by John F. Carr
"We will settle Araxes hash when we have less pressing problems on our plate," Kalvan said. "He never actually joined Hos-Hostigos, just opened discussions. I do not want to get the reputation as a Great King who takes umbrage at every minor slight. As Duke Mnestros, pointed out, many of the Agrysi princes are worried that we will usurp their princely rights and we must act with caution."
"Caution! Does Styphon's House worry about what this princeling or that noble thinks of their grand strategy; no, they march where they will and let the loser beware!"
"My point, exactly. By this reckless policy, they have alienated many of the northern princes and barons. We need to exploit this, not follow in Styphon's footsteps. Someday, remind me to tell you about the Marshall Plan, where the Great Kingdom of America sent its enemies food and clothes and all manner of goods to help them regain their former strength as great kingdoms."
There was a hesitant knock at the chamber door.
Rylla, who had been about to fire back a rejoinder, asked, "Who could that be? I told Xykos to bar the door to anyone but Demia's wet-nurse. I'm tired of not being able to talk to my own husband!"
Kalvan snatched a rifled flintlock pistol off his desk.
"Come in," Kalvan said.
The door opened a crack and the Royal Page Aspasthar stuck his head in, like a turtle warily sniffing the world as it came out of its shell. "Brother Mytron to see you. He says it's important."
Kalvan set the pistol back on the table. "Show him in, Aspasthar."
"Brother Mytron entered the room apologetically, "I apologize Your Majesties. But I have made an important decision and I wanted to tell you both as soon as possible."
"What is it?" Kalvan asked, shooting a look to Rylla who looked like she was about to bite the priest's head off.
"Highpriest Xentos has told me that it was my duty to take over as head of the Temple, since he will be leaving for the Great Temple in Hos-Agrys as soon as the roads are passable."
"We expect that," Kalvan said, trying to hurry him along.
"Xentos also wants me to return the University robes and take over as Hos-Hostigos Highpriest of Dralm."
Kalvan mentally cursed Dralm, and Styphon, under his breath. This wasn't unexpected, but Mytron had made a wonderfully capable Rector. He had the ability to see both sides of any argument without taking either side, and still leave both opponents believing that he had taken their position. Now, one more job he didn't need-University recruiter.
"Congratulations, Highpriest Mytron," Rylla said, looking pleased. Mytron had occupied a special place in her heart after the birth of Demia; he had overseen her birthing as if the new baby was his own.
Kalvan joined in the congratulations, while he mentally catalogued all the possible replacements for the position of Hos-Hostigos University Rector. He turned to Cleon, who was standing by the door. "Another cask of Ermut's Best."
II
Verkan and his party were back at the rented estate, which housed both the offices of Verkan's Hos-Hostigos Trading Company and the Kalvan's Time-Line conveyer-head before Verkan felt it was safe to talk. In the scrambler-shielded barn, they sat down on bales of hay while Zinna poured three beers.
"I'd like to find out who talked to Theovacar's spy about your stop at Thagnor City," Kostran Galth began, but Verkan cut him off.
"That's not important even if we could do it safely, and we can't. We'd risk offending the captain of my ship by bothering his men. Offend him badly enough, and he'd take the matter before the Mariners' Guild. Then we'd have Styphon's Own Time getting any shipmaster to sail for the Hos-Hostigos Trading Company. The spy could easily turn out to have been one of Theovacar's agents buying a drink for one our crew.
"We could use the hypno-truth drugs," Zinna said.
"We could, if we didn't have to assume that King Theovacar has enough spies to detect any pattern of interest we show in anybody. I'd rather assume that until Theovacar owes us enough to overlook any little games we play on our own that aren't directed at him. Right now, we're too dependent on his goodwill.
"While on the surface Grefftscharr appears less sophisticated than the civilization of the Six Kingdoms, things run much deeper here. This civilization is a thousand years older than the Eastern Kingdoms and has survived in the midst of a sea of competing barbarian tribes and kingdoms. If poor Great King Kaiphranos had had Theovacar's network of spies and agents, Kalvan might be moldering in a box instead of on the throne of Hos-Hostigos.
