Gunpowder God

by John F. Carr

  The two of them rode off the muddy path to an abandoned hut, with guards discreetly pacing them. They both dismounted and Kalvan took out his pipe. “What’s this news that is so important?”

  Vinaldos bowed as he handed him a packet.

  “Please summarize it.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. One of our agents has managed—by Styphon’s Own Tool, I have no idea how—to become a member of Styphon’s Voice’s personal bodyguard.”

  “The Sephrax Guard?” This was the first dispatch from Balph in over a year, which was understandable considering the danger they were in and the difficulty of getting word to Thagnor City.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. This information was only provided to me now as proof of the veracity of the report. But he’s not just a member of the Guard, but a Captain and part of the household guard, which means he is often present at Styphon’s Voice Anaxthenes’ private meetings with his most ardent supporters. His news is that Anaxthenes has ordered that Princess Arminta, Prince Phidestros’ new wife, is to be kidnapped while he is away fighting Great King Lysandros.”

  “I’ll be damned!” Kalvan said, completely taken aback. “This is unexpected. Anaxthenes has created a deadly foe out of the man from whom he has the most to fear. Good tactics, in the sense that Phidestros will do whatever it takes to win his wife back, unless he doesn’t care about her. Either way he has to try and save her; after all, her father’s an important Prince. Bad strategy by Styphon’s House because in the long run they have made two deadly enemies, her husband Prince Phidestros and her father Prince Soligon. Typical Styphon’s House arrogance, though; sometimes I believe they are their own worst enemy.”

  “That was my thought, Your Majesty. Should we make some kind of overture to Prince Phidestros? Maybe an offer to join him when he sacks Balph.”

  “Interesting thought, however, it’s premature at this point. What if he refuses Styphon’s demands and his wife is killed?”

  “I doubt he will do that, Your Majesty. Princess Arminta is with child.”

  Kalvan paused to reload his pipe with fresh leaf. “Whew! That changes everything. Prince Phidestros will have to do whatever Styphon’s House demands, or he’ll lose face. Once he has his wife back, or she’s murdered, things will change. Of course, Phidestros will have to worry about Soton being on his northern border. Interesting times, all right. Still, I don’t believe it’s in our best interest to get involved. Let’s wait until the dust settles, then we can see if there’s any advantage to be gained by making an overture to Phidestros.”

  II

  The Army of Greater Beshta was following the Besh Road when Prince Phidestros and his party came to a halt as they prepared to make a detour through some farmlands to avoid a low-lying marsh. He had one of his men visit the farmer and present him with a purse to compensate him for the damage his army was about to do to his potato fields. The farmer and his family came out of the large daub-and-wattle house to wave and watch his soldiers to make sure they didn’t steal any of his livestock.

  Phidestros was careful to see that his men didn’t indulge in foraging at his peasants’ expense; it was something he had learned by paying attention to King Kalvan. Although, he realized, it would take some time before his serfs and freeholders believed it.

  He was pleased to see that the road gangs were making progress on widening the Besh Road and laying down the rock base, despite the inclement weather. However, they were stalled by the marsh and he wondered how they were going to circumvent it. He told one of his aides to get the roadmaster and bring him over for a talk.

  The roadmaster was a tall man with a broad chest and a ginger beard. “Your Highness, what can I do for you?”

  Phidestros noted the man had a Hostigi accent. “I was wondering how you were going to deal with the marsh that’s flooding the road?”

  The man idly stroked his beard while he thought. “Your Highness. This stretch of the road has only been passable during the summer months, due to a drainage problem. That farmer has grown rich off the tariffs he charges to use his land as a bypass. Unfortunately, this area of the road’s a sinkhole and we’d have to move a hundred wagons of stone to stabilize it and fifty more to raise the roadbed high enough that it would stay dry through most rains.”

  Phidestros estimated the cost of moving that much limestone from the nearest quarry. Probably two ounces of gold per wagonload. With labor, the total cost would be well over five hundred Crowns. “Would moving it through this potato patch be cheaper?”

