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.