Kalvan Kingmaker

by John F. Carr

  II

  Verkan Vail walked through the entryway into the great room of Tortha Karf's palatial Hostigos townhouse. "Very nice, Tortha."

  "My home away from home," Tortha responded. "No rabbits, either! And all the comforts of my former quarters in Xyphlon, I hope?"

  "We had a team in Xyphlon City for five ten-days establishing your cover, creating the Trading House of Tortha, implanting pseudo-memories on your last living relative—a sister named Horthvarga, no less—and generally casing the place. The Mexicotal siege, though doomed to fail, has everyone upset. It hasn't helped that the Mexicotal have built their own local Pyramid to the Sun outside the City, where every day their human-skin accoutered priests are taking human sacrifices and hearts from local captives and prisoners-of-war. It's enough to make you want to drop a thermo-nuclear on their capital city."

  "I hate to admit it, but that bunch has this Styphon's House racket beat all to Regwarn and back."

  "Ahhh, good to see you picking up the local references, Tortha. As well as losing all First Level objectivity. I remember how you used to lecture me on the subject."

  Tortha harrumphed. "I'm not the only one. Besides, these Hostigi folks grow on you. What brings you to Hostigos Town."

  "I had promised Kalvan to bring him some guns from Greffa in exchange for all that fireseed I took with me. I did too, but the trading party's about five days down the road. I took my prerogative as chief trader to ride on ahead. I thought I'd meet with my old trader friend before stopping into the palace and seeing Kalvan."

  Tortha nodded as he removed his tobacco pouch and a new carved ivory pipe. "I like the way you stay in character."

  "Where'd you get the pipe? Isn't that Kalvan's face carved on it?"

  "Bought it off a Zygrosi trader. Some whaler carved it out of a walrus tusk—scrimshaw. I've ordered a bunch more, when he returns from his last trading mission before winter sets in. I intend to give them out as presents at Year-End Day. Don't mention them to Dalla—I've got a pipe with Rylla's face carved on it for her."

  "Word. By the way, Dalla came along this trip. She'll be here in a few hours. She wanted to air out our townhouse."

  "I guess you won't have time to visit the baronial mansion in Beshta this trip?"

  Verkan laughed. "You mean my drafty, falling-down castle. Tarr-Verkan, Dalla's taken to calling it. I think it formerly belonged to one of Prince Balthar's cousins, from the cheap side of the family!"

  Tortha joined in the laughter. Balthar had been legendary as a miser long before his well-deserved death at Tarr-Beshta at the hands of Rylla's giant bodyguard, Xykos.

  Verkan sobered up. "I've got more bad news."

  "What now?" Tortha asked. "Living in Hos-Hostigos is like being at Paratime Headquarters under Code Yellow all the time. Or is this Code Red?"

  "No, Code Yellow, it seems that Captain-General Phidestros has besieged and taken an important Beshtan castle, Tarr-Veblos."

  "The Harphaxi strike back!"

  "Well, Captain-General Phidestros had to do something before he lost his job. After last years drubbing at Chothros Heights and Rylla's successful invasion of Phaxos, in the heart of Hos-Harphax, the Harphaxi princes and people were losing morale. The top command knew Phidestros really wasn't in a position to stop Rylla, but Lysandros was going to have to do something or risk the Election of someone else as Great King. Phidestros was smart enough to realize that he had to make a face-saving move before returning to Harphax City, or face a further erosion of morale in the Royal Army as well as a loss of confidence in his leadership.

  "Phidestros pulled a fast one on Prince Phrames. He moved his cavalry close to the Beshtan border, keeping Phrames and his army busy worrying about invasion sites. Meanwhile, Phidestros sent off a smaller force of mounted infantry and artillery to besiege Tarr-Veblos. The tarr was undermanned, after Phrames pulled most of the Beshtan Army out of their prepared positions and into Arklos to protect Rylla's flank from the Harphaxi Army, and vulnerable."

  "Why didn't Prince Phrames reinforce his tarrs?"

