Working God's Mischief (30 page)

Hecht observed, “The Compte de Longé seems almost hysterical lately.”

Helspeth said, “He's a fool with an impossible assignment. Anne sent him here to get him out of Salpeno. The Empire was sure to collapse if it was ruled by Lothar, Katrin, or Helspeth Ege, so Alten Weinberg looked like a good place to get him out of the way. But now they want him to develop an improbable case of competence and pry Anselin loose. At no cost.”

Archbishop Brion spoke up again. “The succession. Yes. That must be addressed at the earliest possible opportunity, Majesty.”

The men looked at Brion, amazed. Where had that come from? Though it was a fine question. Helspeth said, “But not right now. It will be dealt with in the customary manner, in the course of time, when I produce a son. Or a daughter, if that be God's Will. Till then, my father's Bill of Succession remains the law.”

“But that means that if something happens to you your mad aunt Aneis becomes Empress.”

“If that terrifies you, Brion, make absolutely certain that nothing happens to the Empress you have now.”

Renfrow said, “Majesty, this reminds me that there is much to be considered concerning the situation in the Connec.”

Hecht smiled. That was hardly a finesse. He was interested, though. Absent the Shining Ones all he knew about what was happening elsewhere was what Carava de Bos and Rivademar Vircondelet gathered from travelers.

“Strange things,” Renfrow said. “As strange as what happened in Hovacol, plus local problems resembling those plaguing our good Archbishop.”

“Ferris, don't you dare…”

“Majesty?” Renfrow was taken aback.

“Sorry. I mistook what you were saying. Proceed.”

“Of course. So. These are the bare bones facts. Kedle Richeut has become a serious problem for Arnhand. Calling themselves the Vindicated, she and her men have been wasting the Arnhander countryside. They have raided within forty miles of Salpeno. They are kind to no one but are especially cruel to anyone who participated in any incursion into the Connec. Any holding belonging to Anne of Menand becomes a desert.”

Hecht interjected, “The woman wants her message made clear.”

“Profoundly. The Countess of Antieux is nearly as mad. She has been involved in several Vindicated actions, sometimes after having been seen in Antieux the same day,” Renfrow said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That bears examination.”

“I don't have the skills. That would be a task for your Ninth Unknown.”

“Or one of our new associates. None of whom have turned up lately.”

Helspeth asked, “You two do realize that this isn't a private consultation?”

Renfrow said, “Yes, Majesty. We'll save that for another time. To Richeut. Though she has no falcons there are similarities between her operations and those of our esteemed Lord Arnmigal.”

Hecht raised an eyebrow. “No falcons? How, then, similar?”

“Richeut routinely bests larger forces by catching them when they're vulnerable. She always knows where they are, how they're disposed, and what they plan. She won't engage unless she's confident of the outcome. When she retreats she does so deftly, avoiding complications. And, as happens with Lord Arnmigal, prodigies and miracles attend her.”

This female captain had her own Instrumentalities?

“What kind of prodigies?” Helspeth asked.

“A giant bird often turns up wherever she is, only by night. A similar genius is sometimes seen over Antieux, also only at night.”

Brion muttered, “More traffic with demons. You should have exterminated those people, Commander.”

“They wouldn't let me, Archbishop. They were stubborn about it.”

Helspeth asked, “Are these people a direct worry, Ferris? We have done the Connec no harm.”

“No threat. Those starving bitch wolves only take Arnhanders and the occasional Churchman.”

Archbishop Brion wanted to protest but knew he would get no sympathy.

Renfrow said, “Society brothers they treat the way the Society treated Connectens till last spring.”

The Archbishop pleaded, “May I step out before I suffer another stroke, Majesty?”

“You may not. Continue, Ferris.”

“That's it. Except that Antieux is suffering a rash of church desanctifications as widespread as ours.”

“What is it? What causes it?” Helspeth asked.

“I don't know. I'll find out.”

Hecht felt uncomfortable when Renfrow said that.

