by John F. Carr
The galleass had left Balph three days before and was still two good weather days away from Harphax City. The Archpriest would have prayed to Lytris, the Weather Goddess, had he believed in any god. Some of the sailors were fingering the emblems hanging from their necks and muttering prayers under their breath to the Weather Goddess. For one of the few times in his life, Anaxthenes envied their gullibility. While their idols would never answer their prayers, the ivory-carved amulets of the eagle-headed goddess offered her believers comfort against the turbulent majesty and raw power of the Eastern Ocean.
Anaxthenes inwardly recoiled at the unexpected touch of a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Grand Master Soton of the Zarthani Knights in a blue woolen cape, with Styphon's Holy Wheel emblazoned on the front in silver thread. The rhythmic creak of the oars, the slapping sail overhead and the sound of waves battering the bow made conversation difficult. Soton took a stubby pipe out of his mouth and pointed the stem to the decks below. Anaxthenes nodded and followed Soton down the companionway to the lower decks into a small cabin that was as devoid of decoration as Roxthar's cell in Balph. The only furniture were two stools and a small table bolted to the floor. A deerskin map of Hos-Harphax, including within its boundaries the heretic kingdom of Hos-Hostigos outlined in red, covered one cabin wall.
Maybe, at long last, the Grand Master would explain why he had maneuvered Anaxthenes into taking this journey at a time when even seasoned mariners balked at sea travel. The Grand Master pretended to be indifferent about Temple politics, but Anaxthenes had noticed that for most of Soton's reign over the Order of the Zarthani Knights the Grand Master had gotten everything he'd asked for from the Inner Circle. Anaxthenes had many questions to ask, but knew it was most politic to let Soton open the conversation.
"First Speaker, I wanted to talk to you before we reached the docks at Harphax City, away from the ears of your fellow priests." The Grand Master was referring to the half-dozen highpriests who had accompanied Anaxthenes on the Sea King for the upcoming enthronement of the soon-to-be Great King Lysandros of Hos-Harphax. The Argos River and the Eastern Ocean had been unseasonably calm until today and the land lubber highpriests were busy down in the jakes emptying their bellies of this morning's breakfast.
Anaxthenes nodded.
"I have good reason to suspect that at least one of them is in the Investigator's pay."
"These days Investigator Roxthar has so many informers in Balph that we call them Styphon's Own Ears. Sadly, most of them do it out of fear, since they believe that the Investigator will not turn on his own tools. They do not know him at all-up until last winter I considered him part of my faction. I have since learned a bitter lesson. Once Roxthar sniffs out their corruption, he will dog them to their graves."
"I see you know our man," Soton said. "I only hope you know me as well: that I have always been obedient to Styphon's House, that I have always been loyal to the Inner Circle and that I have done Styphon's work, no matter how odious. Also, that I am a believer of Styphon's divinity as well as that of the other True Gods."
Anaxthenes nodded in agreement. Soton was, if anything, a predictable and faithful servant of Styphon's House. He'd always thought Soton's devotion to Styphon was out of character for the Temple's most powerful warlord. Still, the Grand Master was useful and true to his word; he could be depended on. I only wish the rest of my allies shared these qualities.
Soton paused to pull out a stubby corncob pipe and fill it with tobacco. "In the past, while I have not always agreed with the Temple's policies, I have always faithfully carried them out. What I have seen on this past journey from Tarr-Ceros to Balph has convinced me that it is time to change my strategy. The Investigator threatens the welfare of us all with his insane determination to root out the Temple's unbelievers and put Styphon ahead of all other gods!"
"I share your concerns, as well, Grand Master. Since summer, so many of Styphon's underpriests have died or fled from Roxthar's Investigation in Balph that we're running out of priests to hold services in the temples."
"The problems are not only in Balph, Archpriest. Let me share what I have seen with my own eyes on my recent journey from Tarr-Ceros to the Holy City. Roxthar's Investigators have moved the Investigation into the hinterland of Hos-Ktemnos, where there is no one of consequence to observe them and their mischief. On my return from Tarr-Ceros, I passed through villages lying in ruins, with only a few maimed and limping survivors. In some places even the children have died because there are too few adults to care for them!"
