Glen Cook - Working God's Mischief

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.”