Working God's Mischief (41 page)

Brokke said, “Anselin might not agree…” He stopped.

“Anselin has a say, how?”

“He isn't emotionally entangled with the Connec but he does have feelings about his mother. She
is
his mother. He may not be able to ignore what outsiders do to her.”

“I will consult the Widow but the prospect of Anselin's enmity is unlikely to move her. She trusts in her own ferocity.”

“What about the deposed Patriarch?”

“Does anyone care? I think not. Do as thou wilt.”

“I care,” Pella said. “Armand cares.” He did not explain that. “I want Doneto to wallow in filth. I want to kick him while he's down.”

Aldi tilted her head. The boy was truly bitter. “I will see the Widow. Do thou consult thy prince. But I see little hope for a triumph of reason.”

*   *   *

Kedle was thoughtful. “A dozen men-at-arms left the tower while you were away. We disarmed them and cut them loose. Ten people are still in there, some of them wounded. They have no food or water. Anne still thinks help will come. What have you got?”

“Complications.”

After listening, Kedle asked, “We can't just eliminate Anselin, too?”

“The Righteous won't let us. Nor will my family. They don't care about the Connec.”

“I was looking forward to dragging Anne hither and yon, then leaving her caged outside Metrelieux till the elements claimed her.”

“Thee needs might cede that dream.”

“Only in absolute extremity. Go back. Convince them. Failing that, stall them. Our position will be stronger once we have Anne and Serenity.”

“I shall begin by failing to hurry back. How is thy leg?”

“It hurts like hell. What do you think?”

“Take something. Thee needs be less bitchy.”

Kedle growled.

“At least thee will heal aright if thee doth take care not to stress it. Doth thee take care?”

“I try. There are limits.” Both true.

Headstrong and fierce though she was, Kedle Richeut would listen to experts, unlike her friend Socia.

In that, even Kedle missed Count Raymone. Only Raymone could rein Socia in.

Lady Hope faced the Widow's nearest lifeguard. “
Hast
she behaved herself?”

That grizzled peasant, missing several front teeth, grinned. “She has, Lady. Them boys what the Countess left behind nag her all the time. They won't hear a word if'n it's somethin' agin what the Countess told them.”

Kedle met Hope's gaze. “I do what I must. I want to ride again. I want to walk and run. It's frustrating but I'll wait till somebody who knows better than me says I'm ready.”

“Thee be a true treasure, love. I will see our Imperial friends, now. We don't want them getting impatient.”

Kedle watched the Instrumentality go. What was it like to be a god? Hope had a distinct hitch in her gait from that bit of godshot. Instrumentalities were not immortal in an absolute sense. Nor did Hope appear powerful in the thunderous, psychotically destructive style of gods spawned amongst the Wells of Ihrian.

On the other hand, she
could
be seen and touched.

Kedle blushed.

Lady Hope paused behind the artillery tormenting the watchtower. She made a hand gesture as the next missile struck. Tons of stone tumbled, exposing interiors on three levels. A shout went up. Men rushed forward.

*   *   *

Four men came out as Aldi approached the Righteous. The new two reeked of perversion. “Huh?” That boy was much older than he looked. Older than any of his companions, in fact.

He had been twisted into something wicked, yet innocence remained. He had been forged as a tool of evil but had not become evil himself. Interesting.

Aldi focused on the tall, pretty one, Anselin, the king to be. His confidence waned as she approached. He had been warned. As his contemporaries all did, he had refused to believe.

He felt the weight of her presence now.

Should she become irresistible Aldi and make Anselin over as the vigorous heterosexual his mother wanted him to be?

No. There were witnesses, mortal and divine. The latter would not approve.

Pella announced, “Anselin wishes to speak for himself.”

“And the princess?”

Pella did not react.

Did he not know? Unlikely. So, he did not care.

“Never mind. The Vindicated have captured Anne of Menand and several men close to her, including Henri of Mariscot and the fallen priest, Serenity.” She would deal in facts, not emotions.

Pella said, “The King wants to know your intentions toward your prisoners.”

