Working God's Mischief

41. The Holy Lands: Ad Hoc Scrambles and Royal Mischief

Hecht was moments from descent into a deep sleep. That need was back. He hated it. It cost too much time. He dreamed dreams that were far too disturbing. He could not afford to waste the time and stress.

Something had changed. Something had shifted after Helspeth’s arrival.

The air stirred as someone materialized. So much for his drift toward slumber. Uncharitably, he hoped that it was not Helspeth with the time candle.

Uncharitable, yes, but he felt the same toward his sister and daughters though he had seen none of them since Hypraxium.

When rested and working he did miss them and Anna. He was starved for family closeness.

Strange. He was a split beast for sure, ever less at home inside himself, liking Piper Hecht less and less as he morphed more concretely into Lord Arnmigal, master of the Enterprise of Peace and Faith.

Hourli said, “I know you aren’t sleeping. You snore villainously.”

Hecht offered the universe a put-upon sigh, unwound, rolled to face the goddess. She glowed, putting the shine in Shining One.

“It can’t wait?” He felt ferociously cranky yet actually was pleased. He always started to feel better when Hourli came around. Much better if she stayed a while.

Was some destructive fragment of self, buried too deep to recognize, driving him toward another ill-advised liaison? He hoped not. He felt none of the obsession that had begun with his first glimpse of Helspeth, nor the comfortable correctness he had always known with Anna. Nor did he feel coerced, as with Katrin. Hourli was more like a lifelong friend whose presence eased his aches and cares.

The old friend was not above an occasional oblique suggestion that she would not mind amusing herself with a dalliance.

He shuddered.

That would not happen. He had female complications enough, and more.

Silence stretched. It did not become uncomfortable. He felt better by the moment.

This improvement in energy and mood and recession in weariness occurred with all of the Shining Ones, to a lesser extent, excepting Eavijne. Eavijne could be more refreshing than Hourli when she wanted.

Evie offered a suite of temptations, and was pliable enough …

Again, no!

But Evie smelled so good, like apples, pines, cherry blossoms …

He shuddered, bore down. “To what do I owe the pleasure, then?”

Hourli smirked. She produced a locally baked sweet seed cake, heavy with raisins and honey. He took it, knowing he would feel better for having gotten it down. She said, “You needed that. And I thought you might be intrigued by interesting things happening elsewhere.”

“Do they affect us?”

“Of course they do. Sooner or later. Maybe both. A grandson of Tsistimed the Golden has been given leave to raid Qasr al-Zed, to test its defenses.”

“There are Hu’n-tai At mercenaries with the Righteous at Shamramdi. No doubt they report to Tsistimed.”

“Would you like them to stop? It is a long, dangerous journey from Shamramdi to Ghargarlicea.”

“One of your better ideas. What else?”

“Pella handed Iresh abd al-Kadiri a serious rebuke today.”

“Oh?” He debated himself daily about the wisdom of having relented and let Pella command the falcon force harassing the Dreangereans. The boy should be safe if he did not decide to show off.

Evidently, he had suffered that lapse.

“Is he all right?” Anna would never forgive him if the boy got killed.

“He bombarded their camp. Their casualties were nasty.”

“That’s the nature of falcon fires.”

“Pella hoped to provoke them into attacking. The Sha-lug convinced Iresh not to let his men be massacred.”

“Too bad.”

“Iresh’s indecision hasn’t buoyed morale. After the bombardment, once night fell, hundreds deserted. Another demonstration could scatter all but the Sha-lug. Nobody wants to die just sitting around camp.”

While on short rations and squabbling over water.

Iresh’s indecision would consume him. The Sha-lug would stay but would turn on Iresh when the armistice ended.

Lord Arnmigal was not pleased. The gods themselves seemed determined to save Vantrad from the scourging it needed.

He chuckled suddenly, surprising himself.

“What?”

“Just something about that situation.” He was the boss of the gods in these parts. Well, he was the boss of those a mortal could see and touch and engage in a canoodle or conversation.

Hourli wondered, “Are you having problems again?”

“I’m sure you know the answer to that.”

“So I do. I know the cure, too, but I doubt that I can get you to let it work.”

Tired of being tired, and at sleep’s mercy, he demanded, “Tell me!”

“A little intense there. It’s easy. Surrender. Come with me to the nearest Well of Power, lie down in the hot waters, and just surrender. Go to sleep and stay asleep till you don’t need to sleep anymore. This war will simmer right along without your nose in every little pot, everywhere, micromanaging, and making everyone who works for you angry about the excess supervision.”

