A flirty look from Daedel followed.
Piper Hecht, less schooled in romantic intrigue than the virgin Empress, never had a clue. He sipped coffee, frowned, asked, “And?”
Lady Hilda swatted him across the back of the head. “Aaron’s eyes! Are you really that dense?”
Yes. He was. Because once he completed the calculations that led him to conclude that a place of assignation had been developed he assumed that Lady Hilda was the wanton who hoped to meet him there.
She freshened his coffee, asked, “You still think he’s a genius?”
“Possibly an idiot savant. I do confess, Hilda, that I’ve seen boulders catch on quicker. Draw him a picture.”
The Daedel woman did so using words of one syllable and flagrant hand gestures. Hecht had figured it out but said nothing. He was embarrassed both by the proposition and by his own inability to pick up on the situation. He sat there and glowed red.
Lady Hilda observed, “He’s got it. It won’t be necessary to summon the beadles from the madhouse … yet.”
Not trusting himself to keep his feet out of his mouth, Hecht kept that mouth shut. He did not state the obvious, that no good could come of this.
The Empress said, “Ten of the clock, most nights, Hilda will be praying over the relicts of Saint Miniver. And now, because it took us so long to get this far, we’re out of time to talk any more.”
Hilda opened the door, began to hustle about. Hecht ignored her, focused on calming himself and wondering if he had the strength to stay away from St. Miniver, Martyr.
The expanded quiet room went to waste. Few of the usual conferees appeared. Helspeth observed, “This is a disaster. Lord Arnmigal, where is your intelligence specialist?”
“Hard at work somewhere, I hope. I couldn’t find her.”
The unannounced object of the meeting, Anselin of Menand, turned up right on time, accompanied by his newly found friend Armand.
Hecht marveled but wondered why he was surprised. There had been ample clues.
The Empress said, “Prince Anselin, we would prefer you to have brought the Compte de Longé.”
“Apologies, Majesty. The man was not at his residence. No one knew his whereabouts.”
Hecht said, “Forget him. He’s a dedicated snoop. He heard I’d be tied up here so he’s out sneaking around the edges of the Righteous, looking for something Anne might find interesting.”
Helspeth said, “He should be here. This concerns him, too. But we’ll go forward without.” She glared holes through Armand.
Hecht said, “Armand will not be a problem. I’ve known him a long time. He’s trustworthy. He brought my son here from Brothe.”
Now Helspeth was unhappy with him. He ought not to be mentioning his family after the offer so recently presented.
Helspeth ordered, “Everyone sit. Hilda. Coffee.”
Hecht passed. He had drunk too much already.
The Empress said, “Straight to it. And let the others whine about missing out. Prince Anselin, your mother has agreed to ransom you. You’ll be headed home soon.”
Anselin said, “Get it in writing and have it witnessed by the Patriarch. Otherwise you’ll see nothing once I’m over the frontier.”
Hecht remarked, “She did short Sublime V on a deal they had.”
Anselin nodded. “True. But that was more his fault than hers. The shipments were taken by bandits or enemies, en route.”
Hecht said no more. He had engineered the disappearance of most of that specie.
Helspeth said, “We do understand that you don’t get on with your mother. That comes up whenever we dine or walk the Winter Garden together.”
Hecht frowned. She wanted to make him jealous with Armand right there?
Helspeth went on, “You seem obsessed with her bad behavior. You threatened to send her into a cloister. We would like to hear your thinking now that you know you will, in fact, be in a position to do something of that sort.”
Anselin had no ready reply.
Hecht said, “She does have talents any ruler would find useful-if her more wicked habits could be curbed.”
Hecht meant Anne’s talent for intrigue. Anselin thought he meant her appetite for adventures of the flesh. “Another reason to put her into orders.”
Helspeth said, “She has powerful allies.”
“She has allies but no friends. There will be dramatic changes once I’m crowned. The landscape of the court will shift immediately.”
“Good luck with that. Hilda heard an interesting story recently. Hilda, share that with these gentlemen.”
“It was in a letter from my brother Ewald, who writes dutifully whether he has anything to say or not. Being the youngest, management of the family holding in the Roessen devolved on him. The Roessen is in Arnhand, on the north bank of the…”
“Hilda. To the point.”
“Mestlé, Anne’s estate in the Roessen, isn’t far from Oferin Bostal, Ewald’s estate. Henri of Mariscot visits Mestlé whenever Anne is there. That started after Regard’s death. Ewald thinks that could be important.”
Hecht did not know Henri of Mariscot. Anselin, obviously, did and was not happy to hear the name.
Lady Hilda said, “Ewald also says Anne has installed Serenity at Mestlé. That has caused a lot of traffic past Oferin Bostal.”
Hecht smelled intrigue. Its nature became clear when Anselin said, “Henri d’Mariscot is my father’s cousin. Till I provide an heir he stands next in succession. He suffers the same weaknesses for which my father was famous. Thank you, Empress, for this conversation. It has been illuminating. I must find the Compte de Longé and hear his tall tales. If I may be so bold as to withdraw immediately.”
“You have our leave. Hold yourself ready for further consultation.”
Anselin agreed and departed quickly. Armand trotted to keep up. Hecht asked, “How much of that was true?”
“All of it,” Lady Hilda replied.
“So. Anne agrees to ransom Anselin but at the same time she’s scheming to replace him with a more tractable candidate.”
“She’s a hard woman,” Helspeth said. “Who, for reasons known only to herself, has never entertained a motherly emotion toward Anselin. I think she’ll ransom him just so she can lay hands on him.”
Hecht said, “Then his advice about financial arrangements would be sound.”
“Yes. What should our position be? Lord Arnmigal. You got to know him during your return from Cholate?”
“No, Majesty. He was not sociable.”
“Nor has he been since his arrival here.” Helspeth sloughed her imperial mask. “What we just saw, in the person of that foul boy, makes me think that Anselin might be my ideal husband.”
Lady Hilda remarked, “Lord Arnmigal appears to be disconcerted.” He was, indeed.
Helspeth said, “That would ally the Empire with a rich kingdom and would silence those Electors who keep barking about a marriage.”
There would be succession complications, of course, if Helspeth married Anselin and produced a child. Hecht ignored that. He thought he knew what was going on. “That’s ingenious. We’d have to protect him from his mother till he was soundly established in Salpeno, though. We’d have to send an escort. Clej Sedlakova or Hagen Brokke? Brokke, I suppose. How many men? We don’t want to short ourselves for the Enterprise. Rhuk or Prosek, one of them would have to go…” Both women looked at him like he had sprouted antlers.
He shut up, sipped cold coffee.
Helspeth said, “We are pleased by your enthusiasm, Lord Arnmigal.” She did not look pleased, however.
“My apologies, Majesty. I got carried away by facetious notions.”
“Facetious? I wonder.” Then, “Give us a status report on the Righteous, then on plans for assimilation of the broader host.”
Each day requests arrived from men of substance who wanted to join in the Enterprise. A wind of religious passion was sweeping the west, though its reality was not evident in Alten Weinberg.