Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,124

rare, dark wood polished smooth. He took comfort from its protection.

He had come prepared for an extended, serious exchange concerning the business of Katrin’s crusade. Cost estimates. A proposal for sending quartermaster scouts, come summer, to explore possible routes. A suggestion that diplomatic missions get busy negotiating rights of passage. The Eastern Empire would be crucial. Katrin’s army would have to travel overland. It would be too large for the available shipping. Though shipping would have to be contracted in order to supply the army with what it could not carry or buy along the way. Acquisition of materials to fill those supporting holds had to start soon because it would take a long time to collect it all and move it to the handiest seaports.

And so forth.

This kind of warfare was not a pickup game.

Throat tight, Hecht said, “We need to hammer out some way to enforce good behavior. We can’t have dukes and barons and their contingents dropping out to plunder along the way. Monestacheus Deleanu isn’t the weakling that Anastarchios was.”

Monestacheus was the current Eastern Emperor. Anastarchios had been Emperor eighty years ago, when last a Crusader army had gone to the Holy Lands overland.

That crusade had become an exercise in chaos. Too many proud kings. Too many desperate poor. No firmly established command, no detailed preparation, and no overall plan.

Born in shining idealism, the crusade lapsed into ugly adolescence before its tail departed the Grail Empire. The wealthy lords out front bought up local surpluses as they moved. The poor coming along behind had to forage. Which led to plundering. The slow progress, just a few miles a day, left a swath of devastation thirty miles wide. Once into the Eastern Empire it left whole cities destitute or destroyed. Cities home to good Chaldareans who also wanted the Holy Lands torn from the grasp of the cruel Unbeliever.

The Princess Apparent said, “We expect you to make things work better than they did back then.” Her voice was strained. Her hands would not stay still, except when she realized what she was doing and forced them. But that never lasted. “I hear you’ve found Algres Drear.”

Drear had not been hidden.

“Yes. I brought him along. I want you to take him back as chief bodyguard. I’d feel more comfortable with Drear between you and harm.” Having the Braunsknecht close to Helspeth would place indebted eyes near the seat of power, too. Drear owed Hecht.

“I don’t know about chief bodyguard. But I do owe Captain Drear. I ruined his career.”

“You did, didn’t you?”

Flash of anger, quickly shoved aside. “I’m not that girl anymore. Still willful, though. But not ready to drag others down with me.”

“Glad to hear it. The welfare of millions depends …”

“Yes.” Sharp look. Estimation. Calculation. Leaning forward. In a voice meant for no other ears, “Things aren’t going well for my sister.”

Hecht sensed fear. Sparked by his remark about the millions. “How so?”

“I’m not sure. It’s being hushed up. Most of her attendants aren’t allowed out of the Quill Tower. Those who are won’t say anything. And they look grimmer every day. One thing’s certain. The baby hasn’t come. That wouldn’t be kept secret.”

“I see.”

“My sister can get ugly when she’s upset. Which explains the moods of her people. They’ll feel the sharp edge of her rage first.” Helspeth told the story of her winter exile. “If it hadn’t been for Ferris Renfrow I’d have died of hunger or exposure. And not because of Katrin’s malice. Not entirely. Malice put me out there. But when she wasn’t angry anymore she just forgot me.” In an even softer voice, “My sister isn’t sane, Commander. And she’ll get worse every time she’s disappointed.”

Hecht glanced around, turning too quickly. His wound presented him with shooting pain.

“Are you all right?” Frightened concern.

“I moved too much, too fast. They tell me pain is a good teacher. I’m not sure. If I’m not hurting I’m not paying attention. How much do you trust these women?” She had, after all, been keeping her voice down.

“They’d overlook an indiscretion.” Said with timorous challenge. “But nothing political. They all have husbands and lovers.”

As he forced pain-born tension out of his muscles Hecht felt Helspeth’s real meaning. Her women would not retail gossip but matters political were fair game? Strange, these people.

Helspeth said, “I can’t find Ferris Renfrow.”

“Nor can I. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“Wonder? Not so much. If you grow up here you’re used to Ferris Renfrow, the unpredictable apparition. It frustrated Father no end.