Great King_s war k-2

by Roland Green

  "We have two of our people working in Harphax City taverns frequented by mercenaries, and two more passing themselves off as sutlers. The second pair will move out with the army, when and if. We're not getting much information from the University people; most of them are up to their eyebrows in work at the Foundry. The only two who aren't are Professor Baltrov Eldra and Director Talgran Dreth, who are back on Home Time Line assembling this year's team of scholars.

  "So I'm going to send out Inspector Ranthar Jard to join both the Royal Foundry and the Mounted Rifles as a Zygrosi friend of mine. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that he can still keep his eyes and ears open and his mouth shut better than most. He's also remarkably hard to kill.

  "He'll reach Hostigos Town in about a ten-day with some Grefftscharrer brass for casting and a message from me. I'll follow in less than a moon with a full-scale caravan of food and military stores from one of our Control Time-Lines. That should land me in Hostigos before the shooting really starts, but after Ranthar Jard's had time to look around and ask a few questions. I hope he doesn't find anything that requires official action. Apart from the dividing the University team, when they'll need to be guarding each others' backs, Danthor Dras could easily make something out of any hint of scandal. He's going to be broadcasting a series of lectures on Styphon House Subsector, Kalvan's Time-Line, using all his favorite visual effects. Anything he says about the Paracops will have an audience of several hundred million. We can just as well do without that, thank you…"

  II

  Grand Master Soton signed his name at the bottom of the parchment with less than his usual flourish. The scroll contained a requisition to the Royal Granaries of Hos-Harphax for enough food and fodder for three Lances of Knights and their horses. It was the least he could do having signed their death warrant by ordering them to this dreary and inhospitable land. He'd spent the last moon-half since he'd arrived from Hos-Ktemnos inspecting King Kaiphranos' pitiful excuse for an Army. It was even worse than First Speaker Anaxthenes had feared, and Anaxthenes was not known for his optimism. Anaxthenes had been right to send him here to reconnoiter the Army of Hos-Harphax; now he understood why he'd been ordered to bring the Lances with him.

  Yet, to send so many Brethren to almost certain death stuck in his throat like a fish bone. If there was one thing certain, by Ormaz, it was that he'd never make a statesman-good or otherwise.

  King Kaiphranos' Royal Horse Guard wasn't up to muster, and singularly ill-equipped-a polite phrase for bridles that fell apart in your hands and pistols whose locks were frozen with rust. The fifteen hundred Royal Lancers led by Prince Philesteus were, if anything, over-equipped; silver and gilded armor that could blind friends as well as opponents on a sunlit battlefield. They were composed of younger sons of the nobility and wealthy merchants and were hard to control unless used wisely. And who in Styphon's name could do that: Kaiphranos, so frail he couldn't mount a horse without help? Prince Philesteus, as rash as he was courageous? Grand Duke Lysandros, who was a competent commander, but untested against a worthy foe? Besides, everyone knew that his true ambition was not to lead troops but to rule Hos-Harphax. Count Aesthes, a commander who'd never won a battle although he'd fought three, owed his present rank of Captain-General of Hos-Harphax to the fact he could listen to Kaiphranos' endless monologues about the best kind of reeds for bassoons? Only in the Harphaxi Army…

  There were some good mercenary troops, but they were of little use unless competently led. The Hos-Harphaxi levy were the dregs of the Five Kingdoms, gallows-fruit, cutpurses, imbeciles and the scourings of every prison in the eleven Princedoms of Hos-Harphax. And their mounts! Never in his whole life had he seen such an assortment of nags, bags of bones and swaybacks. The entire lot wasn't worth the lead it would cost Kalvan to bring them down.

  The Knight doing steward's duty entered and said, "A Captain Phidestros to see you, Grand Master."

  "Bid him enter."

  Soton glanced at the parchment detailing the Throne's accusations against the mercenary captain-murder topped the list. The Harphaxi Royal Provost had wisely refrained from passing sentence, leaving it for him to pass judgment. In a private note, the Provost appealed to the Knights' justice rather than the Great King's. A wise choice as more than one mercenary commander had been hanged to appease the local citizenry. The Provost had based his appeal on the fact that they Royal Army needed every mercenary captain they could beg, borrow or kidnap. Sadly, he was right.