“He is no king. He is a man who would be king. I hope that he becomes king. I hear much good of him. But he is spawn of Anne. That will weigh against him.”

“Madam, I am her son but I am not her.”

“Then there is hope. Then thou shouldst not be troubled by how we handle our prisoners.”

Anselin inclined his head slightly. “I might face uncomfortable questions if I let you treat my mother the way I expect you want.”

“I care not. The Widow and the millions of the Connec who suffered because of thy mother do. No humiliation or degradation will seem sufficient to them.”

“Take the deposed Patriarch.”

“We shall, though he means little to anyone outside Antieux.” That tickled the strange catamite. He snickered.

“Then we have a problem,” said the future king.

“Thou mayest.” She did not turn that into a challenge.

“Are you what they tell me you are?”

“I am that and a great deal more. Nor am I alone.” The ring of swords unsheathing sounded behind her, where nothing but open ground could be seen.

So. The old women
were
out there.

“How about this?” Anselin asked. “Take Anne for a year. Use her as you will, but keep her alive. Return her after the year is over. By then she should be disinclined to leave the nunnery where I put her.”

Aldi was surprised. That was an astute offer.

Anselin continued, “I would claim Henri d'Mariscot and my mother's henchmen—excepting the guerrilla Patriarch.”

Pella said, “I want to entertain Bronte Doneto for a while. How about you, Armand?”

Aldi glanced at Hagen Brokke. Brokke smiled and winked.

Pella continued, “All we Righteous want from Anne of Menand is that she stop running Arnhand.”

Aldi looked the boy in the eye, handed off the wink. The kid had promise, maybe because he had adopted the right father.

“This will work. I need not consult the Widow.” Though Kedle would complain because she could not kill Anne.

Anselin smiled smugly.

The catamite did the same, but more so. Aldi suspected the little devil might be on his way to becoming the true master in Arnhand.

Pella looked like he had conquered the world.

These beings saw everything from briefer perspectives.

The captain of the Righteous detachment seemed satisfied, too.

Aldi said, “I will go make sure our prizes survive being captured.”

Turning, she spotted the Bastard watching from hiding.

 

27. Alten Weinberg: Gathering

Hecht summoned his staff. “What's happened?”

De Bos asked, “What brings that on?”

“I suddenly felt like something big was shaking.”

“We haven't heard of anything.” Suspiciously intent.

Hecht had to face the fact that he made his men uncomfortable. “Then let's just get back to work.”

Clej Sedlakova said, “I want to start rejecting petitions to join the Enterprise. We can't support any more troops traveling overland. Some could go by sea but they might get there first.”

“And cause problems?”

“Probably. How about we split off a section to set up a wave for next year?”

“That won't sit well with people who want to go down in history.”

“If you found a respected leader willing to take charge?”

“Got a candidate in mind?”

“Brill of Santerin.”

Hecht said, “That might work.”

Sedlakova asked, “Or Stain of Hovacol? The honor might ease the sting out there.”

“An even better suggestion. Keckler?” A lifeguard wanted his attention.

“It's Ferris Renfrow, sir. He wants to see you.”

*   *   *

“Yesterday at dawn,” Renfrow said. “The Widow attacked Anne of Menand at Mestlé.”

“Really? Hilda Daedel's brother has an estate out there. He said Anne was scheming to keep Anselin from becoming king.”

“That why you sent such a big escort?”

“I thought she might ambush him.”

“That didn't happen.” Renfrow reported what he had seen.

“Pella did the talking? I'll be damned.”

“Then he and the catamite beat Serenity half to death.”

“Osa Stile? Your special agent?”

“Not anymore. Not since he hooked up with Muniero Delari.”

“And then you came back here?”

“Not directly. If you want more you'll have to ask your special sources. They were there, too.”

Hecht rubbed his temples. “If I can find them.” The Bastard shook his head, said nothing.

“Tell me, are the Shining Ones desanctifying the churches?”

“Probably. You could say that they're eating God.”

“That's repulsive.”

