Kalvan Kingmaker

by John F. Carr

  Soton had never been fond of elite units, even the Order's Holy Lancers; it struck him they were usually more worried about dirtying their fancy armor with blood and gore than they were about getting the job done. But, after the Battle of Phyrax, when several Temple Bands died to the last man, he would admit that Styphon's Own Guard took a lot of killing on the battlefield.

  Archpriest Prysos arrived moments later. Soton had identified him as a man in a brown cloak leaning against a livery stable on the opposite side of the cobble stone street.

  He walked passed Soton, saying, "Follow me."

  Soton followed Prysos into the back of the tavern, up a flight of rickety stairs. The Archpriest's subterfuge passed muster, because no one bothered to give them a second look. Soton suspect it was not unusual to see guests arriving and going upstairs for assignations. In the new Balph, inquisitiveness was not rewarded for the lower classes. Soton's throat tightened at the heady odor of ripe beer and ale that followed them to the top of the stairs. There he followed the Archpriest into a darkened hallway, where Prysos made three rapid knocks on the second door to the left. Soton had his hideaway pistol half drawn.

  The door opened quickly to reveal Archpriest Anaxthenes, wearing a floor-length traveler's cloak like Soton's. The Archpriest's clean-shaven face was pale and there were droplets of perspiration covering his forehead. "Come in, come in. Prysos, good work. I will meet with you back at my private chambers."

  There were two rickety chairs and a lumpy straw covered pallet in the corner. Soton picked up one of the chairs and set it next to a small hearth and started warming his hands. Anaxthenes appeared not to notice and was pacing back and forth in the small cell-like room.

  When it appeared that Anaxthenes was not going to start the conversation, Soton began to speak. "What is so important you called me to Balph, away from killing barbarians in the south, First Speaker?"

  Anaxthenes looked at Soton as if he'd just popped out of the woodwork. "I'm sorry, Grand Master. My mind is a tangle."

  If the Archpriest called Styphon's Mouth—so cleverly did he manipulate Styphon's Voice, Supreme Priest Sesklos many strings—was this distraught, clearly Kalvan and his army was marching on the Holy City of Balph with all his troops, and those of the Great Kingdom's of Hos-Harphax and Hos-Agrys besides.

  "Have you seen the bands of priests in white-robes, emblazoned with Styphon's device, crowding the streets?"

  "Yes. I was wondering if it was some special festival for all the village and under priests." Truth was Soton had never seen more than a few white-robed priests in Balph, and only then as lackeys for some out-of-town Temple highpriest. The underpriests, novitiates, village priests, and temple-farm priests, had never been very welcome in Balph; it was as if they were an affront to the upper priesthood.

  "No festival. And these are no ordinary temple farm underpriests, raking cow dung for saltpeter. They are Archpriests Roxthar's—the new Holy Investigator's—special Investigators. Blast his slippery hide! They are here to rake the temple priests in Balph for blasphemers and non-believers."

  "Investigators? I've never heard of such priests."

  "You will now."

  "Please explain this puzzle, Anaxthenes? I have been gone from Balph little over two moons and mood of the entire city has changed."

  "It's that fiend, Roxthar. I had heard word, from Sesklos, of his plans for an Investigation of Styphon's priesthood to root out the unbelievers, but I understood that he would not make his move until the Council had met at Ktemnos City."

  Soton had little sympathy for Anaxthenes; yet, for all of his treacherous ways, Styphon's House had prospered under his and Sesklos' hands. And to be so quickly undone by a man unknown outside the Inner Circle until Kalvan's mysterious arrival. Oh, how it must gall.

  Yet, look how successfully the two unlikely musicians were now beginning to play—Kalvan and Roxthar—polar opposites, yet both catalysts for great change. It appeared they were both playing the same melody—the corruption of Styphon's upperpriests—but on different lutes. The rot had been there all along but no one had really noticed until Kalvan and then Roxthar began to harp on it.

  "How could this thing happen?" Soton asked.

  "Archpriest Dracar! That sniveling swine of a man. When Sesklos didn't immediately shout to the rooftops of Balph that Dracar was to be his successor, he saw treachery. If he had but come to me, I would have told him the truth. Instead, he called Roxthar to his private chamber, I'm told, and there sold his birthright. The fool. Now that Roxthar's set his fangs, they will never be withdrawn. May Styphon curse the lot of them!"

