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.