"Then, too, there's another category of people I'd rather probe. The Council of Guilds seems to include a few of our enemies. I want to find out who they are, without giving them or Theovacar any clues about what we're doing."
Verkan paused to sip his beer. "Our not being able to hire mercenaries may be a stroke of luck. We can post notices that we're hiring experienced caravan guards for duty both on land and shipboard. Our enemies on the Council will take the chance to plant spies among those we hire. Once we're out of Grefftscharrer territory, any spy we detect can be interrogated freely.
"Also disposed of freely, if we find that necessary," Zinna put in. Kostran frowned at this casual ruthlessness, but Verkan wasn't surprised; Zinganna had spent the first twenty years of her life in Old Dhergabar. Anyone who did that, and came out alive and sane, could have few illusions about the virtues of being too nice to your enemies.
"Exactly. It may take a while for the spies to turn up so I'll want you both to prepare a supply of false data we can feed them to pass to their masters on the Council of Guilds. That will also help us trace who those masters are. Who do you recommend for interrogating the spies in the field?"
The discussion of possible candidates for this certainly thankless and probably grisly job lasted nearly half an hour and several more rounds of beer. By the time they had the names of three Paracops, Verkan was sure Kostran and Zinna had completely forgotten that he'd been arguing for a degree of caution in dealing with potential enemies near settled communities that was unusual for Chief Verkan Vail.
He hoped he'd prevented the asking of unanswerable questions-unanswerable not just for security reasons but also because of inadequate data. Verkan was satisfied that one or more of the University people was a spy for Hadron Tharn. Now that almost all the necessary locals had been hypno-conditioned for establishing believable covers, any widespread use of hypno-mech interrogation, where there'd be Fourth Level witnesses, might now reach the ears of a qualified First Level observer who could understand what was going on. So interrogations that might otherwise pass unnoticed might reach the Opposition Party, to provide them with yet another charge against the Paratime Police.
Then the power pile would begin to overload. It was the next thing to public knowledge that the Opposition was making its peace with some of the trading interests who were unhappy-to put it mildly-over the possible shutdown of Fourth Level Europo-American. Given a solid case of "police abuses," the Opposition might slip the leash. Dalla's renegade brother would be howling loud and clear near the head of the pack.
The two men had never liked each other; even at first sight! He'd always thought Dalla had babied her younger sibling, while Tharn resented Verkan taking up her time and attention from him. But there was more than sibling rivalry and displaced affections going on in the Tharn family; serious mental illness, along with genius, was the family's legacy. Even ex-Chief Tortha had warned him-without getting specific-about involving himself with the Hadron family. But he'd been bewitched by Dalla, and still was; she was the most interesting and vibrant woman he'd ever met. He had lost her once to his career and ambition, and he had promised himself that would not happen again. And he certainly would not risk losing her to her brother's compulsion for revenge.
Twice Dalla had talked him out of filing a complaint with the Bureau of Psych-Hygiene-a Paratime Police Chief's complaint resulted in compulsory testing and treatment of any First Level Citizen. With all his other problems and trying to live a double life, Verkan was beginning to regret
giving in and letting her brother-who needed a Mentalist scrub-run free. Not only was Tharn dabbling in First Level politics, but also he was trying to setup the University of Dhergabar as a weapon against Verkan and the Paratime Police.
Verkan doubted that Hadron Tharn had anything to do with the shipboard spy; that thread would probably lead back to the Council of Guilds and some merchant who was in hock up to his eyeballs to Styphon's House. Or one of King Theovacar's agents who kept a watch on the Salt-less Sea shipping. Verkan would have been much less frustrated if there'd been even a little more he could do about the probable spy. Investigate, identify, neutralize or terminate (though not always as thoroughly as Zinna had suggested) that was standard Paratime Police procedure for dealing with intelligence leaks.
With the leak on the University study teams, he couldn't do any of these without offending the University as an institution, instead of just a collection of individual scholars and Opposition sympathizers. He couldn't investigate without somebody noticing the investigation. If he identified the spy without an investigation, he couldn't neutralize them without somebody noticing the re-routing of data or the supplying of false data. And, as for terminating him/her, better to stick his own sigma-ray needler in his ear and fire. It would do the same job with much less time, effort and mess.