Her remarks irked him more than was reasonable. He recognized that. And Hourli recognized both his response and his recognition of its injustice. She did not back off.

The Shining Ones showed him no special dread, Godslayer or no. They did defer in accordance with their contract but Hourli had grown less deferential lately.

He snapped, “You aren’t here to check on my health or start an argument.”

“Oh, yes I am. But the fun stuff doesn’t top my list. I wanted you to know about Pella and Iresh. Then I wanted you to know that we’ve successfully pulled together all the mystic tools salvaged from the Great Sky Fortress.”

“What?” Had he missed something?

“Heartsplitter. Red Hammer’s hammer. Geistrier, the rope that is always long enough and strong enough. Bottomless, the pail that always holds enough but is never too heavy. The necklace, the Brising Stones-though we don’t have that one in hand yet. That scatterbrain Aldi lost it in Antieux when she was out there trying to manufacture a way around the requirements of destiny. She’s never gotten a handle on the fact that the Twilight, the way it used to be foreseen, is as dead as Kharoulke the Windwalker. There could be a Twilight. There probably will be a Twilight. But it won’t be the Twilight we expected before Ordnan screwed up.” Softly, she added, “The old fool might have traded the wrong eye.”

“And the search for Grinling?”

“You’re so clever. Sneaking that in so casually.”

“Your answer?”

“The search is over. Grinling’s story has been discovered. In reality, the Aelen Kofer found it a long time ago. King Gjore hoped to use it to break the dwarves’ bonds.”

“So that’s why they became so bold and devious.”

“Bold and devious they always were, as well as overconfident but inattentive. The ring was stolen and taken to Eucereme by a clutch of half-breed girl-children who had Lucke for a father.”

“Oh.” Lord Arnmigal felt the ground sink. “That’s not good. Can they can use it to resurrect…?”

“Not even if they owned his soul egg. They could only revive a fraction of him using the combined magic of all the surviving worlds. Too much of Lucke expired with the Realm of the Gods. Which doesn’t mean that those nasty little bastards won’t try to fill their father’s shoes-though they’d probably end up fighting amongst themselves more than against the rest of us.”

“Still not good.”

“They can’t cause trouble here while they’re cut off in Eucereme.”

“But we have to open the way to Eucereme so Eavijne can start her new orchard.”

“That’s not a concern for tonight. We’re here, Grinling and the daughters of Lucke are there, and Korban Iron Eyes is sitting in the middle. The dwarves aren’t famous for their mercy.”

“Uhm.” As Hecht understood the mythological imperatives the Raneul and Shining Ones both were doomed if the middle world could not connect with Eucereme. Neither the Raneul nor Shining Ones could sustain their immortality without the golden apples.

Now potentially vengeful children of chaos might be amongst the threats the Shining Ones faced.

Hourli said, “The children of Lucke were always involved with the Twilight. Aldi and her brother Tug would handle them. The daughters of Lucke are ferocious but they lack their father’s cleverness and cunning.”

“If they were really cunning they would foster the illusion of being dim.”

“Don’t borrow trouble. The search for a way to Eucereme goes poorly, though Heris and Hourlr keep trying.”

Hecht growled.

“Act your age. Heris is a grown woman. She can make rational choices.” With a hint that Heris might be better equipped for that than was her brother. Heris had no foolish dalliances hanging over her. “She and your daughters are immune to Hourlr, which he finds cosmically frustrating.”

“I suffer from prejudices impressed too deeply at an early age. I can’t be comfortable with the lax western morality.”

“You always were a tight-ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. The tools have been gathered. We can keep them together if we concentrate. We should keep the kids on that. They remember better.”

“The young have their own distractions.”

“Ha! You noticed! Even Aldi and Eavijne are only human when it comes to their boom-boom-though Evie gets embarrassed when you ask about hers.”

Like Grinling, other mystical artifacts crafted by the Aelen Kofer had a knack for disappearing. Hecht was sure that was inbuilt. The dwarves had produced to order but made sure the toys they created were useless most of the time because they could not be found.

Hecht was in no mood to banter. However, he did feel better. He did not wonder why, nor did he see that, as he accumulated more responsibilities, he became less engaged with everything immediate. “Is that all?”

