Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

by John F. Carr

  Kalvan shook his head wearily and poured another shot of Ermut’s Best into his new glass goblet, swirling the burgundy spirits around the glass before drinking it all down in one gulp. Suddenly the Styphon’s House sponsored invasion force was beginning to live up to its billing as the Grand Host, as Great King Lysandros was calling it as he rallied his under lords. Captain-General Phidestros already had a sizeable Harphaxi force, five thousand cavalry and six thousand infantry, not counting the City Bands. If Great King Cleitharses sent the Sacred Square and the other Princely squares, or tercios, Kalvan could be facing another twelve to fifteen thousand Ktemnoi--next to the Hostigi the best man-for-man army in the Seven Kingdoms, or Eight counting the Sastragath under Wannax Sargos as a Great Kingdom, which it would be soon under his dynamic leadership. Kalvan could really use the sixty thousand nomads that had helped chase Grand Master Soton and his Knights back to Tarr-Ceros; unfortunately, they were all irregulars and couldn’t be harnessed up and set aside for a rainy day. He had a feeling that Hos-Hostigos was going to be in the middle of a veritable manure storm come spring.

  He needed a way to tie down those troops from Hos-Bletha, since there was nothing he could do short of an invasion of Hos-Ktemnos to keep the Sacred Squares out of the war. Maybe it was time to use some of the Confederate guerrilla tactics that his maternal great-grandfather, a former Virginian, used to tell him about as a lad. Winter was approaching and time was running short. Whom could he send? Skranga had the brains; once he was given the mission he’d improvise and make it work, if it could be done at all. He’d need a military advisor, but which one?

  Someone with leadership qualities, like Harmakros--but he needed Har-makros at home to fight the Styphoni.

  If truth be known, Kalvan himself was the perfect candidate to lead a popular uprising. With Verkan’s help, they could have the Blethan countryside in such an uproar it wouldn’t subside for a decade! It would be fun too. A sojourn to Hos-Bletha would give him and Rylla some needed breathing room too but, sadly, without the Gods-Sent-Kalvan to depend upon, the Army of Hos-Hostigos would shrivel up and blow away. He was growing weary of the role of the indispensable man. Kalvan poured himself another slug of brandy.

  Then it hit him like a flash: Colonel Democriphon. Democriphon was an excellent officer and tactician as long as it was an independent command, but balked at orders when part of a force. Yes, he would be an ideal officer for this kind of campaign, although like Custer before him, Democriphon suffered from a bad case of over-inflated ego. If he pulled this off and took some of the military pressure off Hostigos, he would be welcome to it. It would be best to let him pick his own troops too. He was commander of the Third Royal Regiment of Horse. No riflemen. That would mark them as Hostigi right at the outset. Democriphon needed some kind of cover story.

  Kalvan needed more information about Hos-Bletha, but Skranga was back in Hostigos Town, and the only Blethan Kalvan knew was the troubadour Gasphros who was the University gadfly. For being untutored-- although Kalvan suspected Gasphros’ childhood station had been higher than the troubadour let on--he had the intuitive gift of making interesting connections and asking the right questions. Gasphros had proven to be an asset to the University---enough so that Kalvan had put him on salary as a ‘roving’ recruiter. Young people flocked after him like the Pied Piper.

  Gasphros had also been one of Skranga’s best operatives in Harphax City until the Duke’s cover had been blown. Gasphros had been a fixture at Skranga’s legendary soirees and had left, like Skranga, one step ahead of the local gendarmes.

  Kalvan had given Cleon permission to retire hours ago, so he went down the stairs into the kitchen where the best of the University’s interdisciplinary work took place. He found Ermut in the midst of a deep discussion with Gasphros over the length of the copper condensing tubes for the new distillery that was being constructed on the outskirts of Hostigos Town. Already, the taverns and inns in town were ordering more brandy than Ermut could produce at the University’s makeshift distillery. Kalvan, with a huge standing army to support, needed all the revenue he could squeeze--casks of brandy were selling for three times the price of winter wine.

