Siege of Tarr-Hostigos k-4

by John F. Carr

  Sirna laughed. "It sounds like an exciting life. What are you doing in Hos-Hostigos?"

  "I was staying with a young lady in Agrys City, which at that time was considered the most civilized city in the world-but only to those in the Northern Kingdoms. The most civilized city in the world has to be Xiphlon, at the mouth of the Mother River. I could tell you stories, but not now." Gasphros paused, gave her a bawdy wink before continuing, "Anyway, when I heard about the new King Kalvan and his miraculous battle against Styphon's House-a thoroughly corrupt band of rogues, by the way-I decided that Hostigos Town was the place for me. And I haven't regretted my decision once. This new University is the wonder of the world and is a lodestone for the most wondrous minds and learned men of every stripe. If it isn't happening in Hos-Hostigos, it isn't happening anywhere! Among his many talents it turns out that our Great King is a musician; I've learned some wonderful melodies from him-most inspiring."

  Gasphros' enthusiasm was catching, and Sirna found herself in a much better mood as they returned to the Grand Hall, now a temporary ballroom. Had Gasphros not been plucked from her arm by two young girls, she might have been tempted to spend the evening with him. As it was, she was enthralled by the formal dancing to lutes, lyres and some sort of keyboard mechanism in the shape of a cooking stove. The music was pleasant and she recognized the melody Stardust, the Hoagy Carmichael standard that had been a hit on First Level airwaves a decade or so ago. Another of Kalvan's contributions to Aryan-Transpacific's musical legacy. She was asked to dance by several young men, but she turned them down. She'd been born with two left feet and, unlike Eldra who was dancing every number, it took her ages to learn the steps and motions that made dancing enjoyable.

  Then she saw the Great King dancing with Eldra, who was whispering into his ear. You're out of your league here, Eldra! She watched as Kalvan shook his head no and went off to talk with a man she recognized as Captain-General Harmakros.

  Eldra did not take well to the role of the spurned woman; the look that crossed her face would have frightened a grizzly back into hibernation. Over in the corner the scraggly bearded Duke Skranga watched the attempted assignation play out-missing nothing. Sirna hoped she never caught his eyes; true, the bald and bandy legged former horse-trader had a charm that defied both logic and good sense, but she'd met more than her share of seedy-looking professors and knew that a good kick in the crotch-if all else failed-always restored their good sense.

  At first she thought Eldra was coming over to talk with her, but instead she stepped into the open arms of Democriphon, the handsome cavalry colonel who was reported to have broken more hearts in Hostigos Town than even Skranga. The two of them, as they danced some ritualized piece that defied Sirna's limited coordination, gazed into each other's eyes as if they'd each just discovered the perfect melody. Sirna looked around for Sain; she had a feeling she was going to be going home by herself tonight.

  II

  Verkan was playing catch-up, visiting his various Greffan businesses, which had been flourishing the last year, while he'd been jaunting back and forth between Home Time-Line and Hostigos. He hadn't been back in Greffa for half a year and reading over the Verkan Fireseed Works ledger he was amazed at the profit it was making, which was surprising since they were practically giving fireseed away. He had had to see that most of this funneled back to Kalvan as part of their licensing agreement. The Verkan Fireseed Works was selling the real Hostigi fireseed. It wasn't Kalvan's fault that most of the fireseed works that had sprung up in Greffa after Kalvan had announced the gunpowder formula had mangled the instructions! Still, most of it was better than the fireseed Styphon's House was still selling in the Middle Kingdoms, which was powdered-not corned and ground-as was the fireseed they sold in the Five Kingdoms.

  For centuries Styphon's House had gotten away with selling an inferior product at inflated prices. No wonder there was so little love for the Temple in Grefftscharr or any of the other Middle Kingdoms.

  The goods he was importing from Hostigos, as part of his cover as a pack trader, were also making money-especially the casks of Ermut's brandy. He was going to have to be careful. If he continued to amass this much local wealth, he'd soon become a target of King Theovacar. Verkan had already been targeted by the highly born but lightly-pursed nobility. The gentle knock at the door reminded him he wasn't alone.

