Kalvan Kingmaker

by John F. Carr

  The ritual lasted long enough for Verkan to survey the entire corridor without any suspicious movement of head or even eye. It was low ceilinged and dark in spite of a lavish display of candles. The granite blocks of the walls were half-hidden behind trophies of weapons, armor, and the heads and hides of buffalo, mountain lions, longhorn bulls, bears and wolves. At the far end of the corridor, Verkan saw that the stonewall had been loop-holed at about the height of a sitting man's musket. The brickwork and mortar around the loopholes were fresh.

  It was obvious that Theovacar was well defended against a revolt or palace uprising. Verkan wondered if all these safeguards were prudent foresight, or incipient paranoia.

  That was all Verkan found time to note before the herald summoned him forward through the left-hand door. Verkan was halfway across the room before he realized, except for five more Companions and the man on the carved wooden chair at the far end of the chamber, he and his friends were alone with the King.

  Verkan's spirits rose. A private audience was normally granted only to nobles or to men who'd sworn a blood oath to the king. To grant one to a man who was neither might be a way of taking the sting out of a refusal of his petition, or to apologize for the lengthy time in granting the audience. More likely, it was Theovacar's way of doing honor to the foreign king the man served, and perhaps also of ensuring that no unreliable ears heard what the king and trader said.

  With some kings, Verkan had known, the private audience could also have been a way to reduce the number of witnesses to treacherous murder. Theovacar did not have the reputation of that sort of king, and indeed he'd be a Dralm-damned fool to acquire it if he wanted peace with his nobles. They were a proud and touchy lot, but at least had the virtues of those vices; wantonly bloodthirsty rulers in Grefftscharr seldom died in bed and still less of natural causes.

  Verkan also noted with approval that Kostran was unobtrusively taking positions where he could watch both Verkan's back and the door to the chamber. If matters did become bloody, the drill would be for Verkan and Kostran to use their disguised sigma-ray needlers.

  Verkan saw for himself that Theovacar's reputation, as both a warrior and a trencherman seemed justified. His face was ruddy above its blond beard, his belly strained his knee-length velvet robe and both face and muscle-corded arms showed a fine collection of scars. Apart from the fur-lined robe, Theovacar wore doeskin trousers and boots, a wide gold tore on his left arm and a small cap of state of wolverine fur sewn with gold wire and fresh-water pearls. The effect was barbaric; the man inside those clothes, Verkan knew, was nothing of the kind.

  Verkan went down on one knee, his friend on both. "In obedience to Your Grace's summons, the Trader Verkan comes to submit to your judgment."

  Theovacar nodded. "The Trader Verkan is welcome." Then signaled the Trader's party to rise. He said nothing more until he'd taken a pipe and tobacco one of the Companions handed him and lit up, but the wide gray eyes never left Verkan.

  Finally, Theovacar had his pipe going to his satisfaction, leaned back in his chair and said, "Nothing will come of delaying the news. It is my decision, after taking council with those whose wisdom I trust in matters of trade, to grant your petition for a charter for your trading company, Verkan's Hos-Hostigos Trading Company.

  Verkan thought he heard Kostran stifle a sigh of relief and kept his own face straight only with an effort. "Your Grace does us a great honor."

  Theovacar clapped his hands and one of the Companions stepped forward, carrying a heavy leather tube on a gilded bronze tray. Another brought a jug of wine and two silver cups.

  "You will not find everything in that charter which you asked," Theovacar continued. "Nor do I expect you will find everything that is there pleasing. There were those whose advice was to deny you the charter, for falsely claiming the rights of a subject of Grefftscharr."

  If Verkan Vail had been subject to heart failure he would never have lasted in the Paracops. He did shift his feet to an unarmed-combat stance in what he hoped would be taken for a nervous shuffle and tried to look bemused.

  Theovacar saved him the trouble of further acting. "Those, who said the sworn witnesses to your Grefftscharr rights were sufficient under the law, had the stronger voice. Yet it could not be denied that you had not served as apprentice or journeyman in any of the lawful Guilds.

  "So under the charter you must pay a double tax on what you earn, one share to the Crown and the second to the treasury of the Council of Guilds. The Crown's share may be remitted at my discretion after the first year.

