Surrender to the will of the night iotn-3, page 56
part #3 of Instrumentalities of the Night Series
Lila stepped out from behind the screen before assessing the situation.
Consent gasped. Vircondelet jumped to his feet. He did not know the girl. He leapt to the wicked conclusion. The Commander of the Righteous liked them young and skinny.
Brokke just looked confused.
Lila froze, horrified.
Hecht managed, “This is business, Lila. Stay in the other room till we finish.”
She was quick. She had survived on her wits. “Yes, Father.”
Clever girl. That and Titus’s testimony would ease the speculation. Some.
Hecht said, “What we need to look at is how best to use this new strength. I’m afraid the Empress will insist on a demonstration. She doesn’t understand that the Shades was a onetime thing.”
Brokke rumbled, “Give them a miracle and they figure you can do it to order.”
39. Kharoulke: In Pain
Misfortune tightened its grip on the Windwalker. Slowly, inevitably, the Instrumentality became more anchored to the present, though still with enough grasp of potential futures to see that few could turn out favorable.
His sense of this world, as a whole, and of the broad vistas of the Night had grown intensely feeble. His brethren, his hated brethren, were all failing in their returns, too. It would not require the concentrated bile of those who had imprisoned them to abort their rebirth. Human indifference and the failure of the wells of life would be sufficient.
The seeds had sprouted after lying dormant for ages. But their revenant shoots had emerged into ferocious drought.
For the first time in an existence that stretched back to a time before memory, the Instrumentality discovered emotions not intimately entwined with lust, hunger, rage, and hatred. Once he wasted his secret reserve creating a Krepnight, the Elect, that some feeble imitation of an Instrumentality crushed like a roach, he began to know despair. And fear.
For the first time in millennia, if not epochs or even aeons, Kharoulke the Windwalker conceived the possibility of an utter, permanent, inalterable end to the cosmic consciousness known as, and known to itself as, Kharoulke the Windwalker.
If only summer would end. 40. Alten Weinberg: Princess Apparent Circumstance had thrust the mantle of empire onto Helspeth again. Katrin, now quietly being called “the Mad Empress,” was far away with her private army, prosecuting her private war.
News of Jaime’s death met Helspeth on the road from Glimpsz to Alten Weinberg. She knew Katrin would not respond rationally.
That was the universal expectation.
Helspeth came home and immediately suffered the attentions of lords and knights who wanted permission to rush into Firaldia. Katrin’s pro-Brothen cronies had turned invisible. Anti-Patriarchals were everywhere, busy getting ready to do what they had wanted since Johannes was Emperor.
That pressure eased once official word came saying Katrin did intend to turn everyone loose on Serenity for having deprived her of a husband. Told to get rolling, the Imperial war machine sparked up and ran itself.
Everyone told Helspeth she was doing a marvelous job, standing in for Katrin.
She signed a decree, now and then.
She worried about the Commander of the Righteous. She worried about obsessing about the Commander of the Righteous. And she worried because the Commander of the Righteous had not sent a letter since last she had seen him.
She wondered how long it would be before Katrin chose one of the greedy suitors who were sure to start swarming, like maggots in the carcass of a dead dog, now that she was a widow. She prayed Katrin would remarry quickly.
Those were halcyon days, worries aside. The usual cruel politics had gone into abeyance. Energies were oriented toward delivering the licking Serenity and his cronies deserved. Men from the breadth and depth of the Empire headed south eagerly, in no special order, intent on joining the Grand Duke for the capture of Brothe. A few took the eastern routes to join Lord Admiral fon Tyre’s campaign on the Aco floodplain, down the east coast of Firaldia, and on the islands of the Vieran Sea.
Those who passed through Alten Weinberg all paused to pay respects to the Princess Apparent.
Helspeth asked Lady Hilda Daedle, “Have you noticed how nice these men are lately? It’s like, give them a foreign war and they turn into decent human beings.”
“It’s not the war, it’s your sister.”
“Excuse me?”
