Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

by John F. Carr

  Danthor looked like a ten year old who’d just gotten away with pulling his sister’s hair. “You won’t believe the kind of day I’ve had today!”

  “Yes?” Verkan wondered, by the smile lighting up his face, if the Scholar had been appointed overseer of the Paratime Police.

  “For the last moon half I’ve been reading chronicles aloud to Great King Cleitharses who suffers from an advanced case of cataracts.”

  Verkan nodded. It wasn’t unusual to see cataract sufferers begging on the streets of Hostigos Town, since there was no known cure at this primitive level of technology. He was hoping that Danthor didn’t want to effect a cure--that would be very close to Outtime Contamination.

  “You’ll never guess who visited the Great King in his private chambers today.”

  Verkan said, “Archpriest Roxthar?”

  “Good guess! No, it was a delegation from the Inner Circle of Styphon’s House headed by none other than Speaker Anaxthenes and Grand Master Soton. They were visiting to formally ask for King Cleitharses’ military support for the spring invasion of Hos-Hostigos”--Danthor paused to laugh--”or as we’re required to call it, the ‘false-kingdom of Hostigos.’ They were shocked into the last moon when the Great King turned them down! It appears the Holy Investigation has been building a bad name for Styphon’s House right in the heart of Styphoni country. Cleitharses, in an unexpected show of strength, told the Archpriests to fight their own war.”

  Verkan whistled. “Kalvan would love to know about this!”

  “Well, he might not be too happy about the conclusion of their chat, Chief. Archpriest Anaxthenes is quite the Machiavellian; when coercion, intimidation or naked threats won’t work, he switches tactics and becomes as reasonable as can be. On the Kalvan Control Time-Lines I visited, he is not so self-assured or in charge; there he’s more a puppeteer, content to pull strings off-stage. Here Anaxthenes has grabbed the reins of power with both hands: the word on the streets of Balph is that he’s to be the next Styphon’s Voice after Sesklos dies. Even Grand Master Soton was willing to stay beneath his shadow during the meeting with Cleitharses. Anaxthenes’ power struggle with Roxthar over the fate of Styphon’s House has made him both a hungrier and more dangerous man. Unfortunately for Kalvan, both Anaxthenes and Roxthar want to see Hos-Hostigos destroyed.”

  “Kalvan has his work cut out for him, that’s for sure.”

  “By the end of the meeting, Cleitharses agreed to support the Great Host, but only if Anaxthenes could neutralize either Hos-Rathon or the Sastragath before this spring.”

  Verkan smiled. “According to our agents in Xiphlon, Wannax Sargos is secretly in the employ of King Rolthoff of Xiphlon and is planning a major drive into the Sea of Grass to force the southern Ruthani back into the lower portion of the continent, the land they call Mexico on Europo-American. On the way back, his army is going to attack the besieging Mexicotal and drive them away from Xiphlon and back to their Pyramid of Skulls.”

  “That means Anaxthenes doesn’t need to bother with winning over Great King Nestros. That little tidbit would earn me a seat in Inner Council if Anaxthenes hadn’t all but promised me one anyway--thanks to Great King Cleitharses.”

  “Come again?”

  “I’m a guaranteed Archpriest of the Inner Circle, if I can help Anaxthenes pull off a deal with Nestros.”

  “Sounds awfully close to Paratemporal Contamination to me, Dras!”

  “So you know the story.”

  “Sure, how old Police Chief Zarvan accused you of Contamination on Fourth Level Alexandrian-Macedonia because you were caught by Alexander’s guards with a pocket recorder taping The God Alexander CXIV.”

  Danthor’s visage clouded over, as he appeared to mentally replay the sensation and attendant publicity on Home Time-Line.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve always thought Zarvan made a mistake. Every good researcher slips up now and then. Isn’t that what hypno-mech is for?”

  “I’m glad to learn you have a vastly more flexible view of these things, Chief Verkan. I’m afraid I may have judged you too harshly in the past based on insufficient data and my own prejudices.”