  "Come in."

  His assistant Zinganna, Zinna to the locals, stuck her head in the doorway. "Your afternoon appointment is here, Trader."

  "Invite him in and bring a flask of Ermut's Best." She gave him a conspiratorial wink and closed the door. Verkan took his alcodote and removed two of his finest glass goblets from the cabinet behind his hardwood desk. The Grefftscharrers were used to the local mead and ale, but distilled liquor tossed them for a loop. Kalvan's brandy was much easier to administer than a hypno-mech and left no traces of First Level contamination for the new Greffa University Study Team to worry over.

  Verkan used his First Level total recall to pull up his mental file on Duke Ruffulo. Ruffulo was in his middle years, married with three children. The Duke was the oldest son of one of Theovacar's grandfather's loyalists. The Duke owned a large estate bordering on Thagnor, which explained his leanings toward Theovacar; Prince Varrack was more openly ambitious than the King. While Ruffulo was nominally an ally of Theovacar, he was reportedly no admirer. He was a man with a reputation of stern integrity and honesty, both in the Assembly of Lords and the Council of Merchants; in other words, a good man to win over to the Paratimer's side.

  The Duke's estates were reportedly earning more than he was spending, and he only had one mistress, which was unusual for a noble in Grefftscharr-usually they had a dozen or more. How much gold is he going to ask for and why?

  It was Kostran's idea to start lending money at a lesser rate than that of the local banking firms and Styphon's Great Banking House to needy nobles. He had been careful not to loan too much, between one and ten ounces of gold. The kind of money a Greffan noble would likely owe to a tradesman, such as a mercer or caterer. Their terms were fair, for Middle Kingdom lenders: interest a flat ten percent-term not to exceed one year-if you put up collateral, or twenty percent if you didn't. Furthermore, Kostran let the grapevine know that the House of Verkan was willing to forgive part of a loan in exchange for political or mercantile favors.

  These loans not only undercut Styphon's local influence, but it also provided a source of useful intelligence since most of the nobility spent far more than they collected. After a few goblets of brandy and a small purse of gold, many of them were more than willing to talk his or Kostran's ears off.

  Duke Ruffulo entered the room, his back straight as a ramrod and with eyes darting around the room as though he expected one of Styphon's fire-seed devils to materialize.

  "I don't bite," Verkan said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

  Ruffulo shook his head. "I apologize, Trader Verkan. I appear to have forgotten my manners. I've heard so many things about the esteemed Trader Verkan in the past two winters, I wasn't sure what to expect. I am Duke Ruffulo and the Warden of Fireside."

  Verkan stood up and bowed. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace. I hope I haven't disappointed you."

  "No, not at all. I was expecting something much more ostentatious. Your office reminds me of my own study back in Fireside."

  Most of the successful traders and merchants of Greffa aped the nobility to excess; it was a common phenomenon over all the Levels wherever there were titles, including Home Time-Line.

  After the required exchange of pleasantries, Ruffulo got to the point of his visit. "I understand that you are able to arrange things."

  Verkan nodded. He had helped a few nobles who had earned Theovacar's wrath sell their property and find residences in the countryside, which they could use as boltholes, or even buy estates in Hostigos. Some of the wiser lords were beginning to realize that King Theovacar was not going to be happy until he consolid
ated his power over the peerage. No one was sure of who might win if it came down to open rebellion, but it didn't hurt to have a hideaway in case things went the King's way.

  "I also understand that your word of honor can be trusted."

  Verkan nodded, wondering to whom Ruffulo had been talking.

  "I recently had an audience with the King. He has charged me with a mission that may well cost me my life, if discovered, and will make me many enemies whether found out or not."

  "How can I help, Lord Ruffulo?"

  "I will entrust you with ten thousand ounces of gold, which I would like for you to invest for me outside of Grefftscharr. I also have another five hundred ounces of gold for the purchase of a small estate in Wulfula. Here is my draft on the Greffan Trader's Bank."

  Verkan took the large parchment, which had the seal of the Greffan Trader's Bank. "Many lords are buying estates in Hos-Hostigos. They are inexpensive due to the war-"

  "I'm not worried about cost, I want a refuge for my family in case something dire happens to me. However, I don't want to take them out of the raven's beak and drop them into the panther's mouth!"

