Hecht said, “Remind me to see Noë and the kids before I go. If I can get away with it.”
Felske made them as comfortable as she could while Mrs. Creedon fed them.
Anna said, “I’m surprised looters haven’t torn this place apart.”
Mrs. Creedon said, “Some had the notion. The master anticipated them. Someone comes in that the house doesn’t know, it tears them apart.”
Osa Stile strolled in, made a startled sound, locked gazes with Hecht. The catamite did not look an hour older than when they had run into one another during the first siege of Antieux. He wanted to demand an explanation of Stile’s presence, then recalled that Osa had been rescued from the same cellar where Cloven Februaren had found Pella imprisoned. “Armand. You’re looking well.”
“As are you, Commander. I wonder, sir. Will the new Empress have the Righteous go on building a Holy Lands expedition?”
“Remains to be determined. Why?”
“Time spent in a lightless cell, without hope, has a way of turning one’s thoughts inward. I found a spiritual side I didn’t know I had. I would like to make the pilgrimage. I have a debt to repay a certain rascal.”
Hecht inclined his head just enough to let Stile know he understood.
“I can be useful, Commander. And I’ve overstayed my welcome here, playing to the Principaté’s residual affection.”
“Can you get to Alten Weinberg? And can you behave yourself?” Hecht could not state it explicitly but found Stile’s sexual proclivities repulsive.
“Yes to the first. To the second, honestly, I can say only probably. I have no desires at the moment but that could change.”
The catamite, shaped by sorcery to remain a boy indefinitely, had suffered bad times and bad people in order to spy for er-Rashal and Ferris Renfrow. He soldiered on.
Turking reappeared, having made remarkable time. He said Principaté Delari would arrive soon.
Pella turned up not long afterward. “Anna’s house is in good shape but three men are living there. They say Paludan Bruglioni sent them because the senate made Pinkus Ghort stop using constabularii to guard the place.”
Hecht said, “I should see Pinkus. It’s been a long time.”
“You’d do better to give up wishful thinking,” Heris said. “You might be friends with Ghort and Saluda and even Paludan Bruglioni but that doesn’t change the political environment. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re suddenly the hero of the Grail Empire, what’s been the Patriarchy’s dearest enemy for two hundred years.”
“This is what happens when you engage the world at more than a tactical level.”
“I won’t even pretend I understand what you just said. Turking, we aren’t ignoring you. We just have too much fun bickering. Did you have something besides the fact that Grandfather is on his way?”
“No. Nothing more than that, Lady.”
“Ha! You heard that, Piper. Everybody heard it. I’ve got one man so bamboozled he thinks I’m a lady.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Enough of that, children.”
Muniero Delari had arrived. Quietly. Evidently, little that he saw pleased him. He held his thoughts, joined the cook. “That looks delicious, Mrs. Creedon. I hadn’t yet eaten when Turking came. Can you stretch that to include me?”
Mrs. Creedon grunted. His question required no answer. Of course she could. He paid her wages.
The Principaté eyeballed his descendents again and was no more pleased. “Anna, your adventures have put some red into your cheeks.”
Flattery Hecht heard with no sense of threat. The old man preferred nubile boys-though he had shown little interest there since he parted with Osa Stile.
Heris growled, mood darkening by the moment. Hecht thought she might want to be told what a good job she had done with the Old Ones.
Whatever he said now would sound contrived.
Lila sensed it, too. And it was not too late for her. “You should have seen Heris, Opah. She was amazing. There were all these old-time gods and she wrapped them around her fingers. Except for the ones Anna blasted. You should’ve seen.”
Opah? That was a way of saying Grandpa, up north.
Delari did not object. This was not a first offense.
You missed the changes when you were away in the field. On the other hand, you did notice them.
Delari said, “Do tell. Heris, you amaze me. You’ve grown dramatically since Grade brought you here. Mrs. Creedon, are you ready? Yes? Let’s sit. The lamb pie smells wonderful. Lila, go on. Tell the whole story.” He eyed the other children suspiciously. They were unnaturally quiet. “Armand, you are not to repeat any of this.”
“You won’t believe me, but I never have.”
Stile had it right. Hecht believed little that he heard from the catamite. He scratched his wrist. He had not realized how all-pervasive the power was in this world.
Lila was full of surprises, lately. Her ability to tell a story was another. Vali acted as chorus, chiming in with interesting details at intervals separate enough that her interruptions were not obnoxious.
“Interesting,” Delari said when Lila finished, by which time everyone but she had filled up on lamb pie. “Quite an adventure. I envy you, Heris. I’ve never had an adventure.”
Hecht and the catamite both stared.
Osa, Turking, Felske, and Mrs. Creedon congratulated Lila on a tall tale convincingly told. It could not be true, of course. Those devil gods could not possibly exist. And she had best not tell her story where priests could hear her. The Church was a tad more tolerant now, thanks to the Commander, but the small minds of the Society had long memories.
Hecht’s amulet itched so badly that he said, “Principaté, you need to check this thing Februaren put on me. It’s driving me crazy. Oh. Never mind, then.”
Pillars of sparkle formed in the small bit of open space left in the crowded kitchen. They became Hourli and Hourlr.
Pella cracked, “Lila really can bring a story to life, can’t she?”
There could be no doubt that these were Instrumentalities of the Night.
The male twin faced Heris. “There you are. It has been difficult, tracing you. We’re feeling better, now, thank you. The magic is thin but it does still exist. A wallow in a well of power would be divine.”
Hourli faced Hecht. “Your world has grown strange, Godslayer. We are nearly forgotten.”
No one seized the moment to take a fundamentalist stand.
No one seemed to know what to say, either.
Mrs. Creedon asked, “Would you like some lamb pie?”
Hourlr replied, “If we take a mortal shape our bodies require mortal sustenance. So, yes, dear lady, I would love some lamb pie.”
Mrs. Creedon blushed.
Hourli nodded. She was willing, too.
Heris asked, “Where are the others?”
Hourlr replied. “Running free. Basking in what power there is. Seeing the changes in the world. Wondering what you did that has never been done before.”
Hecht studied the reactions of Muniero Delari’s staff. Delari himself was taking it all in stride, despite his place as a Prince of the Church.
Some religious insiders did admit that all things were possible within the Night-so long as someone believed. They strove to control that by managing the belief.
Principaté Delari mused, “Piper is entertaining heretical thoughts.” He chuckled. “Yes, Piper, some of us do understand that the Night is bigger than our one God. Most of us do. And most of us can square that with our faith. In Old Andoray they followed one family from the generation of deities known generically as the Old Gods. Only a few people believe in their existence anymore, but the Old Ones still believe in themselves, which is more important today. Overall, the Church, rather than deny what anyone with eyes can see, has reassigned the Old Ones to servitude in the house of the Adversary. As demons they can continue to exist without stealing glory from God in the Highest.”