  Ahhh. Everything became clear. Anaxthenes had sold his right to be Styphon's Voice to Dracar in exchange for Dracar's support at the Seventh Great Council and had then expected to pull Dracar's strings as he'd pulled Sesklos, when the time came for Dracar to become Supreme Priest. Dracar was at heart, a timid man, who'd only risen so high in the Inner Circle because his fear gave him purpose and that certain ruthlessness that was necessary to ascend to such heights in Styphon's Priesthood.

  But Roxthar had cut Anaxthenes's strings and put his own on Dracar. Yes, Dracar would well fear Roxthar—and for good reason—as the Investigator's fanaticism burned like a house fire. Now that Archpriest Roxthar had new powers as Holy Investigator, Dracar would have even more reason to fear him. There was nothing about these new developments the First Speaker could do, except bide his time—but the art of patience appeared to be no longer one of Anaxthenes's virtues.

  "What about the Inner Circle? Dracar's wits must truly be addled if he let Roxthar Investigate those who wear the yellow robe."

  "No, he's not completely undone. According to the writ the two of them had the idiot Sesklos sign, the Inner Circle—being the highest manifestation of Styphon's Will Upon Earth—is exempt from any Investigation. Praise Styphon! But who knows what evil designs lurk within the dark cavities of Roxthar's skull."

  "I am thankful that you saw it necessary to inform me of these developments, but why was it necessary to call me to Balph, when a special envoy, like Prysos, would have done just as well?" Yes, what new scheme was cooking in the First Speaker's mind? And Anaxthenes was talking so rashly; one would hardly recognize that he had been raised on Sesklos' knee. Soton had never forgotten the old peasant proverb, 'In Balph, even the planks have ears.'

  Anaxthenes, for the first time, lowered his voice to a whisper. "I need your help, Styphon's House needs your help. You are the only man who can stop Roxthar before it's too late."

  "Me? How?"

  "Mobilize the Knights. Tarr-Ardros is not far from here and a full Wedge is based there. Bring them into Balph and arrest Roxthar and the Investigators. My supporters will help you find them all. We will deal with them after you've put them into our care. Any blood will be upon our hands."

  Soton could hardly believe his own ears. Was Anaxthenes asking him to bring in Knights to arrest Styphon's own priests? Madness, surely. Could he even command the Knights to do such a thing. Well, yes he could, but the repercussions… And what would Styphon's Own Guard have to say?

  "Once the boil is lanced, only Styphon knows how much blood will spill."

  "Leave the thinking to me," Anaxthenes replied. "Sesklos will do whatever I tell him, now. And I've got him beyond Roxthar or Dracar's reach. All you have to do is bring in the Knights."

  "Perhaps this Investigation is not such an ill thing. Styphon's House needs purpose and unity if it is to defeat the Usurper Kalvan."

  "Grand Master, had you been in Balph these last two moons, you would not think this way. You are the pillar of Styphon's House on Earth. You are the only one who can deliver us from this scourge. I plead with you to heed my words. Before it is too late!

  "Now I must depart before someone notices my absence. We have only days to decide. I'll leave you alone with your thoughts. Prysos will join you soon and take you to a safe house where you can stay until you have digested my plans."

  "Anaxthenes, I cannot s
upport this plot. Such a split in the Temple would weaken the fight against the Usurper and he surely would use it against us. We must not let our enemies know our weaknesses—"

  The First Speaker slipped out the door before Soton could finish, leaving him with a splitting headache and too many questions he could not and did not want to think about.

  FOURTEEN

  I

  It had been Kalvan's idea for the entire party to retire, less any ladies, to the Crossed Halberds tavern for some of Ermut's new brandy. He'd been spending way too much time in the audience chambers of late, dealing with guildmasters, merchants and landlords. Everyone else, but Prince Ptosphes—who didn't know what fun was anymore since Tenabra—was having a good time. Today the delegation from the League of Dralm had arrived, in the person of Duke Mnestros, eldest son of Prince Thykarses of Ubros.

