Working God's Mischief

24. Alten Weinberg: St. Miniver, Martyr

“What is this place?” Hecht asked.

He had been tangled in a dream featuring Helspeth and himself absent all constraints, with all the time they wanted, and no one would ever know. Then he wakened, paradise gone sudden as a candle snuffed. He was in a big place where the ceiling was lost in shadow. There were limestone pillars. A rack of votive candles stood to his left.

A church. The only light came from the candles. Those had not been lighted by Chaldareans presenting special appeals. Every candle was aflame.

Hecht was surrounded by Shining Ones.

Hourli said, “Aldi will be here soon.”

Hecht’s mind cleared. He was seated on the marble bench occupied by the assisting priest when he had no active role during services. He asked, “What is this?”

“This is the chapel where you and your lover will meet. It should be the last place anyone will look for you. We have time to talk.”

Hecht suffered an absurd urge to defend his conduct toward Helspeth. No defense was necessary. He had done the right thing.

“For the wrong reasons,” Hourli said. “You aren’t controlled by your conscience. You just don’t want to get caught. You would be here with her every night if you believed the secret would stay safe. But you know that nothing happens in a vacuum. That someone always knows. If that someone said anything to someone else, the scandal would be loose.”

Yes. That was why he did not surrender to the endless aching beat of his desire. People would be hurt. People for whom he cared.

Hourli said, “But that is incidental. For now.”

The scrutiny of the Shining Ones intensified. They leaned in slightly. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

“Possibly. We brought you here because it has been impossible to talk otherwise. When I do get to see you there are constant interruptions. It’s irksome.”

“It is frustrating. When you’re in charge everyone wants some of your time. Usually, they want it right now.”

“And that is why we have stolen time. We can handle our business without you missing much sleep.”

That caused smirks. Must be an inside joke.

Hecht understood. It was obvious enough. Those candles were not flickering. Shadows refused to dance.

The Shining Ones had stopped time. Almost. It moved on at an imperceptible pace. An observer outside the time bubble would see nothing because those inside would be moving too fast.

Hourli nodded slightly. “Close enough. It takes a great deal of power to manage this, Commander. We can do so only a short while.”

“Then talk to me.”

“We have been as industrious as ants, preparing for your spring campaign. You will find the weather clement most of the time. Most of the roads will be in good shape. Princes and nobles will be well disposed and helpful, so long as you treat them well in turn. We got started too late to improve last year’s harvests but the spring lambing, kidding, and calving will be the best in living memory. Most of the ewes and cows will drop twins. Mares will foal well and camels will calve better than usual but twinning won’t be common.”

The Commander of the Righteous tried to encompass the possibility that nature itself could be enlisted in the Enterprise of Peace and Faith.

Hourli said, “Everything we do for you will profit us twofold.”

He did not see that. He did not understand how his fortunes could shape those of the divinities. He still had trouble seeing the Shining Ones as more than revenant demons.

Hourli told him, “Our rescue simply released us into the larger prison of the middle world. In that we now live under sentence of death, as mortal as you are, though over a longer span. Dear Eavijne has done her best. She found an auspicious place to plant her seeds. The rest of us brought our brightest magic to bear. But the seedlings in this orchard will be shadows of those of the Great Sky Fortress. Their fruit will help, we hope, till we can open a way into Eucereme. The trees will grow strong and true there.”

Had the Aelen Kofer sealed the doorways between all the worlds, or just those to the Realm of the Gods? Evidently the former, at least for now.

Hecht considered Hourli’s remark about nothing happening in a vacuum. Did that apply to the gods as well?

He intuited that the gods in Eucereme were aware of the situation in the middle world. They would want to open doorways, too. They would want to enjoy Eavijne’s apples, too.

Hourli said, “We need not share details but we have discovered ways that we can prosper here, despite the weakening wells of power. Moving with you to your Holy Lands will be part of that. In time, we could return to being major gods again.”

“But for that you need healthy apples.”

“We do, yes, to make it last.”

“And my God, or any of our gods today, don’t concern you?”

“They do not. Their very nature makes them no threat.”

“But!..”

“Your God is everywhere. He sees everything. For those things to be true he gave up the ability to be all-powerful wherever that suited. Once we left the world, and others like us did the same, he needed only be a god who listened and comforted and meddled in small ways, locally. He spread himself out so he could be in touch with every worshipper all the time. Now it would take him an age just to understand that he needed to pull himself back together, then another age to do it. So we’re free to do as we like. All of our divine jeopardy comes from those great primal things that were here before our own advent. With your sister as an ally we destroyed the worst of those. But another, that we do not know, is stirring in a far place called Andesqueluz; Asher, the Mountain, who was the god in that land before the appearance of any of the gods of today. And those, it seems, are all aspects of a son of Asher once connected with wind, thunder, and storms, who was unpredictable and frequently unpleasant.”

“None too smart, either.”

