Glen Cook - Surrender to the will of the night

Those folk of Hovacol who were not still pagan preferred the Eastern Rite. A tenth of the population shared a heresy close cousin to the Maysalean of the Connec.

All that tripped Katrin’s intolerance trigger.

The Commander of the Righteous established his forward headquarters near Glimpsz, yards from a line which, if crossed, would make the Rh?n observers yonder nervous. His quartermaster scouts had gone on, to make maps and blaze routes, supervised by the Eastern Emperor’s men. He passed his days being intimate with mixed feelings. He was excited about what he was doing. It was historically unique. But he was unhappy about being far from developments in the west. And about being away from Anna and the kids. And away from Helspeth. And he was growing frightened of the changes taking place in his employer.

The Empress grew stranger by the day, in ways difficult to define. The changes were taking place inside. She wanted to hide them.

Katrin summoned the Commander of the Righteous. Hecht entered the Imperial Presence reluctantly, though he had rehearsed himself for the moment. Katrin wanted to deploy his idle forces against Hovacol. That kingdom’s people refused to give up their romance with the Eastern Rite. They tolerated heresy. They accepted the presence of pagans. They even ignored a few wicked Pramans.

She had hinted for days. He had, so far, managed to appear too thick to come to the idea on his own.

Rehearsed, Hecht spoke first. “My staff tell me enough reports are in, Your Grace.” He feigned an excitement too great to conceal. “We have all the work done. A way to do it, fast, without attracting attention, suffering minimal casualties, without offering direct insult to the Emperor. The infiltration routes are set. The men have been chosen. We can go when you give the word.”

Katrin had to be distracted from side issues like Hovacol and its preening bantam rooster king.

Hecht’s ploy worked. This time. What could have become an unpleasant evening devolved instead into celebration. Which developed its own dark side soon enough.

The Empress imbibed too much strangely flavored local water of life. Her speech became difficult to follow. None of the witnesses, including the Princess Apparent, failed to understand when Katrin invited the Commander of the Righteous to share her bed.

Those witnesses were appalled. Hecht was as frightened as ever he had been. How to get out of this?

Katrin soon proved too far gone to pursue the notion, but suppose she added that to her obsessions? Too often she did drag her frustrations to the center of her life.

The Empress remained isolated for two days, recovering from a massive hangover. There was no indication she recalled her bad behavior. No one reminded her.

Even so, when the raiders slipped into the Eastern Empire Piper Hecht went along. And Helspeth headed for the safety of Alten Weinberg.

Only after trudging southward for two days, reviewing those events all the while, did Hecht realize that a huge milestone had slipped past without his having noticed. And it was one he could in no way blame on the bad behavior of his employer.

He had moved swiftly to keep Katrin from distracting herself from her determination to rescue the Holy Lands. A committed agent of Gordimer the Lion, al-Minphet, and al-Prama would have welcomed the opportunity to wander off into Hovacol, to fritter wealth and strength butchering other Chaldareans. He would have sprung at the chance to ruin the Grail Empress’s reputation when she made that offer.

So. His loyalties had worked themselves out to the satisfaction of his soul. And he had noticed only now, well after the fact.

The job at hand, and the dread potential inherent in the interest of the Empress, left him little time for self-examination concerning that silent decision. 30. Khaurene: Death Dancing The pavane in the Khaurenesaine progressed inexorably farther into the realm of dark fortune. King Regard turned aggressive as soon as his countrymen began to join him. Always outnumbered, he succeeded, nevertheless, more often than he failed, through vigor and ferocity. He was willing to act, often without forethought.

The Khaurenese habit was to dither. To try to gather enough information to be on firm ground before making a move. The Direcian garrison had picked up the disease.

Towns and castles fell. The Arnhander forces grew stronger daily.

The King’s mother was at her most persuasive.

Regard’s successes stirred a swift response from Navaya and Castauriga. King Peter brought four thousand veterans of the Reconquest. Jaime of Castauriga brought twelve hundred, every man a blooded veteran of Los Naves de los Fantas. Coming along behind were fourteen hundred more contributed by other kings and princes.

The lords of Direcia were determined to keep Serenity and the Church from becoming too powerful in the Connec.

Thousands of Connectens headed for Khaurene, too. The Arnhander bandits would face overwhelming odds once all those fighters came together, with the armed men of Khaurene behind them.

This time Regard meant to concentrate his force instead of acting in driblets, striking in every direction. He wanted a quick conquest of Khaurene itself.

The prospect of Serenity and Anne of Menand enforcing their will in the End of Connec was so unpopular that several counts who had abandoned Tormond during the times of chaos now offered knights and soldiers for his defense.

Even Terliaga offered troops. Queen Isabeth, at Peter’s request, asked the Terliagans to concentrate on defending the Littoral. They ought not to offer Serenity further excuses for inciting religious conflict.

The Terliagans were clever enough to understand.

Brother Candle thought they were clever enough to make themselves look good with an offer they expected to be refused. Fielding Praman troops against Chaldareans in a purported Chaldarean religious squabble could irk even Peter’s best friends.

The Perfect was staying with Kedle Richeut, daughter of Raulet and Madam Archimbault. With Kedle and her husband, Soames. Who did not like the arrangement but who kept his mouth shut. Soames had no friends. He wanted no more enemies. Brother Candle found him creepy. Absolutely creepy.

More than one Seeker reminded the Perfect that Soames had returned from captivity a changed man. That he was an agent of Arnhand, or even the Society. Brother Candle acknowledged those warnings with a smile and a nod. They might be true. Likely were true. He considered that a good thing. For him. In the fork of a cleft stick, Soames dared not betray him. Further, Soames likely hoped to deliver him to his secret masters once Khaurene fell.

The Perfect might be the coin wherewith Soames purchased safety for himself and his family.

In brief, for the moment, Brother Candle felt safer and freer in the house of the enemy. Too, he was sheltered by Kedle’s upbringing. The girl had problems but she was no running dog of the Adversary.

Brother Candle felt comfortable going out amongst the Seekers of Khaurene. Because Regard was terrorizing everything north of Khaurene, and getting stronger by the day, Tormond’s Direcian allies, and those Khaurenese who wanted the Duke’s succession scheme to fail, had little time to hunt a missing Perfect.

When he did preach Brother Candle always worked in a few words about Tormond’s adoption of Count Raymone. Though embarrassed, he sang Raymone’s praises, too. Strictly as a patriot.

Time fled at a blistering pace, headed for an apocalypse. Khaurene desperately wanted more in which to prepare. But, long before anyone high or low wanted, Arnhander crusaders appeared north of the city.

Brother Candle joined the crowds on the wall, weakly disguised, usually with Kedle and her children. Sometimes he went out with other elderly Maysaleans taking a break from getting ready to spit in the eye of doom. He saw smoke in the distance several times, never explained. Nearer to hand the enemy did not repeat past mistakes by destroying resources he might need later.