Anaxthenes shook his head. More proof that the Inner Circle was too far out of touch with what was happening outside of Balph.
"I learned this from a few survivors who dared talk. When Investigators arrive at a village, usually because of some complaint about the local temple priest, they consider everyone a heretic and subject to Investigation. This is encouraged by the Investigation's confiscation policies. When a man or woman is Investigated, the informer is provided a portion of their earthly holdings-a share of one quarter of the value of the goods and property claimed by the Temple under the Investigator's authority. Another quarter goes to the Investigator questioning the 'supposed' heretic. The remaining half, if there is any by their own accounting, goes to the Temple Treasury. As you can see, this procedure has led to corruption and outright thievery."
"We of the Inner Circle have heard rumors of lesser priests being Investigated, but little else."
"The Investigators leave few witnesses, and those they do leave behind are scared witless, or broken in body and spirit. I visited at one village where the peasants had turned on the Investigators, and their Temple Guard, killing them all. They thought I had come with my escort to punish them. Instead I prompted them to tell their story. In this village the Investigators were so corrupt, they started Investigating the more prosperous farmers before anyone had even made a complaint. The local elders took offense, offered them a celebratory dinner, poisoned their wine and cut the throats of all of the Investigators not killed outright by poison."
Anaxthenes shuddered. "Does Roxthar know?"
"I suspect not. He is an honest man by his own lights. The Holy Investigator has eyes only for Kalvan, Hos-Hostigos and the blasphemers of our own Temples, which as you know are many."
Anaxthenes nodded, being one himself. The Temple had been built on lies and fakery and had profited handsomely, as had the high priesthood, himself included. Or, at least, until the Usurper Kalvan arrived. Some in the Inner Circle believed Kalvan to be a disaffected highpriest of Styphon's House who had decided to use his knowledge of the Fireseed Mystery to raise himself above the Temple.
"Then you are aware that most of Roxthar's Investigators no more believe in Styphon's divinity than in Allfather Dralm."
"Yes, Grand Master, they are ambitious underpriests who fear that they will not live long enough to advance to the top of the Temple hierarchy, where rests an old man of more than ninety winters. They see in Roxthar a path to advancement and are most eager to Investigate any highpriest above their station. Someday Roxthar will discover this himself and then we will watch the old wolf devour his own tail and hind parts. Of course, few of us will be alive to witness this satisfying conclusion to this madman's reign of terror."
Soton's calloused hand grasped the Archpriest's shoulder. "I am glad to learn that I am not the only man with eyes in all of Balph. I fear that long before Roxthar discovers the corruption in his own entrails, the peasants, artisans, nobles and kings will have had enough of this Investigation and will kill all of us in an orgy of anger and bloodlust."
Anaxthenes shivered, despite himself, as a vision of townsmen and peasants alike descending upon the temples of Styphon and burning and looting them filled his mind's eye.
The Grand Master's face hardened. "I am convinced that Roxthar is a greater threat to Styphon's House than is the Usurper Kalvan himself!"
In light of all this information and his own experience of Roxthar, he knew Soto
n was right. "But how can we stop him? Roxthar holds the Inner Circle hostage like a pigeon in a cat's mouth. Styphon's Own Guard protects him and his Investigators. And he has mobilized the Temple and its allies in the war against the Usurper."
"Very true," Soton nodded. "However, Roxthar is no longer satisfied to watch from the top of the Temple. He has 'assured' me in private that he and his Investigators will join the army now being assembled in Hos-Harphax to re-take the false kingdom of Hos-Hostigos."
"The news of Roxthar's absence will be a relief to the peasants of Hos-Ktemnos and the highpriests of Balph, and every other temple in the Five Kingdoms."
"Yes, but it also provides us with a unique opportunity, one which we must take advantage of quickly. It's the primary reason I wanted you to accompany me to Harphax City; the other is so that you can gain prestige by officiating over Great King Lysandros' enthronement."