  Soton wondered what Phidestros would have done if he'd known that the Grand Master was satisfied that the Captain had plotted and committed cold-blooded murder to place the Blue Company of Captain Lamochares under his own banner. Personally, he thought the young blackguard should be drawn and quartered; however, the Holy War against the Usurper was more important than any single murder or the ambitions of a mercenary captain. Unless he could prompt a full confession, which he rather doubted, he would rather find a lesser punishment. Otherwise, Phidestros' death would seem arbitrary and offend the other mercenaries, making for bad blood between them and the Order at a time when they needed every man-jack of them.

  There was no doubt Captain Phidestros had shown initiative and cool courage: two things in desperately short supply in the Army of Hos-Harphax. If all else failed, Kalvan's army would soon dispatch Phidestros to Regwarn, Cavern of the Dead, final resting place for those without honor or belief in the gods.

  When Phidestros entered, Soton with a silent gesture sent the steward Knight out for ale. Then he leaned back in his chair as best he could and studied the man standing before him on the far side of the table. The captain was still young and lean, with assured and fluid movements, like an upright panther. He was handsome enough in a rough, vital sort of way, but his eyes had the color and warmth of a mountain stream. All in all, he looked like the hard-bitten and ambitious mercenary commander he was.

  It was a contemplation that would have been easier if Phidestros had been shorter. Then he would not have made Soton more conscious than usual of his own lack of height, and how over-sized this chair borrowed from the Palace was for him. The next time he traveled north he would bring one of his own chairs from Tarr-Ceros, like the one he had at the Triangle Table in the Golden Temple at Balph.

  Meanwhile, there was no purpose in letting himself be distracted from great matters by trying to dominate in small ones.

  "Sit down, Captain Phidestros, and tell me why you think you and your men should not be punished for your work at the Drunken Harlot five moons ago."

  Phidestros sat down with an almost contemptuous grace of movement that told Soton very clearly the Captain knew why he was being told to sit. Either he was very sure his case was fireproof, or he was playing some deep game with someone else pulling the strings. Soton decided to assume the first since the second was too disquieting to even contemplate without evidence. He had enough of hidden plots and machinations in his dealings with the Inner Circle without searching out more.

  Soton also had no evidence for the story that Phidestros was a bastard of someone too highly placed to acknowledge him, but practical enough to find him useful and to advance his career whenever this could be done quietly. The Iron Company was the best-fitted, well-horsed and sharpest appearing mercenary company in Hos-Harphax. No evidence-yet Soton's belly told him that no other explanation made sense; still, he would not wager on which of the half-score men named as Phidestros' sire might be the one.

  "I do not think we should be punished for this unfortunate mishap, since neither I nor my men had anything to do with the Petty-Captain and trooper Vilthos' death. However, I do not think that I and my men are without blame, Grand Master."

  Soton nodded, not sure what to make out of this-was the Captain confessing to the killings?

  "That morning there was a horse race among the mercenaries and Royal Lancers. My mount, Long Shanks, took first place that day and our wagers emptied many a purse. My victory was well known among the populace of Harphax City, including most
of the footpads and thieves. I feared a misguided attack upon my person-or whom the attackers believed to be me and my command-to relieve me of my purse resulted in this contretemps involving the Blue Company, whose only crime was celebrating my success at the race with the Iron Band."

  It took all of Soton's self-control not to break out smiling: Does Phidestros really think that he can sell this stale codswallop to me? The verifiable facts would check out-the Captain was no fool, but what band of thieves in Harphax City were brave enough to beard a mercenary captain and his armed troopers in a public brothel? On the other hand, if he were not overly anxious to punish this ambitious captain, the story did give them all a way to save face.

  "Indeed, Grand Master," Phidestros continued, "I believe that Lamochares' men suffered quite innocently from this heinous ambush upon my person and I would see to making provision for their kin. I know that Ephentros left a widow and two daughters. Also, the owner of the Drunken Harlot has the right to recoup his losses for the cost of replacing his furniture. After this cowardly ambush, he was left with nothing but a lavish supply of kindling wood."