“You must have heard the rumors. About her behavior? About her health? About her mental state?”
What Helspeth had heard had been edited. No one wanted to make a bad impression. “No. Tell me.”
“She… She’s not behaving responsibly, running up front with the Righteous. Everyone is afraid she’ll do something stupid. Or madness will…”
“Hilda, this isn’t like you.”
“It’s delicate. It’s frightening. But the truth is, everybody thinks you’ll be Empress before long. Unless Katrin gets a grip on herself.”
“I don’t think I want to be Empress.”
“You’d defer to your Aunt Anies?”
Long silence. Brief, strained chuckle. Anies Ege was almost a stereotypical elderly, timid maiden lady. A recluse even here inside Winterhall. Anies should have been delivered into a cloistered nunnery thirty years ago. But her brother Johannes doted on her and would not compel her to do anything: marriage or religious vows.
“I think not. The wolves would tear her apart. The Empire would follow.”
“So. You see. No choice. Ah. Here’s something.”
One of the daughters of the ladies of the court advanced diffidently. “Your Highness. Captain Drear asked me to tell you that an important visitor would like to see you. He recommends an audience at your earliest convenience.”
“Did he say who this important visitor is?”
“Yes, and it please Your Highness. Ferris Renfrow, Your Highness.”
Long pause. Ferris Renfrow! The prodigal. “Very well. Tell the Captain yes, immediately, in the quiet room. Go! Hustle! Hilda. I want wine, coffee, refreshments. And incense. If Renfrow conforms to custom he’ll have come directly from somewhere unpleasant and will have the aroma to prove it.”
Renfrow did not conform to habit. He had bathed. He wore clothing that was not only clean but new.
“Where have you been?” Helspeth demanded, almost breathless. “Times are desperate. We need you.” Hustling him into the quiet room.
“Sadly, Princess, I’m only one man. I have to choose which desperate situations to attend. I’m here to report. In story form. It’s an epic. It will take a while. You aren’t to interrupt with questions, nor to ask questions when I’m finished. I’ll tell you what you need to know and that’s all I’ll tell you.” He faced Lady Hilda. “You. Shut the door tight. Then discover yourself temporarily deaf.”
He made a gentle sign. Hilda Daedle stood there with her mouth open, rubbing her ears. Renfrow took a pewter box from an inside pocket. Opened, it shed a half-dozen sleepy things resembling translucent night crawlers armed with dragonfly wings. They zipped around the quiet room, sniffing the walls. They landed and insinuated their bodies into cracks where they exuded something dark brown that smelled of pungent cheese.
Ferris Renfrow said, “I am amazed. Somebody has to be sabotaging this room. You’d better start tracking who comes and goes.”
There were so many little breaches four Night creatures used themselves up making seals. The other two did not have strength enough to flutter back to their box. Renfrow collected them and put them away.
He told his story. He did not let the Princess interrupt. He did not accept a single question when he was done. “I told you what you need to know, not what you want to know. We’re headed into a crucial time. Not because of what’s happening in Firaldia, the End of Connec, Arnhand, or anywhere else, but because of what’s happening in the Night.” Most of his story had concerned his part in a scheme to release trapped gods that the Church insisted never existed.
“But…”
“Rule well, dear heart. Don’t forget the mistakes your sister made. Avoid them. Consider avoiding your passions as well.”
“Sir!”
“Your infatuation has been obvious for years. Control it. The man isn’t who you think he is. He isn’t who I always thought he was, either. He may not even be who he thinks he is. I’ll be going shortly. They need me in Firaldia. Serenity has some clever and deadly people working for him. They could give the Grand Duke some bad days. I’ll be back, though. Probably within the week.”
“I will wait with bated breath.”
Renfrow was startled. “Sarcasm? Hmph! Just try to make time for me when I get here.”
“Always. There’s a chance you might let me ask a question.”
Renfrow showed an uncertain smile, took a sip of coffee, then made a gesture at Hilda of Averange.