Anaxthenes nodded. It was no secret that his own star had plummeted even as Roxthar's had ascended.
"Furthermore, Roxthar will be joining the command in Hos-Harphax after the Harvest Festival and you will have a one-time opportunity to solidify your position in Balph."
"To what end?" Anaxthenes asked.
"Styphon's Voice. With you in command of the Temple, not even Roxthar will be in a position to Investigate you and the Inner Circle."
Anaxthenes took a deep breath. He had grown accustomed to pulling strings from above, but maybe it was time for him to be on stage.
"You could even withdraw his Petition of Investigation," Soton finished.
"Not unless the collective body of the Inner Circle has grown a backbone since we left Balph."
Soton laughed, a big booming noise. "Regardless, you would be in a position to direct events and rein in our mad Archpriest."
Anaxthenes nodded. "I am glad to hear you say it out loud. It is true that Roxthar is mad as a Sastragathi rattlesnake handler. What about old Sesklos? He looks fit enough to live three or four more winters. And what about Dracar, his successor, who trembles at Roxthar's footsteps?"
"If you can't figure out how to take care of a few feeble old priests, then you are not the man I know you to be."
Anaxthenes thought of Thessamona and her little vials-yes, he knew how and what to do. But carefully… "Yes, it is time to remove some old timbers from the Temple's flooring."
Soton smiled. "Yes, there's already one vacancy. And I have the perfect candidate in mind."
"Who?"
"Archpriest Grythos. He is a former Knight Commander of the Order. Roxthar will not fight his nomination since he has come to believe we need more men of action in the Inner Circle, and Grythos recently distinguished himself as Grand Captain Phidestros' advisor during the successful capture of the Hostigos castle, Tarr-Veblos."
"Will he follow my lead, Grand Master?"
"He is my man and will do as I wish."
Anaxthenes, for the first time that day, felt his spirits lift. "You do your job in Hos-Hostigos, and I will do mine in Balph." They raised palms. "Agreed."
II
Verkan Vall, Paratime Police Chief, dismounted and walked his horse up to the Royal Foundry outer gate. His wife, Dalla, reins in hand, walked at his side with her long blonde hair blowing in the chill wind. An outtime emergency on Fourth Level Alexandrian-Roman, Seleucid Subsector-where the successors of Seleucus I Nicator had conquered the Nile Delta and kicked out the Ptolemy dynasty-had forced them to cut short their 'Vacation' on Aryan-Transpacific, Styphon's House Subsector by several days. The time had come to return to work. Verkan was pleased to see that the new stone outer walls around the Foundry and living quarters were complete. After the ambush of the Royal Foundry Party en route to Nostor, Verkan had instructed Ranthar Jard to improve Foundry security. There were now watchtowers at each of the four corners of the outer wall and at both sides of the gate.
A guard dressed in a buff jack over a steel back-and-breast called out, "Who goes there?"
"Trader Verkan and Mistress Dalla."
"Welcome, Baron!" The small iron portcullis was lifted, and Verkan and Dalla made their way into a mud-filled courtyard before the stone manor house and the Royal Foundry, which had once been the barn. Gray smoke was pouring from all four of the Foundry's chimneys, and there was the sound of hammering and banging muffled by thick walls. One of the four guards, his morion helmet tilted back jauntily, escorted them to the Foundry door.
The guard banged on the knocker while several peasants gawked. It wasn't every day that nobility graced the Foundry with its presence. Five or six scrawny turkeys and geese, with obviously clipped wings, pecked at some bushes. While they waited Verkan took off his gloves and rubbed his stiff fingers together. Winter was coming early this year. Dalla's horse, upset at being taken to the livery by a stable boy, neighed loudly; in reply there was a distant wolf howl.
The wolf cry reminded Verkan of two years back, when an unusually hard winter had emboldened the wolves. People in Hos-Hostigos still referred to those times as the Year of the Wolf, just as many were now calling this year-after the nomad invasion of the Trygath – the Year of the Locust.
The guard turned to Verkan, saying, "No one's answering and my nose is beginning to turn blue!"
