Working God's Mischief (43 page)

Battle group after battle group headed down the roads and rivers toward the Holy Lands. The Enterprise could no longer be stopped. It was like nothing gone before, in weaponry, planning, or organization. The Righteous staff had determined the optimum means of accomplishing the mission, then had mapped out how best to make it happen.

Lord Arnmigal believed that the worst peril the Enterprise faced was the potential bad behavior of its members. The last crusade, grand as its successes had been, had done more damage to fellow Chaldareans than to Unbelievers. That Enterprise had wasted strength, power, and moral credibility by oppressing those who had cheered its coming.

Hecht was determined that there be no repetition. Unambiguous articles of behavior had been read out to each contingent, in its own language. Hecht knew some would have listened with their fingers crossed. Lords who came with black reputations would have a Righteous liaison close by. The Commander reiterated his attitude daily.

Despite every effort, the Enterprise had serious flaws. Most dangerous of those was the fact that command was not monolithic. The Enterprise was a hosting, not an integrated army. It was a collection of mobs following numerous princes and nobles, each with an inflated opinion of his own worth. For the moment they were headed the same direction, professing the same ambitions.

Hecht could not be everywhere, heading off trouble. He had to count on the Shining Ones.

Titus Consent reminded him, “You have better control than the lords of the last crusade. You did think about what needs to be done. You studied their mistakes. You laid out … Never mind. Relax. Get wasted. Turn it off for a few days.”

“A bit late, isn't it? The Enterprise is under way.”

“Sure. But we won't move out, yet.”

Yes. But … Hecht had an idea. It terrified him. But once it occurred he had to pursue it. “Titus. Have breakfast with me tomorrow.”

Consent looked puzzled. “All right. Can I get a hint?”

“No. Now scoot. I need to think.” He retreated to his private quarters, he executed the summons for Hourli. The Shining One was not pleased when she materialized.

“Did I drag you away from something important?”

“From scouting for hazards ahead of the Enterprise.”

“I'll try not to waste your time. I need messages delivered.”

Hourli seemed mildly impressed. “It's not much yet, but here you go, starting to act like the man in charge.”

“You'll handle it?”

“Of course. It's what we're here for.” She vanished. She had not smiled once.

Hecht collected his time candle and slipped away to the church of St. Miniver, Martyr.

*   *   *

Helspeth arrived acting mopey. She was not interested in a passionate encounter. Nor was Hecht. She observed, “You're glum tonight.”

“I haven't recovered from the blast.” No one had asked about the miracle of their survival but a lot of speculation was afoot. Good thing the Choosers had gone away fast.

“That and the fact that we're jumping off into history?”

“There is that, darling. I'm overwhelmed by the magnitude. God Himself may think we're overreaching.”

“You're overthinking. You should be stripping me naked, but I'm having the same thoughts. I'm terrified that we'll stumble into a disaster so huge they'll mock us till the end of time. I'm scared that my name will become the punch line to a thousand jokes.”

“Helspeth Ege, possibly with her identity slightly disguised, is much more likely to become the subject of a cycle of love songs.”

This relationship was the sort that jongleurs lauded.

The suggestion pleased Helspeth. He snuggled close. Neither spoke for a while. Then Helspeth said, “Hilda says that some courtiers are starting to ask questions.”

“About us?”

“About you and her.”

“Oh.”

“Is that disappointment? It was the impression we were trying to give.”

He laughed without humor. “No. Though that liaison would be easier.”

“Don't start that stuff.”

“It's human nature, lover. God made us all want more than we have, no matter what we have or how much of it.”

“God? Or the Adversary?”

“That could be. With all the other devils around, why not the biggest one of all? You're not the Tempter, are you?” He failed to make that sound like he was joking.

“Why don't we do what we're supposed to be doing?”

“Pray?”

“Yes. But let's not waste our magic candle on it.”

