Kalvan Kingmaker

by John F. Carr

  "Quiet!" the Clan Chief shouted. "Who will make the claim for Ranjar Sargos, Chief of the Raven Tribe?"

  "I will," Althea said, her woman's voice quieting the assembled tribesmen as if a huge hand had been cupped over the hollow.

  Sargos heard one voice off to the left, from the ranks of the Longhorns say, "I hear the woman is a witch. It is said she slew twenty of the Grass-men with only her knife!"

  Voices erupted from every camp.

  "By what right is this woman allowed to speak!" Mordar shouted; his arms and thighs may have withered, but his voice was still big.

  But not as big as the presence of Vanar Halgoth. "By the right oivergelt! This maiden, my niece, has blood right on her side. Althea lost her entire family to the Grassmen and by her own hand cut five of their throats!"

  There was a rumble of amazement and surprise.

  With her uncle by her side, Althea strode to the Judgment Table, her long blonde hair following like a banner. As he watched her, Sargos thought to himself, this is what we are fighting for, the safety and protection of our women and children. They are the future of all the Tymannes.

  She paused to make sure she had everyone's attention before speaking.

  "My tribe was slain by the Grassmen. They attacked our camp while our men were at the hunt. They did unspeakable things to our women and killed all our boys over the age of six winters."

  This brought forward a collective gasp. Most Tymannes had heard the story around the campfire, but the tale became truth to the warriors, when spoken at the Council by a survivor.

  "When our men returned, they were ambushed and killed, by those coyotes in human form, the Grassmen. If it were not for Warchief Sargos, our tribesmen's ghosts would still be seeking their vengeance. Warchief Sargos led a surprise night raid upon their camp and all the Grassmen were killed, their women taken prisoner and all their horses taken."

  Even though the Raven Tribe's raid had been talked about for days, there was still a moment of silence as the assembled tribesmen thought about the hundreds upon hundreds of horses that had swelled the Raven's herds to unheard of size.

  Althea's eyes locked upon Sargos own as she said, "I think there can be only one choice for Warlord of the Tymannes and that man is Warchief Ranjar Sargos!"

  The bowl erupted with thunderous applause and shouts of agreement.

  "It is unanimous then," the Clan Chief said, despite the frowns on Mor-dor's face and that of his subchiefs.

  Chief Mordor spit on the ground and walked away with all the dignity he could muster.

  "The new Warlord of the Tymannes has been chosen. Ranjar Sargos is your Warlord. Come, Ranjar Sargos and speak to your people." The Clan Chief looked as if he were relieved to be able to shift the responsibility for the clan's survival to someone else's shoulder, and at that moment Sargos felt as if he were carrying every clansman—man, woman and child—on his back. The look upon Althea's face as he passed by her somehow made it all worthwhile.

  Warlord Sargos stood before the Tymanni warriors. "I make a mighty oath to protect our Clan and our women! I swear this by the Raven Hag of War! Death to all our enemies. Our Clansmen who have died will be avenged!"

  The Raven flag was hoisted before Sargos and waved vigorously. The big black bird, with a red morsel in it's beak, appeared to take flight as the flag flapped, and when a flock of crows flew overhead it was called a mighty portent. "The Hag herself rejoices in our Warlord!"

  As Sargos watched the big black birds, the scavengers of battlefields, the new Warlord wondered whom they came for? The Tymannes or their enemies? Sargos had a feeling deep in his bones that the answer would not be long in coming.

  II

  Trader Tortha followed Great King Kalvan into his private audience chamber. He was wearing his formal mink-collared robe and welcomed its protection from the drafty castle halls. He had been impressed at how quickly Kalvan had grasped the idea of secrecy as a weapon; the moment he'd heard from his steward that Tortha was a friend of Trader Verkan's Kalvan had arranged for him to be quickly escorted into a private chamber with a goblet of Ermut's Best—which was good enough that Tortha planned to take some back to First Level with him when he left. He'd have to be careful to watch his consumption, even though he had his alcodote, a First Level alcohol neutralizer, with him. He didn't want to make Kalvan suspicious, since the former Pennsylvania State trooper was noted for missing very little of what went on around him.