  Kalvan was tempted to start distilling corn mash, until he remembered the horror stories that occurred when cheap gin was distilled from grain and sold in England on the streets by the cupful--”drunk for a penny, dead drunk for two.” Alcoholism had hit England’s poor with the savagery of the Great Pox. Cheap distilled spirits from grain or corn would come along soon enough, with or without his help, but Kalvan didn’t want to be known for bringing this plague into the Seven Kingdoms.

  “Gasphros, come into my study. I have some questions about Hos-Bletha I need answered.”

  Gasphros emptied his tankard of ale and pushed himself away from the table with his more than ample belly. “My information is badly out of date, but I’d be glad to share it with you, Your Majesty.”

  “Good.” Kalvan said as he led the way up the staircase.

  Gasphros was puffing by the time they reached the study. “I’m out of shape. It’s time to go a-wandering again.”

  Kalvan smiled. “That’s just what I had in mind.”

  Gasphros intelligent eyes peered over his bearded cheeks and into Kalvan’s own. Kalvan pointed to a chair, sat down behind his desk and pulled out a pouch of tobacco. Gasphros’ long clay pipe was out and filled before Kalvan had time to reach for his own. They both lit up, using Kalvan’s Name Day tinderbox, which was made of brass and in the shape of a cannon: a present from Rylla during better times.

  Gasphros picked up the heavy tinderbox and examined it closely. “This is a remarkable piece of craftsmanship. It even has a real barrel.”

  Kalvan pointed to flintlock mechanism. “Reverse this and you’ve got a working pistol!” Kalvan reached over and reversed the flintlock to where it would flash into the touchhole of the tiny barrel.

  “Amazing! Who made this?”

  “Count Rogos, a friend of the family and a wonderful goldsmith. Rylla likes for me to shoot it off whenever we win a battle.” He pointed to the wainscot where there were two rows of tiny lead balls sunken into the wood. “Have to be careful of the load or it’ll put a hole in the wall.” He uncorked the stopper on the decanter of Ermut’s Best and asked, “Would you like a drink?”

  “Certainly. If I didn’t take one, it would be the first one I’ve ever turned down, Your Majesty.”

  Kalvan nodded and filled Gasphros’ goblet. “From the latest intelligence reports from Harphax City, it appears that Styphon’s House is using every bit of influence it has to get all the soldiers in the Five Kingdoms into Hos-Harphax to fight against Hostigos.”

  “You’ll tan their hides, Your Majesty! You always have before.”

  Kalvan bit down on his pipe stem. “This is going to be a bigger and tougher and more experienced army than anything we’ve faced.”

  “You mean the so-called Grand Host might even live up to its name?”

  “Exactly. I just learned today that a sizable army is set to arrive this spring from Hos-Bletha. Delivered to our back porch, lock, stock and barrel, by Styphon’s Great Fleet. What I need to do is to pick your brain of knowledge about Hos-Bletha.”

  Gasphros exhaled heavily. “Whew! As I said before, most of what I know is twenty winters past.”

  Kalvan blew out a small cloud of smoke. “Understood.”

  “Your Majesty, I’ve spent most of my life traveling all over this land, and I’ve learned that Hos-Bletha is completely unlike any of the other Five Kingdoms. Bletha was originally settled by colonists from Hos-Ktemnos around three hundred winters ago. Even today most of the Blethan nobility have links to the noble houses of Hos-Ktemnos. Bletha is also different in that there are large numbers of Ruthani living in the swamplands, which extend for many hundreds of marches almost to lands’ end. We call it the Magaouisse Swamp. Only the Ruthani and a few outcast swampmen live in those lands of disease and mud.

  “Even Bletha C
ity is not a true city like Harphax City or Agrys City, but a town the size of Hostigos Town with nearly the same population. Because the lands are sparsely populated, the lords are accustomed to having their own way. The Great King of Bletha is a title little honored outside of the Princedom of Bletha. Several of the major dukes believe they should be Great King and have claims going back a century or more. These are a source of great friction and occasional rebellions. This independence also extends to the freemen themselves, many of whom consider themselves the equal of any noble.”

