Hope chided, “That’s a bit of an overreach, darling.”
The men chuckled.
“I want it. I don’t expect to get it. We’ll start by making the camp look unprepared. Pickets should be drowsing. We’ll offer an obvious, safe path to the command tent, where they can lop the head off the dragon before it knows that it’s in trouble.”
The boys from Arngrere oozed into the tent. The bolder of the two gave a nod and thumbs-up despite all the eyes upon him.
38. The Holy Lands: Reconnaissance by Combat
Piper Hecht opened his eyes after allowing them momentary relief from the sun’s brilliance. He sat on a hilltop, behind a cluttered table, overlooking Shartelle and its harbors from the northeast. There were breaches in the mighty wall. Starving defenders strove to fill them before any crusader attack. The Righteous, however, were content to wait.
Hecht’s main strength had gone away, to overrun Praman cities along the coast and explore the approaches to Vantrad. He expected to fight at least one major battle getting there. The Pramans dared not fail to try to stop him. Not to fight would constitute acknowledgement that God had chosen to stand with the Enterprise.
The misnamed White Sea was a brilliant azure. Allied warships patrolled beyond Shartelle’s harbors. They showed the colors of Aparion, Dateon, and the Eastern Empire. Jackals all, they were eager to feast on the Righteous’s kill.
“She always overdoes it, doesn’t she?” Lord Arnmigal grumped. Hourli had just brought news from east of Triamolin. “The economic impact will be severe, especially in agriculture. She killed four hundred eighty men with just a handful of followers.”
“It was a clever ambush by hardened butchers. And Aldi helped. She could have cleaned up a force five times the size of that one.”
Hecht sighed. He did not like having killers out there who were not his to control.
Hourli said, “She wanted to announce her presence.”
“Damned if she didn’t. Everyone will know the Widow now.” He shut his eyes again. The reflection off the sea was not pleasant. “Will it have any strategic impact?”
“Timid souls will stay out of her way. Indala? How would you expect him to react?”
“He’ll fuss, but what can he do? He’s locked up. And he doesn’t let emotion push him into making deadly mistakes.”
“Members of his family were among those who organized the raid. Any survivors will be some of the prisoners the Widow is sending us.”
“There were survivors?” That was a surprise, the Widow being so bloodthirsty.
“About a dozen. Three Lucidians, one Dreangerean, the rest local shakes. She wanted to kill them all. One of the other commanders talked her into sending them to us.”
“What is that boy doing?”
Pella, halfway down to the nearest siege works, was easy to spot. He favored flamboyant local Chaldarean costume these days. He wanted to be noticed. Hecht hoped he would not regret the conceit.
Wife departed the tent that gave respite from the sun, a pleasure Hecht exploited often. He had forgotten how fierce that orb could be, here.
The Instrumentality murmured to Hourli. Hourli leaned down, told Lord Arnmigal, “Your son has found a city militia captain who will open a gate in exchange for the safety of his family and property.”
“Excellent.” He was not surprised. Shartelle had been stubborn but most of its people recognized that the end was near. Every relief effort had been crushed. No more would come. Pramans elsewhere were desperate to protect their own homes.
Their God had averted His face.
A traitor, if known, would suffer the hatred of his fellows but his treachery would save lives because Heris had extracted that promise from her brother.
“That’s good,” Lord Arnmigal said again. “Let him know that I approve. He has full authority to make the arrangements. Suggest that it should happen at night so fewer people get hurt.”
* * *
Explosions happened in succession in a barracks, a communal kitchen, and during late prayer services. There were casualties by the score and general panic, all far from the sally port the traitor opened. The Righteous poured in unnoticed despite the inevitable confusion and noise.
Few of Shartelle’s defenders resisted. Most said their prayers and chose to believe the invaders’ promise to spare them. Those who did choose to fight on fled into the big stone box of the citadel. Most of those belonged to the Lucidian garrison Indala had installed before the arrival of the Righteous. They were among the Great Shake’s most faithful soldiers.
All Shartelle but the citadel fell before noon. There were problems of indiscipline but those did not persist. The Shining Ones intervened.
Shartelle became a Chaldarean city for the first time in centuries, at less cost than its people had any right to hope.
The Lucidians in the citadel offered to yield their arms and leave the city. The Commander refused. From them he wanted only unconditional surrender. They refused.
Hecht had masons brick up the entrances. The Lucidians could stew in their pride. The Shining Ones kept harm from touching the masons, but, otherwise, stayed out of the light.
“I don’t want the whole world thinking they need to get rid of me the way we got rid of those revenants in the Connec,” Hecht told Pella when the boy wondered why they did not just turn the Shining Ones loose.
“They would clean up. Of course they would. But no one out there would consider them as anything but devils. The Church wouldn’t admit that they exist if the Choosers snatched the Patriarch’s robe over his head and spanked his bare ass in front of ten thousand witnesses.”
“Getting a little cynical, there, aren’t you, Pop?”
“Getting? I’ve been like this since I was younger than you are.” He flashed back on the boyhood of someone named Else Tage, then wrestled identity confusion, trying to understand why he had become the implacable enemy of everything that had meant so much to that boy.
Pella broke the mood. “Spanking the Patriarch would be popular. But the Shining Ones need to do things to make people want to believe in them again. Right? That’s why they hooked up with us. Helping us helped them get to the Wells of Ihrian, so they could be the kind of gods who actually show up when somebody yells for help, not the kind that are only convoluted intellectual exercises for priests to quarrel over. ‘God answers all prayers’ is a copout. He doesn’t have to exist…”
The boy stopped. Such talk was not likely to find favor with the religiously driven.
Hecht stared. What the hell was this? Somewhere, somehow, the kid had gotten his brain engaged. That was scary.
“Pella, you make me nervous when you think about things besides firepowder formulary and falcon deployments.”
“Great. I like that. Where is the Empress, now? Getting close?” The answer to that was, much too close.
Lord Arnmigal became an anxious adolescent whenever he considered Helspeth’s approach.
He was so eager to see her that he almost danced when he thought about it. His people kept finding him frozen in thought.
That seldom caused comment anymore. It seemed to be another phase, like the massive need for sleep that had gone its way, now, having grown ever less debilitating as the Righteous moved south.
Hecht himself paid little attention. His focus remained on the mundane and daily.
He told Pella, “She’ll be here in a few days. Barring disaster.” What made him add that?
Determined Pramans had tried to ambush her repeatedly. Sheaf and Wife had become full-time lifeguards, replacing Ferris Renfrow and Asgrimmur Grimmsson, who had then been ordered back to Alten Weinberg to help Algres Drear keep the Imperial peace.
Stupid, stupid tribesmen! Were they blind? Did they not understand that success against the Grail Empress meant disaster would come down like the deluge? Could they not understand that they were begging for the extermination of whole tribes?