Working God's Mischief (12 page)

Countess Socia had given Kedle Richeut command, then had disdained all dissenting arguments. Nor had she been reluctant to be heavy-handed with anyone who tried to thwart her.

There had been surprisingly few attempts at that.

*   *   *

Kedle's reputation had grown since events in Khaurene. And Socia had been around Antieux long enough to have made an abiding impression. No one forgot her massacre of those men at Suralert Ford, all privileged by birth or status in the Church.

Most folk of Antieux had been satisfied with Count Raymone's rule. The Countess promised more of the same, possibly more intensely.

But…! A woman commanding warriors? However fierce a woman? That was legendary stuff. It did not happen in modern times.

Against that argument Socia named Queen Isabeth herself, Anne of Menand, and Empress Katrin and her sister Helspeth. Both daughters of Johannes Blackboots had seen combat during the Calziran Crusade, when they were younger than Kedle Richeut. Then there was the Countess of Antieux herself. Socia Rault had been handling weapons against armed foes since she was sixteen. And she was sending Kedle Richeut out only because she could not yet sit a saddle herself.

The Countess was who she was and Count Raymone's judgment was trusted. Socia's wishes were accepted by the nobles and magnates.

Antieux would ignore the unnatural arrangement as long as Socia and Kedle produced results.

Brother Candle watched the riders head into the dewy sunrise and blamed the moisture on his cheeks on the morning damp. He was sad. Kedle was walking away from her life to do this thing.

Kedle meant almost as much to him as Socia did. He had known her since she was in diapers. She was the only surviving child of two good friends. He had brought Raulet and Madam Archimbault to the Good God before Kedle was born.

Raulet and his wife were distraught. They had not been able to bring themselves to watch Kedle ride away, armed, surrounded by a hundred crude men. Her hunger for bloody action pained them deeply.

Pacifism was ingrained in the Maysalean Heresy. Although the Good God insisted that evil be resisted by all means, including use of arms, most Seekers would not fight. Brother Candle himself never raised a hand in anger. Kedle not only embraced violence, she abandoned her children to follow its call.

*   *   *

The time between Bernardin's return and the departure of Kedle's expedition was full for Brother Candle. He spent a lot of time with Raulet and his wife, reminding them to remain strong for the sake of the grandchildren. He had to endure, in silence, Socia's robust pogrom against all things Brothen Episcopal, including public execution of eleven members of the Society for the Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy. She imprisoned forty-three suspected agents of the Brothen Church, then ordered the expulsion of Episcopal priests known to have been honestly active before Count Raymone's misadventure.

The priests got to go only due to Brother Candle's appeals. Socia wanted to herd them together and burn them the way the Society did with Seekers.

*   *   *

Brother Candle left the wall for the house Socia had provided for Kedle and her fellow refugees. Scarre the baker and his wife had set up on the street level. They were developing a clientele for Khaurenese soft breads. The Archimbaults, with Guillemette and Escamerole, and grandchildren, all crowded in there. Guillemette and Escamerole took care of the children and worked in the citadel, mostly caring for the Countess and Lumiere. The Archimbaults had not yet found full employment. Raulet was a tanner. Antieux's tanning industry was depressed. So was the butcher trade. Invasions, attacks, and sieges had eliminated the livestock once common in the countryside.

Leatherworkers, too, were having a bleak season.

Twice during his walk to the refugee home Brother Candle witnessed purported friends of Count Raymone rounding up the Count's supposed enemies. The old man was sure Bernardin had someone inside the Society. He knew who they were. He knew their fellow travelers. A settlement of old scores had begun.

Brother Candle dared not poke his nose in. The Maysalean creed was strong in Antieux but many Seekers had been rendered harsh by the wars and sieges. They had no forgiveness left and no tolerance for him who preached it.

Raulet Archimbault observed, “The wolves are loose. That's why we didn't see Kedle off.”

Not true, but the Perfect offered no challenge. Raulet had his right to disapprove of his daughter. “I came by to see how you're doing. I can't stay long. The Countess keeps me busy.”

