“Uh … Majesty?”
“You’re daydreaming again. We have a problem.”
“I don’t see anything. But I’m to Night things like a deaf man to a song.”
The Graf said, “I don’t feel it, now.”
The Archbishop, despite his tic, pulled himself together.
Hecht came up with a more disturbing suspicion.
One of the Old Ones had been eavesdropping.
* * *
The Commander of the Righteous assembled his staff. He surveyed faces. These men were not as excited as once they had been. But they were attentive and professional. And ardently tired.
“Some of it was no surprise.” He settled his behind against a tall stool. His wounds from that last assassination attempt were reminding him that he was still mortal and that they still needed further healing-however little they had bothered him recently.
“We’ll have the same backing we did when Katrin was Empress. Plus.” He scanned faces again. Could they keep their mouths shut? “None of you have given me reason to mistrust your discretion. So far. I need that to continue. What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room. If it does, I’ll know exactly how and who. All right, then. Empress Katrin willed the incomes from her properties to us for as long as it takes to liberate the Holy Lands.”
That caused some chatter. Hecht let it simmer. He answered no questions. “Now, the final point. So we’ll have more pull with the knightly and noble classes, Katrin also assigned me her title as lord of Eathered and Arnmigal. Her mother’s family will back that.”
Titus Consent said, “I see an assassination attempt hours after we’re declared successful.”
Hecht nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised. On the other hand, we’ll have some outstanding, if slippery, associates working with us. They’ll let us know if treachery is afoot.”
Carava de Bos said, “You and Titus keep talking about some stud new folks coming on board. Who? When do we get to meet them?”
“It shouldn’t be long.”
Just fifteen minutes, in fact. A messenger from the sentries at the street door reported arrivals who insisted they had an appointment with the Commander of the Righteous. They looked important and were impatient. What to do?
The messenger was both terrified and starry-eyed. Hecht told him, “Bring them up.”
Five Shining Ones entered the meeting room: Hourlr and Hourli, Sheaf and her daughter Aldi, and Eavijne. Eavijne looked lost, Sheaf and Aldi as though they wanted to vamp the world. Hourli told Hecht, “The others will be here soon. They haven’t yet seen all the wonders.”
“And Vrislakis and those?”
“Djordjevice the Foul is no more. Your Heris is doom itself. The rest will be undone soon.”
“Excellent!” Hecht considered these five. They had done well making themselves look human-but not the sort who faded into a crowd. They were beautiful, radiating power and a weird and dynamic tension between lust and dread. The men began selecting goddesses for slavering devotion.
Hecht was not immune. “Hourli, you see what’s happening?”
“See it and smell it. They don’t do it on purpose. It takes a conscious effort to control.” Her eyes rolled up. Her face became an indeterminate shimmer.
The sensual charge in the air declined to a level not unusual for a room full of younger men suddenly exposed to a clutch of attractive women.
Hourlr had fun watching.
Hecht told Hourli, “We’ll never get anything done if you can’t keep those fires banked.”
“They understand in here.” Hourli knocked herself in the forehead. “But it’s been ages since they’ve been able to run wild. Nobody knows them. Nobody fears them anymore. They don’t yet understand in here, or here.” She tapped herself over her heart, then her crotch. “But don’t despair. They’re working through it. Now they’re all excited about helping you.”
That sent a chill down Hecht’s spine.
Hourli touched his shoulder. “I wish you would trust us.”
He smiled, weakly. He was not yet entirely convinced that he dared believe they existed.
“Tell us what you want done. Work will keep us out of mischief.”
He sometimes fell asleep worrying that. How could a mortal manage indentured gods? He had a list of chores, of use but not especially imaginative.
Hourli whispered, “Interesting game you have going with your Empress. Is the object to see who goes mad from self-denial first?”
Hecht nearly panicked. But only he had heard.
His staff were still distracted by hormonal hangovers.
Hecht said, “Gentlemen, these people get immediate access to me. Unless I’m sleeping. More will show up eventually. You’ll know them when you see them.”
* * *
The others turned up next afternoon, during Hecht’s meeting with Archbishop Brion. Brion pressed the usual Brothen Episcopal agenda. His heart was not in his bullying, though. He knew he was wasting his breath.
He understood more soon after Titus leaned through the doorway to announce, “Three ladies to see you, Commander. The ones you told us to expect.”
Hecht felt their presence before they came in, as did the Archbishop, who nearly whimpered when he saw them. They had no special look, though. They had taken the semblance of middle-aged tradesmen’s wives.
Wife had done an especially fine job making herself into a dowager milliner. But there was no stopping the feeling of Night coming off her.
“Greetings,” Hecht said. “I see you’ve been eating well.”
All three were less tenuous than they had been.
Wife considered the Archbishop. “This one is sensitive.”
Brion croaked, “Demons! Commander … are you trafficking with demons?”
“Instrumentalities. Which the Church does, too, when it’s convenient. This lady became a national saint in Andoray a century ago.” In the thinnest disguise.
Brion’s tic returned, with a palsy added. He had some historical training. He worked out the identity of the milliner’s wife.
She offered him a benevolent smile.
He nearly melted in terror.
All Shining Ones had their dark sides. Each figured in some tale where wickedness got done to mortals or denizens of the other worlds. It was no great matter that the Instrumentalities might be responding to bad deeds done them with deeds more wicked. The deeper truth was that the Shining Ones decided what deserved divine retribution.
Viciously senseless divine behavior was central to all religions birthed in the Holy Lands. The God of the Dainshaukin was especially irrational and cruel.
Those Instrumentalities seemed starved for the fear of mortals.
Some mortals now offered fear back.
Piper Hecht did not feel good, thinking that.
He asked Brion, “Do you know the old northern gods the Church pushed aside?”
Brion croaked, “Yes. Some.”
“Despite Church doctrine, the Shining Ones existed. Now they’re the Old Ones to people up north. And they’re still around.” Hecht gestured at Wife and the Choosers. “They’re indentured to the Righteous. They’ll help liberate the Holy Lands. And you, my friend, will keep that to yourself. While being the best damned Archbishop you can. Understand?”
The Choosers moved out of Hecht’s sight. They showed Brion something that served up another helping of terror. He babbled assurances that no one would hear a word from him.
“I do hope that’s true,” Hecht told him. “For your sake, I do.”
* * *
The last visitor had gone. Hecht could relax with some routine administrative work. He told Consent, “When you’re young you daydream about being a famous warlord. But once you’re there you find out that mostly you do political stuff.”
Consent shrugged. “Not something I’ll ever have to worry about. You needed something?”
“Not exactly. Lila was here today. I didn’t see her. She brought mail. There’s something for you from Noë.”
After an instant of excitement, Titus grumped, “She’s probably knocked up again. I don’t know how she manages.”