  “That goes both ways, Scholar Danthor. I’ve taken your animosity towards the Force at face value. Zarvan Tharg’s problem is that he was a paper pusher who was promoted over his head, not an outtimer. It takes a big man to apologize, Dras, and I not only accept your apology, but also offer one of my own. The entire Balph Study Team and my Police advisors are at your disposal. And, if there is anything I can do to make your job easier, let me know--and it will be done.”

  Dras smiled. “Thanks, Vall. I’ll take you up on that. Archpriest Anaxthenes is going to travel to Hos-Rathon to try to convince King Nestros to forge an alliance with Hos-Ktemnos, which will keep him in Styphon’s pocket and his army part of what the Styphoni are calling the Grand Host. I’ll keep you informed on the outcome.”

  “What about you becoming a member of the Inner Circle? What deity do we thank for this miracle?”

  “No deity. It came about because King Cleitharses doesn’t trust Styphon’s House to have his Kingdom’s best interest in mind. Because he knows I’m new to Balph, he thinks he can buy my loyalty! What he doesn’t know is that he already owns it. After Anaxthenes and Soton left, he promised me my weight in silver if I’d act as his eyes and ears in the Inner Council. Of course, like any proper highpriest of Styphon’s House, I agreed.

  “On my way back from Cleitharses’ palace, to my temporary quarters at the Great Temple of Hos-Ktemnos, I was met by two of Anaxthenes’ handpicked highpriests and taken to meet the next Styphon’s Voice. The Balph Study Team just learned from an analysis of the sample of Sesklos’ hair that someone has been feeding the old man arsenic. I suspect it’s his new Healer, who is friends with Anaxthenes’ concubine, Thessamona. For a Fourth Level middle-aged female, she’s very attractive, and quite deadly in her knowledge of indigenous poisons.

  “Archpriest Anaxthenes was friendly and forthright. He likes to take you by surprise. He sketched out the competing factions in the Inner Circle, his faction and the Dracar/Roxthar alliance, and told me why I should support him. As any proper out-of-town highpriest with the usual ambitions and lust for lucre, I was horrified at the Investigator’s effrontery-- True Believers in Styphon, how ghastly!--and immediately enlisted myself in the anti-Roxthar cabal.

  “Due to Sesklos’ faltering health, the Inner Circle has been unable to convene a conclave to replace any absent members; however, as soon as Sesklos’ health has ‘improved’ a Council of Archpriests will be called and the vacant seats will be filled by myself and another of Anaxthenes’ supporters, member-elect Highpriest Grythos, a former Zarthani Knight Commander.”

  “Wasn’t there a background check? For all they know, you could be one of Roxthar’s sympathizers.”

  “The Styphon’s House’s Temple bureaucracy is quite thorough. Anaxthenes had the parchments confirming my appointment as Iylos Temple Archivist and Highpriest, as well as some other biographical information. While I was working with Archpriest Vyros, I planted some documents in the Temple files.”

  “Will they stand up to Anaxthenes’ scrutiny?”

  “Yes, I’ve spent considerable time this past year planting false documents at the Iylos’ Temple and have hypno-meched several priests to confirm them.”

  “Congratulations, Dras. You’ve cracked the Inner Circle, something I didn’t think we’d be able to do for a decade or two! For some reason, not a lot of my people want to join Roxthar’s Investigation!”

  They both laughed.

  FIFTEEN

  Anaxthenes counted twenty-seven Archpriests seated in the Innermost Circle, in Styphon’s House Upon Earth, the formal meeting place of the Inner Circle. Styphon’s House Upon Earth was over three hundred years old, the first, and still largest, of the domed temples. Facing them was Styphon’s Golden Image, the huge statue of Styphon that was only visible to the public during special occasions
or times of great crisis--the only time they were allowed into the Innermost Circle of Styphon’s House Upon Earth. Part of Anaxthenes’job, as Speaker of the Inner Circle, was to provide the voice for the mechanical bellows that allowed the giant idol to mimic human speech and Talk to the people. Usually this chore was the province of Styphon’s Voice, but when Sesklos had reached eighty winters many of his duties had fallen upon his own more than ample shoulders. Sesklos was not well enough to attend the Council of Archpriests. Soon, even without another of Thessamona’s potions, Sesklos would die. Anaxthenes would be Styphon’s Voice, this charade would come to an end, and a new chapter of Styphon’s House would begin.