“Yes. The son of Asher shared many of Red Hammer’s less endearing traits. Less so, these days, diffused, of course.” She went on, “Spring will come early and remain cool. You will have an extra ten days to get started. Snow melts will not be catastrophic, despite the heavy falls this winter. They will proceed slowly and steadily. The rivers you need to use or cross will never run too swiftly or too high.”

A flicker where nothing changed made Hecht glance to his left.

Aldi had come straight from her day job as every lad’s fantasy. He felt a stirring himself. He wondered if different men saw different Aldis.

Aldi had nothing to say. She just nodded to Hourli. Hourli told Hecht, “Things are in motion. Our endgames begin.”

Which meant what?

No matter what the Shining Ones contributed, Piper Hecht was not prepared to trust them fully.

Hourli did something with her hands. Her fingers became ropes of smoke. In a moment she was holding a fat candle a foot long that appeared to be purest beeswax. “A gift for you and your Empress. Light it and time will stop for you as it has for us here. Those whose attentions you fear will not realize how long you have been missing. Employ it carefully. You will still age while it burns. It will last a long time but not forever. There won’t be another.” She placed the candle in his hands. It was massive. It had to weigh more than ten pounds.

Hourli smiled a small smile. Hecht thought it might be the very smile the Adversary wore when he presented an irresistible temptation.

“Enjoy, Commander of the Righteous.”

* * *

Hecht wakened in his own bed. He did not remember his transition to the chapel, nor his return. He had a headache. It was dark out still but breakfast smells came from the next room. He heard Carava de Bos talking to somebody who sounded like Titus Consent. Hecht clambered out of bed, hunger driving him.

Consent and de Bos, yes, making free with breakfast foods as they chattered. Their conversation was animated but did not register. Hecht settled into a chair where the steward was already filling a platter.

“And why are you two here? Especially you, Titus. I sent you to command a line company at Hochwasser but here you are, underfoot again.”

“One of your odd female friends woke me up last night. She gave me this.” He tapped a stack of papers half a foot thick. “I read a few pages, decided they were crazy to bring the stuff to me, had a horse readied, and got my ass down here in time to catch Carava going on shift.”

De Bos said, “Carava read a few pages and decided we should be here to share your breakfast.”

“What have we got?”

De Bos said, “Based on the pages I skimmed, transcripts of meetings between people involved in plots against you, the Empress, one another, and the Enterprise. Lots and lots of plots. The third sheet down got me all wet. It tells us where to find Race Buchels and Willem Schimel.”

“Really?” Even the Ninth Unknown had been unable to find those would-be Hecht killers. Schimel had masterminded the attack that had seen Hecht die and be resurrected. “I’d like to sit down with those two.”

Hecht chose a random page. He held it in his left hand while he ate.

He had drawn the record of a conversation between Helspeth’s uncles. Clearly, they meant their pledge to give Helspeth the support they had failed to provide Katrin. They were scheming to rid their Empress of an Elector she and the Commander believed reliable.

“Good stuff,” Hecht muttered, never questioning the facts. He did not doubt the Shining Ones in that.

“Earthshaking stuff,” de Bos said.

“Who else knows?”

Titus pointed. “But only that it’s really important.”

Hecht stared at the steward, who had come with the Still-Patter house. The man froze.

The Commander said, “I think we can control this potential leak.”

De Bos nodded. “I’ll make sure.” At which point the steward began to protest.

“Of course it’s unreasonable,” Hecht told him. “But something is going on and I don’t want you talking about it to your wife, your brother, your best friend, your confessor, or anybody else.”

The steward protested that he would do no such thing, that he knew better, that he never talked about work when he left the house.

“I don’t believe you. You talk to somebody about things you shouldn’t. You all do.”

Titus presented a couple of sheets from high in the pile, chapter and verse about the household staff, including the steward. None of the staffers were spies. But they all had talked to somebody about something, never thinking of that as a violation of security.

Hecht read briefly, aloud. The steward’s eyes widened. “Now, who do you suppose she told?” He did not have that information. His point had gone home. “Titus. Send word to your number one to take over your company. I need you here. Start by talking to all these people who don’t think they’re doing anything wrong. Convince them of the error of their ways.” After scanning only a random few pages he knew that he and Helspeth had some serious housework to do. “Carava, you and Vircondelet drop everything else and focus on this stack. Identify and number each page. Make a separate synopsis. Tell me about anything that needs immediate action. Buhle Smolens hasn’t had enough to do lately. Pile your current work on him. Sedlakova, too. And Brokke, when he gets back. Have we heard from him lately?”

De Bos replied, “Not for several days. Last report had him at the Arnhander frontier being cranky because there was nobody there to meet him. The King’s mother was busy with raiders out of the Connec. Brokke said he was going to go on, cautiously.”

“He should probably try harder to keep us posted.”

De Bos and Consent both gave him a hard stare.

“All right. I see.” He had espoused the philosophy of giving a man a job, then getting out of the way, for as long as he had been less than the man who was ultimately in charge. He had waxed quite bitter about the waste of time and manpower needed to run messages to people far from the head of the spear, whose input could not possibly do anything but make things more difficult for the men doing the actual, everyday work.

