Working God's Mischief (47 page)

Hourli was Raneul. Maybe that meant her prejudice against the Bastard was less virulent. Maybe it was just the times.

Hecht said, “You've gotten the place completely restored.”

Delari said, “It's better than ever. And I'll be in hock to the moneylenders for two hundred years.”

The girls came to greet Hecht. He said, “Don't you two look marvelous? Grandfather, I hope you're riding close herd on these two.”

Anna said, “Really, Piper! Is that appropriate?”

“Look at them! Every randy moron over the age of eleven…”

“Use your head. They're women. And they're beyond any control but their own because they can go anywhere they want any time they want.”

Whereupon Lila gave him an arch look that, in essence, dared him to trump that.

Februaren chimed in, “They're old maids already.”

Vali said, “I see no point to getting married. Or even involved with a man. We have too much fun doing the stuff we're doing.”

Hecht nodded. Considering the circumstances in which he had found the girls they were sure to have distorted attitudes about man-woman relationships.

Lila said, “I wish Pella were here. I miss that obnoxious little peckerwood.”

Everyone stopped moving. Anna snapped, “Lila! Where did?…” She turned on Cloven Februaren, whose radiant innocence could have redeemed nations.

“As noted, the girls can go where they want, when they want. She may have been hanging out with low characters.”

“There's no doubt about that.”

Delari's woman Felske announced dinner, which would be served buffet style despite the status of the guests. The Principaté did not have the staff to serve a formal dinner and refused to bring temporary staff into his home.

Hecht sighed as he began choosing foods. Posted near the long sideboard, Turking seated each guest. Though not consigned to a separate table or room, the Consent dependents ended up as remote from their host as could be managed.

It took everyone a quarter hour to settle, Titus last because he helped Noë. Vali and Lila were down at the foot with Noë so they could help wrangle the little people. Muniero Delari sat at the head of the table, the end, with Hourli to his immediate right and Hecht to his left, next to an empty chair. Anna sat beyond that. Heris ended up next to Hourli with an empty seat beyond her. Titus and Ferris Renfrow each had a seat beside one of the girls. Titus was content but Renfrow seemed a little put out. A third open place lay opposite Cloven Februaren. It featured a place setting but no chair.

Even the little ones looked to the head of the table.

Delari was amused. “Considering this eclectic gathering, the traditional prayer would seem misplaced. Take a moment to commune privately with your own concept of the divine. I'll use my moment to heap curses on those who didn't have the courtesy to show up on time. Well. Here is one of them now. Him I'll only consign to Purgatory.”

Asgrimmur Grimmsson came in from the same side room Februaren, Heris, and the girls used when they transitioned into the townhouse. He had a feather in his hair and was straightening clothing that looked like it had been dragged from a sack. Turking intercepted him, spoke softly, led him past the buffet, seated him next to Heris.

No one said much during the process. Renfrow's scowl deepened because he had been seated below the ascendant. Hecht watched suspiciously. Grimmsson muttered something to Heris about bad weather over the Jagos.

By then Turking had gone to greet the next tardy guest.

There was almost no talk at the table and little eating, except amongst Titus's brood.

Hecht focused on his sister and the ascendant. Something was going on there. He would have a hard time minding his own business.

Belatedly, he realized that the evening would betray his real relationship with Delari, Februaren, and Grade Drocker—if those not in the know paid the least attention.

Hecht met Hourli's gaze. She arched her right eyebrow. She needed do nothing more to communicate an admonition regarding Heris and Asgrimmur. Just a little reminder about hypocrisy and double standards.

He winced.

Hourli knew things he would rather she did not. That gave her a minor lever.

The Ninth Unknown watched from down the table. That old fox probably knew …

Turking returned accompanied by Master of the Commandery Addam Hauf and the head of the Bruglioni family, Paludan Bruglioni. Paludan was in a wheelchair, still.

Hecht had had little contact with the Bruglioni the past few years—though he had made Paludan's lifelong best friend Gervase Saluda Patriarch by fiat.

Paludan must be here on Charity's behalf.

