by John F. Carr
Paratime Police Chief Verkan was in a tight spot; he was facing charges of dereliction of duty due to his "obsession"-the kindest way it was being reported by the media-with Kalvan's Time-Line and his outtimer friends. Newsie Yandar Yadd never finished a broadcast without demanding a Paratime Commission investigation into the Chief's alleged abuses.
When Maldar reached the Chief's office, Verkan's secretary ushered him right into the room. Inside the Chief was seated at his famous horseshoe desk and behind him was the famous display cabinet with mementos of the Chief's most notable cases. There was something new this time-a horribly damaged breastplate which appeared to be from Kalvans Time-Line. Is this the infamous breastplate that stopped a two-ounce chunk of lead from spreading Verkan's ribs? If so, how did mere lead rip durasteel armor?
There were three other young field agents and one old timer, Deputy Bureau Chief Altarn Vor, with a long nose good for poking into tight spaces and a tight-lipped mouth. It was rumored that he was Verkan's first field commander and good friend, although, it was hard to imagine the two of them as allies, as they appeared so different on the surface. The urbane Verkan Vail and the stodgy old Deputy with a face like a vole.
"All of you know each other, except for Maldar Dard, who was with me on Third Level, Zthrykx Sector when we collared what we thought then was the command cell of the Wizard Traders. If it wasn't for Maldar's excellent shooting, four of the leaders would have reached their secret conveyer chamber before we could have stopped them."
"I read that report. Good work," Vordran Larn said, wearing a yellow cloak over his green Paratime Police uniform and some kind of outtime riding boots.
"Thanks," he replied.
"Field Agent Maldar, the man who just spoke is Inspector Vordran Larn, one of my top troubleshooters-only he usually shoots first. The tall man seated next to him is Kiro Soran, he's another First Class Field Agent, who should have been promoted long ago to Deputy Subchief. But he's too useful in the field, like yourself. You know Deputy Altarn. Inspector Kostran Galth is my man-on-the-spot-which right now is a very hot spot-in Greffa as head of the Greffan Study Team. Finally, that man over there- who looks like he's part of the furniture, but don't let that fool you; he's aware of everything going on in this room-is Dalzar Hoik. He's spent the last two years on Kalvan's Time-Line watching out for Rylla as Captain Dalzar; he's the one who saved her during the Phaxos fiasco. He took a gunshot to the shoulder for his efforts. If that doesn't qualify as hazardous duty, I don't know what does!"
They all laughed. The stories around the shop about Rylla's suicidal bravery and beauty were legend.
Verkan continued when the room quieted. "Since I'm going to be deskbound for the next year or so, at the very least, I'm sure all of you were thinking that you'd be acting as my surrogates on Kalvan's Time-Line."
Everyone but Deputy Bureau Chief Altarn nodded.
"Sorry, but we've got other fish to fry. Some of you are going to do some digging right here on Home Time Line, while the rest will do some reconnaissance on Kalvan's Time-Line." Verkan turned around and opened the door to the right side of his display case, removing the battered breastplate. "This was supposed to be a durasteel breastplate, made right here on Home Time Line, a special design for the Department's outtime inventory. Anyone have any idea of how the original-I've seen the manufacturer's manifest-got substituted by this chromium-steel alloy breastplate? It's good steel of First Level manufacture, but not impervious to two-ounces of lead shot at point-blank range.
"Obviously, there's termites in the walls. I want two of you, Deputy Altharn and Inspector Vordran, to look into this for me. This isn't an external enemy; it's one of our own gone bad. I'd get Internal Affairs on it, but for all I know Barton Shar may have infiltrated them, too."
Barton was the Paratime Police Deputy Inspector in charge of Stores and Equipment and was known to be deeply resentful that former Chief Tortha Karf had passed him over to advance his protege Verkan Vail. Maldar had heard all the scuttlebutt, but didn't feel any sympathy for him; no one with his head screwed on right had wanted Barton, who was as well known for his hair-trigger temper as his arse-kissing, to be Chief.
"Altarn thinks Barton may be in bed with Hasthor Flan." Verkan paused to let that sink in.
Hasthor Flan was the current head of the Opposition Party, and it would be hard to find a more fervent Verkan hater. It was also rumored that Hasthor had ties to Hadron Tharn, the Chief's mad-dog brother-in-law. Maldar was glad to not have been picked for this assignment; especially, since he preferred working outtime-like most Paratime Policemen.
"Dalzar," Verkan continued, "I want you to continue protecting Queen Rylla. I know it's a difficult assignment and you've been on this assignment for almost three years, but you've got a good cover and the Queen trusts you. In a sense, you've made yourself irreplaceable."