*   *   *

Hecht found Renfrow waiting outside the palace, following his own last private minute with Helspeth.

Renfrow said, “She's growing into the role.”

“Fast. I just enjoyed an exhaustive review of my failings as Commander of the Righteous. So far. She's sure there will be many more.”

He was not dissembling. Helspeth was not pleased that her Hammer of God could call terrible Instrumentalities to the battlefield.

“I think your job is safe.”

“I'm not worried. It is troubling to be misunderstood, though.”

“Isn't it? I'll walk with you a way. If you don't mind.”

“I don't. But there are some sharp ears, round about.”

Hecht's lifeguards had been waiting, as well. Every man of the Righteous wanted to know what was going on with the boss.

“They'll just hear mumbling. I'm wondering if you understand why the Widow is so successful,” asked Renfrow.

“There's one easy conclusion, isn't there?”

“That she is favored of the Night.”

“Anne of Menand will make the claim. Her own people will believe that she is beloved of God. Meaning the Good God of the Maysaleans.”

“You got all the revenants when you were cleaning up out there, didn't you?”

“All of the ones we knew about. Rook was tough. I couldn't guess what might be loose out there now.”

“Nor can I. I'll keep watch but it isn't critical.”

Hecht said, “It can't hurt to have those madwomen suck the blood out of Arnhand.”

“No. But it might be useful to have its wealth and manpower behind you if you do launch the Enterprise.”

“That will happen, though I'm starting to wonder if we can be ready this summer. We keep getting distracted by political stuff.”

“That'll still be true if you live a thousand years. If three people have a goal two will try to subvert the third because they think they have a better idea. Or because they see a chance to line their pockets. Or because they've been subverted by the object of the operation. Or because they're just plain stupid. Stupid is what I see the most.”

“You're expansive tonight.”

“Frustrated and taking it out on you. Feeling outside of everything,” said Renfrow.

“You? I don't know where my family are, let alone what they're doing. The same for the Shining Ones.”

“The Choosers are your guardian angels. Everyone else is at work trying to eliminate the Windwalker's brothers and cousins.”

“Easy.” The lifeguards were close.

“If you say so.”

“That's why I've had no contact? They're tied up in a big struggle?”

“Unless they're fooling us all.”

“And the ascendant? I haven't seen him, either,” said Hecht.

“I suppose. Though I thought you gave him a job.”

“Sort of. But he doesn't seem to get the team play concept.”

Renfrow grunted. He was done talking. He turned aside and vanished into shadows. One lifeguard asked, “How did he do that?”

“What?”

“He walked into that shadow and didn't come out the other side.”

“I don't know. Maybe sorcery. Let's get out of here.”

No one argued.

*   *   *

The following month was a lonely one. Hecht felt isolated even with his oldest intimates. They sensed his mood but understood it no better than he did. Titus Consent, who went back furthest of any, valiantly strove to break through. He did get Hecht talking enough to admit that his moroseness was becoming a problem.

“Boss, we can get along without you micromanaging. We like it that way. But outsiders need to see the Commander of the Righteous in charge. Just so the rest of us can feel comfortable, how about you pretend you're interested when we have company?”

They were alone at the moment. Hecht had been brooding, about what he could not have said if asked. Somehow, by word or tone or triggered nostalgia, Consent got through.

“Am I really that…? Titus! I've become pathetic. How did that happen?”

“I couldn't say. But since you're here in my world for now, how about you tell me how to keep you here?”

Challenged, Hecht determined to conquer his malaise. “I can't explain because I don't know, Titus. I for sure don't like it.” He caught himself digging at his left wrist, trying to kill a vicious itch. His wrist was raw, moist some places, scabbed elsewhere. “This is driving me crazy, too. I should get something on it before it festers.”

“We'll need an itch balm or you'll scratch till your hand falls off.”

What he needed was to be rid of the amulet, which supposedly caused itching only when he was close to some serious Instrumentality. But it itched all the time anymore.

