Working God's Mischief (39 page)

Hecht killed a frown. She was being too dramatic. From now on the worst of them would make sure they spoke no treason outside the tightest quiet rooms.

Hecht immediately wondered what more clever and dangerous plots had been hatched by smarter conspirators, protected by quiet rooms.

Helspeth scanned the chamber. She made eye contact with the cream of the Imperial nobility. “Again. A new start. The function of this gathering is to finalize mobilization of the Empire for the Enterprise of Peace and Faith. To which I say, to you, join in or not, as it pleases you. Do not obstruct. Be part of the process or stand aside from it. If you get in the way, I will trample you.”

She was in an Ege mood, now. They had best have the wit to listen.

Again, Hecht thought the villains would just be more careful. A tiger could not help being a tiger.

Helspeth called for his readiness report.

He had little to say that interested those people. It was not political. He did lock gazes with known villains while he talked.

It would be interesting, watching them squirm in Helspeth Ege's new New Brothen Empire.

*   *   *

Lady Hilda Daedel drifted between pillars to Hecht's left, a wisp of white departing, pretending not to see him, pretending she was not a party to what might be about to happen. Her presence unnerved him, though it was expected. That Helspeth had managed to get out unencumbered by Algres Drear was a testament to her cleverness.

The pattern of the women coming here for prayers had been set. St. Miniver's remained a holy place. The few who visited it told no one. They did not want it swamped.

Visits by the Empress and her women were no longer a matter for speculation, though some gossips wondered if Lady Hilda might not be connecting with one of her several lovers.

Hecht was more concerned about other eyes.

How could the Shining Ones
not
be watching? Or Ferris Renfrow? Or the Ninth Unknown? Or Heris or Vali or Lila. Any of them could be on to him.

His feet refused to turn back.

Yes. Those perfidious feet.

There she was, kneeling before the altar. A few votive candles burned to either hand. Her simple white gown matched the one Lady Hilda wore. For an instant he worried that Daedel meant to lure him into her tender snare. But, no, Hilda was neither that slim, that tall, nor that blond.

He stepped up on Helspeth's left, dropped to a knee in respect to the altar, then stepped to the votive candles. Only a handful were burning tonight. He used one to fire the massive candle given him by Hourli.

Time stopped everywhere but inside a circle ten feet across. He saw dust motes, illuminated by the candles, hanging motionless. The flames of the candles and their rising smoke had gone still.

Helspeth, shaking, took his right hand in her left. He said, “This doesn't have to happen.”

“Oh, yes. It does. I've waited years too long already. I knew under the walls of al-Khazen. Every day since has been wasted.” She went on shaking. This was a momentous choice.

“This is treason, under the law. Even for you.”

“Stop talking.” She faced him. The hunger in her seemed a beast looking out of the drowning-pools of her eyes. She had been working herself up for hours.

He knew it was too late. Rational thinking would not intercede. What was about to happen between one man and one woman could impact the lives of millions. Empires might stumble because two people could not help being a man and a woman.

Helspeth asked, “What just happened?”

Hecht explained about the candle.

Her face filled with wonder. “Our God would never be so kind. And … oh! We have all the time we want. It doesn't have to be like vermin hastily coupling.”

“No.”

The cost to Hourli's candle was imperceptible when Hecht snuffed it. He stared at it like it was a magical artifact from a fairy story that would, in the end, become the bane of the lovers who had defied the natural order. He could not help thinking of Arlensul, Gedanke, and Ferris Renfrow.

He and Helspeth had said everything that needed saying, and had shared all the final tender moments, before he silenced the flame. When it went out Helspeth appeared to be praying while the Commander of the Righteous rose from a briefer stint of worship. A watcher might sense an instant of dislocation but nothing to stir suspicion.

Hecht went away, neither looking back nor turning back. He glimpsed Lady Hilda amongst the pillars, maybe sneaking back to peek.

