Working God's Mischief

38. The Holy Lands: Reconnaissance by Combat

Piper Hecht opened his eyes after allowing them momentary relief from the sun’s brilliance. He sat on a hilltop, behind a cluttered table, overlooking Shartelle and its harbors from the northeast. There were breaches in the mighty wall. Starving defenders strove to fill them before any crusader attack. The Righteous, however, were content to wait.

Hecht’s main strength had gone away, to overrun Praman cities along the coast and explore the approaches to Vantrad. He expected to fight at least one major battle getting there. The Pramans dared not fail to try to stop him. Not to fight would constitute acknowledgement that God had chosen to stand with the Enterprise.

The misnamed White Sea was a brilliant azure. Allied warships patrolled beyond Shartelle’s harbors. They showed the colors of Aparion, Dateon, and the Eastern Empire. Jackals all, they were eager to feast on the Righteous’s kill.

“She always overdoes it, doesn’t she?” Lord Arnmigal grumped. Hourli had just brought news from east of Triamolin. “The economic impact will be severe, especially in agriculture. She killed four hundred eighty men with just a handful of followers.”

“It was a clever ambush by hardened butchers. And Aldi helped. She could have cleaned up a force five times the size of that one.”

Hecht sighed. He did not like having killers out there who were not his to control.

Hourli said, “She wanted to announce her presence.”

“Damned if she didn’t. Everyone will know the Widow now.” He shut his eyes again. The reflection off the sea was not pleasant. “Will it have any strategic impact?”

“Timid souls will stay out of her way. Indala? How would you expect him to react?”

“He’ll fuss, but what can he do? He’s locked up. And he doesn’t let emotion push him into making deadly mistakes.”

“Members of his family were among those who organized the raid. Any survivors will be some of the prisoners the Widow is sending us.”

“There were survivors?” That was a surprise, the Widow being so bloodthirsty.

“About a dozen. Three Lucidians, one Dreangerean, the rest local shakes. She wanted to kill them all. One of the other commanders talked her into sending them to us.”

“What is that boy doing?”

Pella, halfway down to the nearest siege works, was easy to spot. He favored flamboyant local Chaldarean costume these days. He wanted to be noticed. Hecht hoped he would not regret the conceit.

Wife departed the tent that gave respite from the sun, a pleasure Hecht exploited often. He had forgotten how fierce that orb could be, here.

The Instrumentality murmured to Hourli. Hourli leaned down, told Lord Arnmigal, “Your son has found a city militia captain who will open a gate in exchange for the safety of his family and property.”

“Excellent.” He was not surprised. Shartelle had been stubborn but most of its people recognized that the end was near. Every relief effort had been crushed. No more would come. Pramans elsewhere were desperate to protect their own homes.

Their God had averted His face.

A traitor, if known, would suffer the hatred of his fellows but his treachery would save lives because Heris had extracted that promise from her brother.

“That’s good,” Lord Arnmigal said again. “Let him know that I approve. He has full authority to make the arrangements. Suggest that it should happen at night so fewer people get hurt.”

* * *

Explosions happened in succession in a barracks, a communal kitchen, and during late prayer services. There were casualties by the score and general panic, all far from the sally port the traitor opened. The Righteous poured in unnoticed despite the inevitable confusion and noise.

Few of Shartelle’s defenders resisted. Most said their prayers and chose to believe the invaders’ promise to spare them. Those who did choose to fight on fled into the big stone box of the citadel. Most of those belonged to the Lucidian garrison Indala had installed before the arrival of the Righteous. They were among the Great Shake’s most faithful soldiers.

All Shartelle but the citadel fell before noon. There were problems of indiscipline but those did not persist. The Shining Ones intervened.

Shartelle became a Chaldarean city for the first time in centuries, at less cost than its people had any right to hope.

The Lucidians in the citadel offered to yield their arms and leave the city. The Commander refused. From them he wanted only unconditional surrender. They refused.