“All right. Suggestion withdrawn. We have plenty to do here.” But he did understand the other side now, some. “We’ll need to screen my appointments more tightly. I want to push this…”

Consent said, “Boss, don’t change anything. Let us deal. That’s our job. You aren’t a worker bee anymore. Your role is to be the lightning rod for everybody who thinks they should be able to use us. Just go right on having fun doing that.”

Titus was right. And Hecht did not like it. “I’m wondering if it’s too late to fire you.”

“Probably.” Consent chuckled. He beckoned the steward. “You can take this stuff away, now, Maxillan.”

* * *

The meeting with the Empress and her advisors stretched interminably. Several councilors were blatantly obstructionist in their efforts to extort concessions. Helspeth was, after all, only a woman. She did not have that much strength behind her-though every one of those men quelled under Hecht’s glare.

Hecht was patient. He contributed little. He refused the bait when challenged to offer assurances no commander could provide before a campaign. Each time someone came at him directly he responded with a knowing smile that left them uncomfortable.

The Shining Ones made it sound like the entire Chaldarean world was excited about liberating the Holy Lands. Even in the Connec commoners and nobles alike were finding money and men to contribute. In Arnhand, despite the flood of specie that had gone away since the advent of Anne of Menand, they were raising noble companies of dedicated adventurers. Inside the Grail Empire the folk seethed with eagerness. Many of the nobility remained oblivious to that. They seemed interested only in locking horns with the Grail Throne while it was occupied by a woman with no strong man coming up behind her.

Hecht stood. “I would like to request a recess, Your Majesty. And permission to approach with intelligence recently received. Intelligence I will share with the Council following the recess.”

Helspeth was tired of the bickering, too. “One hour, gentlemen.” She rose, ignoring all protests. “Lord Arnmigal. Follow me.” She left the council chamber. Lifeguards and ladies-in-waiting scurried. Helspeth went straight to the closest quiet room. She let no one in but Hecht. She was rude to one dowager who said something about propriety.

To Hecht’s consternation Helspeth threw herself against him the instant the door clicked shut. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”

“You did. But you didn’t expect it to happen.”

He extricated himself reluctantly. “We’ll see about that later.”

“Always business first. What is it?”

“You have been tasking me about my intelligence crew not producing.”

“We never see them. They don’t seem to be doing anything.”

“This morning they delivered a six-hundred-page stack of reports. The detail boggles. There are minutes of scores of conspiratorial gatherings, many featuring some of those men out there. I brought a representative sample.” He pulled the sheets from beneath his shirt.

She had not stepped back when he peeled her off. Now she turned away but leaned back against him while she read. He did not push her off. In fact, he discovered his arms around her, his hands clasped. He felt her anger build.

“Is this stuff credible?”

“It is.”

“How could anyone get that close?”

“You know who they are.”

“I didn’t really believe it. I have to, now.”

“I’ll never tell you anything but the truth.”

“That might not always be smart, love.” She turned. They kissed.

* * *

Algres Drear and a dozen Braunsknechts entered and lined the walls. The councilors eyed them nervously.

Helspeth announced, “I am going to read from an intelligence report. Captain Drear, I am not to be interrupted.”

Drear clicked his heels and bowed.

Helspeth read from the record of a meeting that had taken place eight days earlier. Four men now present had participated, two of whom had made a great, mocking show of firmly supporting the new Empress. Subjects discussed had included the possibility of ridding the world of the Commander of the Righteous to facilitate the subsequent deposition of “that Ege chit.”

The truth was made obvious by the ghastly pallor of the conspirators.

Algres Drear kept order, though he faced no real challenge. None of those men were prepared to fight his Braunsknechts.

Hecht could almost hear the conspirators thinking the Imperial lifeguard would have to be disbanded once the Ege chit went.

Interestingly, Ferris Renfrow had come in with the returning recess crowd. He made certain his presence was noticed. Too, Hourli, in frumpy middle-aged form, blocked the main exit. Hecht was sure she was recognized as his new head spy.

Helspeth said, “Graf fon Gerilein. This conversation took place in your home. Care to comment? Without bluster or wasting time denying the facts?”

The Graf shook his head, conceding that he was well and truly caught.

Helspeth polled the other conspirators. None cared to comment.

“The Ege chit is not pleased. There are more of these transcripts. Hundreds of pages. Here is one that pleases the Ege chit even less. It is a blatant praise of treason.” She read.

Then she read from several other reports. Finally, she asked, “Have I made my point? You didn’t hear your plot mentioned? I have six hundred more pages to examine. Should you feel a need to know if your own flirtation with treason is on record, consult the intelligence arm of the Righteous.” She paused, glared. Men began to shift nervously. “The answer will be yes. Your villainy is known. Now that you know that I know, we can wipe the slate. I will take no action on any of these reports, however foul the crimes contemplated. A new era begins. This is now One Empire ruled by One Will. Future bad behavior will not be tolerated.”

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.