  Undoubtedly, Phidestros could pay enough to quiet a great many tongues; the Iron Company had left the battlefield of Fyk last winter not only in good order, but well rewarded, having thoroughly looted the baggage train of Sarrask of Sask. There were barons with smaller war chests than Phidestros; furthermore, there was no chance of Phidestros selling his services to Hos-Hostigos as long as Sarrask of Sask was alive. The one neatly balanced the other, depriving Phidestros of one major weapon in any ambitious mercenary captain's arsenal: the ability to switch sides whenever he found a pretext plausible enough to satisfy the scruples of the more devout Galzar worshippers among his command.

  "I will pay whatever you believe is fair, Grand Master, in return for a grant of the right to take Lamochares' men into the Iron Company. Ephentros was the only man fit to command under an independent company. The other petty-captains are not bad troopers, but they lack experience-they're green. Also, there is bad blood between some of them."

  Soton clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ground together like millstones. This mercenary captain has as much gall as the so-called Great King of Hos-Hostigos! "I have heard as much. Aren't you burying Lamochares without bothering to find out if he's dead?"

  "I am far from interring the worthy Lamochares, Grand Master. I wish him long years and an honorable career. However, all my wishes will not drive out the marsh fever and rattle-lung in time to let him take the field this season. His healer says it's Styphon's Own Miracle he has lived so long, but if by another such miracle he recovers, he will never ride a horse again. If Lamochares' company is not put into the hands of an experienced captain it will be lost to Styphon's service this year."

  That was true enough, particularly since one of the things Soton did know was that Lamochares had become careless about the pay and equipment of his men as the fever worsened. Too much of the paychest spent on quacks and leeches. The late Petty-Captain Ephentros had done his best, but that hadn't been good enough. Lamochares' men would need a good deal of discipline hammered into them and silver spent on their arms and appurtenances before they were any fitter to take the field than their captain.

  They would probably also follow the man who gave them what they needed like lost sheep following a shepherd. And almost certainly if said man had the reputation and-Hadron take the man, but there was no denying it-the commanding presence of Captain Phidestros, the Blue Company would be reformed into a useful unit. "How will you heal the bad blood between your men and Lamochares' troopers?"

  "As recompense for their losses, the Iron Company has helped pay for their drink and victuals. We also shared our lodgings with them when I learned that the company paychest was empty and they were being evicted from the Bent-Horn Tavern."

  Phidestros' answer demonstrated that he too had been doing a great deal of thinking on the matter, too much thinking, in fact. Soton began to have the feeling he was listening to a superb actor playing a part in one of the Fireseed Plays. However, it was not the sort of feeling Soton was prepared to let carry him away when plain facts were shouting in his ear.

  Fact: Lamochares' men would indeed be leaderless if they weren't put under some other captain.

  Fact: If they were left leaderless, they would not be taking the field this season when every man would be needed to crush the Usurper Kalvan, even if they were nothing more than cannon fodder. The Blue Company would be left behind, idle, unpaid and a menace to the lawful subjects of Harphax City whose fondness for mercenaries would doubtless run out when the mercenaries' purses did.

  Fact: Phidestros had a deep enough purse to give Lamochares' company everything they needed. That would save one hundred and fourteen troopers and two good guns to the service of Styphon-an addition not to be despised.

  Fact: Under Phidestros the men would also be under a captain loyal to Styphon's House-or at least as loyal as any mercenary captain could ever be-they would not be under Prince Philesteus and Duke Aesthes or obeying Styphon's House through the offices of Grand Duke Lysandros. Soton knew enough about those men to trust the first two hardly at all, and Lysandros only as long as his ambitions for the throne of Hos-Harphax were not threatened.

  Fact: Phidestros' Iron Company strength was now one hundred and thirty-seven men. With Lamochares' company, Phidestros would have a double company with over two hundred and fifty men.

  Soton had far more pressing concerns than Phidestros' cold-blooded ambition if his current estimation of the Harphaxi Armies incompetence was correct. The mercenary's claim to Lamochares' Blue Company was worth granting-at a price.