Hecht had masons brick up the entrances. The Lucidians could stew in their pride. The Shining Ones kept harm from touching the masons, but, otherwise, stayed out of the light.

“I don’t want the whole world thinking they need to get rid of me the way we got rid of those revenants in the Connec,” Hecht told Pella when the boy wondered why they did not just turn the Shining Ones loose.

“They would clean up. Of course they would. But no one out there would consider them as anything but devils. The Church wouldn’t admit that they exist if the Choosers snatched the Patriarch’s robe over his head and spanked his bare ass in front of ten thousand witnesses.”

“Getting a little cynical, there, aren’t you, Pop?”

“Getting? I’ve been like this since I was younger than you are.” He flashed back on the boyhood of someone named Else Tage, then wrestled identity confusion, trying to understand why he had become the implacable enemy of everything that had meant so much to that boy.

Pella broke the mood. “Spanking the Patriarch would be popular. But the Shining Ones need to do things to make people want to believe in them again. Right? That’s why they hooked up with us. Helping us helped them get to the Wells of Ihrian, so they could be the kind of gods who actually show up when somebody yells for help, not the kind that are only convoluted intellectual exercises for priests to quarrel over. ‘God answers all prayers’ is a copout. He doesn’t have to exist…”

The boy stopped. Such talk was not likely to find favor with the religiously driven.

Hecht stared. What the hell was this? Somewhere, somehow, the kid had gotten his brain engaged. That was scary.

“Pella, you make me nervous when you think about things besides firepowder formulary and falcon deployments.”

“Great. I like that. Where is the Empress, now? Getting close?” The answer to that was, much too close.

Lord Arnmigal became an anxious adolescent whenever he considered Helspeth’s approach.

He was so eager to see her that he almost danced when he thought about it. His people kept finding him frozen in thought.

That seldom caused comment anymore. It seemed to be another phase, like the massive need for sleep that had gone its way, now, having grown ever less debilitating as the Righteous moved south.

Hecht himself paid little attention. His focus remained on the mundane and daily.

He told Pella, “She’ll be here in a few days. Barring disaster.” What made him add that?

Determined Pramans had tried to ambush her repeatedly. Sheaf and Wife had become full-time lifeguards, replacing Ferris Renfrow and Asgrimmur Grimmsson, who had then been ordered back to Alten Weinberg to help Algres Drear keep the Imperial peace.

Stupid, stupid tribesmen! Were they blind? Did they not understand that success against the Grail Empress meant disaster would come down like the deluge? Could they not understand that they were begging for the extermination of whole tribes?

They could not see that. Of course not. Only Lord Arnmigal did, along with the Instrumentalities who would deliver the genocide.

Much as he anticipated Helspeth’s advent, so did Hecht dread it. Having his lover in camp, with no privacy to be had … They would do something stupid. It was sure to happen.

He reddened, remembering Katrin. That humiliation returned.

* * *

Almost the first thing Helspeth said, following the ceremony attendant on her arrival, was, “I brought that candle you like, Lord Arnmigal.”

Hecht’s eyes widened. He had forgotten the time candle. Last he had seen it, it had been in his quarters in the Still-Patter house. He recalled several instances when it would have been handy to have.

“Thank you so much, Majesty. That was thoughtful of you.”

“And selfish.” Lady Hilda had accompanied her empress, clearly without enthusiasm. She wanted nothing to do with this rude end of the world but she was entertained at the moment. “Perhaps you could take that candle along and pray together tonight.”

Helspeth gave her friend the darkest possible look.

“Just trying to help,” Daedel grumbled. “The old Chaldarean church here, Saint Eules, is famous.”

True. The chapel’s foundations dated from Aaron’s own time. Much early history of the faith involved the site. Lord Arnmigal had been startled by its small size when first he saw it.

Unprepossessing size had saved it from being converted to a Praman place of worship.

