That could have sparked a quarrel, Kedle’s appreciation for Hope being what it was, but the Captain-General’s arrival interrupted. Ghort checked them out while his eyes adjusted to the gloom. “Squabbling again?”
“Still,” the Perfect conceded.
Kedle grumbled, “There’s nobody else to fight with. The Commander of the Righteous keeps not letting us do what we came here to do.”
“I may have some good news, then. May I sit?”
“If the news is what I want to hear you can sit on my lap.”
“I shall do my best to polish and spin it prettily, then.”
Brother Candle was shocked. Kedle was, too. She had blurted something thoughtlessly to a Captain-General hardly subtle or shy about his interest in the Widow as a woman.
The Perfect thought Kedle found the notion intriguing but confusing. She could not discuss it with him. The only woman she knew was Hope. Hope would, he thought, tell Kedle to grab the chance, being incapable of grasping the concept of monogamy herself. He thought he had a pretty good idea where Hope fit in the old pantheon, now.
The Captain-General said, “I went to Shartelle and spent some time with my old friend. We drank some, swapped some lies about the old days, caught up with friends from back when. Stuff guys do when they haven’t seen each other for a while.” He sounded disappointed.
Ghort continued, “He’s changed. He’s always as serious as a thunderhead. He has all his old friends worried. It’s like he’s made himself the best war leader ever basically by giving up what made him human.”
Kedle said, “Rumor says he’s been touched by the Night.”
“Ain’t hardly no doubt about that. And he’s attracted a bunch of others almost just like him. Though I got to admit that some of them are yummy. Evie and Aldi, man! Boyhood fantasies come to life.”
Brother Candle’s tongue betrayed him. “I think we’ve met Aldi.”
“Huh? You have?” Ghort looked baffled.
“Captain-General, you dare flirt with me, then praise other women?”
Brother Candle was surprised. He thought that Kedle had surprised herself, too. But she did have a point.
“You’re right.” Ghort was wise enough to know that nothing would help, however he said it. “So. I did task my friend about us going to seed, here. He isn’t happy with us because he can’t control us. That’s the big change I saw. He’s very controlling, now. He looks at anyone not under his orders like the Perfect looks at his lice. They’re pests and parasites.”
Kedle grumbled something about how she’d show the jerk a parasite if he ever got close enough.
Grimly, Ghort said, “Don’t say stuff like that. He’ll hear about it and take it seriously. There have been some ugly attempts to kill him. The assassins did get his sense of humor. Not that he was ever a ha-ha guy.”
“So?” Brother Candle wanted Ghort back to his excuse for visiting Kedle.
“He says it’s all right if we head east to help hold the gap between Gherig, the Well of Days, and Megaeda, so reinforcements from Lucidia can’t come through.”
“I thought Indala’s gang were trapped in Shamramdi.”
“So they are. We’re welcome to go play siege there, too, if we want. Under command of the captains on the scene.”
Before Kedle complained Brother Candle said, “You left Terliaga knowing you wouldn’t have the freedom of action you had in Arnhand.”
Ghort laughed. “Hey! No shit! We want something left standing when it’s all over.”
Kedle said, “I’ll take that as a compliment. Let’s talk, then. The man running Gherig these days. He used to be Lord Arnmigal’s bodyguard?”
“The boss lifeguard. He quit because Piper wouldn’t listen to him. Which only got him-Hecht, Lord Arnmigal, that is-almost killed a few times because he wouldn’t. He’s been lucky as hell, so far. Yeah. Madouc of Hoeles. Brotherhood of War. Exactly the kind of guy anybody who goes into that order wants to be when he grows up. I got along with him. Not real flexible, but brilliant. And considerate. Though I figure he’s changed out here, too. He’d be more active if he had more manpower. For a long time, though, too, he was up against one of the best damned war fighters that ever was.”
“Any chance we might see some action?”
Ghort dared leer and grumble, “Not as good as I’d like, probably. Damn! I said that out loud. Oh, well. You mean opportunities for old-fashioned skull busting. Damn, woman! Weren’t you listening? Gherig sits smack on the main road, the only route between Lucidia and the Holy Lands with plenty of water. If Indala ever breaks out of Shamramdi he’ll have to push through there to rescue his cousins over here.”
Kedle knew all that. She worked on being the Widow night and day. Brother Candle thought she might be playing dumb girl for Ghort’s benefit.
Let him think he was making some headway.
Kedle said, “I imagine Lord Arnmigal just wants his mavericks put where they’ll get used up weakening his enemies while staying out of his hair. He does have hair, doesn’t he? I’m not big on a man without hair. My husband began going bald before he was twenty.”
Ghort ran fingers through his wild mass of brush.
Kedle pretended to miss that. “Well, it’s a chance to do something besides go to mold.”
“For sure,” Ghort said. “For sure,” then fell silent and stayed that way, which amazed Brother Candle. The man almost never shut up.
Kedle added, “I was considering making a run at Vantrad. Those idiots aren’t ready for anything, even with the Dreangereans only two days away.”
She had been spying, and not just with Hope’s assistance, looking for something to do. Her determination irked the Perfect endlessly. It was too damned hot to be banging around!
Her notion of a surprise attack on the Holy City totally deflated Ghort.
Brother Candle had been unaware of her thinking, too. “Kedle!”
“Oh, come on! We could do it! Nobody expects us to try. They figure we’ll just loaf around until his holiness, Lord Arnmigal, the Episcopal god of war, grants us permission to inhale.”
Brother Candle chewed air like a beached carp. She was capable of such audacity because she was incapable of understanding that she should not be. She was unable to consider possible failure. She would see nothing but a chance to win the Vindicated a place in the histories.
She depended too much on Hope. This was a new war in a new land. That sweet devil must operate under tougher constraints herself. Her demonic cabal had its own secret agenda.
Kedle said, “I’ll consider this idea. Let me consult my captains.”
Brother Candle indulged a smirk. Kedle would talk at the Vindicated, after checking with Hope-if she could lure the Instrumentality.
The Perfect had to admit that he wished Hope were around more. It could be pleasant, being driven by his sinner side, inside the secret society of his mind.
Hope told Kedle, “The idea makes me uncomfortable, dear, though it is better than an attack on Vantrad. Lord Arnmigal is not understanding. He has lost his shadow. If you go after Vantrad, even though he’s never said not to, he’ll turn on you.”
Brother Candle believed her. She was in the moment. Were she human she would be shaky. But he was equally sure that she was holding back something to do with the situation around Gherig.
Hope did not want Kedle headed for the frontier. Why not?
Kedle wondered, too, clearly, and Hope was irked because she had given herself away.
Kedle was not intimidated by Hope. She might not know any intimate details but she did see that Instrumentalities need no longer be dreaded as they had in olden times. She jumped in behind Hope and threw an arm across her throat, playfully. “Give, woman! How come you’re all spooked?”
Hope was willing to play, despite the audience, but only briefly. She yielded, talked.
Kedle demanded, “Is that the sorcerer who was behind the resurrections in the Connec?”