Could a Rudenes Schneidel sort, or something like Vrislakis, be tweaking the amulet to distract him? Maybe hoping he would shed it?

Titus said, “I know a poultice that should help.”

Hecht grunted.

“Whenever you're mentally present you dig at your wrist. But when you go surly and start studying your own belly button you leave it alone.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I'll have the field doc do something as soon as I can.”

Hecht grumbled sullen assent.

“While I have you animated, do you have any thoughts on how we can pull you out of this melancholy?”

“If I did you'd be first to know. I don't like what's happening to me, either. I have to live through it.”

Consent flashed a smile. “We're making progress already. You admit there's a problem.”

The trouble was, even with his mind focused Hecht could make no sense of what was happening. “Track everything I eat and drink and anyone who gets close enough to touch me.”

“You think it might be poison?”

“They tried it on Katrin. But, no. Poison would be the hard way with me. I think it's sorcery.”

He wished Cloven Februaren would turn up. That old man could break this open.

Titus said, “We need you sharp for your confabs with the Empress. Helspeth won't be as tractable as Katrin.”

*   *   *

Just concentrating on the fact that he had mental problems helped Hecht manage them. He drank clean water from snow brought down from the Jagos. He ate vegetables boiled in that water. He ate boiled or roasted meats from freshly slaughtered carcasses, without spices. Only the most trusted cooks prepared his meals. He exercised every morning, usually by running with his staff.

The itching persisted.

Frequent anti-itching poultices helped only a little.

Hecht told Consent, “I'm determined to whip it.”

“Well, you have begun to make useful contributions to the process again.”

“When I don't itch I can think.”

*   *   *

Hecht was in another bleak mood when a clerk reported, “A Grimmsson wants to see you, my Lord. He looks disreputable but his name is on the List.”

Twelve people were allowed access whenever they wanted. He had not informed most of them of that.

“Bring him,” his mood improving.

Grimmsson arrived. The clerk was right. He had not maintained his civilized look.

“So where the hell have you been?” Hecht demanded. “I have work for you to do.”

“I didn't want Heris to go out there alone.”

“To take on Vrislakis and Zambakli?”

“Yes.”

“Did the old man, the Shining Ones, and my daughters abandon her?”

“No.”

“You had to be underfoot, too, to make it all work out?”

Grimmsson reddened. Nothing he said could make him look less silly than he did already. “Harsh, Commander, but emotionally true. That campaign will be over soon. Zambakli Souleater is no more. Vrislakis will be nothing but a foul recollection before long.”

“Excellent. I've had no help from any of you people for months.”

“You had help enough in Hovacol.”

“I admit I'm spoiled. But I do have real problems that only the Ninth Unknown can fix.”

“I should be available from now on,” clearly disappointed by Hecht's lack of excitement about Zambakli.

Another major god was dead. Not just banished or imprisoned, extinguished. Forever. And the Commander of the Righteous had shown the world how that could be done.

Hecht asked, “You spent all that time away dealing with the Great Old Ones?”

Puzzled, “Pretty much, yes.”

“No side trips to the Connec? Say to Antieux?”

“You've lost me. I'm not sure I know where Antieux is.”

“You do know the name?”

“Of course. A lot of recent history involved that town.”

“A giant bird has been seen there recently.”

“I understand you asking, then. I plead not guilty.”

“Interesting. Another giant bird. Well. Not our problem. We have our own mission, coming on too fast.”

Grimmsson said, “You should have everyone back before long. You can go balls to the wall, then.”

That brightened Hecht's mood a lot.

*   *   *

Heris turned up at midnight, two nights after the ascendant. She woke Hecht out of a dream about men hunting their traitor brother. She was excited and full of brags. Not only had she destroyed Kharoulke the Windwalker, eldest and ugliest of the Great Old Ones, she had been instrumental in exterminating Kharoulke's whole pantheon. “Those horrible Instrumentalities are now extinct, by grace of the Twelfth Unknown.”