“Pretty much. I do wonder if you’ve had any inspiration on how to handle the Empress’s situation. Her women have begun to wonder. Most aren’t smart enough to figure out how it happened, but Lady Hilda knows.”

He slumped. “An induced miscarriage would be easiest, ugliest, and least morally acceptable. Hiding her till afterward seems more sensible. The child could be attributed to one of her court women.” Lady Hilda might volunteer, for a dear price.

“We could have Aldi or Eavijne assume her aspect and cover for her while we put the real her away on Mount Athos.”

Hourli laughed. “Either would be happy to play Empress. But they might want all of the Grail Empress’s roles. Evie especially.” Her full meaning evaded him. “Or I could do it. I’ve regained enough strength to make myself look young enough. And I wouldn’t be as demanding as the girls.”

That might work. Hourli doing it.

Her hint about Eavijne finally sank in. Disgusted with his thoughts, he said, “I’ll discuss it with the Empress. Substitution might be the only way to save her the Grail Throne. The least potential for complication would be for you to do it.”

“You couldn’t behave with those two?”

“Considering my record? Why take the chance?”

“Really? They’d giggle like children if they heard that. Well, self-denial was never in our nature. And even Evie would consider it a challenge if you turned her down more than once.”

Evie was shy but, like the life she was aspected to, she was stubborn.

“You’d be safer if we could get Hourlr to do it. But he couldn’t play it in your presence.”

“He wouldn’t keep his hands off Lady Hilda, either, and that would complicate things even more.” He shuddered. Hourlr in the Helspeth role was a creepy idea.

“You’re right. He can’t help it. Better idea. Wife. She’d keep her skirts down and her hands to herself.”

Hecht shivered again. Having Wife play Helspeth was almost as uncomfortable as having Hourlr do it, yet she might be the real best choice. She was around Helspeth a lot without making the Empress aware of the protection.

Lord Arnmigal asked, “May I get some sleep, now?”

Hourli faked an internal struggle, then shrugged and nodded. “You were right, really. There isn’t anything so critical that it can’t wait till morning.”

Somehow, Hecht suspected, her real opinion differed. Not for the first or even one hundredth time did he wonder if his peerless helpmeets were not pursuing an agenda entirely their own.

But what? They were open about feeding on the Wells and wanting to kick down the gates of Eucereme. What else could they want or need?

Believers?

But …

This reach of the middle world was too isolated from those parts that had known the Shining Ones. They were here for the Wells, feeble as those might be. They left only scraps and dregs for the lesser demons, djinn, and ifrits plaguing the region. Believers in the God Who Is God might soon be right when they denied the existence of those Instrumentalities.

Believers in the Shining Ones were next to nonexistent. Conversions seemed unlikely.

* * *

Titus Consent said, “Would you believe I got an actual physical letter from Noë? A courier brought it from Ghort’s camp. She got a City Regiment messenger to bring it out.”

Lord Arnmigal grunted, having trouble wakening.

“She’s pregnant again.”

“I am astonished.”

“Aren’t we all. There was no message from Anna. Noë says she’s fine but depressed. Never leaves home. Everybody has to go see her. She did give Addam Hauf a letter. He is supposed to relay it through Madouc.”

“Why not have Heris or the girls bring it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they can’t reach us because we’re too far away.” Titus knew a lot about the Unknowns now. There was not much that he did not know.

He did remain ignorant of Helspeth’s condition. But how secret could that be from the Night?

Lord Arnmigal and the Empress might become hostage to the whim of the Night.

A rumor or two, not satisfactorily refuted, could leave them facing disapprobation worse than any showered on Queen Clothilde and Black Rogert. More virtue was expected of the Grail Empress. She and the Commander of the Righteous were mistress and master of God’s most holy Enterprise of Peace and Faith, abjuring wickedness and the temptations of the world.

More or less.

“Boss?”

“Sorry. I was treating myself to a reverie filled with high drama.”

“If you say so. There’s something.” Consent dropped to a whisper, as though that would help should the Shining Ones be determined to eavesdrop. “You ever make up your mind if we can trust our Old Ones?”

“The only answer is that we can trust them one hundred percent to be what they are and have always been.”

“That doesn’t help much, going forward.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Uh…”

“As long as it suits their perceived needs-like being able to stay alive and healthy till Heris finds a way to connect with Eucereme-we can count on them to be helpful. They’ll keep their word to the letter but the spirit will be malleable. They’ll leap through a loophole if they see one that looks good.”