  Kalvan stretched and eased himself down onto a highback chair. Tortha was pleased to note that his chair was not only the same height, but of the same quality as Kalvan's. Here was a man without obvious insecurities and one who valued his friends' comfort over his own elevation—admirable qualities on any time-line.

  After a long sigh, Kalvan picked up the small cask and filled his own goblet with Ermut's Best. "I read over Verkan's post, before I left the audience room. I'm pleased to see that his affairs go so well in Greffa. Let's toast to his success in gaining the friendship of King Theovacar for Hos-Hostigos!"

  Alcohol toasts were almost a universal constant on every Level, but an absolute constant throughout Fourth Level. They both clanked goblets.

  "Our friend also had good things to say about yourself, Master Tortha."

  Tortha shrugged. "I've known Verkan since he was wearing teething gowns! Our Houses have been friends since my grandfather's time. He has grown into a fine man, and a good friend."

  Kalvan nodded his agreement. "His letter tells me that your House is based in Xiphlon. Can you tell me of events there; We have gotten very little news since the Mexicotal siege."

  "We've suffered these sieges before, even before there were Five Kingdoms, before there was an Iron Trail. The plains are like the sea, they send storms—some are bad, and some are terrible. We have learned to build our walls stout enough that not even the highest sea can breach them. Yet, you have unleashed the formula for fireseed so that now all the tribes and clans to the west and south can make their own. Soon, they will buy better cannon, and even the Great Walls of Xiphlon will be endangered."

  Kalvan looked thoughtful. "You don't seem angry?"

  "If not you, then someone else—god-sent, or man—would have uncovered Styphon's Mystery. Does one blame the sea for breakers that beat upon the shore? No. It only means that we will have to forge our own guns and make our army more mobile; two things that you have proven to be your providence. I see a great future in trade between our two Kingdoms."

  Kalvan smiled. "You have a quick and deep mind—like our friend, Verkan. Were it in my power We would send a great host to Xiphlon to teach these feathered cannibals about our god of war—by Galzar's Mace!"

  "I believe you would, King Kalvan. I also believe you would be a good friend for Xiphlon and, if my word has any value in King Rolthoff's ears, I will tell him of your words and the sincerity behind them."

  "If your king values good words, as he does good soldiers, your words will be heard. How go events in the upper Middle Kingdoms?"

  "King Theovacar's plans for the new lighthouse are quickly coming to fruition. It will be the grandest monument since the days when the Iron Trail was bustling with traffic. Trade has been good during his reign and both our House and Verkan's were flourishing until the Mexicotal fought their way to our City walls. Verkan has helped our Greffa branch grow under his aegis and we, ourselves, may soon be able to trade with Hos-Hostigos."

  "Styphon has been generous with his treasure, as he has left Us many empty temples with their gold roofs to add to the Royal Treasury. We would be interested in expanding Our trade to more houses in the Middle Kingdoms. We welcome Our friends from Dorg and Wulfula as well as Xiphlon and Greffa. You have Our permission to tell any of your trader friends that Hostigos is always a good market for quality arms and guns. And that Hos-Hostigos pays with gold and silver of higher purity than any other realm in the Six Kingdoms."

  Talking to Kalvan reminded Tortha of trying to get a point across in the Executive Council,
where every declarative word could be used against you like a club. Kalvan had very quickly mastered the Zarthani indirect mode of speech, which boded well for his survival among a people who took a man's word as his oath—so it couldn't be given easily, or without qualification. Still, he hoped that someday the two of them would be able to talk freely as friends. Tortha liked Kalvan and wished him the best, even though he knew, with all that was coming Kalvan's way, that was like whistling into a deep cave.

  III

  Duke Skranga held up the parchment to the oil lamp and reread Prince Bythannes promissory note for eighteen thousand gold crowns. In his hand he held the future of the Princedom of Thaphigos. If this letter were to fall into Lysandros' hands, it could spark a major war between Harphax and Thaphigos. Put into Styphon's House's lap and they might finance a baronial revolt among the Thaphigos nobility.