Hecht thought he would lie awake for hours in a grim feud with his conscience. Not so. He fell asleep the instant his head hit his pillow.

*   *   *

Hecht was not yet dressed when Carava de Bos brought a stack of papers. He was troubled. “Can we talk, Boss?”

“Sure. What's all this?”

“More news from your spy lady. Mostly boring, but you need to know.”

“So you wanted what?”

“An honest answer. Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. Why shouldn't I be?”

“You seem awfully tired lately. And your lifeguards keep complaining about you sneaking out at night.”

“Carava, I don't sneak. The Empress and I meet in her chapel for evening prayers. That gives us a few minutes when nobody is clamoring for our attention. She's properly chaperoned, usually by Lady Hilda Daedel but sometimes by another lady of the court.”

They had wrung special enjoyment from sinning vigorously under the nose of Lady Delta va Kelgerberg.

“Even so, you
must
stop giving your lifeguards the slip. Don't become overconfident because your strange friends are rooting out all these conspiracies. They can't read minds.”

“What?”

“There must be hundreds of people who wouldn't shed a tear if an assassin nailed you. There may be dozens willing to try. What happens if a loner decides to take a crack? He could be watching you right now. When would he be most likely to strike?”

“You're right again. And you know how I hate it when any of you are right about stuff like that.”

“Just you letting people look out for you is good enough for me.”

Hecht grunted, pulled the new reports closer, skimmed the first. Whoever recorded it had a wonderfully readable hand.

“Sir?”

“You still here?”

“I am. There is another matter.”

Hecht felt defensive immediately, for no discernable reason. De Bos said, “And here we have the further problem.”

“Carava?
The
further problem?”

“You seeming to be different men at different times.”

Hecht felt deep discomfort immediately. For no reason he was ready to fight de Bos. He stifled the reaction. “Explain.”

“You seem tired all the time.”

That would be Helspeth's fault. Every assignation stretched a little longer. How did she manage her prolonged days?

“You've started nodding off during meetings. When you wake up it's like you're a different man, determined to get things done, fast and right the first time.”

“Excuse me? That's unlike me, how?”

“The you with me right now wants to figure people out. He wants to understand. He wants to talk about things. He wants to form consensus. The other you cares about none of that. The other you tells us how it's going to be, accepts no excuses, and always guesses right. The other you is a dictator who is frightfully efficient. This you wants to
convince
people that they should do things your way.”

“Carava, I'm wondering what you have been drinking this morning.”

“The other you wouldn't care. The other you would have tossed me out with some potent admonition about wasting time.”

“This one is about to give you a whack upside the head.”

“The other you would use his left hand.” De Bos made his exit.

Hecht stood leaning forward, unmoving, for a dozen seconds. That remark had been a hammer blow. But why?

He stared at his left hand.

 

25. Lucidia: Living and Dead

Nassim Alizarin and a half-dozen hardy veterans reached Shamramdi at sunset, to no welcome. Nassim had been summoned. The Great Shake wanted to know why the crusaders no longer faced a challenge in the gap once commanded by Tel Moussa.

Nassim had an answer. Indala might not accept it but he would stand by it. He had done remarkably well with what he had been given. He had been bested by a determined enemy, nature, and the indifference of those who were supposed to support him.

Nassim Alizarin was angry. He felt that he had been betrayed.

News of his arrival ran ahead. Azim al-Adil ed-Din materialized. He told Nassim, “If Uncle's summons has you worried, don't be. It isn't your effort that he wants to review.”

The Mountain was not prepared to believe that. Neither did he argue. “Good to see you again, youngster. I don't expect to be here long. I hope we can find a few moments for one another.”

Young Az was as fond of the old wolf as the General was of him. They were kindred spirits looking at life from its nether ends.

The youth led Nassim to the house he had occupied before. “A messenger, probably me, will come when Indala is ready.”

And so it was.