Hecht did pray for the first time in a long time. He felt self-conscious. As luck or a clever Shining One would have it, Archbishop Brion and several ecclesiastical henchmen caught them in the act of the chaste nonevent. And were disappointed. Could it be that Lord Arnmigal and the Empress were more devout when they did not know they had an audience?

The Grand Duke of Arnmigal won a serious victory because of an impulse and a bad mood but never knew it.

*   *   *

Titus observed, “You're not yourself this morning.”

Puzzled, Hecht asked, “How so?”

“You look like you got a good night's sleep.”

“I did. I prayed last night and it seemed the Lord lifted a huge weight off me.”

“What?”

“It came to me while I was in front of the altar. I haven't been trusting God. I've driven myself, and you all, to our limits because I couldn't trust in Him. He touched me last night. He reminded me that we can't do this without Him. I built the machine in His name. I should put the machine into His hands.”

Consent stood there with jaw dropped. “You really mean that.”

“Yes.”

“If prayer at Saint Miniver, Martyr, can relax you this much, I need to get over there myself.”

“Too late. You'll be doing something else. I told de Bos and Vircondelet to cover for you for two days.”

“Two days? Why? Especially now?”

“You and I are going on a wonderful and terrifying journey.”

Cloven Februaren turned sideways and materialized. Consent gaped as the old man hustled away from the center of the room.

Lila and Vali twisted into being where Februaren had been, holding hands. Giggling, they scattered.

Heris appeared. She dropped several inches, cursing. She was not in a good mood. “This better be worth my trouble, little brother.”

Hecht told Consent, “Come over here, Titus. Stand back to back with me. Family?”

Heris asked, “Sure you want to do this, Piper?”

“Want to, no. Need to, yes. Titus needs to. In a few days we'll be off on a quest that isn't likely to forgive us. I need to … Titus…”

“You're so full of shit. Let's do this, family.”

Heris, the girls, and Cloven Februaren crushed in. Hecht's last frightened thought was,
Darkness always comes,
as darkness descended.

 

28. Khaurene: New Blood

The journey took longer than expected. Brother Candle proved less able to endure the hardships than he had foreseen, though mostly he rode in a wagon. Too, there were delays because people everywhere wanted to see the Countess who was one of the saviors of the province.

The adulation troubled Socia. “The more they applaud me now the more they'll be disappointed later.”

Brother Candle said, “You will have a hard time being the legend they need.”

“I don't want to be a legend.” She met his gaze briefly. “All right. I don't mind being a legend. I just don't want to put in the work.”

“Those who take the easy road become the legendary bad lords.”

“You can be so frustrating.”

“I know. I frustrate myself sometimes. But look on the bright side. I won't be a plague on your house much longer.”

“What? You'll outlive me. You're too righteous to die.”

“I did not mention dying. Though even a Perfect must someday stand before the Good God and make his accounting.”

“I don't understand.”

“It's possible that I don't, either. With this journey beating me down this way, a worse journey would be insane. But I begin to feel the call.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That's enough for now, darling girl. Before anything else I have to see you through this, then safely through the travails of becoming the guardian of the new Duke. Only after that can I consider what to do to benefit my soul and the Light.”

The company reached Castreresone while the light splashed its walls to the most flattering effect. It was obvious why it was called the White City.

Scaffolding clung to those walls in a dozen places. The Berg and Inconje were being rebuilt. The magnates, encouraged by Queen Isabeth, were being particularly energetic.

The White City was filled with talk about being ready next time Arnhand came.

There was a despairing confidence that the Arnhander threat would never fade.

Thousands came out. Lumiere slept most of the time. Escamerole and Guillemette took turns carrying him so people could see. There was much shouting of blessings and offering of gifts. Brother Candle insisted that Socia accept the latter. They meant a great deal to the givers. She saw innumerable faces excited about the future. Their blessings made it clear that the Widows had the people believing that they no longer must despair over the certain evil in the north.

