performed by Bishop Hrobjart. Just materializing behind Helspeth's left shoulder. She knew he was there without looking. The overcast began to clear from her emotional skies. The slump went out of her shoulders.
She felt guilty.
Algres Drear was supposed to make her feel this way. That was his mission. She could not manage without Captain Drear and his Braunsknechts, but he never inspired her the way Renfrow did.
Sad, too, because Ferris Renfrow's first loyalty was always the Grail Empire, not the sad second daughter of its penultimate Emperor.
Katrin sank to her knees before Bishop Hrobjart. After a murmured exchange, Hrobjart turned to his left and accepted a coronet from the nameless churchman who accompanied him everywhere. Father Volker swung a censor with one hand and sprinkled holy water with the other.
All three priests wore white. Father Volker's robes were simple. The unknown priest's were austere. Bishop Hrobjart's, though, had lace, uncut gems, and seed pearls all over it. The last time Helspeth saw priests in white was at Lothar's coronation. Normally, they wore gray or brown. Or black.
Helspeth loathed the new crows in black. They served the harsh orders: the Patriarchal Society for the Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy; the Brotherhood of War; the Knights of the Grail Order. And the former two grew more powerful by the day across the Jagos.
Grail Empire disdain kept the Society and Brotherhood from developing much power north of the Jagos. But the Grail Order-a sort of northern Brotherhood-was immensely influential where the Episcopal faith collided with the pagan world.
Ferris Renfrow summoned her from her reverie. Time for the witnesses to take a knee before the new Empress. Then both knees while the Bishop of Carbon invoked the blessing. A long responsorial followed. She did not need to pay attention to keep up. It was standard back and forth in Church Brothen. A five-year-old could keep up and have attention left over for mischief.
As they left the church, Renfrow said, 'You may face dramatic challenges on your return to Plemenza, Princess.' He seemed not to care if someone overheard. The Patriarch is sure to test the new order.'
'Sublime will find the Ege daughters no less formidable than their father.' She thought of the Captain-General. Their paths might not cross again.
'That is fondly to be hoped,' Renfrow said. 'Unfortunately, the reality may not be so promising.'
'Meaning?'
Renfrow glanced at Algres Drear. As always on public and ceremonial occasions, Drear was within arm's reach of Helspeth. 'Time will tell, Princess. I have to leave. Take care of her, Captain.'
In an eye's blink Renfrow vanished. Look away, look back, the man was gone. 'How does he do that?' Helspeth asked.
'And at his age. Sorcery? Or is he even human?' Drear respected Renfrow but did not like the man. Points he had striven to impress upon his charge.
'What do you mean, at his age?'
'Just that he's been around forever. Doing the same work. Steering the Empire. Subtly. Some think he engineered your father's election. And the Act of Succession, too.'
'Father did say that Renfrow knows all the secrets. And isn't reluctant to use them.'
'Lucky you're too young to have secrets.'
'Lucky me. Like I've ever had a chance to do something I'd want to hide.' Her women were closing in, to separate her from her desperado chief bodyguard. Reputations were at risk.
Katrin's court was undismayed when the Empress closeted herself with three priests, without benefit of chaperone. When priests had worse reputations than any other variety of man. Their opinions shifted dramatically when Katrin announced that she would rectify her father's error by shifting the Empire's support from Viscesment to Brothe.
If that was not enough to poleax the Imperial aristocracy, Katrin then announced a pilgrimage to the Mother City. Where she would be crowned by the Patriarch himself.
Algres Drear observed, 'The Grand Duke must be apoplectic.' While packing.
'I can't see Hilandle having that much imagination. This was his fault. He could have been here. But he wanted us to think the Empire can't function except at his pleasure. He thought an Ege daughter would swoon. Katrin's as clever as Mushin was. More so, maybe. She isn't shy about revealing her contempt for those people. But she shouldn't have shown her independence that way.'
Drear grunted. Helspeth's women were close by. As always. Eavesdropping. Some would report to the Empress. Others would inform the Council Advisory.
The Imperial nobility included a pro-Sublime faction. Sentiment against Sublime appealed to a larger bloc of folk more exalted and emotionally committed.
When her household was ready Helspeth sent for permission to return to Plemenza.
Lady Chevra approached nervously. Her expression would not remain fixed. One moment it was worried, the next sheepish, after that maliciously triumphant.
'Yes?' No doubt the old cow brought bad news. She wanted to do right but could not help taking joy in the misery of others.
'Her Majesty denies your request. You are to join her pilgrimage to the Mother City.'
'We're enjoying a change of plan, Captain Drear.'
Drear nodded.
'Coordinate with the Empress's people. We can reduce costs if we make the progress through the Imperial cities of Firaldia.'
Lady Chevra was unhappy. The girl she wanted to torment had taken disappointment without a whimper.
Helspeth Ege would not whimper or whine. Ever. Not for Grand Duke Hilandle, not for the Empress Katrin Ege.
There was a positive side. To assert his influence the Grand Duke would have to follow Hansel's girls into the heart of Firaldia. Which he loathed. In that land no one knew who he was. Nor cared.
In that land, she reflected, lay Brothe. Where the Captain-General of the false Patriarch's armies made his headquarters.
She felt a rush of excitement.
This might not be so bad after all.
'Are you all right, Princess?' Lady Delta va Kelgerberg asked. 'You just turned red as a beet.'
Her breath had gone shallow and wheezy, too.
The Grand Duke did not give the new situation adequate thought. He favored himself too highly to accept defeat by the Ege bitch.
He plunged into an intemperate rush south from Alten Weinberg. He should reach Firaldia in time to quell the chit's insanity. She would
Hilandle's party numbered forty-three to start. It began to dwindle almost immediately. A half dozen disappeared at Hochwasser. Swearing, he drove on into the Jagos range. Into a fierce, unseasonable snowstorm.
Some wanted to den up and wait. But the band did not have enough provisions. They had to turn back or press on.
Several turned back.
Thirty-two pressed on.
One day of biting cold cracked the sense of obligation of more of the Grand Duke's companions, who turned back to Hochwasser. Where the troops Lothar had begun to gather still awaited instructions. While they lived off Imperial stores.
In the deep night, with snow swirling like sudden ivory embers in the light of small fires, the camp wakened to screaming. Four men had sentry duty. Three could not be found. The other had seen and heard nothing but the screams.
No one got any more sleep.