“Exactly what I’m thinking. And more so each time I talk to Eavijne or Aldi. They’re quite open about it.”

Hecht gave Consent a quick, sharp look. No! Titus would never respond to Eavijne. Likely, he was even immune to Aldi. He could see no one but Noë in that light. “You have a reason for asking?”

“Something is going on that they don’t want to discuss. It takes a paranoid ear to hear it but it’s there under the conversation, now.”

“Some aren’t as clever as they think. Any idea what it is?”

“No. But you asking Pinkus and the Widow to go help Madouc makes them uncomfortable.”

“Why? Sorry. Rhetorical. That makes no sense. Why should they care what happens at Gherig? They should be glad those two are out from under foot. What’s out there besides Gherig?”

“Been thinking about that. Their reports from that area aren’t as crystalline as most. Ghort and the Widow are difficult people but they still ought to be able to work with Madouc’s gang. Madouc, though, is supported by some top men from the Special Office. That may be what makes the Shining Ones uncomfortable.”

“Really? There must be something more. We just haven’t recognized it. And it won’t be the Faithful. The most dangerous Believers are sealed up in Shamramdi.” Could a new Praman host be gathering in Lucidia, unnoticed? Not likely. The Shining Ones would not hide that. Just the opposite, in fact.

Titus mused, “What else? How about er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen?”

Lord Arnmigal stiffened. “Er-Rashal?”

“A sorcerer. Sometimes called the Rascal. Used to be the court wizard for Gordimer the Lion. They called him something else because Believers can’t consort with necromancers, sorcerers, or diviners. He ran for it after Indala’s victory. He headed up the Shirne toward tomb country. They cut him off, so he turned back north. Nobody noticed till he attacked a Lucidian watchtower near Gherig, where he got his ass handed to him. He lost his henchmen and animals and ended up injured himself. He scuttled into the Neret Mountains. Some renegade Sha-lug went after him.”

Titus knew more than he realized. “Into the Idiam,” Lord Arnmigal breathed. “Into the land of ghosts. To the Dead City.”

There had been hints before, of course. Soldiers loved their rumors. He had paid no attention because neither the Rascal nor Andesqueluz ever got mentioned directly. Nothing suggested that the rumors were based on anything real.

The Shining Ones had reported nothing.

That was suggestive itself.

“Into the Idiam.” In mildly wondrous dread.

Titus said, “To a ruined city remembered in sacred texts as Andesqueluz, home of one of the uglier Instrumentalities of the god times.”

“To Asher. The Mountain. And Ashtoreth, which means Bride of the Mountain. I’ve heard that much.”

“Then you paid closer attention than I thought.”

“Maybe. I like to know about those things.”

“I have no concrete evidence but-based on rumors and the circumstances of this er-Rashal’s association with Rudenes Schneidel-he may be trying to resurrect Asher.”

“Plausible. And our divine associates have neglected to tell us.”

“I would assume they’re not hiding anything, they’re just failing to point fingers.”

“Oh, those clever devils.”

“Could they possibly want Asher back?”

“No. They wouldn’t want to share what little magic is left while they’re finding a way into Eucereme. It must be something else.”

“Any suggestions?”

“No. Keep your ears open. There are facts missing. The Shining Ones may have them. If so, they must be inconvenient somehow.”

“Shall I sneak out there myself?”

“You’d never get away with it. Go to the horse pasture east of al-Sar. Find Just Plain Joe. Tell him what we need.”

Consent saw his thinking. “I’m on my way.”

Hecht wondered if it was worth the bother, trying to keep a low profile, hoping the Shining Ones would not consult the Choosers of the Slain, who were always with him.

They were abidingly disdainful of Fastthal and Sprenghul, who seldom gave anyone an excuse to see them in a better light.

It might be worthwhile to create some diversions.

There was always something diverting him from pursuing the triumph of the Enterprise. Oft times it was difficult not to believe that a malignant Night was meddling.

He had seen Gordimer the Lion succumb to that kind of thinking, abetted by the Rascal’s whispers. In his more rational moments Lord Arnmigal saw himself starting to externalize blame the way Gordimer had.

He was in the first stage of creating his own demons.

And was that not one way tadpole Instrumentalities came into the world?

* * *

Hecht started.

Titus was long gone. Hourli had come in. She had just snapped her fingers under his nose, a gesture outright disrespectful. “What?” he barked.