  "By the time Phrames got back to Beshta from Arklos, Phidestros' large cavalry force was preparing for what appeared to be a large scale invasion. Phidestros was smart enough to stay far away from Tarr-Veblos and Phrames never reinforced the skeleton garrison. So while Prince Phrames is shifting his army up and down the border, Phidestros' second force hit Tarr-Veblos at night, with a company of—I guess you'd have to call them mountain troops—who repelled their way into the castle, killed most of the sentries and took the outer courtyard. They opened the gate and the rest was history, what with Phidestros' artillery firing point blank on the inner bailey and keep. Phrames has been trying to re-take the tarr, but Phidestros already had his army in the area and lots of reinforcements, so I think Tarr-Veblos is going to stay Harphaxi, at least, until next spring."

  Tortha whistled. "He pulled a Kalvan."

  "Kalvan doesn't have any corner on military genius and Phidestros, as it turns out, is a first rate commander."

  Tortha tapped the residue out of his pipe into an ashtray, and then refilled the bowl. "When will word of this debacle reach Hostigos?"

  "Any hour. I'm surprised word hasn't reach Hostigos Town already."

  "I'd have heard the fireworks shooting out of Tarr-Hostigos, if the news had reached Town."

  "By the way, how are the Royal couple these days?"

  Tortha's face took on a worried cast, as he paused to strike a spark on his tinderbox and light his pipe. "Not very well. Kalvan came back way ahead of schedule from Tarr-Ceros without any escort but a few Lifeguards I suspect he couldn't shake. The story I heard—you know we've resisted leaving any telltales in Tarr-Hostigos—"

  Verkan nodded. "We don't eavesdrop on friends. Although, there are occasions—like this—when it would be a help."

  "Anyway, after Kalvan got back, they went to it with everything but the Great King's ceremonial halberd. Apparently Prince Ptosphes had to come in as peacemaker. I don't know if it did any good. Rylla came out of it with hurt pride, a bandaged hand and her back so stiff you could use it as a bridge. I doubt Kalvan had anything to do with the injury, since Ptosphes is still lodging at the Tarr. Kalvan's been drinking heavily and staying out of the common quarters. Everyone at Tarr-Hostigos is walking on tippy-toes."

  "Someone is going to have to have a talk with that boy."

  "You might try, you certainly got enough talks from me during that first companionate marriage with Dalla! You should have picked up something along the way."

  Verkan covered both his ears. "Will I never live that down? And you, a lifelong bachelor! It's a wonder we ever got back together."

  Tortha grinned. "Let me get out a couple of goblets of Ermut's Best. You got me there. Let's take a drink to me minding my own business. At least I learned enough to not bother poor Kalvan with my words of wisdom about Queen Rylla!"

  "I'll offer a toast to that!" Verkan took the offered goblet and took a drink. "To minding your own business. I think I may take some of that advice for myself and not try to tell Kalvan how to patch up his break with Rylla"

  "He'll appreciate it, I'm sure. He's already got Prince Ptosphes hovering over him like an old hen!"

  "Of course, I can't make any promises for Dalla."

  "Ha! No sir, Chief. Dalla and Rylla will soon be up to no end of mischief."

  "You can say that again. After Dalla arrives, Kalvan's going to need all the help he can get!"

  III

  As Duke Skranga puffed his way up the keep's stairway to the third floor, he noticed he was absent-mindedly tugging his already sparse beard. He mentally admonished himself and brushed away the few tufts of red hair that had fallen out. By Hadron's Forked-Tongue, if I keep losing hair, my chin will be as clean of hair as my crown!

  Skranga knew only too well what was really bothering him. He had never liked being the bearer of bad news—especially to his King. More than one Great King had beheaded messengers with tidings no less worse
than his own. While it was true that King Kalvan was usually above such base conduct, it was also true that Skranga had no family or interest to protest any action the Great King might make on his person. What a fool he had been not to take Kalvan's gold long ago and run off to distant Hos-Zygros instead of lingering about in Harphax City.

  On the other hand, the best he could have come to in Hos-Zygros—a most frigid and inhospitable place—was a genteel anonymity, where he would be fair game to ruthless lords and the bandits who prey on the strangers no one will miss. No, he had—for once—done the right thing, no matter how onerous the duty occasionally became. After all, he had almost a hundred agents and intelligencers on his payroll and knew more about the comings and goings in the Six—no—Seven Kingdoms (counting the new kingdom of Hos-Rathon) than any man outside of Balph. This was the work he was born to do.