  Kalvan had taken an instant liking to the straight-talking big duke, probably the tallest Zarthani—other than Rylla's bodyguard Xykos—he had seen here-and-now. Mnestros would have made a good prospect for the NBA back home in otherwhen. The only thing Kalvan missed back in Pennsylvania, besides hot showers, was baseball season. While he'd never had much truck with the Phillies, he'd been a big Pirates fan—even on occasion traveling to Three Rivers Stadium when they had a weekend home game.

  Kalvan had also noticed the Duke's stolen glances at Rylla—not that he could blame the prince-to-be; he would have done the same had their positions been reversed! However, they hadn't heard any good news from Hos-Agrys since Highpriest Xentos had left for the Council of Dralm and Kalvan wanted to hear what the Duke had to say, minus any distractions.

  He took a drink of Ermut's brandy, now called Ermut's Best. The University brandy was now appearing in inns and taverns all through Hosti-gos, soon to go kingdom-wide, he suspected if the harried barmaids at the Crossed Halberds were any indication of its popularity. Which was fine with him, since it was turning into a blessed source of revenue for the exchequer—and without any taxation, either! Once production was up, they'd start exporting Ermut's Best to Hos-Agrys and Hos-Zygros.

  "As I was saying," Duke Mnestros paused to take another drink from his goblet. "By the way, King Kalvan if this "brandy" is any example of your demonic talents, why I'd like to take your Ermut back to Ubros with me as the Prince's Distiller." That got a few laughs and another round of drinks. "Seriously, the highpriests of Dralm have chewed their jaws for moons: Praise, Dralm, I mean no disrespect to the Father God, but his priests do not know how to use one word when ten will do. And, after all this babble, they still refuse to bless the crusade against Styphon! Priests, what do they know?"—Mnestros nodded his respect to Tharses, priest of Galzar, indicating that the priests of the Wargod were not included in what he was about to say. "To these highpriests of Dralm, life's biggest headache is how much corn, beans and squash the peasants will bring for the fall offerings. And, while they ponder these weighty matters, Styphon's Archpriests are planning on how to cut off their heads and stick them on poles upon Tarr-Agrys battlements!"

  There was a big "Hear, hear," from Prince Sarrask, who was already half in the bag and, if possible, even more bored than Kalvan with the endless rounds of parchment shuffling. "Another round, for Duke Mnestros. A man destined to go far in the Six Kingdoms!"

  Kalvan was already feeling a little light-headed, but if a man couldn't have a few drinks with good friends, what did it all mean anyway? Kalvan cleared his head long enough to ask the question he'd wanted to ask all afternoon. "Do you think the Council of Dralm will bless Hos-Hostigos and lend us their support?"

  The Dukes arrival with a cavalry band of around five hundred troopers had been heartening indeed.

  Duke Mnestros sobered right up. "It's still too early to tell, but I wouldn't be anticipating much in the way of gold or guns from the League of Dralm or Hos-Agrys. Great King Demistophon, who has become the

  Great King Whom No One Has Seen—ever since Prince Ptosphes' victory over his forces at the at the Battle of Lycostt—has been trying to walk a tightrope between his Styphoni creditors and his Princes' exhortations of support for Hostigos. He has even called upon the Electors to disband the League of Dralm. Of course, we have pretended not to understand his emissaries, since we know that he is still in hiding. Since when has Demistophon heeded our cries of troops or a portion of the royal treasury!"

  "All Great Kings are skinflints," Sarrask slurred, "present company excluded." He bowed in Kalvan's direction. "Duke, you appear to be a man of soldierly virtues. I will tell you this, By Galzar, you will not find a better ruler to serve than our Great King Kalvan." He sat down his goblet and held up a scarred and callused hand, the size of a baseball mitt. "He has given us a hand's count of great battles, with more to come. What more can a Prince ask for in this life?" Sarrask paused long enough to pat the rear of a busy barmaid, then winked. "This war has made me so popular among the wenches I haven't had to pay for their favors in a year! Is Kalvan a great king or what? Another round, Sysis."

  "A toast to a real Great King!" Mnestros ordered. This time Sysis brought two rounds of Ermut's Best.