Frustration bedeviled the lovers. There were no moments free from the petitions of swarms of natives of local and crusader origin, come to beg peace, to pledge eternal fealty (till the next shift in the wind of war), to wheedle some advantage, or to complain about someone else.

Capture of the invincible city, by a lesser fraction of the Righteous, left an impression. And so did the cruelty of the fall of the citadel.

An opportunity to visit St. Eules did come three evenings after Helspeth’s arrival. Lord Arnmigal and the Empress did not go alone. A score of notables escorted them. A hundred other folk crowded into the church. The nearest they came to privacy was in approaching the altar as just they two. Lord Arnmigal whispered, “Probably as well they don’t give us time. I’m exhausted. I’m not getting enough sleep.”

Mirth edged Helspeth’s voice as she murmured, “Nor am I. Much as I yearn for your touch … I’d fall asleep, for sure.”

“This won’t last forever.”

A priest of St. Eules blessed them as the new masters of Shartelle. He was Antast Chaldarean but the Brothen Episcopals of the Holy Lands were not caviling about doctrinal trivia. Yet.

That would come. But no one, after hearing what had befallen the garrison of the citadel, wanted to irk the Righteous or their Commander.

Following the blessing the Empress rose and stepped up to light a votive candle. She had brought one of her own. Lord Arnmigal joined her but only for a quick touch and pant and reaffirmation. “Not in this place. Not now,” he said. “But soon. I promise.”

“Don’t disappoint your Empress.”

Hecht sensed an oddness. Helspeth had changed, in a small way, while they were apart. It seemed a huge strain for her to be responsible right now, not stealing hours from the world. He watched her light another candle, bow her head, and shiver. He retreated to his place of kneeling. Helspeth extinguished the time candle after just seconds, made it disappear inside her clothing.

She rejoined the Commander of the Righteous, without kneeling.

The priest, puzzled, commenced his final benediction.

Hecht noticed Lady Hilda’s smirk. She winked. This time he was sure that Daedel was playing her own game, not Helspeth’s.

The Adversary scattered temptations everywhere.

From St. Eules Lord Arnmigal went to make his acquaintance with the full facts of the latest bad news.

* * *

During the final hours of the siege a brave courier from Shamramdi, having escaped that city and having survived a passage through crusader lands, had reached the coast of the White Sea. Evading every danger he had come to Shartelle, where he swam the harbor by night, slipped into the city, stole to the citadel, then entered that by scaling its exterior wall. That all added up to an effort worthy of a saga. But …

The hero found the garrison all dead, torn up like rats ripped apart by dogs. The stench was overwhelming. Those men had been dead for days. Evil had overtaken them almost as soon as they had locked themselves in.

The massacre left the courier in such despair that he just opened a sally port and surrendered to the first Chaldarean priest he could find.

The Commander of the Righteous knew Fastthal and Sprenghul must be responsible, thinking the effort would please him. Thinking it a nice surprise.

Indala was sure to be outraged. The Praman world would be.

Lord Arnmigal was not pleased. He had to impress upon Hourli the fact that he did not want such actions undertaken without prior approval.

He had to admit, though, that, despite the outrage, the average Praman would understand what the Choosers wanted to make plain. Attempts to thwart the Commander and Righteous would not profit them.

The massacre was sure to raise more questions amongst the Righteous. They and other crusaders would know that their own had not done that slaughter. Some would recall past strange events.

They would suspect that the slayers were Instrumentalities, and cruel Instrumentalities at that. Those who knew some folklore might even guess who those Instrumentalities must be.

“Hourli, darling, I need to see you.”

The Shining One appeared in the first instant that she could without being seen doing so. She said, “They have been admonished. They truly believed that they were giving you a precious gift. They are abashed and will not act again without asking.”

Hecht was surprised. She was ahead of him. “Assuming they don’t forget.”

“There is that about them. They do tend to exist in the moment.”

Ahead of him. That happened more than left him comfortable.

It was not just the Choosers who were thinking for themselves.