  Upon entering Kalvan's study, he noticed how haggard the Great King appeared and the bruise-like shadows under each of his eyes. Apparently the rumors were true and the Great King had been evicted from the royal bedchamber by Rylla. It might be a good time to start reviewing possible candidates for the royal couch; it would not hurt, despite his loyalty, to have an ear only a heartbeat away from the Throne. Besides, his agent would be guaranteed to be discreet; someone else's might do the Kingdom harm. He mentally reviewed his latest conquests and decided there was no end of possible candidates; most fair enough to warm a man's heart as well as slake his hunger.

  Kalvan rose from his desk and pointed to a horsehide-covered chair. "Sit down, Duke Skranga. And, by Dralm's white beard, may your news be good news!"

  A closer look at the Great King revealed blood-shot eyes, which bespoke a bad hangover—a condition Skranga knew well like a shrewish wife that beat on one's head when one was having a good time.

  Skranga resolved to let this badger out of the bag very slowly. "Your Majesty, I have been in contact with most of my intelligencers as you requested in regards to the Phaxos matter."

  "Yes?"

  "We have some very good news. Xentos, as Primate of Dralm, was able to use his influence to defeat a resolution put before the Council to place Hos-Hostigos under a Ban of Dralm. It was a close vote and, while a Ban of Dralm would not have hurt our trade overmuch, it might have cost us heavily in support by those Princes who covertly aid our struggle against the False God Styphon."

  "Skranga, you are prattling. It's not like you, so get to the point."

  Skranga took a deep breath. "It appears the Princes of Hos-Harphax are beginning to fear your ambitions more than they fear Lysandros and his ties to Styphon's House. In Hos-Hostigos your recent success against the nomads far out-weigh any concerns over who sits upon the seat of Phaxos. However, I also understand, from a reliable ear, that Prince Balthames of Sashta has been secretly talking with a merchant known to be in Styphon's employ."

  "That ingrate! I suspect that half his boy friends are on Our payroll. Is this true?"

  Skranga nodded.

  "Good. Perhaps one of them can slip him a potion some cold winter night."

  "Your Majesty, I suspect the fog of recent events has clouded your usual good judgment. The assassination of one of your Princes, following so close upon the war in Phaxos, might add fuel to the rumors about your ambition to become Great King of All the Kingdoms—"

  "Enough! You make excellent sense. I'm not myself this morning. But we are going to have to do something about Balthames before he betrays us as his brother, Balthar of Beshta, did at the Battle of Tenabra. Do you have any ideas?"

  "Yes. As I understand it this merchant, one Kythames, has been acting as the go-between for Prince Balthames and one of Lysandros' agents. Kythames has rather exotic tastes in female flesh. I have a most unusual Ruthani maiden, purportedly from the Sea of Grass, who has been known to make men so lovesick they leave their families or even kill themselves upon her leaving… I will use her as a hook to catch this Kythames and, when he is under her spell, I will have her obtain evidence from him that will damn Balthames in anyone's eyes."

  "Excellent. But don't tell me any more details. Since neither Balthames nor his brother ever had any issue, I can make a gift of Sashta to Captain-General Harmakros. It would be a fitting reward for his loyal service and friendship to the Throne."

  "I agree, Your Majesty, although it might be wise for him to legitimize his bastard, Aspasthar, now rather than when he takes the seat of Sashta. You might suggest this to him. I suspect that Harmakros is not anxious for a fall marriage and would like to guarantee the succession of Sashta in favor of his only son."

  "Good advice, Skranga. I'm glad someone in Hos-Hostigos is still thinking clearly! What are your suggestions regarding the issue of succession to the Seat of Phaxos?"

  "We must walk very carefully there, Your Majesty. Rylla, in an excess of zeal, not only had Prince Araxes put under the headsman's ax, but also all the members of his immediate family."

  The sudden drawn cast to Kalvan's face suggested the King might suddenly lose what little food he had consumed at first meal. Skranga waited until Kalvan appeared to have composed himself before continuing.

  "There are about a dozen possible claimants to the Seat of Phaxos, but few would be in the Throne's best interest. Alas, with the unhappiness accompanying the conquest still in people's minds, I urgently suggest that we place someone on the Seat with blood ties to Araxes. Fortunately, we have one such claimant in Hostigos, a mercenary captain who goes by the name of Hyphos. He has served Your Majesty faithfully through three campaigns and is a devout follower of Allfather Dralm. For this 'disloyalty' he is not held in much regard in Phaxos, which will further bind him to the Throne now that Phaxos has become part of the Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos."