  Gasphros looked at Kalvan closely to see how he took to this notion. When he didn’t react negatively to the idea, he continued. “This notion of independence among the commoners has long frustrated the Blethan nobility.”

  “It’s an affliction that is common in the Cold Lands, as well.”

  Gasphros looked at Kalvan shrewdly. “Some day you will have to tell me more about your days in the Lands of the Gods.”

  Not in this lifetime, Kalvan thought to himself. Gasphros was too smart for his own good, and Kalvan wasn’t about to let that particular bobcat out of the basket. He’d already told too many stories of his arrival here-and-now and it was an effort to remember to whom he’d told what. Last year the Council of Dralm spent several moons trying to decipher the rumors and facts of Kalvan’s arrival; the last thing they needed to hear was the truth, which was far more fantastic than the rumors.

  “From what I hear, the present Great King Niclophon is a puppet of Styphon’s House and Hos-Ktemnos and has been importing mercenaries to enforce his rule. There have been two rebellions that I’ve heard about in the last ten winters.”

  “Do you still have friends in Hos-Bletha?”

  Gasphros snorted. “None that I’ve heard from in fifteen winters. I get my information from merchants and peddlers.”

  “So no one would recognize you if you were to return?”

  “Not anymore.” This time there was a note of sadness in his voice. “Why, Your Majesty?”

  “I want you to help head up an operation to neutralize the Hos-Blethan Army.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you’re the only man in Hostigos who knows anything about Hos-Bletha or Blethan politics. Of course, you’ll have plenty of help. I want to bring about an insurrection within Hos-Bletha that will cause Great King Niclophon to recall his troops from the Holy Host.”

  “Is that all?”

  “For now, yes.”

  ELEVEN

  Verkan Vall sat at his desk in the Foundry basement, his boots up, cleaning his flintlock hideaway pistol. Thanks to the collapsed-nickel ceiling it .was quiet inside the basement: no banging of anvils or endless chatter of Kalvan Study Team intellectuals. The wall-sized visiplate now displayed a close-up of Tarr-Hostigos, with dozens of carts and flatbed wagons full of provisions and weapons snaking their way up the hills back and forth on the switchbacks to the outer bailey. The rainy season was in full drizzle, but that hadn’t stopped the stream of foodstuffs and tools of war from flowing into the castle. The foundry was working night and day to turn out more big guns. The cobblestone streets of Hostigos Town were so filled with wagons a pedestrian wasn’t safe on the streets, night or day.

  Verkan wished he had the authority to call in an airstrike team and have them hit Tarr-Harphax and Balph. That would settle this war once and for all. The locals might believe it was one of Thanor’s bolts, but Kalvan would know better and so would the Dhergabar University Study Team. And that would be the end of his visits to Kalvan’s Time-Line as well as his job as Paratime Police Chief--the latter he wouldn’t mind losing, but he didn’t want to give up his visits with Kalvan and Rylla.

  He heard the door’s hydraulics activate and then creak as it swung open, revealing Inspector Ranthar Jard, still wearing his high-combed morion helmet and back-and-breast. Verkan rose and they clasped shoulders. Verkan noticed fresh cuts on his face and the beginning of a black eye. “What happened to you? A cat fight?”

  Ranthar winced. “In a manner of speaking. I got between Scholar Lala and Baltrov Eldra in the middle of their argument over Kalvan’s decision to teach the Ruthani orphans ‘male pattern bonding and archaic aggressive male behavior patterns’ and Professor Baltrov Eldra’s rebuttal, which included a detailed description of Sastragathi slave laws. When Varnath Lala couldn’t hold her ears tight enough to protect them from Eldra’s rather colorful language, she struck out with her nails. I got in the way, only to be on the receiving end of Lala’s claws and Eldra’s elbow, meant--I believe--for Lala’s nose! They were both most apologetic, and it did stop their interminable arguments as they went looking for the unguents for my face. Unfortunately, they’ll be at it again in another couple of hours.”

  Verkan laughed. “By then you’re going to have one Dralm-blasted black eye. Do you want to use my medpak now, or after our talk?”