  The roadmaster nodded his head. “There’s a bit of an incline, Your Highness, but we could probably work around that. King Kalvan used to raise the angle of the roadbed to maintain stability. That would be my suggestion.”

  “Let me talk to the farmer.” Phidestros rode over to the farmhouse with Captain-General Kyblannos and several bodyguards.

  Phidestros, making an arc with his arm, asked, “What do you believe this section of potato patch is worth?”

  Kyblannos dismounted and walked through the potato plants. He kicked at the ground, sending up a gray dust cloud, then pointed to hoof marks and trampled plants. “It’s not much of a potato patch. I think it’s just an excuse to levy a tariff on local traffic.”

  “That’s what I thought. Would a hundred silver crowns be a good price?”

  “A very good price, Cap’n; more than he makes in five winters. But he’ll want to haggle.”

  Phidestros nodded. “You’re good at haggling. I’ll let you work out a price with him.”

  By the winter after this coming one, the Besh Road would stretch from Besh Town all the way to Sask Town. He was using Kalvan’s Great King’s Highway as his model. He’d even found two of Kalvan’s engineers among his new citizens and put them to work as roadmasters.

  He watched as Kyblannos and the farmer started talking and gesturing. Then they were both waving their arms and imploring the Sky-Thrones of the Gods. This went on for some time before they clasped hands.

  Kyblannos had a big smile on his face when he rode up. “It’s yours, Cap’n. It’ll only cost you seventy-five silver crowns. The farmer tried to describe this wart wrinkle as Yirtta’s Own Patch of Earth. He kept at it for a while, but in the end he knew that if he tried to overcharge you it might turn out badly. Most of these freeholders are greedy, but they’re not stupid.”

  “Good work, old son.” Phidestros rode his mount back to where the roadmaster was overseeing the workers. “Roadmaster, that potato patch is now Crown territory. You can run the road through it now.”

  He smiled. “You’ve just saved us half a moon’s work, Your Highness. “May the gods keep watch over you.”

  Phidestros turned back to Kyblannos. They were well across the Sashtan border and only a few days from Besh Town. “Here’s what I want you to tell Great King-Elect Selestros when you arrive in Harphax City. But, first present him with Lysandros’ head—after you decant it from the wine barrel!”

  They both had a good laugh over that and Selestros’ possible reactions to the sight, which included everything from dropping into a dead faint to spewing his breakfast on the floor.

  “Are you sure that you don’t want to go in person?” Kyblannos asked. “Selestros might take insult that you’re sending an underling to present him with his uncle’s head.”

  “I miss my wife. To Regwarn with what Selestros wants! He’s going to have to learn that he’s not the one rolling the bones.”

  A sentry came galloping up, spraying mud and dirt clods behind him. “Ho, Prince!”

  “What is it?” Phidestros demanded.

  “I’ve got an urgent dispatch for you, Your Highness.” The messenger couldn’t contain himself, adding, “The Styphoni took Besh Town while you were on campaign!”

  “What? Is the Princess all right?”

  The man shook his head. “The Styphoni took her prisoner. The details are in the pouch.”

  Phidestros felt his heartbeat race. He tore open the leather bag and pulled out the parchm
ent inside. He read the letter haltingly, while cursing under his breath.

  “What’s it say?” Kyblannos asked.

  “The Styphoni somehow knew we were going to be in Hostigos and they used that diversion to attack Besh Town. They blew up the Town Gate and started to sack the town, taking prisoners.”

  “Were they put under Investigation?”

  Phidestros shrugged, his face frozen in a rictus of rage and anger. “I don’t know.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” Kyblannos said. “What does Styphon’s House care about a bunch of underlings?”

  “I know what they wanted them for. To use their lives as bargaining tokens for the Princess. Dralm-damnit! This would have never happened if I had stayed home. Arminta has a soft heart and they used that against her, the blackguards! She couldn’t sit idly by and watch our subjects die. Maybe the time has come to raise a real army and raze Balph to the ground and kill every temple rat within a hundred marches!”

