She had friends. Allies, really. Among those were a few minor Instrumentalities, though none like the monsters guarding Lord Arnmigal. She would persevere. She would come back.
She was not wise enough to be afraid.
Hourli warned Lord Arnmigaclass="underline" it was dangerously kind not to save the future from possible pretenders to Vantrad’s throne.
Lord Arnmigal was preoccupied with the Grail Empress. He cared little what people thought, though he did concern himself about their perceptions of her. He intended doing nothing to stain her reputation more than he had.
He failed completely to notice the Shining Ones sketching a fog around his all-too-revelatory behavior.
He and she settled in comfortably, against inconsequential resistance, which the Shining Ones handled easily. Wife began to appear with Lord Arnmigal as a more glamorous and warmer Grail Empress. Her audiences thought that must be because she had added the Holy City to the Imperial diadem.
Lady Hilda enjoyed the change, at the real Helspeth’s expense.
The Praman community fell into anguished despair. The Believers were being battered and decimated everywhere, with the Hu’n-tai At now gnawing at the Realm of Peace in the east.
The Dreangerean host southwest of Vantrad evaporated. Even its Sha-lug components fled in despair.
Pella strutted like a gamecock when he reported. He had learned from masters and had learned quite well. He had lost only a handful of men.
* * *
Vantrad’s citadel boasted a quiet room worthy of the paranoia of Queen Clothilde. It was perfectly maintained and one of the stoutest ever built. Its walls were three feet thick. It had been reengineered and improved by senior brethren of the Special Office. Titus Consent met Lord Arnmigal there following some sleight of hand meant to divert invisible watchers. Hecht asked, “What’s with the sneakery and shadow dancing?”
“Just Plain Joe is back from visiting his pal, Bo Biogna, out by Gherig.”
Lord Arnmigal probed his Else Tage memories for the lie of that land.
Gherig loomed on high ground to the south. The land in front fell away to a plain, then gradually rose again to the north. Those highlands became the Neret Mountains and haunted Idiam. The Well of Days, site of Indala al-Sul’s signature triumph, lay not far north and east.
Lord Arnmigal opined, “I hope Joe enjoyed himself. He comes nearer being a true good man than anyone I know. He deserves more joy of life.”
“I would argue that we all do. God won’t give it to us.”
“He got back quick. Did he find out something important?”
“In a nutshell. Nobody out there is making a big deal, maybe because they haven’t seen the implications. I think our demonic allies have and are hoping we won’t.” Titus raised a hand, forestalling Hecht’s impatience. “The Dreangerean villain, er-Rashal, has created a spell that makes firepowder explode at a distance or at least fizzle and clog the falcon.”
Lord Arnmigal gulped some air and chewed.
“The spell reaches beyond the reliable killing range of most falcons. Falconeers who can fire don’t have much hope of actually hitting anything.”
“And the Shining Ones know.”
“They do. And want to keep it quiet.”
“So they think they see a way to be safe from the mortal instruments of a would-be Godslayer.”
“If they can get hold of er-Rashal’s secret.”
“They don’t have it?”
“They do not. Only the Dreangerean has the spell, and that only inside his head. Spying on him won’t do any good.”
“Unless they catch him in the process.”
“Maybe. But they have to be careful not to show their interest. Also, the sorcerer has put up some formidable supernatural barriers. I doubt they can get close enough to watch him work.” Consent went on with other news from the frontier, adding some speculation. “Madouc hasn’t seen all the possibilities but he’s definitely worried about Asher. The Special Office types at Gherig are pressuring him. Too, Joe says some Pramans have joined Madouc. Indala’s men, supposedly there to help handle er-Rashal.”
Hecht grunted. That was puzzling. Indala helping Madouc with the Rascal? With the Special Office, Black Rogert, the Shining Ones, and who knew what all else there to see?
Er-Rashal had somebody really worried. Something major must be about to break.
The old Norns came to mind, silently spinning, lamplight painting their silhouettes on the paper screen that was the wall between them and the universe, a boundary neither man nor god dared violate.
He spurned the image. Illusion! Wicked imagination! Only the God Who Is God could write one’s destiny …
He suppressed a burst of hysterical laughter.
“Boss?”
“We have a world of people playing their own games, me included. Suppose I just jumped in like a bear into a gaggle of puppies?”
Titus considered. “That might be too risky.”
“Good. Then that’s what we’ll do. Nobody will expect it.”
“Boss…”
What else to do now? Vantrad was in hand. Iresh abd al-Kadiri had been chased off. The Enterprise had achieved most of its goals against almost feeble resistance. All of the Holy Lands cities had submitted to the Grail Empress. The natives were not happy. If they behaved, however, changes at the royal level would mean little to farmers, herders, shopkeepers, and artisans. They would face the same old challenges and complain the same old complaints. They would lie to the tax collectors with fabulous imagination. They would bully neighbors who failed to demonstrate an adequately enlightened attitude toward the divine. Life would go on much as it always had.
The Commander of the Righteous, however, would have to make new choices soon. Once Shamramdi fell the Enterprise would have to find an expanded mission or begin to come apart. King Stain might get no chance to assemble his reinforcing wave.
Dreanger would be recovered for the Chaldarean faith. Lucidia, too, with the capture of Shamramdi. But that would set the Enterprise face-to-face with the sons of Tsistimed the Golden and the Hu’n-tai At.
There was the du Tancret option, of course. The dearly held dream of the most fanatic Chaldareans would be to capture and destroy Jezdad and the holiest holies of al-Prama.
“Boss? You still in there?”
“Eh? What?”
“Are you serious? What you suggested? Us heading out to Gherig?”
“Sure. To deal with er-Rashal. It doesn’t take a lot of thought to see that he’s the biggest threat at the moment. Once he goes down we can impose whatever realignment we want in this region.”
He had no desire to obliterate al-Prama. The Faith had been a part of him. Never had he entertained the notion of that religion’s annihilation. He would have been outraged had the suggestion been offered.
“Boss?”
“Yes?” Irritated now. Titus ought to be off to get things started.
“What does it mean when the Shining Ones say, ‘He lost his shadow somewhere’?”
That startled Lord Arnmigal. He knew that must have meaning but could recall none. “I’m not sure. It sounds portentous, though. Why?”
“Wife and Hourli say it about you. It bothers me.”
Hecht had overheard the phrase himself recently without paying heed or realizing that he was its object. “‘Lost his way,’ wouldn’t quite fit, would it? I’ll ask Hourli. She’ll turn up fast once she hears that we’re headed east.”
An air-clearing session with Hourli might be especially useful before the cloudy side developed deeper shadows. Once the Adversary began threading lies into things …
42. Gherig: Congruence, Conjunction, and Union