  “Well, Chief, unless you’ve got another assignment for me--please, tell me you do--then I’m stuck. Our little contretemps was witnessed by several of the foundry staff, who would think it Galzar’s Own Miracle if I were to arrive with anything less than a bruised eye. Thanks anyway boss.”

  “Well, Ranthar, this may be your lucky day indeed. I had a discussion with Kalvan this morning and he’s most impressed by your leadership abilities.”

  “Likewise, Chief. I think Kalvan could even run this outfit.”

  “Don’t say that within spitting distance of the Kalvan Study Team or you will have a cat fight on your hands!”

  Ranthar laughed. “Please, say no more. So what’s this new assignment?”

  “It’s a surprise to me. Things are getting bad enough in the war against Styphon’s House that Kalvan is taking a few pages from his own Europo-American headlines. He wants to start a revolt in Hos-Bletha to force them to withdraw their forces from the Great Host. He’s got a whale of a plan--to use one of his terms--and I think it’s more than plausible. Part of it involves a guerilla uprising in the southern provinces starring yourself as none other than Robin Hood--that name’s from a common Europo-American myth of a bandit who robs from the rich to give to the poor. Obviously, a fairy tale for children. Kalvan remembers the story and told it to me in great detail. I had to agree that you would make a most excellent Robin Hood.”

  “Actually, if it will get me away from the Foundry and the Kalvan Study Team, I’d accept an assignment to break into Regwarn!”

  “Well, you’ve got it, my friend. And, that isn’t all. Guess who else Kalvan wants to borrow?

  Ranthar shook his head, then flashed a wicked smile. “He wants to borrow Varnath Lala’s head to use for one of his scarecrows!”

  “Good guess, but no. He wants to have Baltrov Eldra join his merry little band.”

  “Baltrov Eldra! Why, Chief?”

  “Think. You were at the University Founders celebration.”

  “Sure--I got real plastered--left my alcodote pills at home on purpose. Had a good time.”

  “Do you remember seeing Eldra?”

  Ranthar’s brow furrowed. “Sure. She was hanging around that skinny Duke Skranga and Kalvan all evening. Then later on she was decorating Colonel Democriphon’s uniform--he seemed to like it.”

  “Well, before she changed dance partners, she approached Kalvan and said something into his ear I’m too polite to repeat in mixed company.”

  “She tried to seduce Kalvan in public? Does she have a death wish? Sure Kalvan and Rylla are having problems, but Rylla would fillet any woman who she saw get within kissing distance of her husband.”

  “Absolutely. When I heard about it, I was ready to send her packing. But it’s not that simple.”

  “What do you mean, Chief? It looks pretty simple to me. Send Eldra home to First Level ‘for her own protection’ and let the University of Dhergabar figure out what to do with her. Flirting with Kalvan isn’t Paratemporal Contamination, but it more than skirts outtime ethics. University Study Team participants are instructed to act as ‘observers only.’ Trying to set
up a liaison with the primary agent of change on Kalvan’s Time Line is bad procedure--even if she wasn’t successful. Success could get her killed and who knows what else! She goes home when you give the order. I can escort her out of the Foundry and have her on a conveyer in ten minutes. She’ll be back on Home Time-Line so fast she’ll never know what hit her!”

  Verkan shook his head. “Very few people know this, but I was sharing my quarters with Eldra when that Second Level reincarnation fracas came up on Akor-Neb, which led to Dalla and me renewing our marriage contract. You’ve just witnessed an example of Eldra’s temper--how do you think she took that? Or my asking her to leave our dwelling!”

  “Wow, Chief, you sure can pick them!”

  Verkan looked down at his shoes.

  “Why in Xerpa’s Mandibles did you ever pick Eldra as our undercover operative for the Kalvan Study Team?”

  Verkan was still studying the floor when he answered. “I owed her one. She could have stirred up a real firestorm for me back then, but she kept it between the two of us. Kept Dalla out of it, too. Eldra heard about the Kalvan Study Team, knew I’d be involved and asked if she could become a member. She had the right credentials so I called one of our friends at the University and arranged for her to be assigned to the Kalvan Study Team. It was the least I could do.”