What he could do was limited to talking things over with Tortha Karf and Dalla as soon as he could. They always helped, if only by making him feel that he was something more than a fixed and highly visible target. He'd also commend Ranthar Jard for compiling the dossier on the data leaks, tell him to keep it secret from everyone except Verkan personally and have him keep an even closer eye than usual on where the University people went and what they did. It was unlikely that this would turn up the spy; it was possible that it would reduce the risk of one of the University people getting accidentally killed, and that would be one less grievance the University could have to lay at the door of the Paratime Police.
Verkan found that he wanted more beer, and then reached for his mug and discovered Zinna had refilled it so quietly he'd never even noticed. She had the knack of knowing when somebody wanted to be alone with a problem and a steady supply of food and liquor. Perhaps not a very heroic virtue, but Verkan had ducked bullets in a civil war caused by poor bar service in a medium-priced whorehouse, and certainly it had kept Kostran Galth married for eight years, which considering how valuable a subordinate Kostran was-
Verkan laughed and swigged more beer. He would have to be careful, not to imitate Tortha Karf's grandfatherly concern for his subordinates personal lives. He was not only the youngest Chief in the history of the Paratime Police; he was barely half the age of some of his chief subordinates. He'd only make himself look ridiculous without doing any good.
TWENTY TWO
Archpriest Anaxthenes, First Speaker-who sat at the right hand of Styphon's Voice On Earth, in the Council Hall of Tarr-Ktemnos-put forth the next Dracar sponsored motion. "On the behalf of Prince Lysandros of Hos-Harphax, I move that we send one million ounces of gold to Hos-Harphax to re-equip the Royal Army of Hos-Harphax. All in favor, say Yea."
It was a good motion, he thought, the Royal Army needed rebuilding. Hos-Harphax was the keystone in the Temple's war against the Usurper Kalvan. They were also sending food and stockpiling all they could make of the 'new'-dare he even think it-Kalvan-style fireseed, for shipment by galley to Tarr-Harphax in the spring.
"All opposed, say Nay"
Only Archpriest Cimon was opposed. Styphon's Voice did not bother to vote; he was already asleep snoring loudly enough to keep everyone else awake. One too many of Holy Investigator Roxthar's harangues today.
Archpriest Dracar had become so enamored of Roxthar it was a wonder he wasn't wearing one of the Investigator's white robes. Still the ax had not fallen. What was Roxthar's real game? Surely it was not doing Grand Master Soton's work. What was the Investigator really after at this Council? Would he wait until the last day of the Great Council of Ktemnos and then denounce him before all thirty-six assembled Archpriests of the Inner Circle? Roxthar, without a doubt, had enough evidence to have Anaxthenes' most ardent supporter crying out for his death in hot oil.
Sesklos, his mentor and Styphon's Own Voice was in no position to help. Even awake the old man sat as if frozen to this seat and would not look, much less talk, to his former protege. As First Speaker, Anaxthenes had read all of Sesklos' opening statements and acted in all other ways as Styphon's Voice in uttering declarations.
Anaxthenes most ardent supporters refused to meet his eyes. They knew he was out-of-favor and likely doomed; most of them had voted with Roxthar and his faction on every issue. Only a few die-hards such as the Arch-priest Syclos, Highpriest of Agrys City, and the Peasant Priest Cimon offered opposition to Roxthar. The ash of defeat was bitter in his mouth.
Not that open opposition to Roxthar would have bought much at this late date. The Holy Investigator had used his new powers of Investigation to consolidate his power base in Balph the past few moons. While Roxthar had kept to his bargain and not Investigated any Archpriests of the Inner Circle, he had not held back in Investigating the lesser upperpriests and temple highpriests among the opposition. More than a hundred of Anaxthenes allies and followers had disappeared into the former Temple administration building that Roxthar called his Inquisitory and only five, all maimed and showing evidence of torture, had exited alive.