Verkan picked up a loose stone, moved the guard out of the way and banged loudly on the thick plank door.
The door flew open and a horse-faced woman, wearing a velvet and brocade dress, stuck her head out. "Hold onto your britches!"
After a quick double take, Varnath Lala, the Study Team resident metallurgist, held the door open reluctantly. "Oh, it's you!" There was little love between the Dhergabar University Kalvan Study Team and the Paratime Police, whose duty it was to see to their safety while they studied outtime. They were on Kalvan's Time-Line because it was the Paratime rarity: a time-line identified from the exact point of divarication.
Kalvan, formerly Calvin Morrison, Pennsylvania State Trooper, had been accidentally picked up by a Transtemporal conveyer, which sometimes happened when two conveyers temporarily occupied the same space and time, and 'dropped off' on Aryan-Transpacific, Styphon's House Subsector. Most Transtemporal 'hitchhikers' were quickly killed, captured or lost. Few of them re-established their lives in their new environment; Calvin Morrison was one of the few exceptions. He had not only merely survived but also flourished, turning the small princedom of Hostigos into the Great Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos.
The inside of the Foundry appeared the same as any other brass foundry on Kalvan's Time-Line, with huge forges and molds. The astringent scent of molten metal filled the room. Two workers were filing the burrs off a newly cast brass cannon barrel. Another group of founders were removing the mold from around a newly cast sixteen-pound gun. Outside there was a muffled boom from a cannon being proofed.
Despite all the activity in the foundry room, the real heart of the operation was below in the collapsed-nickel shielded basement, where First Level technology, tools and conveyers were kept in hiding to keep Transtemporal Contamination to a minimum. Professor Lala reluctantly took Verkan and Dalla to the back storeroom where the floor had a well-hidden trapdoor that led to the basement.
No matter what happened to the Foundry in the upcoming war between Hos-Hostigos and Styphon's House, no one without access to a nuclear bomb would ever breach the basement and the transtemporal conveyers hidden inside. Paratime travel was the one inviolate secret of Home Time-Line, and anything-including atomic annihilation-would be done to keep it that way.
The stone stairs leading down to the basement were wet and slippery. The collapsed-nickel shielded entryway, a door disguised with steel plates to fool the locals, creaked as it opened in response to Verkan's magnetic key. Inside, there were half a dozen techs, four of them wearing green Paratime Police uniforms. Dalla rushed over to the changing room and shut the door. Dominating the room were two twelve-foot diameter domed silver-mesh transtemporal conveyers.
The room held a desk, some First Level monitoring equipment, a visi-plate
that almost completely covered one wall, showing an overhead of Tarr-Harphax from the sky-eye above, several racks of muskets and rifles, half a dozen small barrels of gunpowder, a score of gun carriage wheels and hundreds of kegs of barley and corn.
Dalla was returning to First Level and home; Verkan was on his way to Fourth Level, Seleucid Subsector, so he didn't bother changing. His clothes were those of a prosperous trader and with minor additions would pass muster upon arrival; if not, there would be a change of dress waiting for him. Verkan went over to one of the lockers, opened the door, and removed and put away his sword and scabbard, his powder horn and both pistols, including a little boot gun. Out of one of the drawers he took a Police issue needier and stuck it in his belt.
When Dalla exited the changing room in her Paratime Police greens, he escorted her into the waiting conveyer. Verkan took over the controls and made the proper adjustments. There was a slight lurch, more of a mental- rather than physical-sensation, and after a thirty minute wait they exited into an identical basement on a neighboring Kalvan Control Time-Line ten parayears away, the distance it took a Ghaldron-Hesthor field to build up and collapse. On this time-line no Pennsylvania State Trooper had been dropped off a transtemporal conveyer, which meant there had been no Lord Kalvan to save the small Princedom of Hostigos. Instead the small Princedom had been cruelly conquered, most of the inhabitants slain and the Princedom partitioned off between the neighboring Princedoms of Nostor, Beshta and Sask. This 'Hostigos' was now in ruins and inhabited only by a few peasants, some imported robber barons, turkey thieves and robbers everywhere.