  Kyblannos shook his head. “You can’t lose your temper, Cap’n. If you do something like that, it will forfeit the Princess’s life.”

  “You’re right, you’re right…” Phidestros’ stomach hurt so much it was as if he’d been stabbed in the gut. “I…I…I don’t know what to do, may Styphon be damned and his priests drowned in boiling oil!”

  “Pull yourself together, man, before the men see what’s going on. See that copse over there. Let’s ride to it so we can discuss this in private.”

  Phidestros pounded on his saddle pommel like a man possessed as they rode over the potato patch and up the hill to a stand of oak and maple trees. Why was I so stupid? He should have guessed that Styphon’s House would take advantage of his absence. His problem was that he had focused too much on Grand Master Soton, forgetting that Styphon’s House had other willing commanders.

  He pulled hard on the reins, when they reached the little copse. He jumped down off his horse and took out his water flask, yanked off his helmet and dumped the water over his head. Dralm-damnit! What am I going to do?

  Kyblannos got off his horse, wrapped his arms around him, giving him a bear hug. “I know you want revenge, Cap’n. But it’ll have to wait until we see what the damned buggers have done with the Princess.”

  Phidestros pushed him away. “I want to kill every scum-sucking bastard in Balph! But you’re right, not now. I’ll have to put my revenge on ice. But if anything happens to my wife and unborn child, I’ll pull Balph down a brick at a time and kill everything living until it’s a graveyard!”

  “Now, you’re thinking, Captain. We need to find out what those thieving priests want for her life.”

  “I hope Cythros has some answers. He’d better, or I’ll throttle him with my own hands!”

  “Cap’n, we don’t even know if Cythros is dead or alive. He’s a good man; he wouldn’t let the Styphoni take her unless there was a good reason. We need to get to Besh Town and get some answers.”

  Phidestros nodded. “You’re right, old friend. We need to get the complete story before we strike back, but strike back we will, by the Wargod’s Mace!

  III

  The sea journey from Harphax City to Zygros City had been a harrowing one. The fast galley, The Sea Sprite, had been forced to return to port several times, once waiting an entire quarter moon before the ocean storms calmed enough that they could continue their journey. Duke Sestembar had twisted his ankle aboard ship so badly he was still walking with a limp; he was certain he’d grown a new crop of gray hairs and learned the real meaning of sea sickness. He was also certain that he’d never sail again except under the threat of death.

  It didn’t help that he was waiting outside the Prince’s chambers while he topped one of his slave girls. The Prince had an inordinate appetite and kept a dozen beautiful slave girls. His appetites were prodigious and his tastes in flesh were known to slave dealers throughout the Five Kingdoms.

  He was on his third pipeful when the slave girl slunk out of her master’s chamber. Both her eyes were blackened in the current Zygrosi style and her nightgown ripped. She looked at him with wet orbs, looking like a long-haired raccoon, as if for succor. In return, he gave her a hard look—she bolted down the passageway, her bare feet slapping against the stone floor.

  He knocked on the open door before entering.

  “Odard, is that you? Bring me another cask of wine.”

  “No, it’s me, Your Highness.” The chamber reeked of spoiled wine and dirty clothes.

  “Come in, you old blackguard,” the Prince slurred, as he slowly covered his lanky naked body with a robe. When the belt was knotted, he yanked the bell pull. “Odard! I have company, you dog-faced wretch!”

  The Prince’s manservant, carrying a keg of wine, stepped into the room like a powder boy might step into a fireseed depot. He set the keg on a table, pulled out the bung and filled two gold goblets, handing one to Eudocles and the other to Sestembar. He left the chamber nodding his head and with one hand held out in supplication.

  The Prince took a long draught, then looked at Sestembar owlishly. “What’s with the cane?”

  He sat down in a chair, while the Prince flopped onto his couch which was draped with slips and petticoats.

  “Bad time of the year for sea travel, Your Highness. In the trough of a big wave, I caught my foot on some ropes and was thrown halfway across the blasted galley. It’s Lytris’ Own Luck I’m still walking.”

