The Instrumentality planed down over the western edge of the wood, landed in front of a woodcutter’s shack. Socia settled beside her. The place was abandoned but had not been so for long. The tenant had chosen not to be discovered in an area where wholesale murder was being done.
Socia changed. “Oh, Aaron’s Sacred Ass, it’s cold.”
“Clothe thyself. I will start a fire, then find thee something warmer.”
“Who are you? What are you? Why must you interfere in our lives?”
“Some call me Dawn, some, Hope. I be the dawn destined to rise beyond the Twilight.”
That made no sense. “What is this twilight?”
The Instrumentality got a fire blazing with magical swiftness. “Twilight is this age. The one in which thou livest. The time when the gods themselves may be slain. Old Ones have fallen in thy own land. Great Old Ones, from the time before time, are dying at the hands of my kin. I, with my brother who is lost, will be the bridge into the time that is coming.”
“Now tell me a story that makes sense.” Shivering despite the fire.
“As thou wist.”
* * *
Dawn expanded her tale in snatches, betimes skipping in and out to steal clothing. Socia stayed close to the fire. In fits and starts the Instrumentality got Socia to explain what she hoped to accomplish.
Dawn said, “Thy ability to change is thy sharpest tool, aye, but thee needs must plan, not just charge and rely on confusion.”
The Instrumentality vanished. She wanted to develop a specific inventory of clothing. She explained, “A common look, so thou may shift face whilst none do look.”
Socia grunted. The child-goddess was thinking more deeply than she.
“Thou hast no mind for the cunning, methinks. Thou art infatuated with the direct. Thou preferest to assail the object of thy frustration till it dost break. Would it not confuse thy enemies more if his captains kept appearing and disappearing with confusing and contradictory orders?”
Socia shut her eyes. She wished Brother Candle were here to advise her-and to tell her what she was learning about the Instrumentality. “Better still if those captains appeared unexpectedly and stuck knives in their comrades’ livers.”
“Ah. Thou art truly the soul sister of the Widow.”
“I’m pragmatic. I go with what works. The opinions of moral scorekeepers mean nothing. The men I may kill would send me to the stake if they could.”
“Let us begin. Arngrere is four miles west. Thou shouldst consult the Widow’s captains. Thou couldst end this with a single bold stroke.”
“I could. But that’s not the way I’m doing it.”
“Pardon?”
“They’ll waste time fussing over me. Then they’ll waste time planning, mainly to keep me far from danger. Which will void my strength and purpose.”
“But…”
“I’ll go straight in. I’ll cause chaos and confusion. I’ll open a gate somehow. You will alert the Vindicated to their opportunity.”
The Instrumentality stared, peeved. She did not have control. But she did not argue.
“We’ll stay here, keep warm, and move after dark.”
“Unless the smoke from yon fire doth attract attention.”
Socia asked, “Are there more like you? Your brother is in prison?”
“He is trapped in another world. Eucereme. The Aelen Kofer have sealed the gateways between the worlds. He is a prisoner in that sense. We will find a means of opening the way.”
“We? There are more like you, then.”
“There are other Shining Ones. None like me.”
“Would one have a crippled right hand?”
“Uh…? No. Zyr lost his sword hand, long ago. But he did not escape the Realm of the Gods.”
Socia understood none of that and was disinclined to find out what it meant. She wanted to talk about the giant eagle. She did note that Dawn’s speech seemed slightly less archaic. For the moment.
Dawn sighed. Despite the fire her breath clouded briefly.
“You do have some idea of what I’m talking about.”
“I know who that was. He must have been investigating sightings of a giant bird. No doubt he meant to deny thee thy ability to change shape.”
“So, not only are there more of you, there are factions.”
“Those Shining Ones dedicated to the success of the Chaldarean invasion of the Holy Lands might view what I have been doing negatively.”
That was a thick slice of cautious evasion. “Old heathen gods, who aren’t even supposed to exist, will help the Commander of the Righteous drive the Pramans out of the Holy Lands?”
“Yes.”
Socia had trouble getting her mind around that.
Dawn said, “Once thou art established with the Widow’s soldiers I shall get the story from Asgrimmur.”
“Weren’t you listening? I’m not going to deal directly with the Vindicated. I’m going straight into Arngrere. You’ll stay outside, with the Vindicated, in whatever guise you like. You want to visit your friends, do it after Kedle is free.”
The Instrumentality’s irritation was intense. Socia felt it as an actual physical pressure. Dawn should not be pushed any more.
“Asgrimmur?” Socia asked. “Odd name for a god.”
“Asgrimmur is no deity. He is an ascendant. A mortal who achieved Instrumentality status. In his case, unintentionally, as a result of his part in destroying two Instrumentalities who tried to use him as a weapon against one another.”
Socia remained at sea.
She continued to engage Dawn in conversation. And concluded that the Instrumentality was not as bright as she thought. Which reinforced the Countess’s estimate of the Old Ones in general, based on myth and legend.
Before Socia knew half what she wanted, Dawn announced, “I am going. Do thou as it pleaseth thee.”
Socia felt an immediate sense of loss, loneliness, and isolation. It might be manipulation but it was real, emotionally. She got up and followed the Instrumentality into the light of late afternoon.
Dawn stopped not far from an outpost where pickets watched for an Arnhander relief force. “They waste their time. The Arnhanders squabble amongst themselves, pointing fingers. That Stephan of Bley holds Arngrere hinders the process. Nobody likes Stephan of Bley.”
“This is where we part,” Socia said. “You go tell them the castle will be betrayed.”
“As thou wilt.”
Socia examined her companion. Dawn had become a woman with hard eyes and weather-beaten skin, like a once-handsome peasant of middle years. She strode toward the pickets with purpose. The soldiers welcomed her, chatted with her, provided her with a horse.
What Socia saw confirmed suspicions birthed when she found the Instrumentality in her tree.
Dawn explained Kedle’s success. Dawn helped Kedle evade every ambush and showed her how to be perfectly positioned at the perfect time to inflict great embarrassment on Anne of Menand and those Arnhanders who had participated in the invasions of the Connec.
Socia watched till Dawn passed out of sight, headed toward Arngrere and its besiegers. In this unfriendly season the Vindicated would depend more on the Instrumentality for intelligence about food supplies than for the whereabouts of enemies.
Socia withdrew into better cover, with less wind, and awaited the night. She began to learn truths about Socia Rault.
* * *
Socia soon wished that she had retreated to the woodcutter’s hut till it was time. First point of learning: Socia Rault was impatient and impatience always cost. She shivered till she feared her body would be too exhausted to make any changes.
The sky became overcast. Snow might be coming. Eventually, she ground her teeth and stripped, carefully folded each article, and stuffed it into her sack.
The chill gnawed her bare flesh like wolves with fangs of ice. The stones in the necklace felt colder still, but all that retreated to the level of annoyance once she took a winged form.
She rose a thousand feet. From that vantage she quickly discovered the unique nest of shadows that marked Arngrere, which was more imposing vertically than horizontally. It was sited badly for defense. It was one of those Arnhander castles built more to overawe the neighbors than to offer sanctuary in times of danger.