“That was what I meant about terrible expectations,” Socia told Brother Candle as Castreresone fell behind. “They don't just want a champion, they want a redeemer. In real life Kedle and I are thugs in skirts.”

“Thugs in skirts who have gained the favor of the Night.”

A man had come to Socia, last night, unnoticed by her lifeguards. He had explained the situation in Arnhand: Kedle had captured Anne of Menand and Serenity. The new Arnhander king was there, making peace. That would be enforced by the Righteous. The Righteous had had a scrimmage with the Vindicated. That had left the latter stunned and disinclined toward further argument.

The man walked out when she started to ask questions. She mentioned him to no one but Brother Candle.

“Was his right hand damaged?”

“You think…? Let me think. I don't know. I don't remember anything but his eyes. They were hypnotic.”

“I don't suppose his identity matters. His message does, however. Let's keep that to ourselves. Travel will be difficult enough without having to manage seven score drunken celebrants.”

Progress did remain slow. Their best day, after departing Castreresone, saw nine miles put behind. Two days of no travel followed when rain made the roads impassable. Rain came frequently. That season had arrived. It made up for the more clement weather farther east.

A drizzle was in progress when Socia and the Perfect finally sighted Khaurene's northern and eastern faces. It was just past noon. No rain was falling on the city, which sat in an island of sunlight, glistening, surrounded by the thousand greens of spring.

Socia said, “Let us hope that is an omen.”

News of their approach had run ahead. People began to come out while the travelers were still hours away. Socia whispered, “I'm spoiled. I can't help thinking that I could be there in ten minutes if I flew.”

“That must stay secret.
Never
give in to the urge to brag or show off.”

“I know. I know.”

“People will be afraid, not impressed.”

“I know. I'll burn if I can't tame my flamboyant side.” The old man chuckled.

The company entered Khaurene as day faded. The streets were bright with torchlight. People wanted to see the new rulers. Lumiere obliged by being awake and fussing.

Brother Candle noted some sullen faces. Despite all, a few Episcopal Chaldareans remained, of the sort who believed that the Society for Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy, and burning people, were good ideas.

He might actually pine for Bernardin's no-nonsense justice.

The Archimbault family, less Guillemette and Escamerole, and those Maysaleans who had come back to Khaurene, left the company to reclaim their homes. Socia sent mounted soldiers to help evict squatters. She meant to make clear from the onset that she would be partisan. Her friends would be well treated. She would rule fairly but those who did not offer friendship should not expect kindness in return.

Brother Candle stayed with Socia. He would do so till she settled in. He would introduce her to the influential men of Khaurene and would lend moral support in her dealings with the Direcians. He feared the Direcian nobility would be disinclined to surrender the power they had acquired.

Soon, though, he told Socia, “This may be easier than you expect. Isabeth is here. The Navayans love her as much as the Khaurenese do.”

“How do you know she's here?”

“The troops at the intersections are wearing Navayan livery.”

The remnants of the company entered Metrelieux after nightfall, in a drizzling rain, with Lumiere vocalizing prodigiously. The situation was outside normal protocol. The new Duke should have made his entrance in the morning, on a sunny day, to the blare of trumpets, amidst great pomp and ceremony.

The travelers dismounted in the bailey court. Servants hustled everyone off to appropriate quarters, where meals, baths, and other luxuries awaited, including real beds. The pomp and ceremony could wait.

“Very practical, usually, Isabeth,” Brother Candle told Bicot Hodier. The ducal herald had insisted on visiting while the Perfect lay back in warm water in a hammered copper tub. Brother Candle asked, “Why aren't the public baths used anymore?”

Hodier said, “True religion came to the Connec. Good Chaldareans don't expose their flesh to the eyes of strangers.”

“And most shouldn't.”

Hodier got the jest. “Speak for yourself.”

“I am. What do you want?”

“I am terrified by this savage woman from Antieux. But, first, where did you get those bizarre tattoos? And why?”