  Verkan nodded, wondering whether the other lords and merchant princes of Greffa shared Ruffulo's dismal view of Kalvan's plight. He'd put Kostran on it in the morning; maybe they knew something the Paratimers didn't. "I will do as you ask, Duke Ruffulo."

  "Thank you, Trader. In return, I will pay you a thousand ounces of gold and should the event that I fear take place, I will give you the deed to Fireside."

  "But I'm not buying-"

  "I know, but if 'people' believe that I have taken loans out from the House of Verkan it will not only explain my visit, but lead them to the conclusion that I am doing less well than they had formerly believed. I will trust in your honor to see that any money realized from Fireside's sale will be held in escrow for my family to do with as they see fit. Less your usual commission-ten percent, I've been told."

  "That is correct. You have my oath, Duke Ruffulo." Nothing wrong with Ruffulo's brain matter, thought Verkan. It would also allow Verkan to take possession in the event of a Throne takeover and stop Royal confiscation of the Duke's estate.

  "I will have your property and possessions assessed. Should some unforeseen calamity happen to yourself, I will see that you are compensated at your new estate-or, in the event you are unable to join them, your family is well-provided for."

  For the first time since his arrival, the Duke smiled. "I can see my information regarding your wits was not exaggerated." He picked up the goblet and took a sip. "I can also see that the potency of Ermut's Best was not overrated. May both our Houses prosper!"

  SEVEN

  A cloud of dust on the far horizon usually meant a herd of buffalo or cattle were moving across the Sea of Grass. Today Arch-Stratego Zarphu knew it was neither; it was the advancing Grefftscharrer Army. His scouts had already told him the disposition of the enemy army: six thousand infantry, mostly carrying long spears and firesticks, four thousand heavy cavalry and two thousand light auxiliaries, mostly Ruthani cavalry recruited from the grasslands. He told one of his orderlies to fetch the Highpriest.

  The Highpriest Arkemanes rode quickly to his side in a very soldierly and un-priestly manner of which Zarphu heartily approved. "I see the enemy is closing."

  Zarphu ignored the snorts of disapproval from his senior officers; he knew the difference between priests and soldiers even if his officers didn't. "This is not an ideal place for a battle." He paused to indicate the flat lands on all sides. "Nor is it a good place for an ambush."

  The Highpriest, who no longer wore his yellow robes, nodded. "If we can defeat the Grefftscharrer Army here, we can perform both a service to Styphon and a disservice to the Usurper Kalvan. The Kings of Grefftscharr only rule as long as they show enough strength to cow both their under-lords and the powerful merchants of Greffa. It has been rumored that arms have been shipped from Greffa to the false kingdom of Hostigos. A win here will be the first victory of next year's campaign!"

  Zarphu was impressed with the priest's knowledge of things other than arcane rites and offerings of his trade and wondered if he had served in a military order before putting on his robes. He had learned from the fat merchant that Styphon's House had two military arms of its own. Zarphu had tried to question Arkemanes about his past; he might have had better success with a stone, could any be found on this endless grassland.

  Zarphu was not as convinced as the priest that his army-though greater in size-would be able to seize the battlefield. His knowledge of the enemy was negligible and his own army had no experience fighting against the firesticks. The Highpriest had demonstrated the noisy and smelly 'muskets' and they had proved to be capricious. The fireseed had to be dry or they would not fire. However, the muskets were deadly when fired-if they hit their target. Unlike his archers, who could hit the eye socket of an approaching enemy from a hundred paces.

  His soldiers were all experienced troops-fourteen maniples of a thousand men each, eight of horse and six of foot soldiers. Plus, two maniples of the Lord Tyrant's own Immortals-heavy armored cavalry who fought with spear and broadsword.

  Zarphu turned to Stratego Lyphar and ordered, "The enemy is two marches away. When they are one march, have the foot archers and skirmishers run ahead and engage the enemy. They are not to hold, but fall back and draw the enemy in."