Lady Hilda burst out, “I can hear again!” She gave Ferris Renfrow a dark look but reserved what she was inclined to say.
Renfrow shoved the door open, glared at people who had been trying to eavesdrop. “Here’s some names worth collecting, Your Highness.”
Soon afterward Renfrow was nowhere to be found in Alten Weinberg, though a dozen people eager to see him searched diligently.
Eight days passed before Ferris Renfrow reappeared. Helspeth took him into the quiet room immediately, though he seemed less secretive this time. Other than for a desire to conceal the fact that he had toured the length of Firaldia and had taken part in several skirmishes where his presence had made the difference. The Captain-General of Patriarchal forces was a clever rogue and had, twice, lured the Grand Duke into situations where Imperial forces might have been decimated. But for the intercession of the heroic Ferris Renfrow.
“Serenity’s half of the Collegium is very involved,” he said.
“That hasn’t happened much in recent times.”
“Not in more than a century. But people are becoming almost as polarized as they were before the schism that caused the Viscesment Patriarchy. Your sister turning on Serenity released a lot of pent-up passion.”
Helspeth sipped tea. She had not had coffee prepared. She waited, hoping Renfrow would understand his decline in favor.
“I visited the army straggling up from the south. It’s more talk than power. Sixteen hundred men, knights, sergeants, squires, and foot all counted. With a tail of several thousand hangers-on. The fighters are experienced. Joined with the Commander of the Righteous they’ll create a formidable threat south of Brothe. They’ll isolate the city from that direction. The Grand Duke will close off the north. And Admiral fon Tyre, probably late but not never, will eventually cross the Monte Sismonda and close down the east. It’s too bad the mercantile republics won’t get involved. They could blockade the Teragi and cut the Mother City off from the sea, too.”
“Uh…”
“I did see the Commander of the Righteous. Though not deliberately. I meant to visit your sister. Which I did. But Hecht and some of his people spotted me.”
“And?”
“He appears to be doing well. Your sister, on the other hand, is not. Her attendants and lifeguards are doing everything they can, including keeping her a virtual prisoner so she can’t harm herself or the Empire. But they’re just responding to symptoms. They aren’t treating the disease.”
“Katrin has had attitude problems since we were little. They never had much to do with what was going on outside her. She was just moody.”
“Her problem isn’t something that’s wrong with her mind.”
“What?” Helspeth looked to her left, thinking she had seen motion there. There was nothing to see now.
“There is a problem. But it’s her brain, not her soul or spirit.”
“Is she possessed?”
“She’s considered that herself. But what possesses her is her own body. Something inside her doesn’t work right.”
“There’s a disease that makes you insane?”
“Several, actually. Ergotism is common.”
“But that’s caused by rotted grain, isn’t it?”
“It’s a poison from rye that gets infested with mold. In Katrin’s case, her own body produces the poison. The disease runs in her family.”
“I could go crazy…?”
“It’s on her mother’s side. One of her grandfathers died of it. That was a spectacular long bout of madness. They kept him in restraints for sixteen years. His sister died of the same disease as a baby. There were others who suffered from it, too. Every other generation or so, going back hundreds of years.”
Helspeth made a grand intellectual leap. “Could this disease be why Katrin’s babies died before they were born?”
“Maybe. Or two bad pregnancies could have pushed her into a more virulent stage. All politically disappointing, certainly. So much more dramatic to fling about accusations of baneful sorcery.”
“But…” There was that eye-corner flicker again, with nothing there when she looked. “But Katrin has all those uncles. Her mother’s brothers. None of their families have suffered mental problems.”
“That we know about. The lords of Machen keep the family burden quiet.”
“So. Stipulating all that, what’s changed for me?”
“First, believe that Katrin is past her time of sporadic and mild flare-ups and is headed into a phase where the disease will distort her thinking most of the time. If it isn’t recognized and dealt with she could do a lot of damage. More damage, and bigger. Her recent choices have been irrational. Though sheer boldness has seen them work out.”