“You always were broody. It’s part of your manly charm, though I don’t find it particularly endearing. Put your mind’s house in order, quickly. We have no time to waste.”

Lord Arnmigal was confused. “What?”

“The Empress.”

“Oh. Got you. I’ll ask for an audience.”

* * *

Helspeth ordered everyone out.

Hecht said, “Lady Hilda needs to stay.”

“I’m not that concerned about my reputation, Lord Arnmigal. I’m already considered a freak for being here. I understand that the locals call me the Iron Virgin.”

Lady Hilda made a face, and leered.

“Chaperonage isn’t why she’s needed. She knows our troubles. She was involved from the start. We can’t get by without her now.”

Seconds passed. “Oh? You’re probably right. Stay, then, Hilda.” Helspeth’s sudden desperation begged Hecht to be sure.

“There is no getting around it.”

“You have some fresh ideas?”

“Some. Let’s not discuss them here. Too easy to eavesdrop.”

“There are no quiet rooms handy.”

“There’s another option. It won’t thwart Instrumentalities but it will keep the mortal sneaks off.”

“The candle?”

“Exactly.”

Helspeth needed less than a minute to locate and light the time candle. That did not have the elusive nature of many artifacts associated with the Shining Ones. It had not been made by the Aelen Kofer.

The candle blazed up. Blushing, Helspeth talked to her friend. Hilda said, “I thought it might be that, though I prayed that I was wrong.” She hugged Helspeth, for the moment no more than an empathetic friend.

Helspeth said, “You must be sure of your suggestions, my lord, or you wouldn’t have insisted we meet.”

“I have an idea loosely based on something Hourli suggested.”

“She knows?”

“She’s known since the quickening. She is what she is. I don’t like it, either. It gives her leverage. But that’s the way it is with the Instrumentalities of the Night.”

Helspeth blew out a chest full of exasperation. “Of course. Sure. All right. We know how to deal with that, don’t we? Go on.”

Hecht hoped none of the Shining Ones heard that but feared that any hope for an absence of eavesdroppers would be a vain one.

“I’m going after Vantrad. If I surprise them and take over I’ll lock Beresmond up and run Clothilde off to Gherig. I’ll install the Grail Empress as Queen. Shining Ones will surround you. They’ll become you whenever you have to be seen. Lady Hilda will be your shadow. If Helspeth is forced to be in the presence of an outsider the Shining Ones will disguise you. Hourli says they can fix it so you won’t even smell like you.” He nearly suggested that, with practice, she might even be able to fool those who knew her well.

Better not give her any dangerous ideas.

She was the daughter of the Ferocious Little Hans and nothing would keep her from hitting the streets in disguise if the notion took her.

Despite all she had seen lately, she might not believe that a hostile Night might take advantage of self-inflicted exposure.

“There you go, drifting off again.”

“I apologize. I don’t know why it happens. It’s not just with you. I do it with everyone.”

“Instead of saying you’re sorry all the time, why not do something about it?”

Lady Hilda observed, “I’m sure your Night friends could scrounge around in your soul and figure out why your head don’t work right when you’re awake.” Swinging a well-honed double-edged blade, there. “They might even find out why you fall asleep in the middle of something crucial, like a future-changing discussion with your lover.”

Daedel was in a harsh mood. And she knew things she had no business knowing.

He turned a hard eye on Helspeth.

The Ege blood shone through then. The Empress was not intimidated, nor did she offer explanations. She had thought that Daedel needed to know.

“What is, is,” Hecht muttered, like a calming mantra. “It is, and cannot be changed. I will focus. I will take Vantrad. We will proceed from there. Moves are underway already.” Pella was pressing Iresh abd al-Kadiri in hopes of attracting regional attention to himself. A limited Righteous move along the Vantrad road should be interpreted as a flanking effort.

The Shining Ones would know the truth. He could imagine no reason they would betray him, yet still did not trust them fully.

A consequence of status gained? Was that what had turned Gordimer weird? Might the Lion’s paranoia have been due to more than dark prophecies and the Rascal’s evil whispers?

“And there he goes again,” Lady Hilda cracked, voice edged with irritation and possible contempt. “Despite the pretty promises. A man’s man indeed. And here I be in the oven of hell’s kitchen, being rendered down for jerky and people grease, for the sakes of ingrates, when I could be basking in the coolth of Alten Weinberg, having my way with some starry-eyed boy.”

She flashed a wicked smile at Hecht’s appalled response.