  Such discretion to be exercised depending on how much valuable information I bring you and how much influence in King Kalvans councils I give you, out of gratitude for not being thrown to the wolves of the Council of Guilds . Verkan mentally noted the elimination of one potentially nasty problem: If the judicious use of hypno-truth drugs hadn't produced the required quota of witnesses to cover his identity, he would have probably been denied the charter. Even worse, the rumor that there was no Free Trader from Grefftscharr named Verkan would have surely reached Kalvan's ears, and he was the one man outside First Level who might draw the appropriate conclusions from that.

  Verkan knelt again. "Your Grace's reputation for justice and wisdom was not exaggerated. Indeed, the Guilds have a lawful claim and I would hope to number them among my friends and even partners before too many years."

  The Companion presented Verkan with the leather tube and a cup of wine; he tucked the charter under his arm and emptied the cup as custom required, without taking it from his lips.

  King Theovacar drained his cup without even stopping for breath, and then swallowed half of a second cup before speaking. "You should also know that your petition for the right to hire mercenaries as guards for your trading venture has been denied. This is not for any doubt of your need for good fighting men to protect your goods and ships. It is out of Grefftscharr's great need for all its sons who have good sword arms and keen shooting eyes. The nomads who live on the Sea of Grass are on the march as they have not been in living memory. I would be a poor protector of my people if I left them defenseless against such a horde."

  The horde on this side of the Great River was not the tribes who'd been knocked loose from their traditional territory by the northward advance of the Mexicotal against Xiphlon, but the Zarthani and Urgothi nomads who'd been driven from their Great Plains' traditional hunting lands by the fierce southern Ruthani. Many of these tribes were encroaching on Grefftscharrer territory in their desire to find a safe haven, while others were using the disorder to destroy old enemies and build great clans.

  To the south it was even worse, although only few tens of thousands of the Great Plains nomads had actually crossed the river. But add in the tribes along the Great River the nomads had knocked loose, and the tribes of the Lower Sastragath and Lydistros Valley they'd knocked loose in turn, and all the people of the Upper Sastragath whose fields were being overrun and eaten bare—'horde' was no exaggeration. A quarter of a million fighting men would be a conservative estimate of their combined numbers. By next spring that number could be doubled or tripled.

  Not that Verkan believed Theovacar was telling him the whole story, or that Verkan was particularly disappointed at not being allowed to hire Grefftscharrer mercenaries for Kalvan under the guise of caravan guards. He'd put that clause in his petition to give the naysayers something to keep them happy, and also to give Theovacar a chance to present his views of the military situation. So far Verkan had succeeded in the first and suspected he wasn't going to with the second, but if he gave in without an argument Theovacar might smell something.

  "No one could ask you to do otherwise, Your Grace. Yet, it is known that the Zarthani Knights are in the field against the Horde, under Grand Master Soton himself. Will any of the Horde live long enough to need a single charge of Grefftscharrer fireseed?"

  Theovacar shrugged. "Perhaps not in the East. But already there have been two great battles outside Wulfula and one in Dorg
against the Sea of Grass horde. We ourselves have had to 'encourage' several small clans to look elsewhere for forage and lands. No, Trader Verkan, this year, and certainly next year, all Grefftscharrer fighting men must look to their own walls."

  A politer refusal than Verkan had really expected. The real reason for keeping the Grefftscharrer mercenaries at home was one Theovacar could hardly be expected to discuss in public with a near-stranger known to be in the confidence of a foreign ruler. In Greffa mercenaries were mostly drawn from men not sworn to the service of one of the noble houses Theovacar was trying to subdue. They were the king's own best military asset, and it was not in his interest to let them leave home, perhaps never to return, certainly to be unavailable for years.

  "I submit to Your Grace's judgment in this matter. Yet I must ask for the right to find some men to guard my trading ventures. Those going overland must fear the nomads' outriders as well as common bandits and barons made lawless by weak princes and kings, as those crossing the Salt-less Seas must fear pirates."

