Siege of Tarr-Hostigos k-4

by John F. Carr

  "There is much truth to Your Majesty's words; however, this is not the major complaint. These new guilds do not pay their Council dues, nor are their Masters put to the same rigorous training as provided by our Guilds. After all, it is the people of Hostigos Town we are trying to protect."

  Horsefeathers! thought Kalvan. "Are you saying that the Great King of Hos-Hostigos would let unqualified craftsmen work in the Royal Guilds?"

  "No, no. Of course not, Your Majesty. It is just that there are certain precedents here and time-tested methods of training, as well as proper observances to Tranth-"

  "Balderdash. You can't train people in the traditional time-lengthy matter to do new tasks such as papermaking, soap making or rifle smithing. But enough of this, my time is not endless-nor is my patience! What is your next point?"

  "There have been complaints by the Carpenters and Fitters and Joiners Guilds that their traditional rights are being usurped by the teachers at the Royal University of Hos-Hostigos. They believe that some of their Masters should be made Masters of the University faculty and that the students be subject to Guild-sponsored apprenticeships."

  Kalvan shook his head. What had happened to those halcyon days when Great King Kalvan could do no wrong? First it was Chartiphon questioning his military decisions, now the Council of Guilds. Next it would be the midwives going on strike to protest antisepsis. Is the separation between Rylla and myself, with all the attendant rumors, undermining our rule and lowering morale?

  "We are going to make this quick and very clear, because We have more important matters to attend to, Guildmaster Dyag. The Royal University, the same as the Royal Guilds, is under Royal Charter and therefore is under complete jurisdiction of the Throne. We will not tolerate any interference in their operation from either you or the Council of Guilds. If you have a suggested list of Masters for faculty positions, send it to the Rector. He will give it serious consideration. That is all We can do, or will do on the matter. This audience is at an end."

  The Guildmaster blew himself up as though he were about to launch himself into a harangue, then thought better of it, spun around and stomped out of the room. Kalvan turned to one of his scribes. "Make a note to have Duke Skranga conduct an investigation of Guildmaster Dyag and see if it's possible that he harbors Styphoni sympathies. Also, suggest that the Duke make a listing of reliable persons in the eventuality that we have to make some changes in the leadership of the Council of Guilds. Inform him that he can expect Count Rogos' complete support and that the Count would make an excellent candidate as Guildmaster should Guildmaster Dyag unexpectedly decide to retire." Remembering Thomas a Beckett, Kalvan added, "In good health, of course-at this time."

  If Dyag turned out to be in the employ of either Styphon's House or any foreign overlord, his health be damned!

  Kalvan was about to tell Chartiphon to announce the next supplicant, when Uncle Wolf Tharses and a bearded man in a wet traveler's cloak came into the audience chamber. As he drew closer, Kalvan could see that it was one of Harmakros' outriders. More bad news, thought Kalvan, it's that kind of day.

  "What is it?" Chartiphon asked waspishly. The Chancellor was probably miffed because he was not allowed to filter the news for his Great King. Old Chartiphon is getting positively womanish since his promotion. Unfortunately, since he'd already been promoted out of the Royal Army, there was no longer any other place left for the old family retainer, whose talents had been more appropriate to the rural princedom of Hostigos than the new Great Kingdom.

  "Your Majesty, Colonel Eastross wanted you to know that we just got word that a large party of Sastragathi have entered Kyblos and appear to be traveling to Hostigos Town."

  "Do they appear hostile?"

  "No, although they are led by a fearsome giant of a man, who wears two horns on his helmet. Eastross said you would be familiar with him as you once saved his life at the Battle of Spirit Grove."

  Vanar Halgoth, thought Kalvan with interest. What brings Warlord Sargos' top henchman all the way from the Sastragath to Hos-Hostigos? Halgoth was the leader of Sargos' Raven Band, his personal bodyguard of berserkers. It must be important or Sargos would have chosen a different envoy. Maybe he had news from the frontier? Was it possible the Zarthani Knights were planning to hit Hostigos from the rear, while Kalvan's forces attacked Hos-Harphax in the spring? Well, he'd have to rein his questions for a few days. A large party would have trouble making better time than that during the rains, even if they were led by the single most formidable fighting-machine Kalvan had ever encountered.