According to those survivors, the two that would talk to him, the Investigators cut off the first joint of the index finger to show the seriousness of their task, then removed another joint from his other finger, on a rotating basis, every time they found a suspected lie or a reluctance to talk. None of those who had seen the survivors of Roxthar's Full Investigation being wheeled out on carts-limbless, eyeless, and mute like beasts-were unaware of the power he held.
Archpriest Dracar, the man who was Sesklos' heir apparent, stood up to address Styphon's Voice. He looked timorous and not at all triumphant, as he should. It seemed that Dracar had learned that dealing with Roxthar was as difficult as holding Lyklos, God of Lies, to the truth or as dangerous as dealing with Hadron, the Snake God.
"Speak, Archpriest Dracar."
Dracar looked over at Roxthar and, after receiving a nod, began to speak. "First Speaker, I would like to offer the assembled Great Council of Hos-Ktemnos, on the third day of the Moon of Long Nights, the proclamation that henceforth Styphon's Own Guard will act as the martial arm of the Holy Office of Investigation and that each Temple Band shall have its own Investigator Captain for instruction and fidelity to Styphon's Way."
The Great Hall became so quiet that the only sound to be heard was the labored snore of Styphon's Voice. Archpriest Roxthar looked Anaxthenes right in the eye, as if to say get on with it. Anaxthenes felt his heart freeze; Roxthar owned Dracar and the rest of the Inner Circle-the only remaining question was, did he own him too? Anaxthenes looked to the other Archpriests for support but most would not meet his eyes.
Did the fools not realize the implications of Roxthar's latest demand? If Roxthar were granted the power to place his own captains in charge of the Temple Guard, the Holy Inquisitor would from that time forth be immune to any action the Inner Circle might take against him. It would make him Tyrant of Styphon's House and he would rule the Temple as no Archpriest had before him in Styphon's House's history. Already many of the Temple Bands supported Roxthar and his Investigation; if this proclamation passed, they all would.
What should he do? What could he do-even Grand Master Soton had deserted his ranks? It would probably pass even if he made a suicidal gesture and opposed it. The world he had known all his life was changing and he didn't like the form it was assuming. Maybe most of all, because he no longer had a say in how it changed.
Ever since Kalvan the Usurper had appeared out of seeming nowhere, turning the backwater Princedom of Hostigos into a Great Kingdom, everything had begun to fall apart-turn sour. And, yet, if any man could alter Kalvan's de
stiny, Roxthar was that man; the only priest in Styphon's House who could face up to Kalvan and mobilize the full resources of the Temple. Yet, he could also end it with his fierce determination to cleanse the Temple and its followers.
Yet, Roxthar already owned power enough to defeat the Usurper. This time he had gone too far, and it was up to Anaxthenes to try and stop him. Anaxthenes spoke loudly into the farhailer, saying, "No. The martial arm of the Temple has always been under the direct control of the Inner Circle. There is no evidence of treachery or impropriety within the ranks of Styphon's Own Guard. The Holy Investigators have all the power they need to do their Investigation. The Guard is needed to fight the Daemon Kalvan, not question peasants and farm priests of Dralm.
Anaxthenes noticed the other archpriests were sitting taller in their seats, watching him with interest. Maybe all was not lost. As Thessamona had said, Roxthar could never rule the Temple. Sesklos was only a winter or two away from his last breath. Who else was there to lead the Temple? This was a perfect opportunity to rally his supporters and show the Inner Circle that Roxthar did not yet own Styphon's House.
"I, First Speaker, move that this Proclamation be denied. I will vote nay. Who will join me?"
"Halt!" Roxthar's voice shattered the air. "Styphon's Own Guard only exists to serve Styphon's Will and Styphon's Will is that my Investigators root out all priests guilty of heresy and disbelief in the True and Only God-Styphon, Be Praised!"
Every archpriest in the Great Hall turned and looked away from each other's eyes. In Roxthar's own words they were all guilty. Anaxthenes felt a flutter of hope inside his chest. The Investigator had gone too far this time. Did he not truly realize they were all unbelievers?