“She has the Commander of the Righteous to make that happen. What can I do? I won’t conspire against her.”
“Discuss it with her uncles when they pass through here, headed for the war. Invoke me as the source of your concern. They’ll listen. They’ll have to buy in before anything can be done.”
“Damnit! What’s going on over there?” Helspeth pointed. She had sensed movement in a corner to her left. And something like a worm of black smoke had begun to emerge from a crack near the base of the wall in front of her.
Renfrow swore. “I assumed the room would stay good because I was gone only a little while. Lesson, Princess. Never assume.”
Renfrow released his surviving flying worms. They had recovered nicely. They attacked and devoured the worm of smoke. Renfrow repeated himself, shaken. “Never assume.” Because, suddenly, there was another man in the room. A man all in brown.
Helspeth thought she had seen him before. In the background, around Piper Hecht. He offered a slight bow, an amused smile, and told Ferris Renfrow, “Time to go to work, Brother Lester. You’re out here having fun while everybody else is getting old waiting at the Great Sky Fortress.”
Renfrow seemed both at a loss for words and cowed. Which stunned Helspeth. This man must be something fierce if he intimidated Ferris Renfrow.
The man extended a hand. “Let me do the honors, Brother Temagat. Your method is too slow.”
Renfrow allowed him to take hold.
“Count downward from ten,” the invader ordered. He looked Helspeth in the eye. “Piper sends hugs and kisses.” Then he turned edgewise somehow with Renfrow and they disappeared.
Renfrow had not recovered his flying night crawlers. Helspeth left them to rule the quiet room. She got out. Noting exactly who was nearby and might have been trying to spy.
Hugs and kisses? She shuddered. It felt delicious. And she felt silly as a thirteen-year-old peasant girl being admired for the way she had begun to fill out. 41. From Brothe to the Great Sky Fortress Cloven Februaren’s busy life got busier. Leaving Piper Hecht, he turned sideways into a Delari town house in the process of being invaded by a mob. Muniero was not home. Mrs. Creedon was absent as well. Felske was sprawled on the main hall floor, bleeding. Her husband was being beaten nearby.
The invaders had begun to spread out to see what they could steal.
The Ninth Unknown flickered into being only for the instant it took to assess the situation. Then he flickered around the town house with a dagger only slightly wider than a knitting needle. He was fast. He hit from behind. The results were not pretty but cleanup would not be onerous. Nobody did much bleeding.
The man in brown gave those who tried to leave first priority, picking off ringleaders and those tormenting Turking when there were no would-be escapees. Lastly, he worked on isolated looters.
He was determined to make a statement not to be forgotten.
He worked at murder quickly and efficiently, but with less success than he had hoped. So many transitions left him disoriented. Then some raiders did manage to get away.
The Ninth Unknown kept at it the best he could, till he calmed down enough to recall that he had left Lila with Piper. If she translated into the town house…
The last invader fled. Februaren turned to the fallen. He discovered that Felske was not dead, just badly mauled and unconscious, her honor uncompromised. Turking had suffered more physical damage.
Februaren’s healing skills were slight but he did what he could. And worried about Muniero and Mrs. Creedon.
Snicker. Maybe they eloped.
Principat? Delari returned shortly before sunrise. He did not ask what had happened. The obvious declared itself. He went into a cold rage so fierce that it made the Ninth Unknown uncomfortable. “Take it easy, Muno.”
“I’m under control. Angry enough to chew granite, but under control.” He glared around. “We need to get going with the cleanup and repairs. How are those two?”
“They’ll live. And recover nicely if you get a healer in soon. Any idea what became of Mrs. Creedon?”
“No. Sometimes she goes to help with her mother, who’s dying. I’ll get the healer in a minute. What about Lila?”
“She didn’t come back here. I assume she went straight to Anna.”
“Make sure. Did you inspect the quiet room?”
“No. Been keeping these two breathing. And chasing off people who want souvenirs.”