“What?” he asked. She had something on her mind.

“They may not have asked permission but I cannot find fault with their reasoning. Such ferocious destruction will be instructive to everyone inclined to be stubborn. Indala may be offended but Indala is your determined enemy already.”

He could not be pleased, despite all.

“You are too fond of your prerogatives, Commander. Even a god cannot manage every detail of every daily event.”

He started to protest that the massacre was no tiny detail.

“But it is. To immortals it is no more than overturning an annoying anthill. And it will be trivia to history. One paragraph in the record of the fall of Shartelle, after a dozen lauding the relative bloodlessness of the city’s capture. Consider what happened when the first crusaders took Vantrad.”

Yes. They had butchered people by the thousand, including Deves, Dainshaus, Chaldareans who failed to cleave to the Episcopal rite, and even some who did but who owned property somebody wanted to claim. The histories did not exaggerate much by saying that the blood ran ankle deep in the streets. It had taken decades for Vantrad’s economy to recover.

Hourli said, “With you it’s always about control.”

He had been told that often, and with some force, for some time, now. “I will concede the point. I may overdo it. But this is a case where…”

“I told you. They have been admonished. So. Allow yourself a week before you become more stressed. See what moral impact it really has. Send a message to Indala asking him not to compel you to do that again. He won’t listen but you can point to the request forever after and insist that you gave him a chance.”

For a moment Hecht wondered how she had been able to deflate his anger so slyly. He was very nearly on the defensive, now.

Hourli said, “That’s that. Over and done. I have some news.”

“Uhm?”

“There is an army coming up from Dreanger, mercenaries and men who accept Indala’s vision for the Holy Lands. Two thousand Sha-lug are with them, having given a truce that will last for the campaign plus forty days. The total force numbers fourteen thousand. They have no idea what they actually face.”

“Meaning?” Not focusing completely because, for the first time, he fully understood that he must, before long, make war on his own past.

That had been inevitable, of course. He had seen it intellectually but never truly with his heart.

“They have discounted the lessons of the Shades and the battles in the Antal. Though your weapon was created in Dreanger, they disdain everything to do with er-Rashal. Choose your ground well and you will have no trouble turning them back, perhaps without having to do much real damage.”

A place came to mind right away. Any army from the south would come to it before reaching Vantrad or Shartelle. A Dreangerean army had perished in the same place two thousand years ago, in a great clash of chariot forces. He had visited that ground when he was young. He told Hourli about it, told her what he wanted scouted. “And find out who is in command on the other side. That could be critical. A Sha-lug general will take a more flexible, thoughtful, and aggressive approach.”

“Iresh abd al-Kadiri.”

“Excuse me?”

“Moussa Iresh abd al-Kadiri, husband of a sister of Indala’s second wife. Family is the reason he was chosen to command. Though he demonstrated some competence during the conquest of Dreanger, Hourlr thinks he was put in charge so he would become a lightning rod for blame. Bad things were expected to happen. Iresh is not popular.”

Hecht grunted. Politics. An army might be sacrificed so Indala’s people could shed an unwanted commander.

“Find out who is next after al-Kadiri. Especially the senior Sha-lug.” His paranoid side had been triggered. “This Iresh may be in charge only within his own imagination.”

“We will examine the facts immediately.”

“Wait. You have a wicked notion.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am beginning to gain a feel for how you think, dear. You’re considering something more than just scouting.”

Hourli confessed, “You are getting to know me all over again. Yes. I was musing on what a tragedy it would be if your enemies suffered a plague of dysentery.”

His instant response was irritation. Hourli had been thinking without permission or instruction. The reaction disgusted him. Was he becoming a megalomaniac? Maybe not. Those people never questioned it. Could it be a god complex?