“Commander, they have survival imperatives, too. They're up against a doomsday deadline. Eavijne's apples aren't good enough. They have to reach Eucereme or go extinct. The Aelen Kofer won't help voluntarily. And the only power wells they can reach are weak. They can get stronger only by taking the strength of other Instrumentalities. They can't tap the Wells of Ihrian till you take them there. Meantime, the scraps of God in the churches are easily exploited.”

“This Twilight and Rebirth are more complicated than the myths make them appear.”

“The mythic process got fucked when Ordnan read the Godslayer thing wrong.”

“Maybe it goes back to Arlensul and Gedanke.”

“Not a comfortable subject, but quite possibly true. I have to go.”

“Do visit Helspeth occasionally. You help keep her emotionally grounded.”

Renfrow responded with a suggestion of a nod.

Hecht sent for Carava de Bos. “I need to see one of my new intelligence people. Can you find any of them?”

“The pretty, shy one.”

“Who?”

“Evie. The quiet one. The garden freak with her head in the clouds.”

Evie? Interesting. “She'll do.”

*   *   *

The Commander of the Righteous was about to leave for his prayer meeting when the Shining One walked out of a wall. He had not dealt with Eavijne before. As de Bos had noted, she was shy.

She kept her eyes downcast. “I talked to Aldi. The Bastard's report was correct.”

“I see. How goes the new orchard?”

“Not well. The magic here is too weak. We must reach Eucereme.”

Hecht was surprised. He felt disappointed himself.

Eavijne walked back into the wall before he could ask his next question. But he knew the answer.

Yes. “Evie” had sported with Carava de Bos. And, likely, Vircondelet, too. Toying with mortals was what Shining Ones did. Even shy girl Shining Ones.

He shuddered, though. He liked both men. He would not want either to become this century's Gedanke.

Eavijne was, for Aaron's sake, a fertility goddess!

He would chide Hourli—if she ever turned up.

*   *   *

Hecht grumbled, “Be careful what you wish for.” He had just collected his time candle when Cloven Februaren turned sideways, dropped an inch, and began cursing a twisted ankle.

“You need to see me?”

“Your timing is abominable, but I do.” He removed his coat, rolled up his left sleeve, extended his wrist. “Do something about this.”

“Whoa! That's ugly. Does it itch? Never mind. Stupid question.” Februaren bent, sniffed. “It hasn't gone bad, more is the wonder. How long has this been going on?”

“Since we got back from the Realm of the Gods.”

“Oh. Right. Sit. Let's think.”

Hecht thought about the woman who was waiting. She would not be happy, but she did know that events could keep him away. Something had kept her once.

He sat. On a hard chair. Impatiently.

The wonder of Helspeth had not worn off.

Februaren pulled another chair close, studied wrist and amulet. “Everything looks like it's working the way it should, Piper. You're itching because an Instrumentality is close by. If that has gone on for months the Instrumentality obviously must not be malicious.”

“Got to be the Choosers, then. My supernatural lifeguards. I'd ask them to back off but I don't know how to talk to them. The one time they did turn up was in Hovacol. I didn't know I was summoning them, then. That was pure instinct.”

“Whatever, we have to take the amulet off so this can heal.”

“Thank you.” With depthless sarcasm.

“I couldn't get here sooner. My time is as full as yours is.”

“Is that true for my sister and daughters, too?”

“Yes. For Heris in particular. Though the family has the impression that you're fed up with our pestering.”

“The occasional pester would be nice.”

“But only when it's convenient for you.”

Yes. He did resent people dropping in at their convenience rather than his. Just now Februaren was keeping him from seeing Helspeth.

“Let's take a chance on the dedication of your guardian angels. Have Asgrimmur ask the Shining Ones how they can protect you without driving you crazy.”

“I used to worry that I'd have them underfoot all the time. Now I'm irked because I don't. I have no idea what they're up to, except that one is in Arnhand with that Connecten madwoman called the Widow.”

“Must be hell to work with beings whose attitudes are so much like your own.” The old man grinned.