  “Oh, yes…” he slurred. “I sent you to talk to that bastard who claims to be my son. Can you believe his effrontery! Calls himself a Prince, too. Here I am, with the blood of kings running in my veins, and my get has wrangled himself a princedom; now his rank is equal to my own. This travesty stinks all the way to the god’s Sky-Palaces.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. If there was any justice, you would be Great King instead of your brother.” The Duke had to be wary; when Eudocles was in one of his black moods he had been known to run a servant or underling through with his sword. He ran his eyes over the chamber and saw that the Prince’s sword was still in its scabbard by the hearth. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “He’s also become a kingmaker,” Sestembar said. “Phidestros has elevated Great King Kaiphranos’ snot-nosed son to the Iron Throne.”

  “Selestros? Har! Kaiphranos’ ghost must be turning itself inside out. What about his liege lord, King Lysandros?”

  “Phidestros has Lysandros’ pregnant wife, Great Queen Lavena, under his protection; the last I heard he was gathering up an army to greet Lysandros before he returned to Harphax City.”

  “Well, a toast then. It appears the boy’s feet may fit into my boots, after all. I never could stand Lysandros, that back-stabbing son-of-a-she-wolf. Will my son support me if I were to escort my brother into Ormaz’s Caverns?”

  “No. He has no interest in aiding anyone but himself,” Sestembar said. In that sense he is just like his father.

  “It sounds to me as if the boy is growing too big for his slops. What’s the good of having a son if he refuses to help his father? Doesn’t he remember all the gold and advice I gave him?”

  Sestembar just nodded his head; he knew better than to jump into the middle of that morass. Sure, after denying the boy for his entire childhood, the Duke had given his son gold, but only after Phidestros had made his bones as a mercenary captain. And, always, with the idea that the boy’s loyalty could be bought and used to further his father’s ambitions.

  “I wonder…if I offered to make Phidestros Prince of Zygros, do you think he might return and help me put my nobles in their place?”

  “I doubt it, Your Grace. He appears content with life in Hos-Harphax. Plus, he owns more land than the entire Princedom of Zygros.”

  “Who would have dreamed my bastard son would have risen so high?” Eudocles was beginning to drool and soon he would be fast asleep. No doubt they would have to repeat this entire conversation once the Duke was sober. “Maybe I should have married, after all. Now, my dynasty will end when I leave fo
r Galzar’s Hall.”

  More likely Ormaz’s Caverns, thought Sestembar. “It’s not your fault, Your Highness, that you could never find a woman worthy of your devotion.” Most women were repulsed by Eudocles’ arrogance upon first meeting, even more so when they learned of his penchant for slave girls. He could have had several women from good houses, if he’d been willing to pay a good bride price, but the Prince enjoyed living alone without interference.

  Sestembar’s plan, when he traveled to Harphax City, had been to convince the bastard to come home with his army and support his father. Help him take the Ivory Throne. It was the only way Setembar would ever become a Prince and have his independence from Eu-docles. He was getting tired of wiping Eudocles’ drool and being his whipping boy. This was no life for a man of action. But he had to be careful, too. If he pushed the Prince too far, King Sopharar and the League might fight back. Then where would he be? Without Eudocles’ backing, he too was just a jumped-up mercenary.

  Maybe it was time for him to talk with Archpriest Idyol, High-priest of the Grand Temple of Zygros, and see what the Temple would pay for this information. Idyol had been paying him a stipend for a long time, but now it was time to fatten the purse. Very few people knew that Eudocles was Phidestros’ father; he wondered what the fat Archpriest would pay for that information?

  TWENTY-TW⊕

  As his advance party drew up to the city walls of Besh Town, the first thing that Phidestros noticed was the huge pit off to one side with several dark clouds of buzzing flies overhead. He could hear their infernal noise from a quarter march away. Several hundred men, many of whom appeared to be soldiers, were using shovels to throw dirt into the pit. Another group of artisans were rebuilding the gate houses and attendant walls. The town gate itself was a pile of kindling wood some three lances tall.