For some reason he thought of Osa Stile. Where was that loathsome worm these days? In Salpeno? He ought to drag Osa out here to be his creepy little conscience prod. Osa would not be impressed by Lord Arnmigal’s status. Osa had bedded Patriarchs and Princes of the Church. Osa had known Else Tage as a snot-nosed trainee who could do nothing right. Osa would not hesitate to point out his faults and shortcomings. Osa would make some up if that seemed appropriate.

Hourli said, “You spend too much time daydreaming. You can afford it here but don’t take it into the field. You might not make it back.”

What did she mean by that? Other than the obvious?

She said, “Ignoring Dreangerean politics, Indala hopes that Iresh will capture Vantrad. He believes Vantrad is vulnerable if Iresh moves decisively. King Beresmond’s health is bad. Queen Clothilde is stupid, self-absorbed, and universally loathed. Indala has been in contact with enemies of hers whom he believes will betray Vantrad. He is also convinced that capturing the Holy City will change everything. He thinks that its recapture will obsess you and the Enterprise and that will ease pressure on Shamramdi. He would then be free to break out and begin gathering strength to take the offensive. He is sure that he can smash the Enterprise.”

“Why?” Nothing had gone right for Indala so far.

“Because God is on his side. Because there are tens of thousands of Believers who want to be part of a holy war. They just haven’t found an effective, unifying leader.”

“He thinks he’s that guy?”

“He does.”

“So he’s suffering from a grand and glorious delusion.”

“Or he might be right. The warriors are out there. They think something should be done about you but aren’t yet ready to uproot themselves. That might leave their tribes vulnerable to predatory neighbors.”

“Nor will they abandon hope that a dimwit neighbor might go off with the bulk of his own warriors. Right?”

“The facts of the world are facts.”

It was ever thus. The coming of God’s Peace to the Believers had not stilled any older enmities.

* * *

A few days passed. The scrutiny of others relaxed. Helspeth became uninteresting to those unable to gain access. The soldiers got on with God’s Enterprise. Men of high station found ways to commit mischief in His Name. So much was happening, in so many directions, with so many towns and cities beleaguered, that the Shining Ones had trouble keeping Lord Arnmigal informed. It began to look like Indala had made a brilliant move. There might be no one left to intercept the army from Dreanger.

In three days that army moved barely ten miles, then stopped altogether while Iresh al-Kadiri awaited anticipated reinforcements. Meantime, news of the army’s existence created considerable excitement in Shamramdi. The besiegers grew disheartened because their opponents were so perfectly confident that the Dreangerean host would turn the war around. Capturing Vantrad would reverse Praman fortunes completely.

Other than issue orders to get a reinforced reconnaissance moving Lord Arnmigal seemed uninterested. Seemed to have turned his back on what had looked like a grand opportunity only days earlier.

He had decided that Vantrad needed a good dose of Praman moral salts. Beresmonde and Clothilde were embarrassments, he for his weakness and she for her wickedness. Perhaps Beresmonde could not help himself because of his afflictions. Clothilde had no excuse.

Just since the Enterprise had reached the Holy Lands she had, twice, gone to her cousin Rogert, doing little to disguise the purpose of her visit.

Let Iresh drive the incestuous witch out of Vantrad, to her lover. Madouc of Hoeles would not long suffer her indecency.

Saying that to Hourli and the Shining Ones caused laughter and left him red and digging for excuses. “Katrin isn’t a relative!”

“Who?” Sheaf asked.

“Oh, my!” said Wife.

“Helspeth! I meant Helspeth!”

“Whatever,” Aldi observed, with paragraphs of sarcasm riding its humped back.

He chose not to dig the hole deeper by defending himself. “That is what I want to happen.”

Wife asked, “Why?”

“I want them to occupy Vantrad, to cleanse it of the wickedness that has taken root there. Then I will rescue the city and make it a gift to the Empress.” Adding Vantrad to Helspeth’s diadem would enhance her place in the Chaldarean world magnificently.

Hourli said, “We don’t get paid to understand his motives, ladies. Any ingenious ideas about how to make a difficult wish come true?”