“I’ll get that Hourli creature to curse you. You know those sparky shocks you get during the winter? This curse will let me smack you with a big one any time your eyes glaze over. It will be like teaching a pig to dance.”

Hecht did not understand that but did grasp her general meaning. It might even work if he got stung enough.

He had earned himself a shock already.

* * *

Pella launched nuisance attacks against the Dreangereans. Despite strong cautionary advice from the Sha-lug, Iresh gave in to rage, perhaps seduced by the murmur of unseen powers. He launched two counterattacks directly into the face of falcon fires from prepared positions. Casualties were terrible. Desertions trebled. The Sha-lug refused to execute further unreasonable orders.

The Grail Empress and Commander of the Righteous, traveling with the battle group apparently flanking the Dreangereans on the Vantrad road, decided to tour the Holy City while they were close by.

They entered Vantrad with entourages but no large companies or heavy weapons. The locals relaxed. The Commander of the Righteous never made an aggressive move without his falcons.

Western pilgrims had visited in large numbers since the arrival of the Enterprise. Some of the most recent visitors had served with Lord Arnmigal for years.

The Choosers of the Slain, prepped with detailed instructions, isolated King Beresmond and Queen Clothilde while Righteous pilgrims secured key points of the city.

The Shining Ones added illusion and misdirection. There were few casualties and no fatalities, unlike the last time crusaders captured Vantrad.

Thirty-two hours after entering Vantrad, Lord Arnmigal set his seal to a document wherein Beresmond abdicated in favor of the Grail Empress. Local prelates added their own seals and pretended to be thrilled.

Temblors of change radiated quickly. Princes great and small, of every religious odor, quavered on dangerously shifting footing. Beresmond had been a spook, doing little but what Clothilde demanded. She was a shallow vessel. The Grail Empress and her warlord were sure to be harsher weather.

Clothilde resisted, though she controlled her tongue admirably. Those strange and wicked women with the Commander of the Righteous admonished her privately, revealing a detailed knowledge of her undercover transgressions. She was cunning and clever, if shallow and caring for no one but herself. She grasped the fact that hope depended entirely on abiding the favorable day.

She had friends. Allies, really. Among those were a few minor Instrumentalities, though none like the monsters guarding Lord Arnmigal. She would persevere. She would come back.

She was not wise enough to be afraid.

Hourli warned Lord Arnmigal: it was dangerously kind not to save the future from possible pretenders to Vantrad’s throne.

Lord Arnmigal was preoccupied with the Grail Empress. He cared little what people thought, though he did concern himself about their perceptions of her. He intended doing nothing to stain her reputation more than he had.

He failed completely to notice the Shining Ones sketching a fog around his all-too-revelatory behavior.

He and she settled in comfortably, against inconsequential resistance, which the Shining Ones handled easily. Wife began to appear with Lord Arnmigal as a more glamorous and warmer Grail Empress. Her audiences thought that must be because she had added the Holy City to the Imperial diadem.

Lady Hilda enjoyed the change, at the real Helspeth’s expense.

The Praman community fell into anguished despair. The Believers were being battered and decimated everywhere, with the Hu’n-tai At now gnawing at the Realm of Peace in the east.

The Dreangerean host southwest of Vantrad evaporated. Even its Sha-lug components fled in despair.

Pella strutted like a gamecock when he reported. He had learned from masters and had learned quite well. He had lost only a handful of men.

* * *

Vantrad’s citadel boasted a quiet room worthy of the paranoia of Queen Clothilde. It was perfectly maintained and one of the stoutest ever built. Its walls were three feet thick. It had been reengineered and improved by senior brethren of the Special Office. Titus Consent met Lord Arnmigal there following some sleight of hand meant to divert invisible watchers. Hecht asked, “What’s with the sneakery and shadow dancing?”

“Just Plain Joe is back from visiting his pal, Bo Biogna, out by Gherig.”

Lord Arnmigal probed his Else Tage memories for the lie of that land.

Gherig loomed on high ground to the south. The land in front fell away to a plain, then gradually rose again to the north. Those highlands became the Neret Mountains and haunted Idiam. The Well of Days, site of Indala al-Sul’s signature triumph, lay not far north and east.

Lord Arnmigal opined, “I hope Joe enjoyed himself. He comes nearer being a true good man than anyone I know. He deserves more joy of life.”

“I would argue that we all do. God won’t give it to us.”

“He got back quick. Did he find out something important?”