  "Captain Phidestros, I have already discussed this matter in detail with the Provost Marshal and shall render a final judgment today despite my concerns that I have only have your word for some important matters regarding the murder of Petty-Captain Ephentros."

  "So be it, Grand Master. My men and I have little to fear, for Styphon will guide you to the truth."

  Soton had to hold back the laughter that threatened his poise. It would not serve his purpose to reveal his suspicions so blatantly. However, he needed to caution Phidestros against placing that long nose of his in places where people might be tempted to cut it off. "Before I render judgment, I will warn you, Captain Phidestros, that another such incident as this will not be so easily dismissed! Am I understood?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "I would also add that if I do find you fit to take command of Lamochares' men, I will request one further thing of you."

  "Ask, and if it is lawful in the sight of Styphon, first among gods, and Galzar Wolfhead, it shall be done."

  "It is lawful," Soton said tightly. He wanted badly to say, Oh, demons fly away with your false piety and drop it in Kalvan's chamber pot! Prudence silenced him. "It is certainly lawful to ask you to have Lamochares' guns fitted with trunnions and the new style carriages at your expense."

  Soton again wanted to laugh; Phidestros was finally looking unsettled. "We have already fitted the eight-pounder with trunnions and my petty-captain is building a carriage. But fitting the eighteen-pounder they call the Fat Duchess will take some time, Grand Master, and also a good deal of gold."

  "None the less, I must be satisfied that you will take proper care of the weapons entrusted to your care before I raise you higher among the captains serving Styphon's House. Is this not also lawful?"

  "Yes, Grand Master, it is lawful. You shall be so satisfied, Grand Master."

  "Good. I then rend my judgment of Not Guilty in the murders of Petty-Captain Ephentros and trooper Vilthos. You may leave."

  Phidestros didn't look so sure of himself as he left the chamber. Soton kept a grin off his face until the Captain had departed, drained an entire goblet of wine and, without taking it from his lips, hooted with laughter.

  Adding the Provost's hefty fine for the brawl at the Drunken Harlot to the cost of refitting the two guns, and even the Saski loot would be stretched a
bit. Then Phidestros might also be encouraged to give up his intrigues and ambitions and settle down doing the work he knew so well. Styphon's House had plenty of ambitious would-be-allies; it had rather fewer reliable captains of mercenaries.

  TEN

  I

  It wasn't until Soton entered Great King Kaiphranos' audience hall that he finally began to understand how Kalvan had been so successful so quickly. The Grand Hall was dingy and filled with ancient furniture that looked as if it had been used for pistol practice. The only window worthy of the name had been laboriously carved through the wall, but otherwise the only outside light came through firing slits made for arrows. When they built the keep of Tarr-Harphax, petty barons and outlaws were fighting almost yearly over the lands left vacant by the annihilation of the Ruthani tribes. Princes and kings who wanted to sleep peacefully at night built for defense, not comfort. While still stout-the ancients built their tarrs to last-Tarr-Harphax hadn't been well maintained for a hundred years.

  At least Kaiphranos had beeswax candles to light the Great Hall, not the grease-soaked tapers that filled the rest of the castle with a great deal of smoke and stink. Most of the hangings and tapestries were faded, some ripped or frayed at the ends. Even the Iron Throne of King Kaiphranos IV showed rust stains along the arms and legs. Soton had seen better furnishings in the longhouses of Sastragathi headmen.

  Kaiphranos himself seemed hardly more than another shadow. He was bent and crooked, while his wispy white hair splayed out of his crown like an unruly bird's nest. Even from a distance his red velvet robe showed dark purple wine stains.

  Flanking Great King Kaiphranos in lesser chairs of state were his eldest son and heir, Prince Philesteus, and the stooped, white-bearded Captain-General of Hos-Harphax, Duke Aesthes. Philesteus wore armor under his robes and was eccentric enough to go clean-shaven, which left his thick neck and double chin exposed to all. Duke Aesthes could hardly carry himself at all; at seventy winters and suffering from arthritis he was past active campaigning. During the thirty past winters, a time when Hos-Harphax didn't need to take war and armies seriously, this wouldn't have mattered. Now, however…