* * *

A chance to be alone with Helspeth sneaked up when she, having lost patience, decided to make it happen. She lighted the time candle, which she had insisted on keeping herself, and walked through Shartelle, the candle hidden in a bucket. She entered the trade exchange center the Righteous had taken for its headquarters, wandered the labyrinthine interior in search of her lover, feeling more foolish by the minute. She found Lord Arnmigal arguing with his son, who wanted to command the falcon battery accompanying the force his father was about to send to shadow Iresh abd al-Kadiri.

Helspeth was unaware of Lord Arnmigal’s strategic investment in a Praman success at Vantrad. Nor did Pella know. Helspeth caught only fragments of the argument from inside her time bubble.

Her visit did not go unnoticed. Time also changed for anyone who got too close. It was impossible to remain unseen by someone breathing in your face. Sometimes she had to get close to get past.

Her adventure would birth a fear that the Night was up to something involving a ringer for the Grail Empress.

The Night, the Shining Ones, of course, would have managed without attracting as much attention. They did not have to travel through the space between.

Piper Hecht sensed an unseen presence. So did Pella. The boy thought the quiet visitor might be his aunt or one of his sisters.

Hecht thought one of the more shy Old Ones wanted to talk. For a moment he hoped it would be Aldi. Then he caught a glimpse that Pella, from his angle, did not.

His son would not understand a late-night visit from that woman and was too old to fool with yak about a secret emergency.

Helspeth did not reveal herself otherwise. She recognized the absurdity. She went away feeling sad, frustrated, and foolish.

* * *

Lord Arnmigal found the Empress inside St. Eules, not kneeling before the altar but seated discreetly on a bench in shadow in back. She was crying quietly. “I hoped you’d come here.” And, a moment later, “After so long.” Another moment. “It’s getting harder to give my lifeguards the slip.”

She finally lifted her gaze. What light there was glistened off her tears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Did it cause any trouble?”

“There will be questions tomorrow but so many surround me now that they won’t bother pressing it.”

She scooted over. He settled beside her. She said, “None of the priests are awake. They don’t do night prayers here.”

“Antasts are more relaxed than we are.”

Helspeth slipped her hand into his. “Aaron was more relaxed, too. His Church was more like the Maysalean thing than the Episcopal.”

“Uhm. We should light the candle anyway if we’re going to be here. There’s no guarantee we’ll stay alone, otherwise.”

“God knows, I hate this. But we can’t do anything else. Unless I want to become another Anne of Menand. Or Clothilde, rutting with whom I want, where I want, whenever I want.”

Hecht let go her hand while she fired the time candle, then slid the hand across her shoulder. She leaned against him, seeming much smaller than the Empress Helspeth Ege. He said, “We choose to let the world define love for us.”

Helspeth sighed.

Hecht was not in the grip of any physical need tonight, nor was she. The moment felt almost exactly right, except for Helspeth suffering those little moments when she trembled as though feeling a chill. Each such moment ended with her trying to burrow closer.

In time, she confessed, “I am with child.” She said it in a tiny voice, into his chest, to his heart, but never did he mistake what she said, nor was he completely surprised.

His mind did race. It had to have happened before he left Alten Weinberg. Had to have for her to be so certain now. It would not be long before it began to show. Not long before it became the scandal of the decade. “I’m sorry, beloved. I am so sorry. I have ruined you.”

She did not disagree.

He promised, “I will not fail you. I will do whatever needs to be done.”

“I know. I know. I’ve had a long time to worry. A long time to lose a lot of sleep. A long time to dread all the ways you might respond to the news. I imagined some ugly possibilities. But, right now, you sound like I hoped you would.”

Hecht sighed. She was not wholly pleased because he accepted the Will of God without demur? “I’m not surprised. It’s not something that I expected to happen but I have considered the possibility. There were so many times when we just gave ourselves up to the flame.”

“I can still save the Enterprise. I can still make sure that Katrin is remembered for what she bequeathed the world.”