She did. She had a big political problem: what to do about the ducal throne to which Raymone was supposed to ascend. With Raymone gone that was lost unless, implausibly, Isabeth let the dukedom devolve on Lumiere.

Brother Candle had to handle the correspondence because he knew Isabeth. There had been no answers, so far. But it could not be long before the disappointments began to arrive.

Brother Candle's visit let the Archimbaults follow Kedle's progress without them having to set aside their disapproval.

A Maysalean family could generate as much drama as any other.

Brother Candle visited the grandchildren, finished chatting with the Archimbaults, then headed downstairs to see Scarre and his wife. His knees ached from the up and down. He promised to see everyone at weekly services, then headed for the citadel armed with a fat loaf of Scarre's best. Socia had developed a taste for soft bread while she was hiding with the Perfect, at the Scarre bakery, in Khaurene. Brother Candle delivered the loaf to the Countess three hours after Kedle led her hundred off to war.

Socia expected a lecture. She had a guilty air. She was behaving badly according to her religion. Brother Candle failed her expectation. He saw no point. He could no more control her than he could convince a storm to withhold its fury.

Socia's rage had to run its course.

She asked, “They got off all right, then?”

He pretended his news would be the first she had heard. “They did. They moved out briskly, like well-motivated men.” He tried to appear content. He did not want to argue. He was too old to keep on fighting the stubborn fight.

And, maybe, the girl would
think
if she was not focused on defending herself.

He was sure that Kedle had permission to go beyond recovering the fallen. That would be done, surely, but the fiercest riders would hurry onward, hoping to overtake the injured Patriarch.

Serenity, as Bronte Doneto, had survived several collisions with Antieux, all at his own instigation. Kedle would try to end his run.

Privately, Brother Candle implored the Good God's intercession. He did not want the stain of what would follow Serenity's capture besmirching the souls of Socia Rault and Kedle Richeut.

*   *   *

Eight days after Kedle's departure a ragged gaggle of peasants and carts appeared at Antieux's gate. Kedle had hired them to transport the fallen, all in an advanced state of putrefaction. The corpses included all the local fallen—Count Raymone, too—and those of Serenity's companions whose relicts might be ransomed.

The peasants, all of whom claimed to worship Count Raymone, brought some live bodies as well: two men who had ridden out with Kedle, now wounded, plus a dozen Society brothers, several Episcopal priests, and six Arnhander prisoners.

Kedle had run into an Arnhander force three hundred strong, also looking for Serenity. They were inexperienced and led by Society vermin associated with Anne of Menand. Kedle launched a massacre. Her force suffered one dead and the two walking wounded.

Two hundred enemy had fallen, supposedly.

Kedle was headed north. Her soldiers had fallen in love with her. Socia was jealous.

Later, in the privacy of his cell, Brother Candle muttered, “The Adversary moves in strange and mysterious ways.”

 

12. Brothe: Brief Homecoming

Piper Hecht and his family arrived inside Principaté Muniero Delari's Brothen townhouse. The place had been damaged badly during the fighting when the Righteous occupied the Mother City.

Hecht and his sister each began bleating about how the other should have remembered that the townhouse was not habitable.

Pella said, “Dad, I'll check on Anna's house. We can't stay here.” He took off before he could be pelted with unwanted instructions.

Pella's estimation proved to be inaccurate. Delari's staff—Turking, Felske, and Mrs. Creedon—remained in place, in charge, and adequately housed.

Heris told Hecht, “Keep a low profile, little brother. You don't have an army behind you now.”

He had begun to brood on that already.

Years ago, when he was another man, er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen had armed him with a wrist amulet that warned him against danger from the Night. The Ninth Unknown had replaced that with another that er-Rashal could not track.

In times of no threat he forgot the amulet. He had done so in the Realm of the Gods, though Februaren did say that it would not work there. But now Hecht was back in a world where the charm was efficacious.

He felt a continuous, low-grade, maddening itch around his left wrist.

“And where is my egg?” Heris demanded.

“Right here.” Inside his shirt. But it felt different. It was cold, and lighter. “Here.”