"Thanks, Chief. I was hoping for some down time." Dalzar didn't appear that unhappy to Maldar. He wondered if Dalzar had found some outtimer to soothe away his off-duty hours; if so, he wouldn't be the first.
"Soran, I want you to go to Nythros and establish yourself as a free trader, looking for goods. Rumor around the palace has it that Kalvan's been spending a lot of time learning Urgothi and has a meeting scheduled with the Nythrosi ambassador. You'll also be in a good position to do some reconnaissance if the Hostigi or the Grand Host reach Rathon City"-Verkan paused as he accessed his memory-"or what Kalvan would call Columbus, Ohio. Your Urgothi cover name will be Survan."
The tall Paracop with a short beard nodded. It appeared that this wasn't news to him.
"Kostran, tell Dalzar what you've heard at Theovacar's court."
"As you'd expect," Kostran started, "there are a lot of silly rumors floating around. The big one is that Kalvan is going to invade Greffa-as if he needs that kind of trouble! However, there are also some rumors that make a lot of sense. Another is that Kalvan's trying to find an ally so he can move into one of the weaker states in the Upper Middle Kingdoms. Everyone knows that even the Hostigi scullery maids were smart enough to leave Hos-Hostigos. Right now the Nythros City States is in the middle of a trade war with Greffa and would aid Styphon himself for the right price. Nythros is a merchant-run state and the Family of Five, the ruling autocrats, are looking for ways to hit the Grefftscharri where it hurts.
"From what I've overheard," Kostran continued, "Kalvan is not too hopeful about getting any aid from King Theovacar and is looking for other allies. He's had all the Ulthori mapmakers and sea merchants meet with the Royal Office of Cartography to critique detailed maps his cartographers are making of the area, especially Thagnor. Kalvan's also been spending a lot of time with the new Royal Shipwrights Guild; he has them building what he calls 'gunboats'-small rowboats-too big for dinghies and too small for schooners or galleys. Actually, they're mobile gun platforms, big enough to hold a four- or six-pound gun.
"My guess is that Kalvan is going to exploit Prince Varrack's poor leadership and maybe try to leverage him out and move into Thagnor himself. It's in a good location-at Bongaran Equivalent, the Europo-American Equivalent of Detroit, which Kalvan is familiar with, as he had an aunt who used to live in Dearborn. Thagnor also controls the passage between Lake Huron and Lake Erie. It owns the salt mines of Detroit and claims Gytha, Windsor, Ontario, as a vassal. Gytha's semi-independent, but is tied by marriage to Morthron, Greffa and Hos-Agrys, which means that Prince Varrack's claims are in open dispute."
"Good work," Verkan said. "In the last message ball from former Chief Tortha, he said his meeting with King Theovacar went out the air-hole. If not an enemy in name, the King is definitely not an ally. Kalvan will find no help from that quarter. Tortha thinks that Theovacar would like to see the Hostigi run through the meat-grinder of the Grand Host one more time, or how ever many it takes to turn them into sausage. Nobody in the Upper Middle Kingdoms wants Kalvan and his subjects to settle anywhere close."
Maldar nodded. He could understand their reluctance; Kalvan wa
s at best a nuisance, at worst a complete disaster. His infantry alone had more firearms than the combined arsenals of all the Middle Kingdoms!
"Maldar," Verkan said, "I want you to act as our roving agent in Hos-Harphax and Hos-Agrys. Your new Zarthani name will be Maldros. I've got the Harphaxi Study Team working up a cover as an out-of-work mercenary captain who heads their security force. I'll give you some good men, including my minder Dalon Sath, to work as your petty-captains-or what we would call sergeants. I want you to recruit some local talent in Harphax City, and do it fast before things get hot and everyone who can buckle on a sword is employed. Later, next spring we may have you going into Hos-Agrys as a mercenary captain."
"Yes, sir," Maldar said, trying to hide his disappointment. He'd wanted the Kalvan assignment in Thagnor City as he figured that was where all the action was going to be.
As though reading his mind, Verkan added, "Don't be disappointed, Agent Maldar. Archpriest Danthor contacted our Balph Study Team and told our agent-in-charge that the Inner Circle under Styphon's Voice Anaxthenes-as soon as he's Elected-is going to order Grand Master Soton to besiege Agrys City, sack the place, kill Great King Demistophon and put in his place a Styphon's House puppet regime.
"Frankly, that's not going to be as easy as those Inner Circle armchair strategists believe. Not that Demistophon is any great shakes as either a leader or military expert. In fact, he's anything but. However, there are a lot of Agrysi Princes who've been sitting on the sidelines of the Fireseed Wars spoiling for a fight. Now Styphon's House is about to bring the fight right onto their own front porch. It should be interesting."