  III

  Verkan was beginning to feel-and not for the first time-that his time on Kalvan's Time-Line was more and more turning into a job rather than a hobby. The problems there followed him to Home Time Line, just like problems here followed him to Kalvan's Time-Line. The mess on Alexandrian-Roman, Seleuco-Macedonian Subsector had been easy to clean up in comparison. One of the employees of Vendrax Luxury Imports had freelanced in local dives as a mind reader, using a miniature radio and a local confederate. The problems started when the locals began to take him seriously and word got out that he was in truth the reincarnated Alexander.

  The would-be mind reader saw this as the opportunity of a lifetime, hypno-meched all the available data on Alexander the Great, had a cheap face sculpt, faked his death to skip out on his job at Vendrax and resurrected himself as Alexander. The locals went gaga, overthrew their local tyrant and were threatening to restore him to Imperial greatness when the Paratime Police were notified of the problem by a supervisor at Vendrax who didn't buy his corpse switch.

  Unfortunately, the local Paratime Police Inspector in charge of operations on the time-line was a drone waiting for his retirement and had botched a rescue job, killing several hundred locals and using enough technology for cries of witchcraft to be uttered in the streets. Verkan had been called in because the Inspector refused to leave and he had to personally fire him and those subordinates stupid enough to go along with his plan instead of notifying Paratime HQ.

  By the time Verkan arrived, it was obvious the Paratimer was terrified at the havoc he'd caused and really only wanted to get out of town. However, he had his own bodyguard and several advisors who saw him as their ride to the top; they weren't going to allow anything to get in the way, including the false Alexander's desire to do a quick skip. Meanwhile, a major war was brewing and very little trade was happening at Vendrax Luxuries.

  It had taken Verkan and his investigators three days to find out where they were keeping the false Alexander, on the top of a four-story warehouse in Alexandria. They came in at midnight on an airbus, dusted the place with sleep gas, landed on the roof, broke in and 'liberated' Alexander, who was now in the hands of the Bureau of Psych-Hygiene for a memory wipe and psycho-social adjustment.

  Verkan had returned to his office to find Kostran absent-mindedly twirling his pipe, sitting across from Verkan's horseshoe desk. "You're supposed to be in Greffa representing the House of Verkan-what are you doing here?" Verkan asked, as he sat down.

  "Chief, we've run across a real anomaly. Zinganna and myself agreed that you needed to be brought up to speed on what's been happening in Greffa the last couple of days."

  I haven't been gone that long, Verkan thought to himself. "What happened? A palace coup?"

  "Nothing that bad. We've just verified local reports that a large army from the West Coast is traveling north across the old Iron Trail. It will be arriving on Grefftscharrer territory in two or three days."

  "What? Isn't that the home of the Ros-Zarthani-the supposedly decadent descendants of the Zarthani populations on the East Coast. What are they doing on the old Iron Trail?"

  Kostran shrugged. "Their army is too small to be an invasion force, but it's too big for anything but trouble-at least, that's how the Grefftscharrers see it. We believe they're from the city-state of Antiphon, but have been unable to verify this since we don't have any agents there. The Ros-Zarthani army has all of Greffa in an uproar."

>   "I don't doubt it. The Grefftscharrers usually expect their enemies to attack from the east or south, not from the west. What are they going to do about it?"

  Kostran stopped twirling his pipe, loaded the barrel and lit up. "The Council of Merchants wanted King Theovacar to raise an army and send them packing. The Assembly of Lords was in agreement."

  "That's a first. I can't remember the last time those two bodies agreed on the color of the sky! I take it that Theovacar wasn't too anxious to take on this invading army?"

  "You're right, Chief. There's no gain for him no matter what he does. If Theovacar raises an army and defeats the barbarians, so what-they're just a bunch of hicks with spears. On the other hand, if he loses-Theovacar is in a mess of trouble and could lose his throne. Not that either the Council or Assembly of Lords would shed any tears. Neither body is happy about the way King Theovacar has been centralizing his authority in Grefftscharr."

  "That's a given. So what did he do?"