Hecht left his seat, met Paludan at the sideboard. “Let me help.” Turking was behind the man's wheelchair.

“All right.” Bruglioni told Hauf, “You first, Master.”

Hecht said, “I didn't expect to see you.”

“Nor I you. I expected a quiet chat with a powerful member of the Collegium who hasn't been especially supportive of Charity. Imagine my consternation when Hauf arrived as I was getting down from my coach. Now I'm entirely at sea.”

“You're not unique.”

Bruglioni betrayed a ghost of a frown when looking at the girls and the Consent brood. He then concentrated on choosing foods, mainly rich dishes in heavy sauces. “They won't let me enjoy myself at home. If I eat nothing but what they let me, instead of what I want, will I live forever? I don't think so. Do you have any idea what's going on?”

“No. Though I thought I did before I got here. Same as you.”

“Blindsided, eh?”

“Exactly. Isn't that enough food?”

“More than. But Delari is paying for it. So. I
am
here because of my connection with Charity?”

“I imagine.”

“Why are you here? How can you be here? You should be hundreds of miles away, on the road to the Holy Lands. Gervase produced a clever bull proclaiming your Enterprise of Peace and Faith.”

“For which the Empress is grateful. She thinks it appropriate to respond by backing off of some of her father's more outrageous territorial claims.”

“Really? A little of that would do a lot to solidify Gervase's seat.”

“I suggested she wait till I get back from the Holy Lands.”

“Too bad. Gervase hasn't made many friends. Principaté Delari's threatened displeasure is the main force keeping the Collegium from trying to remove him.”

“Really?”

“I'm sure there are several plots afoot.”

Hecht looked past Bruglioni to Hourli, who met his eye. She nodded slightly. She would do what needed to be done.

She nodded again seconds later. What needed doing had begun.

Hecht said, “Gervase is in a less precarious place than you fear.”

Bruglioni looked up with troubled eyes. “I worry about you. There's always something askew.”

“If you say so. I've always done my best for the people I represent.” Bruglioni grunted.

Muniero Delari asked, “Will you boys stop gossiping and join us? I'm hungry.”

Hecht had been heads-together with the master of the Bruglioni family longer than could possibly be considered casual. “Of course.” He carried Paludan's food choices while the man rolled his chair.

Hecht slid back into his own seat. Only Bruglioni was not eying him.

Muniero Delari said, “Everyone. Eat.”

*   *   *

Addam Hauf did not press during the meal, nor even during coffee and brandy afterward. The lower half of the table cleared away. Hecht used that time to state his appreciation for Hauf having sheltered Anna and the children during the troubles.

Delari, though, was intrigued. He asked Hauf, “Will you need my quiet room?”

“No. My news isn't confidential.”

“But forewarned is forearmed?”

“Yes. Commander, most of this is from Madouc of Hoeles, who used to work for you. He's in the Holy Lands, now. I think he expected his reports to reach you via Cloven Februaren, whom he seems to think is a sort of supernatural entity.”

“He's a super something,” Heris interjected. “The common variety of which is found on the road behind a cattle drive.”

Whereupon Februaren suggested, “Asgrimmur, you need to put a smile on that woman's face.”

“Please!” Hecht snapped. “No vulgarity. Master Hauf, if you will?”

“Madouc is now Master of the Commandery at a fortress called Gherig. You know it?”

“The name came up during planning. A stout fortress, from all reports.”

“It is. But less so in the age of the falcon and firepowder. A renegade Sha-lug named Nassim Alizarin wrecked part of it by igniting smuggled firepowder that set off Gherig's own secret store.”

Nassim Alizarin. There was a name out of yesteryear.

“The point is, the Dreangerean sorcerer er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen fled north through the Holy Lands after Indala defeated Gordimer. He's hiding in the Idiam, in the haunted city Andesqueluz, and is trying to resurrect an Instrumentality known as Asher.”

Hecht said, “I don't know the geography or mythology but it sounds like he's up to the same mischief he was into in the Connec and on Artecipea.” He glanced at Hourli. She shrugged.