*   *   *

Nassim Alizarin and Indala al-Sul Halaladin faced one another across a low table burdened with shelled nuts, fruits, and some spicy shredded lamb. No one else was present. Indala's own brothers made sure that there were no eavesdroppers.

The General did not stint. “I haven't eaten this well since the last time I visited.”

Indala inclined his head in response to the implied gratitude. “Your due, General. You haven't been afforded any opportunity to live well, for which I apologize.” He meant that in a limited and diplomatic sense. The behavior of his people toward Nassim had dishonored him.

“You are most gracious.” Nassim understood Indala's position.

“Azer tells me you brought documents.”

“The daily logs from Tel Moussa. I understand that you're impatient with such things. I ask only that you have a reliable reader report their gist. My scribe was not Sha-lug. He wrote in the Lucidian script, which I do not read well, so I present his record on faith. The man came here with me should you wish to talk to him.”

The Great Shake smiled. Nassim thought that might be hard work. Indala's wounds still troubled him more than he cared to admit.

Indala said, “Present the basic argument. Be as neutral as you can.”

Nassim told his story, actually downplaying the lack of support he had received.

“These journals will say the same, in finer detail?”

“Yes.”

“So. What now?”

“Me? When you're done with me I'll go back to my band of survivors. I'll release the men who don't want to roam the haunted desert with a crazy old man. The rest of us, with the Ansa, will hunt and kill the Dreangerean sorcerer.”

Indala was startled, confused, and inclined to disbelieve.

Nassim observed, “Lately it seems that no one who is not Sha-lug understands who we are or what we really believe. I've been away so long that I'm no longer sure myself.”

Nassim could barely admit to himself that Bone's report had produced a disappointment more painful than his wife's rejection. Bone had not found one senior Sha-lug who wondered if the Mountain would be interested in becoming Marshall. Bone had not asked anyone. Nassim had not asked Bone to do so. But it was clear that the idea had not occurred to anyone in al-Qarn.

Not long ago no one but Gordimer the Lion had been more honored. The Mountain was old history today.

Letting himself be imposed on the Sha-lug by Indala would have been a greater travesty than he had imagined.

Indala sipped tea. Then, “That is true. I have no idea what moves the Sha-lug. I beat them on the battlefield but still they…”

Nassim pretended to miss Indala's frustrated intensity. “They don't see themselves as defeated, only as betrayed.”

Indala consulted his tea, then said, “I see. The desertions of the Maxtreans and Arianist Chaldareans.”

“Exactly.”

“I see your need to deal with the monster in the Idiam. You were faithful at Tel Moussa, beyond reasonable expectation. I had to restrain Azer, threatening him with discipline, he was so distraught over what he perceived as deliberate sabotage. Privately, I think there is some merit to his accusations. Some who were supposed to support you behaved badly. Possibly there was corruption. If that proves to have … They will be sent to greet Tsistimed's sons in the land between the rivers.”

“You might want to reflect on that.”

“Meaning?”

“Would you want such men out in front in a struggle with the Hu'n-tai At?”

Another silence. Indala did reflect. “You're right, General. I might be better served by keeping them close.”

“Yes.”

“So. I did not bring you here to criticize you. You did well. The damage to Gherig was extensive. You could have taken it had you had the troops I thought you had. Were I healthy enough I would hit the crusaders now, myself. They have only a few dozen able men.”

“Send Azim.”

That startled Indala.

“He's ready. Or, if not, this would be a good time to discover his limitations. Before the crusader flood arrives.”

“You think well of the boy.”

“I do. He is the man I would choose to succeed you.”

The Great Shake withdrew inside himself. He came forward again to say, “You see with a clear eye. I, too, love the boy. I have kept him away from the worst dangers.”

“You unleashed him during the Great Campaign.”

“It may have looked that way from a distance. That was more show than substance. Men who expected to be hammered by the Sha-lug pushed Azim out front to take the blame for the defeat.”

Nassim sighed. How did civilization advance when so many men wasted so much time trying to embarrass one another?