“What?”

“I can name Algres Drear as the father.”

“You will not.”

“The court will accept that. He was always close. They gossiped about him. And he won’t deny it.”

“That will not happen. I will not have Drear ruined for my sake.”

“Piper, I can’t play the virgin birth card. That only works when it happens two thousand years ago.”

For a moment an exultant Katrin shone in his mind’s eye, overjoyed. Wherever her soul resided, it would be jubilant if it was aware. This would be God’s judgment …

Hecht was startled. People really did put those kinds of black, petty motives into the hearts of their gods. But why would God-or any god-concern Himself, or Herself, with such trivia? There was a universe to be managed. Even gods as small as the Shining Ones cared little about what mortals did to one another in their beds unless they were part of the action.

“Piper, I can’t stand it when you just wander off inside yourself like that!” Helspeth’s hard voice dragged him back, shaky. “Why would you do that?” she demanded. “You make me feel … Stop it. Just stop it!”

It had been a long time. He had been another man with another name, with another woman in a dramatically different culture, where no man was much exposed to his woman while she carried a child, but he did recall that there could be emotional storms, often from no apparent cause. “I don’t do it intentionally. I don’t know I’m doing it. And I don’t know why I do it. It started after that assassination attempt that almost succeeded. The old man who turns up out of nowhere thinks it’s because I came so close to dying that I left my body briefly, then never got a firm grip on it again after I came back.”

Cloven Februaren had, indeed, so speculated but he did not believe it. Neither did Hecht. There would be another answer.

Helspeth did not want to quarrel. She leaned in again, pressing close. “What are we going to do?”

He had no idea beyond letting the tide of tomorrow come and go, coping as it surged. “There are no challenges we can’t handle. You’ve already shown that you’re strong enough to face anything.”

“I hope you’re right. But it’s going to be difficult.”

Oh, it would be, on levels both personal and political.

He held Helspeth as tightly as she held him.

* * *

Hourli asked, “Have you formed any plans?”

Hecht was startled. The Shining Ones, even Hourli, seldom just dropped in, especially while he was in bed. “About what?” It sounded like she meant something specific. There were a thousand considerations in search of a plan.

“You know your lover’s situation, now. She finally found the courage to tell you.”

“You knew?”

“We knew seconds after it quickened. You’re never alone. Fastthal and Sprenghul stay on you like those idiot ravens used to stay on Ordnan’s shoulders. I wonder what ever became of them?”

“Asgrimmur probably knows.” Becoming distracted that easily. “Damn! And damn again. I hope you found us entertaining.”

“Only in a somewhat poignant sense. You did show enthusiasm.”

He refused to ask what she meant. He had a notion that he would not understand her explanation. “Damn for the third time. Now that will be in the back of my head every time I’m alone with…”

“Middle-worlders are never alone. There are watchers always.”

He offered a skeptical look in response.

“All right. Often may fit better than always. But liaisons remain secret only because the Night doesn’t find them worth gossiping about.”

“Was there a point to you showing up before I’ve gotten my feet on the floor?”

“I do want to know if there is a plan.”

“Really?”

“Truly. We should know what part you want us to play so we can prepare ourselves.”

He began readying himself to face the day, noting, without paying intimate heed, that the morning felt like those times when he was with Helspeth and the time candle was burning.

He had done no thinking. The fatalism ingrained during boyhood had taken over. What would be would be what God Willed. He could only wiggle and whine in a doomed effort to thwart the Almighty.

Startled thought.

He was in the presence of a god. This god shaped his world directly, every day, and did so visibly. He did not have to ascribe anything to her. She talked to him. He did not have to subscribe to the existence of a fathomless Will or Plan.

Hourli observed, “You have had a thought.”

“Not a practical one, I expect, but possibly useful.”

His apostasy, grown deviously since his betrayal by the Rascal and the Lion, had passed a tipping point. He muttered, “I shall have no other gods before me.” Then, puzzled, “Before you?”