  He turned to another general and ordered him to support Lyphar's foot with his light cavalry, mostly horse-archers and javelin throwers. Then he addressed Highpriest Arkemanes. "I would have taken the river route that my scouts recommended, but I also thought it might be best to test the mettle of the Eastern ironmen."

  Arkemanes looked over in surprise, and even had the grace to blush. It was the first time Zarphu had read any emotion on the priests' face. If these priestly troops of Styphon's were not soldiers at arms, they were soldiers of the heart.

  "You must remember Highpriest, our records go back almost two thousand winters. We have traversed these lands and trails more times than there are nomads upon the Sea of Grass. While it is true that trade between us and the Middle Kingdoms has dwindled to a trickle, there are still among us those who trade along the old routes. Several of these are among our scouts. I am as anxious as you are to see how well my men hold against the firesticks. However, I suspect you will be the more surprised."

  It was also true that Zarphu sounded more confident about his troops than he felt. His people had heard stories about these fire weapons for centuries, and had obtained more than a few over the years of trading. However, as long as the fireseed was scarce, they were more curiosities than real weapons. One of the former traders had told him that the fireseed mystery was no longer a secret. If this were true, he would take back more than gold from these distant lands. With the firesticks, the Lord Tyrant would be able to complete his conquest of the city-states and expand his reach into the Sea of Grass and maybe even farther.

  The light foot soldiers began to run forward and the heavy infantry, with full body shields and long spears, went into a double time. The massed heavy cavalry followed to exploit any breaks in the enemy lines. If all went well, the archers and javelin throwers would sting the enemy army, bringing forth the more impetuous cavalry and foot. Then the skirmishers would retreat behind the shield wall and the slaughter would commence; at least, that was how it was done in the homelands. Nothing was certain against an unknown enemy-except uncertainty.

  II

  Prince Varrack, purple plumes jutting out from the back of his burgonet, pointed to the growing mass of men, the sun sparkling off their armor, in the distance. "There are the Ros-Zarthani barbarians. We shall ride over them as the buffalo trample the Ruthani tent cities!"

  "Your Lordship, I suggest we move to the rear just in case a stray spear comes our way," one of the Barons suggested. "Let the professional soldiers do their work."

  "There will be few casualties today, my friend." Prince Varrack said, slapping the Baron on t
he back with his gauntleted hand. The nobleman, who wore no more armor than a silvered breastplate over his red and black velvet doublet, staggered forward, almost falling off his mount. When he had regained his poise, he gave Varrack a pained expression. "My back hurts!"

  Varrack had to choke back a laugh. Such weakness was all too typical of Greffa's decadent nobility. Many of them wore more perfume than his courtesans. This will all change after the vile dog Theovacar is put in his place. I will return the Middle Kingdoms to their past glory, with Thagnor the king of cities, and it all begins today with my crushing defeat of these barbarians.

  Another noble, this one with a cultivated lisp, announced, "Please, let us stay at the front, Varrack, so we can watch these creatures die up close!"

  A young Count, with a wispy blonde beard, cried, "This is so much better than one of Theovacar's Spectacles. One grows tired of pantomime sea battles and bear fights."

  Captain-General Errock said with gritted teeth, "Your Lordship, my men need to prepare for battle. We will be hampered if we have to spend our time protecting your guests." The way he stepped on the last word left no doubt about his own feelings concerning the martial ability of Grefftscharrer nobles in general.

  "We shall retire, Captain-General. It is your job to win this battle." Under his breath, Prince Varrack added, "And win me the glory I need to challenge Theovacar in his own city."

  III

  The battle opened almost like a scroll-written exercise out of Arch-Stratego Zarphu's library. It appeared the Grefftscharrer soldiers held his army in contempt, allowing their own front ranks to break as they attempted to chase down the annoying skirmishers. The archers and spearmen quickly pulled back behind the now stationary shield wall and-once the enemy was within bow range-began to fire at will. Several hundred disorganized enemy light cavalry ran into the shield wall; many of them were impaled on spears or shot out of their saddles by arrows. When an enemy fell, a skirmisher would rush from behind the shields and dispatch him with a quick sword thrust.