Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,122

title, why don’t we go for understated but to the point? Something like plain Commander? Or, for a little more punch, Empress’s Commander?”

The Princess Apparent suggested, “How about Lord High Commander of All Commanders?”

“You’re being a smart aleck, Ellie.”

“Sorry. Commander of the Crusaders, then. Or Commander of the Righteous.”

“You don’t sound sorry. I don’t believe you’re sorry. For your penance I’m putting you in charge till my confinement is over. Hush! You need a taste of how awful this role is. Commander of the Righteous. Helspeth’s job will be formidable. Give her the backing she needs to succeed. Keep your men in the city instead of sending them to Hochwasser. I’ll write formal orders. The nobles will whine. It isn’t customary. Ignore them. You understand?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” While reflecting that, sanity aside, the Empress was very clever. She had been working toward this the first time she tried to hire him. She now had a potent counterweight to the Electors, the Council Advisory, and anyone else who wanted to take advantage of a weak girl.

Helspeth protested. “I don’t want …”

“So you’ve insisted since Mushin died, Ellie. Again and again. I never believed you. I’m not sure I do now. But I insist on you. Commander of the Righteous. Become the shadow of the Princess Apparent. Make sure she doesn’t get carried away.”

Hecht did his best to bow. Somewhat impractical for a man in a wheeled chair. Nevertheless, he held it. Keeping his face hidden lest it betray his wild thoughts. “As you will, Your Grace, so shall it be.”

“Excellent. That’s what I’d like to hear from all my officers. Ellie! Stop shaking. The doom that you dread is upon you. I’ve executed the legal instruments already. Orchard Vale should be rehearsing the Grand Duke in the facts of life as we speak.”

Orchard Vale would be one of Katrin’s more obscure secretaries, a priest from the local bishop’s retinue. That Bishop, Brion of Urenge, new to the job, was dedicated to the Brothen Patriarchy. He had spent time in exile while Johannes was Emperor. “When you leave this room, Ellie, you’re going to be the It.”

Hecht watched Helspeth wrestle with herself. Saw that she thought she was being cruelly used. Was being forced into a place where nothing she did would be right. And saw that Katrin was wickedly pleased by having put her there.

The other daughter of the Ferocious Little Hans, the one so often accused of being too much like her father, saw no way out. “As you will it, sister, so shall it be, till you’re able to resume your duties.”

Hecht’s mind raced through lists of things that needed doing. Of opportunities a smart man would take care to avoid. And sniffing round Katrin’s undeclared assumption that the Commander of the Righteous should let no conspiracy against her take root while she was away.

Katrin kept growing ever more pleased with herself.

* * *

“Everything has changed,” Hecht told his staff, who had been gathered and waiting. He explained.

Titus said, “The military part shouldn’t be hard. We have enough people here. Add the fact that, more than anything, the Grail Empire runs on inertia. The Empress being offstage for a while shouldn’t give anybody time enough to get up to much mischief.”

“Our job is to make sure. To that end, I want to see Algres Drear. And Ferris Renfrow, if anybody can find him.”

“He’s been scarce for months, boss. Which isn’t unusual, I take it. They have a saying here: ‘Comes the day, comes the man.’ Meaning somebody will rise to the occasion, whatever it might be. It’s a sort of nickname for Ferris Renfrow. If there’s a need, he turns up.”

Hecht grunted. That was not what he wanted to hear. He preferred to see Ferris Renfrow when he wanted to see Ferris Renfrow.

Titus asked, “Commander of the Righteous? Really?”

“I didn’t pick it.”

* * *

The Princess Apparent’s regency was not the harsh trial she expected, nor the debilitating strain Commander Hecht anticipated. The old men of the Empire showed an uncharacteristic restraint. Titus Consent reported an abiding anxiety, an undirected dread, abroad in the Empire. No one could identify a specific cause. Everyone seemed willing to wait and see and stand united if the unknown birthed some bleak certainty.

Winter neutralized all external threats, except possibly from the north. North centered every sense of foreboding.

One change obvious to the dullest mind and dimmest eye was a sharp increase in incidents involving the malice of minor Instrumentalities.

* * *

“We’re like a