  "Theovacar told them that as long as the barbarian army did not commit an act of war he was not able to justify attacking them. However, if one of his barons or princes felt threatened, they were free to raise their own army. The Prince of Thagnor, who's been trying to slip out of Theovacar's leash for years, decided to raise an army of his own. Prince Varrack did a pretty good job; about six thousand levy, three thousand mercenary horse and the Army of Thagnor-another four thousand men."

  Verkan nodded. "Good move, you've got to hand it to King Theovacar. Even if the Prince wins, he'll lose a lot of troops; if he doesn't win, he might not only lose face but his life as well. How did Varrack get his troops into Greffa without starting a civil war?"

  "He's having them ferried over now. They'll be arriving in a few days. One might almost think Varrack had something to do with this invasion, if we didn't know better."

  Verkan nodded. "You're right. I bet Theovacar isn't sleeping well these days. After all, it's Theovacar's job, not his nobles', to defend his kingdom from invasion, whether they can be classed as 'hicks with spears' or not."

  "I think Theovacar's afraid that if he moves the Royal Army away from Greffa City, his enemies will attempt a coup-or start a civil war, while he's out of town. It's the same problem Great King Lysandros faces if he heads up the Harphaxi Royal Army and chases after Kalvan in Hos-Hostigos next spring. If Theovacar stays in Greffa while his troops march off, he's even more of a coup target."

  Living in Greffa hadn't slowed Kostran's mental muscles; if anything, it had quickened them. "So what's Theovacar's answer?"

  "So far, he's not talking. There's lots of grumbling in the streets about Kings who don't honor their oaths and obligations-mostly from his petty barons, at this point. The commoners don't care since they feel safe behind the city walls. The merchants are too busy rubbing their hands together over all the profits they're making selling fireseed, food stocks and weapons to Varrack and his crowd. Meanwhile, Theovacar's most vocal opponents are playing soldier with Prince Varrack. Maybe he's hoping they'll get their heads handed to them on a platter!"

  Verkan laughed. "I wouldn't put it past him. I'd like to see him work the Executive Council."

  They both laughed together.

  "Kostran, what are Prince Varrack's chances?"

  "It's hard to tell. We know very little about the West Coast city-states. I've already picked two agents to infiltrate Merinos City. They'll find out what's going on since that city is the drop-off point for Ros-Zarthani expeditions along the old Iron Trail.

  "We have done some nighttime aerial surveillance and it appears that this Ros-Zarthani army is a first class operation by the way it's run, but they've never encountered firearms before-that's a big liability. On the other hand, the Grefftscharrers are over-confident and Prince Varrack's never been in a battle this size. I'd call it a toss up."

  Verkan shook his head. "I hate to take sides, but I hope Varrack beats the iron-pants off the Ros-Zarthani and sends them back to Antiphon where they belong. Kalvan's got enough problems without another army to worry about."

  "You've got that right, Chief. Soldiers from all over the Five Kingdoms are arriving at Hos-Harphax now that word of Captain-General Phidestros' success in Beshta is being shouted around to all corners by Styphon's House. You'd think he'd just conquered the entire Princedom of Beshta instead of a border castle. Now, there are rumors of a war against Thaphigos."

  "Styphon's House knows they need to counter Kalvan's good public relations. What better propaganda than to show that Kalvan can be defeated on his own turf. This victory has been a big morale boost for Styphon's House. Maybe they want Lysandros to flex his army's muscles some more. Another unexpected dividend of Rylla's invasion of Phaxos."

  "Kalvan's got his work cut out for him next year, all right. He thought he might get some help from the Council of Dralm, now that Xentos is Primate."

  Verkan shook his head. He paused to take out his pipe and filled the barrel with tobacco.

  Kostran sniffed the air. "That's not your usual blend. It smells like that Kalvan's Time-Line weed."

  Verkan laughed, then lit his pipe. "I got used to it-I like the flavor now. But getting back to Xentos, he's both a true-believer of Dralm-which means he can't be trusted to act in a rational manner-and he's very ambitious, which he won't admit to himself-"

  "Which makes him a good candidate for the Bureau of Psychological Hygiene."