  Kalvan nodded. "It's not like we can give it back to Hos-Harphax."

  Skranga laughed like a barking dog.

  "This must be the same Captain Hyphos that Harmakros recommended before I left Tarr-Ceros. The Captain-General says he's a good commander and that he is loyal to the Throne. I'm not personally familiar with him."

  "Captain Hyphos is a forthright soldier from all appearances and one who speaks his own words, although not with the earthiness and directness of our friend Prince Sarrask. He has no great love for Araxes, who has always held his family in contempt, for Hyphos' father—a lowly baron—was only related to Araxes by blood through the sister of his late mother.

  "Baron Hyphos would not be in contention for the throne now had his father not died last year of pleurisy and his older brother not perished at the Siege of Phaxos Town. There was little love lost between the two brothers and word has it he died an honest soldier's death."

  Kalvan nodded and said he would have General Klestreus do a counter check on Skranga's intelligence information. "It wouldn't do to put a man on the Phaxosi throne who had a blood debt to his Great Queen because his brother had died at her hands, no matter how far removed."

  Skranga nodded sagely, even though he didn't like the idea of the fat fool Klestreus looking over his shoulder. "You are wise to move cautiously in this matter and others, Your Majesty. There have been far too many changes in the Great Kingdoms since your arrival, and if there is one thing Princes and lords do not like it is change. I pray Your Majesties have no plans for any new Great Kingdoms, such as the new kingdom of Hos-Rathon!"

  "Not at the moment." Kalvan's scowled.

  "Good. Few of the Throne's allies have happily accepted a Trygathi Great Kingdom, and now there are rumors you have promised Ranjar Sargos the Throne of Great Kingdom of the Sastragath."

  "Balderdash! More of Styphon's work. Do what you can to put a stop to these rumors, and put out the word that we are planning to put a rightful claimant upon the Seat of Phaxos. Furthermore, let me add your advice about the Phaxosi succession is both welcome and valued. I will have our Treasurer make a deposit of five hundred Crowns into your account as further measure of my appreciation."

  Skranga left Kalvan's audience chamber with the feeling that toda
y had somehow magically turned into the best of all possible days, and that His Majesty was the finest Great King since Erasthames the Great!

  FORTY FOUR

  As of late, thought Archpriest Anaxthenes, there have been far too many emergency Council meetings. Of the thirty-six Archpriests of the Inner Circle, only thirty-one were in attendance today. Of the five Great Temple Highpriests, only Archpriest Theomenes of the Great Temple of Ktemnos was here; this Council having been called too quickly for the others to have time to travel to Balph. The other absence was explained by sudden death, although whether by poor health or misadventure no one knew.

  Nor was anyone particularly interested in finding out; not in these times, when the number of white-robed priests were increasing daily. Investigator Roxthar and his followers were insinuating their way into every arm of Styphon's House, although, so far, they had made no inroads into the Inner Circle. Give them time, Anaxthenes thought cynically. They already had their allies and stooges, such as Archpriest Dracar. The Investigators even had allies in the Temple Guard. The Order of Zarthani Knights was the only body left that had any independence from Roxthar's Investigation, and mostly because they were situated at the frontier—far away from Balph.

  There was a murmur of voices in the Hall as the assembled Archpriests questioned each other about the reasons for this meeting and the disastrous Siege at Tarr-Ceros. Anaxthenes, nor anyone else but Roxthar's allies, knew much about the Council's agenda. Styphon's Own Voice Sesklos had called the session at Roxthar's insistence.

  Anaxthenes had lost many of his sources as the Investigation purged his informants and allies from the ranks of Styphon's House. The yellow robed highpriests were disappearing from Balph at an alarming rate, the smarter ones leaving for places as far away from the Holy City as they could get. The rest were victims of the Investigation. If Roxthar continued to purge Styphon's heretics from the priestly ranks, in a few years there wouldn't be enough priests left to man the Temples. Most of Roxthar's Investigators were not True Believers, as far as Anaxthenes could tell, but ambitious underpriests who saw Roxthar as their means to ascend the Temple hierarchy. Many of the Investigators reveled in their power to terrorize their superiors. What happens, he asked himself, when the Investigation begins to investigate the Investigators?