Hourli asked, “What?”

“I have lost my connection to the divine.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh! Darling! I doubt that very much!”

“Huh?”

“You were thinking in some direction other than what the God of the Pramans and God of the Chaldareans would like. They have pushed you away. You’re stuck with leftovers from a time of barbarism, obsoletes without the decency to pack it in and fade away. Not so? You were about to suffer an epiphany.”

“Now you mock me,” Lord Arnmigal grumbled.

“Sometimes it’s fun to mess with you.”

He frowned, glared. One hardship of dealing with the Shining Ones was that there was subtext to everything they said. Hourli especially operated on multiple levels. “You’re not going to seduce me again?” she said.

“Oh! What? No. Not me.” Again? What? The idea never occurred to him. Who was she talking to?

“That was backwards, darling. I’m the bad girl of the tale.”

“What are you talking about?” Was he whining? That sounded like whining.

“No worry. When I decide it’s time you’ll be a dried-out husk before you know you’ve been asked.”

He shuddered. What the hell was she doing? He had more trouble than he could handle already.

Then Hourli laughed. “What a face! Come on. What were you thinking?”

He needed a moment to recall that they had been talking about Helspeth before she decided to rattle him. Helspeth? Helspeth! Who was with child. His child. “I was thinking we should create another Helspeth. One who can be seen not being pregnant while the real Empress stays out of sight.”

Hourli considered him intently for some time. “Are you sure?”

“No. I want to save her the … But she might not … I’d have to find out what she wants to do.”

“You do realize that that is begging for cosmic complications?”

For problems he could not imagine right now because worry was crippling his reason? Cosmic? Hyperbole or fact? “I’ll manufacture a way for you, me, and Helspeth to discuss this.”

“Good. Listen to her when we do. Hear what she says. We don’t want to repeat mistakes already made before.”

What did that mean? She was not talking about Helspeth’s situation.

Helspeth’s news almost completely distracted Lord Arnmigal. Details slipped past him. He failed to define assignments adequately when the Shining Ones went off to handle shadowy particulars. He did not monitor his captains adequately. The Shining Ones did not come volunteering for work. They basked in whichever Well of Ihrian seemed sweetest, growing supernaturally fat. Captains had to guess at the Commander’s intent when acting.

“Where is Pella?” Lord Arnmigal demanded of his lifeguards one morning. He could not find the boy. “I have a job for him.”

Titus materialized. “Sorry, Boss. He went off to help deal with the Dreangereans. They’ve stopped moving again. Sheaf says Iresh is waiting for his siege train, now.”

Lord Arnmigal shook his head. “Why? All he had to do was attack while we were busy everywhere else.”

“Plenty of strange stuff going on in this war, Boss. Him not wanting to take risks hardly seems odd. Anyway, how could he know that we’re all tied up everywhere? He doesn’t have our intelligence resources.”

“You’re right. Send somebody to drag the boy back.”

“Sure. What did you want him to do?”

“I was going to put him in charge of the falcons harassing the Dreangereans. But now he’ll take an entry-level job in the grave and latrine excavation trade. He needs to learn to take orders.”

“Harsh.” Titus laughed. “I had a note from the Empress. She wants to see you after midday devotions. She did not sound like a woman who is enchanted with Lord Arnmigal.”

“Sometimes I don’t have sense enough not to say things that people don’t want to hear. Plus, I think she thinks she should get more attention than she does. She could have had plenty if she’d just stayed home. Us smelly men down here are too busy with our war.”

“Have you had any midnight visitors lately?”

The shift evaded Hecht briefly. His conscience squealed. “You have, then?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I wondered if Heris or your girls had visited. I’m worried about Noë and the boys.”

“No. Either they’re preoccupied or we’re too far away. I worry about Anna, too.”

Despite all, that was true. Anna Mozilla did own a firm place in his heart.

Hecht said, “If any of them turn up I’ll ask for a report.”