  To Kalvan the note was a guarantee of Thaphigosi opposition to Lysandros' election as Great King of Hos-Harphax. Briefly Skranga wondered how much gold and land Prince Lysandros would reward him with for ownership of the parchment. Then he made a long sigh of resignation. He couldn't betray Kalvan; the only man who'd seen something finer in him than what was shown on the outside. Who else but Kalvan had guessed that he could read and write, an advantage Skranga has used more than once to swindle some uppity noble?

  This had to be Lyklos the Trickster's work! After a lifetime of horse-trading and petty thievery, when he finally found "the big one," he'd already given his bond to a man he both trusted and liked.

  Kalvan also had been responsible for sending Skranga to Nostor, where he'd been granted a title, a dukedom yet! When the war finally ended Skranga might well find himself a respected nobleman and a landholder in Hos-Hostigos. What had happened to the gangly youth, whom even his father had predicted would finish this life at the end of a rope? These were strange times indeed!

  Skranga put down the promissory note and returned to the letter he was writing to Great King Kalvan:

  I'm not sure what Lysandros will do when he discovers that Bythannes had paid off his outstanding notes, with gold other than that from Styphon's coffers. I expect he will be livid, but he has to do something decisive to break the Elector deadlock and unify Hos-Harphax before the campaign season starts next spring.

  If I were Lysandros, I'd go over the heads of the Electors and the Regency Council, by making one of the friendly Princely Houses, like that of Prince Bosphros of Kelos, the ninth Elector and use him to break the tie. If done quietly and decisively with soldiers to guarantee their presence, the Electors can be cowed into obedience. After all, they too feel the shame of losing a great part of their Kingdom to the new Great Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos.

  What else had he wanted to tell Kalvan? Oh yes, that he'd finally met the new Captain-General of the Harphaxi Army.

  At a party I attended last night for Baroness Demara, I finally met Captain-General Phidestros, the new commander of the Hos-Harphax Army. He is a natural leader of men, as knowledgeable of military strategy as Harmakros. A worthy adversary —it's sorrowful that Lysandros is such a good judge of manflesh .

  I made as many hints as was politic about Your Majesty's "enlightened" policies concerning good commanders and, in the process, learned why he was so suddenly elevated out of obscurity. This Phidestros is the same mercenary captain who looted Sarrask of Sask's baggage train at the Battle of Fyk! Since Sarrask is well known throughout Hos-Hostigos and Hos-Harphax as a Prince who nurses a grudge as well as his ale, Prince Lysandros knows that he can only work for Styphon's House. And that Phidestros is as likely to attempt to pay Sarrask back as Sarrask is likely to accept payment! This is as close to a guarantee of loyalty that Lysandros can expect from any mercenary Captain-General, since few are devout followers of Styphon.

  If he were writing this to any other Great King but Kalvan, Skranga would have recommended a discrete accident for Sarrask and a quite generous bribe for Phidestros. Even if they couldn't outright buy his services, they would certainly bribe him to fight less well—a not unknown custom among mercenary captains. Yet, for all his fault's Sarrask had his value as well. For one, besides Ptosphes and Prince Phrames, Sarrask was Kalvan's most loyal Prince—and not a bad soldier either as he'd amply proven at the Battle of Fyk.

  Of the other Hos-Hostigos Princes, only Prince Pheblon of Nostor was as loyal and that was because he owed his throne to Kalvan's intervention into Nostori affairs. Prince Balthames would have sold out to Styphon's House long ago were he not encircled by Hostigos, Sask, and Beshta. Prince Armanes didn't have the good sense to be disloyal and it had cost him a nasty gut wound at Phyrax that had left his digestion as sensitive as an Archpriest's of the Inner Circle. Prince Kestophes of Ulthor and Tythanes of Kyblos were as loyal as convenience allowed, since they both resided closer to the sphere of the Middle Kingdoms than to Hos-Harphax and Styphon's House. He doubted that their loyalty could be numbered in more than days were Lysandros to bring the war over the Iron Mountains. Praise be to Dralm and Galzar that Kalvan won every battle he fought, otherwise his allies might melt away like spring snow in the Moon of First Planting.

