you attack us?”

The man seemed content to let the boy talk. Ah, yes. Hagen Brokke. One of Piper Hecht’s less famous captains.

“I made a grotesque mistake, Pella. I apologize profoundly. Serenity, Henri of Mariscot, Anne of Menand, and their dearest henchmen are trapped in that watchtower back there. When I heard that soldiers were coming I assumed it was a rescue attempt. I should have made sure beforehand. I hope thy casualties were few.”

Brokke said, “The damage was all yours.”

“We have been punished for our stupidity, then. Can we put it behind us?”

Brokke said, “We can. But we need to understand what we each would like to accomplish.”

“Thy mission would be?”

“To bring Arnhand’s new King safely to his throne. We hoped he could deal with his mother today.”

Aldi said, “We will capture Anne of Menand and Serenity. We will end their boundless malice toward the Connec.”

Pella asked, “What will you do once you have them?”

“That choice belongs to the Widow and the Countess of Antieux. I do not expect either will be overwhelmed by any urge toward mercy.”

Then Serenity and Anne could expect execution. They might be caged and dragged from city to town to castle across the Connecten hinterland first. Those who had survived their evils could curse them, throw filth, make clear how much they looked forward to watching them burn.

Brokke said, “Anselin might not agree…” He stopped.

“Anselin has a say, how?”

“He isn’t emotionally entangled with the Connec but he does have feelings about his mother. She is his mother. He may not be able to ignore what outsiders do to her.”

“I will consult the Widow but the prospect of Anselin’s enmity is unlikely to move her. She trusts in her own ferocity.”

“What about the deposed Patriarch?”

“Does anyone care? I think not. Do as thou wilt.”

“I care,” Pella said. “Armand cares.” He did not explain that. “I want Doneto to wallow in filth. I want to kick him while he’s down.”

Aldi tilted her head. The boy was truly bitter. “I will see the Widow. Do thou consult thy prince. But I see little hope for a triumph of reason.”

* * *

Kedle was thoughtful. “A dozen men-at-arms left the tower while you were away. We disarmed them and cut them loose. Ten people are still in there, some of them wounded. They have no food or water. Anne still thinks help will come. What have you got?”

“Complications.”

After listening, Kedle asked, “We can’t just eliminate Anselin, too?”

“The Righteous won’t let us. Nor will my family. They don’t care about the Connec.”

“I was looking forward to dragging Anne hither and yon, then leaving her caged outside Metrelieux till the elements claimed her.”

“Thee needs might cede that dream.”

“Only in absolute extremity. Go back. Convince them. Failing that, stall them. Our position will be stronger once we have Anne and Serenity.”

“I shall begin by failing to hurry back. How is thy leg?”

“It hurts like hell. What do you think?”

“Take something. Thee needs be less bitchy.”

Kedle growled.

“At least thee will heal aright if thee doth take care not to stress it. Doth thee take care?”

“I try. There are limits.” Both true.

Headstrong and fierce though she was, Kedle Richeut would listen to experts, unlike her friend Socia.

In that, even Kedle missed Count Raymone. Only Raymone could rein Socia in.

Lady Hope faced the Widow’s nearest lifeguard. “Hast she behaved herself?”

That grizzled peasant, missing several front teeth, grinned. “She has, Lady. Them boys what the Countess left behind nag her all the time. They won’t hear a word if’n it’s somethin’ agin what the Countess told them.”

Kedle met Hope’s gaze. “I do what I must. I want to ride again. I want to walk and run. It’s frustrating but I’ll wait till somebody who knows better than me says I’m ready.”

“Thee be a true treasure, love. I will see our Imperial friends, now. We don’t want them getting impatient.”

Kedle watched the Instrumentality go. What was it like to be a god? Hope had a distinct hitch in her gait from that bit of godshot. Instrumentalities were not immortal in an absolute sense. Nor did Hope appear powerful in the thunderous, psychotically destructive style of gods spawned amongst the Wells of Ihrian.

On the other hand, she could be seen and touched.

Kedle blushed.

Lady Hope paused behind the artillery tormenting the watchtower. She made a hand gesture as the next missile struck. Tons of stone tumbled, exposing interiors on three levels. A shout went up. Men rushed forward.

* * *

Four men came out as Aldi approached the Righteous. The new two reeked of perversion. “Huh?” That boy was much older than he looked. Older than any of his companions, in fact.

He had been twisted into something wicked, yet innocence remained. He had been forged as a tool of evil but had not become evil himself. Interesting.

Aldi focused on the tall, pretty one, Anselin, the king to be. His confidence waned as she approached. He had been warned. As his contemporaries all did, he had refused to believe.

He felt the weight of her presence now.

Should she become irresistible Aldi and make Anselin over as the vigorous heterosexual his mother wanted him to be?

No. There were witnesses, mortal and divine. The latter would not approve.

Pella announced, “Anselin wishes to speak for himself.”

“And the princess?”

Pella did not react.

Did he not know? Unlikely. So, he did not care.

“Never mind. The Vindicated have captured Anne of Menand and several men close to her, including Henri of Mariscot and the fallen priest, Serenity.” She would deal in facts, not emotions.

Pella said, “The King wants to know your intentions toward your prisoners.”

“He is no king. He is a man who would be king. I hope that he becomes king. I hear much good of him. But he is spawn of Anne. That will weigh against him.”

“Madam, I am her son but I am not her.”

“Then there is hope. Then thou shouldst not be troubled by how we handle our prisoners.”

Anselin inclined his head slightly. “I might face uncomfortable questions if I let you treat my mother the way I expect you want.”

“I care not. The Widow and the millions of the Connec who suffered because of thy mother do. No humiliation or degradation will seem sufficient to them.”

“Take the deposed Patriarch.”

“We shall, though he means little to anyone outside Antieux.” That tickled the strange catamite. He snickered.

“Then we have a problem,” said the future king.

“Thou mayest.” She did not turn that into a challenge.

“Are you what they tell me you are?”

“I am that and a great deal more. Nor am I alone.” The ring of swords unsheathing sounded behind her, where nothing but open ground could be seen.

So. The old women were out there.

“How about this?” Anselin asked. “Take Anne for a year. Use her as you will, but keep her alive. Return her after the year is over. By then she should be disinclined to leave the nunnery where I put her.”

Aldi was surprised. That was an astute offer.

Anselin continued, “I would claim Henri d’Mariscot and my mother’s henchmen-excepting the guerrilla Patriarch.”

Pella said, “I want to entertain Bronte Doneto for a while. How about you, Armand?”

Aldi glanced at Hagen Brokke. Brokke smiled and winked.

Pella continued, “All we Righteous want from Anne of Menand is that she stop running Arnhand.”

Aldi looked the boy in the eye, handed off the wink. The kid had promise, maybe because he had adopted the right father.

“This will work. I need not consult the Widow.” Though Kedle would complain because she could not kill Anne.

Anselin smiled smugly.

The catamite did the same, but more so. Aldi suspected the little devil might be on his way to becoming the true master in Arnhand.

Pella looked like he had conquered the world.

These beings saw everything from briefer perspectives.

The captain of the Righteous detachment seemed satisfied, too.

Aldi said, “I will go make sure our prizes survive being captured.”

Turning, she spotted the Bastard watching from hiding.