  He opened the meeting with the formal Blessing of Styphon and led the ritual chants. When the formalities were complete, all the assembled Archpriests took their seats at the Triangle Table; Anaxthenes sat at the point--Styphon’s Voice’s seat--since he was speaking in Sesklos’ place. He told the assembled Archpriests about the meeting with Great King Cleitharses and how the Great King of Hos-Ktemnos refused to support the War Against the Usurper unless certain conditions were met. He played down the role of the Investigation to save them all from one of Roxthar’s interminable harangues. His words were met with stunned disbelief.

  Archpriest Bynoss, who filled his robes like a sausage, stood up. “Speaker, Great King Cleitharses has been the pillar of Styphon’s House. What could have turned him away from the Temple?”

  “I’ll tell you,” Archpriest Heraclestros said, as they had arranged prior to the meeting. “I was there and heard the words from Cleitharses’ own mouth.” He turned to point his finger at the whip-thin figure of Archpriest Roxthar. “It was his doing. The Investigation has turned the Great King and his subjects away from their god!”

  Roxthar jumped to his feet, spittle spraying from his mouth. “This Cleitharses has turned his back upon the Temple! Next he will be proposing an alliance with the Usurper! When this War is over, he will feel the fangs of the Holy Investigation--”

  Anaxthenes rose up from the Triangle Table and broke into Roxthar’s monologue, horrifying the Archpriests sitting to either side. “If we win this War against the Daemon, you mean, Investigator. And, believe me, we won’t win it if we cannot count the Sacred Squares of Hos-Ktemnos as part of the Grand Host. That is truth.”

  Heads bobbed all around the Innermost Circle. Everyone could see the tension in Roxthar’s body as he bit back his response and nodded his head. In a lower voice, he said, “We may have to placate King Cleitharses for the time being.”

  “Cleitharses’ price is the neutrality of the Trygath. I have already informed His Majesty that I will lead a delegation to the false kingdom of Hos-Rathon to negotiate a peace settlement.”

  Roxthar shot up out of his chair like one of Kalvan’s rockets. “Nestros is one of the Daemon’s allies! Speaker, you are asking the Temple to clutch one of Kalvan’s devils to its breast! If we go to Nestros, it should be at the head of a conquering army. The only thing we should be bringing back to Balph is his head on the end of a pole.”

  Anaxthenes threw his deepest voice at the Investigator. “I am not proposing a permanent treaty, but one that we can break at our convenience. To placate King Cleitharses, we need to neutralize Hos-Rathon until the war with Hostigos is finished. King Nestros is an uncouth barbarian who will be flattered by our overtures and will welcome an alliance that he thinks will legitimize his new Great Kingdom of Hos-Rathon.”

  “Is this Nestros not the false king who destroyed sixteen of our Temples and put many of our highpriests to death, including Highpriest Ullnar of Rathon Town, after he joined forces with the Daemon Kalvan?” Archpriest Dracar asked.

  “This is the same Nestros. He will pay for his crimes against Styphon many times over.”

  “What happens to Nestros after Kalvan’s army is destroyed?” Roxthar asked, his voice trembling with barely suppressed anger.

  “Prince Wygarth of Hythar, who was deposed by Nestros, has told me much about this pretender; Nestros is vain and easily led, but he is also a fierce warrior and commands his people’s loyalty. It will not be easy to topple him from his throne from the inside; however, once the Daemon Kalvan has been deposed and slain, we will order our victorious Grand Host into Hos-Rathon. Once Nestros has been defeated, I will give this barbarian, who pretends to be a Great King, as a gift to your Office of Investigation.”

  The smile on Roxthar’s face was chilling. “Once we are finished Investigating the Pretender Nestros and his family, we will Investigate the entire Trygath and search out all the Kalvan sympathizers and those unfaithful to Styphon.”

  Investigating Hos-Hostigos and Hos-Rathon will keep you busy for many winters, thought Anaxthenes to himself with grim satisfaction. “The Temple will rule this new kingdom and Prince Wygarth will act as our administrator.”

  “What about the treaty?” Grand Master Soton asked.

  “Treaties with usurpers are not binding.”