  Certainly there was little to be gained by Hos-Hostigos from the farcical union, which called itself the League of Dralm. To end this war once and for all, Kalvan might well have to conquer Hos-Agrys and Hos-Ktemnos as well as Hos-Harphax. And, despite his bias, Skranga wouldn't have given three white-hocked black horses for Kalvan's chances to accomplish that miracle, Dralm-sent or no!

  A knock at the door took him out of his reverie and he learned that his first visitor of the day had arrived. A few moments later, after he'd carefully hidden the letter to Kalvan, his personal servant brought in Master Trader Mynellos into Skranga's chamber.

  When Trader Mynellos was comfortably seated with an ice-chilled goblet of winter wine in his hand, Skranga asked, "Now, what is it that I can do for you, Master Mynellos?"

  "A precious vintage, Duke Skranga. You are to be complimented. And, I must thank you again for this gracious invitation on such short notice. I do not, however, just represent my own house. I was sent here as a representative of the Mercantile Council of Harphax City."

  "This is all very interesting, Trader. But why go to such a bother to make audience with myself? I am but a simple march nobleman who had the foresight to send the greater portion of his wealth to a Harphaxi banking house, when he saw that the Usurper Kalvan might well appear to be more than the bandit chief my late liege lord mistakenly took him for."

  "Not quite so simple, Your Grace. There were several hundred other noblemen in Nostor and Sask who did not—to their everlasting misfortune—share your foresight."

  "I grant there is some truth in your words."

  "Nor, were any of these others fortunate enough to escape from Kalvan's dungeons either, Your Grace. No, from this evidence alone, you are a most exceptional man."

  Skranga's fingers went under the chair arm to make sure that the clasp holding the hidden dirk was released. "Please, Trader, make your point. I have other petitioners to see this day and a party to prepare for this evening."

  "Certainly, I would not wish to delay one of your famous revels, especially one at which I hope to be in attendance." Skranga's fingers slowly began to relax.

  "Essentially, what we want is information. Information, concerning the new Great King and his policies, especially as they relate to travel—and trade. Also, I might add, that anything one party can discern can be learned by another."

  Skranga nodded, and bent down to pick up his pipe. That meant the Temple guard would be here next. He probably had until tomorrow to make himself scarce in Harphax City. Well, it wasn't unexpected and he would have everything he needed ready before first light. Canceling the party was out of the question, since it would raise more suspicions than his absence. Dralm damn-it, he had only one evening left to get Demara into his chambers.

  He lit his pipe, took a deep draw and exhaled. "I understand that King Kalvan is well aware of the impo
rtance of inter-kingdom trade and that considerable amounts of it are taking place, especially concerning Hostigi fireseed, despite Styphon's Ban."

  "Yes, we are aware of this smuggling. But that is to be expected, with or without his approval. Right now, though, Hos-Harphax is without access to the ports along the Saltless Seas and this is causing great hardship to a number of houses, my own included."

  "I see your problem. However, you might as easily blame Lysandros and Styphon's House who have enforced their bans, not King Kalvan who would welcome your wares. Not that I'm an impartial observer, but King Kalvan has made many reforms throughout Hos-Hostigos. He has removed all tolls on bridges, roads, and pastures. Outlawed slavery and involuntary servitude. And has made it illegal for any noble to pay his debts in other than specie."

  "These are not the acts of a madman or cutthroat as Styphon's high-priests made Kalvan out to be. This will interest the Council greatly."

  "Yes, and let it not be forgotten that Kalvan lets artificers, merchants, guild masters, and other commoners sit upon his Councils. Now, I pray you go with the gods. I have many preparations to make before nightfall."

  Master Trader Mynellos rose to his feet, bowed, and said, "Truly, I understand. It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance and I wish you the gods' own favor in your future travels."

  He wasn't sure if that was a warning from a potential ally, or a suggestion that he get out of town before someone got the idea of a tar and turkey feather party—or a hanging! Regardless, he would be on his way before tomorrow's sunrise. He would try and contact his agents before he left, but only if he could do so without raising an alarm, or risking their covers. Kalvan had told him stories about fifth columns and cells. Skranga would not want to live in a place where such activities were accepted or commonplace, but the stories were instructional and he had used a few of their techniques in Harphax City.