  "Or Roxthar's Investigation! Unfortunately, even Xentos doesn't know which way he's going to blow next, so Kalvan's whistling into the wind if he's depending upon the Primate and the League of Dralm for support to solve his Kingdom's problems. The next round is Kalvan's and it's going to be up to him to come up with another one of his 'miracles,' if he plans to knock Styphon's House out of the game."

  FOUR

  Welcome, Harmakros," Prince Ptosphes said as he opened the door to his bedchambers. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable."

  Since Ptosphes was in a nightshirt, Harmakros sat on a stool and started pulling down his thigh-high black cavalry boots. After he shucked them off, he wiggled his toes for a few moments and sighed. "Damn, that feels good!"

  Ptosphes wrinkled his nose, fumbled for his flintlock tinderbox and struck a flame to light his pipe. "Those feet of yours stink almost as bad as my chamber pot!"

  "If it bothers you, I'll put my boots back on."

  "No, I've been in far too many battles to be offended by the smell of honest feet. You've been in the saddle for almost two days, for Dralm's sake. I wanted to talk to you about something before you fell asleep."

  "I'm not very tired. I stopped at the Royal Foundry last night, on the way back from Beshta, and slept there."

  Ptosphes smiled. "Any luck with the ladies?"

  "No. That wasn't the kind of sleep I had in mind! Not that I didn't steal a few looks at that redhead-Sirna isn't it? I could sleep on her pillows any time!"

  Ptosphes laughed and picked up a flask of Ermut's brandy and began to fill two goblets. "Then a few drops of Ermut's Best won't stretch you out on my bedchamber floor. Now, have you noticed any change between Rylla and Kalvan since your return from the Sastragath?"

  "Yes, on the few occasions I have seen them together, the air in the audience chamber is as chill as the north wind's breath. Every time the Great King is about to relax, Rylla harrumphs, and his face turns as hard as stone. Where formerly I enjoyed being in their presence, I now find myself looking for excuses to return to Tarr-Locra. Although, Dralm's truth be known, Colonel Democriphon is doing an exemplary job and if I show up unannounced on another of Kalvan's 'fact finding missions' one more time Democriphon will take it as personal criticism of his command."

  Ptosphes emptied half his goblet before speaking. "Kalvan still is fretting about the loss of Tarr-Veblos. As far as Colonel Democriphon is concerned, he's going to be unhappy anyway; Hestophes has run afoul of Baron Sthentros and his daughter and I've already sent him to take Democriphon's command."

  "The vixen?"


  Sthentros had been part of the baggage his beloved wife had brought with her from Pygron, a small Hostigi town on the border with Sask, when she'd agreed to be his betrothed. Rumors suggested that Sthentros had been one of Demia's father's bastards, but Ptosphes had never believed them until the Baron's daughter-who was the spitting image of Rylla- was born. The bloodlines in those small border towns were often too close for comfort.

  Ptosphes had met Demia when she'd become a Lady in Waiting for his older sister, ten winters deceased now. Where has all the time gone?

  Sthentros was what Kalvan called a "shirt-tail relative"-the nephew of Demia's much older sister's husband. When Ptosphes had married Demia, she had requested that her cousin be given an estate and title. Her father and most of her family had died in one of the border raids that had almost turned into an invasion. Sthentros, although not close, was one of Demia's few surviving male relatives. Ptosphes had never been able to say no to his beloved wife.

  He could still remember his first glimpse of Demia-his heart had come to a halt, she was so beautiful-like her daughter Rylla. He wasn't the only one who'd fallen hard for Demia; Xentos, Chartiphon and several others had made court. He liked to think that it was his innate qualities that caused her to choose him as mate, but she'd always been very ambitious, a lot like Lavena… He shouldn't think of her that way-

  Ptosphes felt the stabbing chest pain that Kalvan had told him was angina-a strange word that sounded nicer than it felt. Kalvan had also told him that if he had some nitro-something-or-other he could cure Ptosphes' stabbing pains to the chest. Then Kalvan had stopped, laughed wildly, then slapped his forehead. "If I knew how to make nitro I wouldn't have to worry about my really big pain-Styphon's House!" Obviously, this nitro-something-or-other was powerful medicine. Maybe my grandchildren will live long enough to use it.