“In a nutshell. Nobody out there is making a big deal, maybe because they haven’t seen the implications. I think our demonic allies have and are hoping we won’t.” Titus raised a hand, forestalling Hecht’s impatience. “The Dreangerean villain, er-Rashal, has created a spell that makes firepowder explode at a distance or at least fizzle and clog the falcon.”

Lord Arnmigal gulped some air and chewed.

“The spell reaches beyond the reliable killing range of most falcons. Falconeers who can fire don’t have much hope of actually hitting anything.”

“And the Shining Ones know.”

“They do. And want to keep it quiet.”

“So they think they see a way to be safe from the mortal instruments of a would-be Godslayer.”

“If they can get hold of er-Rashal’s secret.”

“They don’t have it?”

“They do not. Only the Dreangerean has the spell, and that only inside his head. Spying on him won’t do any good.”

“Unless they catch him in the process.”

“Maybe. But they have to be careful not to show their interest. Also, the sorcerer has put up some formidable supernatural barriers. I doubt they can get close enough to watch him work.” Consent went on with other news from the frontier, adding some speculation. “Madouc hasn’t seen all the possibilities but he’s definitely worried about Asher. The Special Office types at Gherig are pressuring him. Too, Joe says some Pramans have joined Madouc. Indala’s men, supposedly there to help handle er-Rashal.”

Hecht grunted. That was puzzling. Indala helping Madouc with the Rascal? With the Special Office, Black Rogert, the Shining Ones, and who knew what all else there to see?

Er-Rashal had somebody really worried. Something major must be about to break.

The old Norns came to mind, silently spinning, lamplight painting their silhouettes on the paper screen that was the wall between them and the universe, a boundary neither man nor god dared violate.

He spurned the image. Illusion! Wicked imagination! Only the God Who Is God could write one’s destiny …

He suppressed a burst of hysterical laughter.

“Boss?”

“We have a world of people playing their own games, me included. Suppose I just jumped in like a bear into a gaggle of puppies?”

Titus considered. “That might be too risky.”

“Good. Then that’s what we’ll do. Nobody will expect it.”

“Boss…”

What else to do now? Vantrad was in hand. Iresh abd al-Kadiri had been chased off. The Enterprise had achieved most of its goals against almost feeble resistance. All of the Holy Lands cities had submitted to the Grail Empress. The natives were not happy. If they behaved, however, changes at the royal level would mean little to farmers, herders, shopkeepers, and artisans. They would face the same old challenges and complain the same old complaints. They would lie to the tax collectors with fabulous imagination. They would bully neighbors who failed to demonstrate an adequately enlightened attitude toward the divine. Life would go on much as it always had.

The Commander of the Righteous, however, would have to make new choices soon. Once Shamramdi fell the Enterprise would have to find an expanded mission or begin to come apart. King Stain might get no chance to assemble his reinforcing wave.

Dreanger would be recovered for the Chaldarean faith. Lucidia, too, with the capture of Shamramdi. But that would set the Enterprise face-to-face with the sons of Tsistimed the Golden and the Hu’n-tai At.

There was the du Tancret option, of course. The dearly held dream of the most fanatic Chaldareans would be to capture and destroy Jezdad and the holiest holies of al-Prama.

“Boss? You still in there?”

“Eh? What?”

“Are you serious? What you suggested? Us heading out to Gherig?”

“Sure. To deal with er-Rashal. It doesn’t take a lot of thought to see that he’s the biggest threat at the moment. Once he goes down we can impose whatever realignment we want in this region.”

He had no desire to obliterate al-Prama. The Faith had been a part of him. Never had he entertained the notion of that religion’s annihilation. He would have been outraged had the suggestion been offered.

“Boss?”

“Yes?” Irritated now. Titus ought to be off to get things started.

“What does it mean when the Shining Ones say, ‘He lost his shadow somewhere’?”

That startled Lord Arnmigal. He knew that must have meaning but could recall none. “I’m not sure. It sounds portentous, though. Why?”

“Wife and Hourli say it about you. It bothers me.”

Hecht had overheard the phrase himself recently without paying heed or realizing that he was its object. “‘Lost his way,’ wouldn’t quite fit, would it? I’ll ask Hourli. She’ll turn up fast once she hears that we’re headed east.”

An air-clearing session with Hourli might be especially useful before the cloudy side developed deeper shadows. Once the Adversary began threading lies into things …