  King Theovacar scribbled on a small piece of parchment and motioned for one of his Companions to take it to Verkan. "Here, you may hire a company of caravan guards. That should be sufficient. And, if what we hear is true, there are more than pirates to be feared on the Saltless Seas. It is said that Prince Varrack of Thagnor is gathering a war fleet."

  Verkan had heard the same; he saw another opportunity to draw King Theovacar into talking freely. He nodded. "It is common rumor in all ports on the Saltless Seas. As to whether it is true or not, I can say very little, for I have seen very little with my own eyes. I would not care to think I was doing Your Grace a disservice by repeating tavern rumors as knowledge."

  "You would not be doing me a service, indeed. But it has reached my ears that your ship did put in at Thagnor for one night."

  Verkan made a mental note to find out if there was any way to learn who'd talked freely to whom, then nodded. "We put in to take on fresh water, because some of our barrels were leaking, and also to have one of our men tended to by the priests of Lystris at the sailor's hostel in Thagnor City. We were there only during the hours of darkness and anchored out in the river as well, so although we sought the truth of those rumors, we did not find it. Certainly there seemed to be more than the usual number of ships in port, but most of them were at the Salt Wharf.

  "We have heard that all three Great Kings with ports on the Saltless Seas are preparing salt provisions in great quantity, so it may well be that Prince Varrack is sending a second Salt Fleet in the spring, with chartered ships."

  "Perhaps," King Theovacar said. "Certainly I will say nothing against Varrack's desire to win gold from other's wars. Yet, I have heard also that Varrack is taking gold from a Prince who has a quarrel with his overlord Great King Demistophon of Hos-Agrys. Whether that gold is buying Prince Varrack's fleet or merely buying his good will, I have not heard, but certainly it is best that we in Grefftscharr know."

  Verkan had heard no such rumor, but admitted to himself that he might not have heard everything, with reliable informants thin on the ground. He had heard that Prince Varrack lusted after a throne for himself and only saw himself nominally, at best, a vassal of King Theovacar.

  The Prince in discussion, who was supplying Varrack with gold, was undoubtedly Prince Clytoblon of Glarth, whose pro-Kalvan sentiments were known by just about everyone, including his distant overlord Great King Demistophon.

  "The tavern gossips would say this Prince is Prince Clytoblon, but I have no proof that there is truth in this idle gossip. Nor does it tell me much about this Prince, to say that he has a quarrel with Demistophon the Wrathful. If there is a Great King or Prince in the north who has not had quarrel with Demistophon since he came to the throne, it is because that man lacks the wit or courage to recognize offense when it is given. One has heard tales of what Demistophon called you on your accession, and how moderate you were to content yourself with fining all the Agrysi merchants in Grefftscharr."

  Theovacar smiled back, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Verkan knew he'd have to give the King better. In any case, Theovacar was really asking the reasonable question: Was Kalvan trying to raise Thagnor in rebellion against his overlord? The Princes of Thagnor normally lived well enough off the profits of their salt mines and shipyards, not to mention whatever they kept back of the tolls charged for passage along the Thag River. Their distant Greffa king ruled them with a light hand, and everyone who sailed the Saltless Seas or needed salt for preserving food was the better for it.

  Three times in the last two centuries, however, a Prince of Thagnor had rebelled against Greffa, setting up an independent Kingdom. Three times the Princedom, or Kingdom, had become a nest of pirates, outlaws and rebels, making travel on the Saltless Seas perilous. Once, the pirate Kingdom collapsed after the Prince was murdered in a drunken brawl, but twice it had taken armies and fleets to restore peace. Theovacar had every right to know if Kalvan was willing to risk this happening a fourth time to strike back at King Demistophon for his treachery. The fact that he was also asking the question as a test of Verkan's willingness to betray Kalvan for a price made little difference.

  "I am not so much in the confidence of Great King Kalvan that he tells me all his plans, even if I were often enough in Hostigos for him to have the chance to do so," Verkan began. "I do know that Kalvan values his trade with Greffa, and that a war in Thagnor would disrupt that trade and be a setback for his plans to buy victuals and guns from Greffa for his war against Styphon's House." He continued with a long recital of Kalvan's love for peace, while only taking up arms in self-defense and for the honor of the true gods, using phrases cribbed from diplomatic speeches and notes in half a dozen different time-lines.