  "If it's not impolite," Chartiphon interjected, "has Hos-Agrys become so dangerous that her princes have to bring along four troops of cavalry just to bring a diplomatic pouch?" The Captain General appeared uncomfortable in the present company. Kalvan figured it was probably some remaining animosity with Sarrask; after all, when Calvin Morrison had been dropped off here by that cross-time flying saucer, they had been mortal enemies.

  "Not at all, Grand Captain-General. I was unable to bring the charter of support I had hoped to win from the League so instead I got myself appointed League advisor. Of course, along with such a prestigious appointment, comes the necessity of a proper guard. So I brought with me two companies of the Ubros Household Guard and two companies of my own pistoleers. Truth be told, I'm hoping that King Kalvan will make his long-awaited advance into Hos-Harphax this spring and allow me to accompany him," he paused to wink at Kalvan and Chartiphon, "as League advisor. Of course, my troopers will not be bound by the same rules."

  Now it was Kalvan's turn to make a toast. "To Duke Mnestros, who—for once—brings us deeds, not hot air from Hos-Agrys!" A chorus of voices echoed his words. "Five hundred horse are welcome indeed. I welcome your support, Duke." Even Chartiphon had a smile, instead of his usual grimace. "And, I promise, by all the gods, you will get more fighting than you ever dreamed!"

  "By Galzar's Mace," Sarrask shouted, rising to lean over the table and give Kalvan a bear hug, "Is this not a great life?"

  II

  Soton sat in his chair for another quarter candle trying to see the patterns in all that Anaxthenes had laid at his feet. His head felt as if it were in his helm and someone was banging on it with a battleaxe. These impious Inner Circle priests with their plots and counterplots…

  There was a knock at the door.

  Soton pulled out a pistol from his belt, checked the priming pan, and set the lock. He walked over to the wall on the other side of the door and flung it open, following it with his pistol.

  The barrel was set level with the red design, Styphon's Great Wheel, upon Archpriest Roxthar's chest. "My apologies, Your Holiness"

  "It is naught. These are trying times for gods and mortals. Please set your pistol aside, Grand Master Soton."

  Archpriest Roxthar being diplomatic; had the stars fallen from the sky? It took a moment before Roxthar's request registered full upon his mind and he lowered his pistol.

  "Come in, Your Holiness."

  "No need for titles, this white robe is enough. Call me Roxthar."

  They both sat down and Soton tried to hide the tremble in his hands while he waited for the Archpriest to speak. His talents lay on the battlefield, not in Temple machinations.

  "You know why I'm here?"

  "I assume that a certain Archpriest has more than one master."

  Roxthar's smile was a heart-stopping sight; Soton decided he'd rather shoot his way out o
f Balph than face an Investigation. Now he knew the walls did have ears.

  "My Holy Investigators and I were in the next room listening to your conversation with the First Speaker."

  For a moment Soton wondered if Roxthar did have diabolical powers and could read his mind. No. He just had a better intelligence system than Anaxthenes—surely this demonstrated the First Speaker's star was in decline. How many times during an interrogation had he played the same sorts of tricks upon Sastragathi headmen.

  "I was not displeased with your handling of the First Speaker. He is losing his grip upon the reins of power, and for the moment his wits as well. But this will pass, Styphon's Will Be Done. He has uncommon sight and soon his vision will clear again; Styphon's House still has need for men of his talents for the battles to come—against the Daemon Kalvan, the vipers in our own nest and the damnable spawn of the False God of Dralm."

  For the first time since Roxthar had entered the room Soton felt his pulse return to a beat approaching normal. It appeared he had his place in Roxthar's schemes as well as Anaxthenes. So be it. As long as they left the Knights in his command and did not interfere with his orders, he would leave them to their Temple plots and ambitions.

  "There is much work to be done," Roxthar continued, "and Styphon will need his sharpest tools to separate the wheat from its chaff. You and your Knights are one of Styphon's finest blades and we cannot allow your purpose to be dulled. Do you derive my meaning?"

  "Yes, you don't want the Knights involved in Temple affairs."

  Roxthar grinned, reminding Soton of one of the alligators he'd seen while doing a tour of the forts in the Great Peninsula a few winters back.