Hauf said, “Asher was a primal Instrumentality of the region. Typically, all blood and thunder. He could be the father of the God of the Dainshaukin.”

“Wow. That's scary.”

“Madouc is concerned. So am I. You may have to deal with other players once you get there.”

Hecht glanced at Hourli again. “It's always that way. Nothing is ever straightforward and simple.” The Shining One had nothing to contribute. “Is that really what you wanted to see me about?”

“Mostly.”

Hecht wanted to find out how Hauf had been alerted to his presence in Brothe. But that was a task better left to the Shining Ones.

“So. I'm glad Madouc is doing well. Master of the Commandery? Who died?”

“The Brotherhood created a new commandery in order to keep a villain named Rogert du Tancret from having the final say at Gherig.”

“We squabbled all the time when Madouc was my chief lifeguard. He took his work dead serious and there was no flex in him.”

“I wish the Brotherhood had a thousand more like him.”

“Pity the world.”

Hauf smiled weakly. “One thing further. In the nature of a personal favor. Take Redfearn Bechter's effects with you. They're yours, by bequest, but the Brotherhood hopes you will honor one of its greatest by allowing his few things to be laid down in the soil of the lands to which he dedicated his early life.”

“That seems reasonable.” Hecht flushed slightly. Bechter's little chest was somewhere in the baggage that followed him around but he had not thought of it in months. He had given up trying to solve the puzzle or message the chest represented.

Hauf flashed a squinty look of appraisal, suspecting that Hecht had forgotten. “Thank you. In time, success permitting, we'll move his bones to the Holy Lands, too.”

The exchange baffled the others. Hecht said, “I wish we could talk more. Bechter was dear to me but I never got to know him well.”

“He was one of the few who survived the Well of Days. That was so harsh the Brotherhood sent the survivors west. They were oppressed by guilt because they had survived. They were unlikely to stand up to another hard fight.”

Redfearn Bechter never showed any weakness while serving the Captain-General. But he had not been called on to face Indala al-Sul Halaladin, either.

Hecht said, “We need to be sociable.” He announced, “We're discussing a mutual friend, Redfearn Bechter, who was with me during the Connecten campaigns.”

That helped. Some. Some recalled the sergeant.

Hecht told Hauf, “I hope I run into Madouc early. He should be able to tell me everything I need…”

Hourli's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Hecht understood that she wanted a private moment. “I need to step out for some air. I'll be right back.” He followed Hourli.

A breeze had come up. It had turned cold. Dust and trash hurtled around. “Going to rain,” the Instrumentality said. “Maybe hard.”

“Maybe. What is it?”

“The soldier priest knew you were here because he has a brace of sorcerers hidden in his fortress. They couldn't tell how you arrived but they knew you had, within minutes.”

“Sorcerers? Not good for a man in his position.”

“His intentions are pure.”

“Aren't they always?”

“The Night twists men who use it to their own ends.”

“Personal warning?”

“If it fits. There is another matter. The eternal monster beneath the city has arisen again. We annihilated it but it won't stay annihilated. The people of Brothe must have their diabolical duke of darkness.”

“That's good. Thank you.”

“You're wasting time here. Go back to Alten Weinberg.”

Hecht glared, yet saw nothing to suggest that she meant more than what she said.

“You're right. This was an emotional pilgrimage. It may not have been necessary.”

“We should get back inside.”

“Right again.”

“I'm a goddess. I'm always right.”

“In your own mind.” He rejoined the company thinking he was sadly underutilizing his supernatural allies.

He announced, “People, this has been as much a farewell as a celebration for me. I don't feel good about my prospects. I do expect the Enterprise to achieve great things. It will shape the world in countless ways, some of them unexpected. But … I do have that bad feeling. Now … it's time to say good-bye. Noë, don't cry. Titus will come through fine, probably sainted.”

Hecht gathered his flock. Consent did the same, though baffled. He whispered, “What's going on?”

“I'm not sure. It's a feeling. We may have committed more than the obvious error by making a sentimental visit.”