  All the assembled archpriests nodded sagely at this piece of wisdom.

  “I will leave for the Trygath in the morning.”

  II

  Verkan was still blowing on his hands when Tortha opened the thick plank door. “You’ve got to do something about that knocker, Tortha. It’s as heavy as a cannonball and in this cold it just about froze my fingers, through gloves yet!”

  “Come on in. Sit down by the fire.” Tortha had a roaring fire blazing in his big flagstone hearth. He passed Verkan a flask of Ermut’s brandy.

  Verkan took a swig and grimaced. “Very good. Thanks, Tortha, I can feel that all the way to my toes.”

  “What brings you out on this cold winter night?”

  “Inspector Andar Valth just jumped in from First Level. The Prole Liberation Movement has really torn it this time; they’ve applied to the Council for membership in the Executive Council as a recognized party!”

  Tortha nodded. “So the PLM has decided to go from being a gnat to a horsefly. What’s the problem? We’ve been expecting that for decades.”

  “The problem according to our intelligence is that the Opposition Party has guaranteed their support and the Center Party is leaning in their direction.”

  “How did all this come about?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time here on Aryan-Transpacific. I’m out of the loop.”

  “Opposition has been out of power for a long time, but I never thought they’d get desperate enough to seek an alliance with the proles.”

  “They’re playing with fireseed, that’s what I think. At any given time there are maybe a billion citizens living on First Level, the rest outtime, while the remaining population on Home Time Line is proles, billions upon billions of them.”

  Tortha shook his head. “It didn’t used to be this way. When I was a lad there were very few proles on Home Time Line; almost all of them lived on Fifth Level. It all started with this fad for personal servants, about the time you were born, Vall. I remember Chief Zarvan was opposed to it even then. Robots were plenty good, and they don’t talk back or ask for longevity treatments!”

  “It started before then. Tortha, how many Home Timeliners live on First Level fulltime? Not many. Most have their own mansions or plantations on Fifth Level like your ‘little shack’ on Fifth Level Sicily.”

  Tortha sputtered. “It’s my dream home.”

  “Sure, but who does all the work? You must have three or four hundred proles there to handle the gardens, to say nothing of the housework. All this started six or seven thousand years ago. There must be a couple hundred proles somewhere on Fifth Level for every Home Timeliner on First Level, Fifth Level and outtime. And how many of them are really necessary, since we ‘import’ more stuff from Fourth Level alone than we can use? The government subsidizes Fifth Level production because we’re afraid someday one of these Second or Fourth Level time-lines is going to discover the Paratime Secret and put our outtime firms out of business. We’ve had to turn the moon into a ware
house just to hold all the excess! It’s a wonder the proles haven’t thrown us off our own time-line.”

  Tortha sobered up. “They almost have, half a dozen times. And the last time was in my lifetime.”

  Tortha was referring to the Industrial Sector Rebellion when the proles on about fifty worlds on the Fifth Level had turned on the citizens running the factories and butchered them. The Army Strike Force Teams had flown in and put the revolts down, killing hundreds of thousands of poorly armed proles. A dozen of those worlds had been abandoned because there wasn’t enough of the industrial base left standing, after the fires and looting, to be worth rebuilding. The surviving proles on those time-lines weren’t living as well as the Zarthani on Aryan-Transpacific.

  “I’m surprised there haven’t been more revolts,” Verkan said. “It could drive a man crazy watching his neighbors live five hundred years or more, while he’s doomed to a mere hundred--even with First Level medicine and treatment. Maybe it’s time to think the unthinkable and start giving the proles longevity treatments.”

  “You can’t be serious, Vall! There’s nothing more inviolate on Home Time-Line than longevity, unless it’s the Paratime Secret itself. If the Citizens of First Level even thought you believed that, you would lose Management support faster than Styphon’s House is losing worshippers since Roxthar began his religious murder spree that he calls a Holy Investigation!”

  “But not fast enough to help Kalvan!”

  “True. I can tell Kalvan is really worried about this Grand Host coalition that Styphon’s House is supporting in Hos-Harphax. He’s putting up a brave front, but he’s drinking more and grasping for straws--such as this Hos-Bletha campaign of his.”