Working God's Mischief

4. Alten Weinberg: Empress Apparent

Helspeth Ege, Empress Apparent of the New Brothen Empire, placed herself in front of a full-length mirror. She wore nothing but smallclothes. “Hilda. Am I homely?” She knew she was not plump enough but, otherwise, could not judge what she saw before her.

“That’s hardly a fair question.”

“Why?”

“There’s no way the Empress can count on my answer being truthful.”

Helspeth scowled. Hilda Daedel had been her principal lady-in-waiting for ages. They had become friends, as much as they dared. Hilda was familiar with Helspeth’s insecurities and obsessions. Lack of confidence in her looks was high on the list.

“Don’t go all philosophical on me. I just need an honest answer.”

“But when I tell you you’re drop-dead gorgeous, instead of believing me you’ll accuse me of telling you what I think you want to hear. If I say you’re plain you’ll accuse me of-”

“Hilda! Why must you be exasperating?”

“I? Hilda Daedel? Of Averange? Exasperating? Maybe because…”

“Let’s stop this.”

“Right behind you, Helspeth.”

“Hilda, I’m terrified. When the news breaks…”

“You’ll have Captain Drear and the Braunsknechts behind you. All of the Braunsknechts. They’re yours, now. You’ll have the Commander of the Righteous when he gets here. Not to mention Ferris Renfrow. And, if the old men do try to brush you aside, the only legitimate successor they could put up is your crazy old Aunt Aneis. She doesn’t know what century it is.”

“They might think that’s good.”

“Enough. Your problem isn’t vulnerability. You have too much time on your hands. You use it to fuss, worry, and obsess.”

Helspeth would not see what the mirror reflected. She was not a great beauty but she was a slim young brunette more attractive than most women her age.

“I don’t want to be Empress, Hilda.”

“The last Ege who asked for the job was your father. And, from what my father says, he didn’t develop a taste for it till he’d had the job ten years.”

“Why are undergarments always so heavy and rough?”

Lady Hilda was accustomed to Helspeth’s darting attention. “Because they need washing more often. If you saw what the washerwomen do to keep them clean you’d understand. You’d probably wonder why they aren’t made of iron.”

“Must you always be literal and reasonable?”

“Someone has to bring balance…”

“Damn you! I need…”

“No. You don’t. Still, I could develop a fierce case of emotional dependence and go home to plague my husband.”

“Hilda?”

“I’m thinking about having another child.”

“Stop it.”

“Lady va Kelgerberg could take over. She knows the ins and outs.”

“Damn it, stop!”

Lady Hilda shifted approach but did not stop. She meant to conquer Helspeth’s mood. “What will you do about the Commander of the Righteous once you’re officially Empress? He’ll be yours to do with as you please.”

“You go too far.”

“The Commander. The Righteous. Katrin’s crusade. You need to think about them.”

“I will. I have been.”

“And?”

“Hilda, I’m a virgin. I’m going to die a virgin.”

“You’re talking crazier than ever, now. Your value on the marriage market is about to soar.”

That was true. She knew it. But she meant what she said. The pressure to wed would be relentless. The old men would want to see an heir.

“Where are they, Hilda?”

This time Lady Hilda lost the intellectual trail. “They? They who, Helspeth?”

“Renfrow. The Commander of the Righteous. Why aren’t they here to help me?”

“They’ll be here. But right now they’re in Firaldia, dealing with the consequences of a huge Imperial triumph.”

Helspeth continued to worry and fuss.

She was suffering imposter insecurity. Helspeth Ege could not possibly deserve the position that God, fate, or the Instrumentalities of the Night were putting into her hands.

“I’m terrified, Hilda. It’s easy to be a great emperor when you only have to do it in your head. But now it’s going to be real.”

Where were they?

She felt more exposed, more vulnerable, than even she had when her sister had driven her into internal exile, hoping she would do the convenient thing and die.