“What happened? It's dead. Or something. What did you do?”

“I didn't do anything. You were there. You know.”

Mrs. Creedon, Principaté Delari's cook, intruded upon their attention. “Don't argue where the workmen can hear. Come with me. Turking will inform the master that you have returned.”

“Good point,” Hecht said. “Let's go. And that was the easiest transition yet. I hardly felt it.”

“I'll save your butt from the local villains by jumping it back out before word gets around.”

“It'll take all of you.” He was not prepared to transition with Heris alone. “What about the egg?”

“I don't know. I expected something like, it would go away if Zyr connected with his other soul. Maybe the old old man can figure it out. I'll be damned. This part of the dump held up pretty good. Looks like hell from outside, though.”

The cook had taken them into the kitchen, pantries, and servants' quarters. “The cellars are fine. We can put you down there.”

Anna appeared glum. She would be on her own again, soon. And the children had had a taste of adventure. The girls in particular were sure to get into mischief. And Pella wanted to get back into the field with his father. He insisted that the education Hecht wanted him to get he could pick up from Titus Consent, Drago Prosek, Kait Rhuk, and others. And that was hard to deny. They all indulged the boy.

Hecht said, “Remind me to see Noë and the kids before I go. If I can get away with it.”

Felske made them as comfortable as she could while Mrs. Creedon fed them.

Anna said, “I'm surprised looters haven't torn this place apart.”

Mrs. Creedon said, “Some had the notion. The master anticipated them. Someone comes in that the house doesn't know, it tears them apart.”

Osa Stile strolled in, made a startled sound, locked gazes with Hecht. The catamite did not look an hour older than when they had run into one another during the first siege of Antieux. He wanted to demand an explanation of Stile's presence, then recalled that Osa had been rescued from the same cellar where Cloven Februaren had found Pella imprisoned. “Armand. You're looking well.”

“As are you, Commander. I wonder, sir. Will the new Empress have the Righteous go on building a Holy Lands expedition?”

“Remains to be determined. Why?”

“Time spent in a lightless cell, without hope, has a way of turning one's thoughts inward. I found a spiritual side I didn't know I had. I would like to make the pilgrimage. I have a debt to repay a certain rascal.”

Hecht inclined his head just enough to let Stile know he understood.

“I can be useful, Commander. And I've overstayed my welcome here, playing to the Principaté's residual affection.”

“Can you get to Alten Weinberg? And can you behave yourself?” Hecht could not state it explicitly but found Stile's sexual proclivities repulsive.

“Yes to the first. To the second, honestly, I can say only probably. I have no desires at the moment but that could change.”

The catamite, shaped by sorcery to remain a boy indefinitely, had suffered bad times and bad people in order to spy for er-Rashal and Ferris Renfrow. He soldiered on.

Turking reappeared, having made remarkable time. He said Principaté Delari would arrive soon.

Pella turned up not long afterward. “Anna's house is in good shape but three men are living there. They say Paludan Bruglioni sent them because the senate made Pinkus Ghort stop using constabularii to guard the place.”

Hecht said, “I should see Pinkus. It's been a long time.”

“You'd do better to give up wishful thinking,” Heris said. “You might be friends with Ghort and Saluda and even Paludan Bruglioni but that doesn't change the political environment. It doesn't change the fact that you're suddenly the hero of the Grail Empire, what's been the Patriarchy's dearest enemy for two hundred years.”

“This is what happens when you engage the world at more than a tactical level.”

“I won't even pretend I understand what you just said. Turking, we aren't ignoring you. We just have too much fun bickering. Did you have something besides the fact that Grandfather is on his way?”

“No. Nothing more than that, Lady.”

“Ha! You heard that, Piper. Everybody heard it. I've got one man so bamboozled he thinks I'm a lady.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Enough of that, children.”

Muniero Delari had arrived. Quietly. Evidently, little that he saw pleased him. He held his thoughts, joined the cook. “That looks delicious, Mrs. Creedon. I hadn't yet eaten when Turking came. Can you stretch that to include me?”