of the Night.
The sisters enjoyed weeks of intimacy unmatched since their father's passing. Brandy helped. A lot. The obsession of the court with Direcia quieted the usual politics. Helspeth did not miss the whining, backbiting, and name-calling. She did enjoy the time with her sister, just being sisters. Though she found the adult Katrin's powerful, obsessive, driving emotions frightening and her ignorance appalling.
Grand Duke Hilandle was in a fine mood, graciously gifting everyone he appreciated, for whatever reason. Helspeth faked a smile and wondered, for the hundredth time, why Hilandle was not in Direcia, commanding those Imperials who had chosen to reinforce King Peter. Lord Admiral Vondo fon Tyre was not suited to the task.
Hilandle began telling a hitherto unbored embassy from the Eastern Empire about the monster in the Jagos. Wonder of wonders, he credited the Princess Apparent with having engineered the beast's defeat. Then he produced the grasper he had lopped off the monster in his own encounter. The emissaries of the Eastern Emperor pretended to be impressed.
Those men were not interested in the Grand Duke's adventures. Rumors had leaked out. They had come to assess the likelihood that the Empress really would back another crusade in the east. Earlier crusades had not benefited the Eastern Empire. Especially those that originated in the Grail Empire. Those earlier crusaders had traveled overland, of necessity passing through the Eastern Empire. They had been more terrible than any locust plague.
These days the eastern emperors, however mad they might be in their beliefs, policies, and social notions, made sure the locusts of the west would not scourge their empire again.
'Time to find out what those not beholden to us think,' Katrin said. Shakily. Because of too much brandy, not the uncertainty that ruled her secretly. She wanted to sit down with the strangely dressed easterners, whose beliefs seemed almost as bizarre as those of the Connecten dualists. She wanted what she could not have here, even with her confessor. She wanted to talk on into the night, as young people do, playing with ideas as though they were counters in some timeless game.
The chieftain of the eastern embassy seemed older than the world itself. He wore a huge, brushy black and gray beard. Katrin paid him little mind. She was almost flirtatious with his younger associates. Helspeth followed Katrin's lead, as much as her nature allowed.
There was no point, she thought. Katrin was amusing herself at the easterners' expense. They pretended to be good Chaldareans but were only slightly less damned than the Praman Unbeliever. They refused to recognize the divine supremacy of the Principate of Principates, the Patriarch of Brothe.
Fifteen minutes into the audience Helspeth knew the easterners were playing the Empress more than she thought she was playing them. The encounter consisted entirely of posturing and lying. She tried to suggest that the visitors be left to the droning mercies of the Grand Duke. She failed. They played well to Katrin's need for approval.
For the first time since her coronation Katrin was having a good time, Direcia forgotten.
The Direcian situation had not forgotten her.
An obsequious courtier came at Katrin like a bowing, pulling crossbow bolt, clearly the harbinger of great news. While having no idea what that news might be.
As her sister fell into a chair, crying, Helspeth spied Ferris Renfrow weaving through the parasites of the court at Alten Weinberg. He looked like he had just stepped off the battlefield. He was filthy. Heavily bearded. His clothing in tatters. Under a mail hauberk in worse shape than a shirt ripped and torn by squabbling dogs. He had been leaking blood recently. He was pallid. He approached in a controlled stumble.
Where had he been? Helspeth had not seen him since last winter. Nor had anyone. Mainly to their pleasure. Many creatures of the court considered Ferris Renfrow a tutelary, not just a man whose labors on behalf of the Grail Empire had been appreciated by no one other than Johannes Blackboots.
At Helspeth's urging, Katrin brushed aside her tears. She recognized the spymaster and beckoned him. 'Hurry!' she insisted. 'Tell me! What news? How awful is it? Must we go into mourning? Are we in danger from the Unbeliever? Why aren't the bells ringing?'
The bells in every Chaldarean church were supposed to ring if the news from Direcia was good.
Ferris Renfrow seemed to gather strength. He dispensed with the usual honors. He treated his Empress, her sister, her courtiers, and the nearest easterners as though they were companions on campaign. 'Not at all, Highness. The news is good. God stood with the Chaldareans in Direcia. He gave us a victory for the ages. The Unbeliever may never be a threat there again. Unless he gets help from the eastern kaifates. His champions are all dead. Every Praman of substance who rode with Sabuta. Gone.'
Katrin seethed with impatience. She did not care about the battle's outcome. She wanted to know, 'What about my Jaime?'
'He survived, Highness. He was one of the heroes. A timely charge by the Castaurigans sealed the thing.'
'I sense reservations, Ferris. Don't toy with me. Tell me. I am the daughter of Johannes Blackboots.' And for a moment everyone within earshot believed, except Helspeth. Helspeth felt the fear devouring the inside of this girl who pretended to be the despot of the Grail Empire.
'You are. My apologies. Jaime suffered numerous wounds, two of which were not inconsequential. He'll be a while recovering but there's no reason he shouldn't. And, despite his injuries, he hopes the nuptials will happen on schedule this time.'
Helspeth kept her expression blank. She was unable to believe that handsome Jaime of Castauriga could be infatuated with her horse-face, insecure sister. Other than as a means by which he could elevate his own status, especially inside the Grail Empire. Though the marriage contract kept Jaime from becoming more than Katrin's consort, he would father the next Emperor.
Ferris Renfrow glanced at Helspeth. She smiled weakly.
'When can I expect my beloved?' Katrin asked.
'Not soon, Highness. But as soon as he's physically able. He's as eager as you are. He'd be headed this way now, but for his wounds.' Renfrow glanced at Helspeth again, caught her frowning. She thought he was just telling Katrin what she wanted to hear. He showed her a tiny smile she took to mean that he confessed the action but not the crime. What he said was true, although it did fit in with Katrin's wishful thinking.
The Empress swallowed a draft of brandy that dismayed everyone and made it plain she had lost interest in the easterners. She did not care if they were affronted. In a soft voice she spoke to the chief of the serving staff. That man began shooing pages and servers out of the hall.
Katrin could have been more directly offensive only by shouting, 'Get the fuck out of here, you assholes!' By the standards of the easterners. Who did understand that she was not creating an incident willfully. She was female, after all. At her best, most brilliant moments she was certain to be distracted and emotionally confused.
The easterners withdrew. Other guests departed. Members of the Council tried to assert themselves. Just a scowl from Ferris Renfrow sent them scurrying.
Helspeth watched in wonder while the grand hall shed ninety percent of its occupants.
When Renfrow came so close that no one would overhear, Helspeth asked, 'Who are you, Ferris Renfrow?' Getting no answer, she added, 'I bet that battle isn't more than a day old. How can you possibly know?'
'Why do you care, Princess? Isn't it enough to know?'
Helspeth did not respond. But she had ideas that would not please the master spy. She shrugged, pretending it was only adolescent curiosity.
Renfrow went on, indifferent to the sharp-eyed suspicion of the younger Princess. He told the story of the battle, 'In the central highlands of Direcia there's a blistering plain known by several names. Piano Alto is the most common. It's been a no-man's-land between Chaldarean Direcia and al-Halambra since King Peter overcame the Praman principalities farther north. It's set off by a range called the Brown Mountains. The most direct approach to al-Halambra is over those mountains, across the Piano Alto, then down to the river valley of the Plata Desnuda. Which means something like naked silver and makes no sense. But that's not germane.
'Four kings joined Peter of Navaya in responding to the threat of the Almanohides. With them rode the chivalry of many other kingdoms, great and small. Meaning our ever-prickly contemporaries