  King Theovacar appeared amused without being impressed. He obviously wanted hard data. Verkan emptied another cup of wine and continued. "Great King Kalvan does wish to have ships and men to balance Styphon's Great Fleet. He may well be hiring both from Varrack and paying a good price for them in Styphon's gold. If Prince Varrack uses that gold to turn pirate, however, Kalvan will be the first to turn against him. The Great King is no friend to pirates; he is no enemy to Greffa or Hos-Zygros or the Sastragath, and he is not even a willing enemy of Great King Demistophon."

  "I have heard nothing to suggest you are telling other than the truth," Theovacar said. "Therefore I bid you farewell and will pray for your prosperous voyaging and continued friendship between King Kalvan of Hos-Hostigos and myself."

  It was an elegant, even warm dismissal that boded well for future Greffa-Hos-Hostigos relations, but Verkan was glad that etiquette required him to back out of the chamber and not turn his back on either King Theovacar or the armed Companions around him.

  II

  Duke Skranga was still in his riding cloak when he entered Kalvan's private audience chamber. He noted with satisfaction that Kalvan had already taken the clay stopper out of a small cask of Ermut's Brandy and was well on his way to emptying his own goblet.

  "Ahhh, thank you, Your Majesty," he said, after taking the proffered goblet. Underneath the cloak, his clothes were soaked to the bone and only long periods of discomfort in the past made it easy to disregard them.

  "Duke," Kalvan opened, "I must say I've been pleased with your reports. You've given good value for the gold we've spent."

  Skranga smiled, he couldn't help himself. This praise from Kalvan was more warming than Ermut's Best! "Thank you, Your Majesty. If I could have stayed two more moons I'd of had the Thaphigos Succession lines tied in so many knots it would have taken Lyklos the Trickster to straighten them out!"

  Kalvan laughed. "Hostigos could use a regiment of intelligencers with your resourcefulness. Although we may not need them, I plan to run the Royal Army through Hos-Haraphax like lime through a goose's gullet."

  Skranga laughed. "You've got the men for it. You should see the sorry toss-birds from every gaol and dungeon that Lysandros and Phidestros have parading up and down the streets of Har
phax City! I wouldn't use them to clean the Hostigos army barracks' latrines. If they can't find any better soldiers than that the Hostigos Royal Army should clean out all of Hos-Harphax like the flux!"

  "Is there any chance Phidestros is hiding the varsity—I mean the good troops?"

  "Har, har, har!" Skranga sputtered. When his coughing spell was over, he poured himself another goblet of brandy and topped off Kalvan's. "True, there's some good mercenary troops—if they don't all desert before spring! And some good Royal soldiers perhaps survived the Chothros cutting, but even Galzar himself couldn't turn that motley mob into a real army. No, there's not much to fear from Harphax next year—except who to make the new Great King."

  "Phrames is my choice."

  Skranga nodded. Just like Kalvan to have the answers to questions before he even got around to asking them. Skranga paused to tamp his pipe, and then lit it with his tinderbox. "A good leader, even if a bit womanish—I don't mean on the battlefield or in the cot. But, he's delicate about other matters, like killing prisoners and such like." From the frown that creased Kalvan's brow, Skranga knew he'd stepped in a cowpie of some kind, but not exactly sure how. He attempted a quick save, "Even a good farmer has to shoot a few old dogs if they don't keep the foxes out of the turkey pens."

  "You're right, but Phrames has learned a few things cleaning up Prince Balthar's stables in Beshta. I think he'll be a good king."

  "What do you say, a toast to Great King Phrames, long may he reign!"

  "It's a bit premature," Kalvan said, "but why not." The two goblets clinked together soundly.

  TWENTY ONE

  I

  It's pretty and bubbly," Rylla said, dropping the cold lump of green glass into Kalvan's open hand, "but I don't believe even Allfather Dralm, could turn this bauble into that far-seeing telescope you talk about."

  "The bubbles can be removed by proper heating and air control, but it's the milkiness that bothers me. I think Master Ermut may have too much slaked lime and not enough potash in the mixture. I'll talk to him tonight and help him revise the formula.