Maldar smiled. This is more like it. Captain Maldros, I like it!
"Okay men, I want you to head out now. Altarn and Vordran, you two stay here; we're going to discuss this 'internal problem' we're facing and just how we're going to fix it."
II
Prince Sthentros of Hostigos stuck his head out of the carriage window as they rode through the Hostigos Gap and looked up at the ravaged ruins of Tarr-Hostigos. It was as if Galzar's fist had come down from his Sky-Palace and smashed the castle flat! It would be Styphon's Own Miracle if the tarr was rebuilt during his lifetime. A black raven looked up from the desiccated corpse it was feeding on at the side of the road and peered into his eyes. He hastily made a pair of horns with his fists to ward off evil demons. Chunks of stone, rubble, battered armor and cracked skulls littered the highway on both sides of the road. The air still held the stench of death forcing him to put his pomade under his nose to keep from retching.
Their entire passage through Hos-Hostigos had been a nightmare. Nostor had been reduced to ruins and burned down farms, with blackened skeletons by the roadside. Nothing alive but ravens, vultures and always the wolves-brave enough now to nip at the sides of the stagecoach, frightening the horses. The entire kingdom resembled an old battlefield covered with broken bones and rusted armor.
The only subjects were those manning the rest stops, a few Temple Guardsmen and some beaten-down peasants. The farms, when not demolished and looted, were vacant with fields trampled down to the nub. The villages were in ruins and the towns were leveled to the ground. Styphon's sign-the red sun-wheel-was painted on every standing wall and building. Several times they had been stopped by squads of Investigators and they had been interrogated and treated like unwelcome guests.
Were it not for Lysandros' seal on his letter, Sthentros doubted they would have arrived at all. He'd seen the avaricious looks aimed at his princely garments and the appraisal done by knowing eyes.
This madman Roxthar must be stopped before I have nothing left, he told himself.
As they drove through the outskirts of Hostigos Town, he was appalled by the sights that met his eyes. He had hoped beyond reason that the Styphoni had left his future seat intact. Even carrion birds keep their nests dean, he thought. However, the farms they passed were knocked down or burnt, their fields left untended with crops ridden into the ground. He prayed that things would improve when they reached Hostigos Town proper.
As the carriage entered the town, he saw it was not to be. Many of the buildings were still standing, but most of the facades had been stripped of wood to fuel the Grand Host's insatiable appetite for firewood. As the coach drove through the streets, he saw work parties disassembling houses and stores, throwing lumber on huge wagons and carts. At this rate, all of Hostigos Town will be stripped to its foundation within a moon!, he railed to himself. He wanted to stick his head out the window and order these varlets to stop pillaging his town, but he was afraid of these wild-eyed soldiers who'd feasted on Hostigos' bones for moons. They looked more like bandits than soldiers to his eyes.
Sthentros suspected these men would have no compunction about stopping the carriage and pulling its passengers out, robbing and killing them on the spot. The carriage was hushed; the three friends to whom he'd granted Hostigi baronies looked frightened and shocked by the sights that met their eyes. His daughter Lavena looked bored. "When are we going to get to the palace, father?" she asked.
"Soon. We're almost to Palace Road. I'm hoping that King Lysandros will let us stay at the Palace until he returns to Harphax City."
She snorted. "Of course, he will." She almost preened. "All I want to know is when he's going to marry me officially. I can already see myself as Great Queen of Hos-Harphax-and cousin Rylla thought she was the grand one!"
"By the looks of it, that probably won't be for awhile, my dear." Lavena was spoiled and petulant, but she was ruthless about getting her own way. He loved and indulged her because she was his only child and the spitting image of her Aunt Demia, who'd been the love of his life. Had he been Prince of Hostigos, Demia would have been his wife, instead of marrying that hayseed Ptosphes.
Boar Lane was blocked by wreckage; it looked like a supply wagon had crashed into a carriage with broken barrels and boxes scattered across the road. High Street was clean and the carriage turned left up the hill toward the palace. Tranth's Hall was still standing, a good sign. Some of the businesses, mostly inns and taverns and brothels, were still open and there were people on the streets, mostly scurrying about quickly as if afraid of drawing attention to themselves. I'm going to have to put a firm stop to this insane Investigation.
As he stepped out of the carriage in the public square, Sthentros looked up at the Palace, realizing that it looked nowhere as grand as he'd imagined. Everything about Hostigos Town was small and dingy, even after discounting the war damage. Living in Harphax City had changed his perspective forever. Turning this backwater town into a major city was going to be the work of a lifetime. The first job would have to be a complete restoration and rebuilding of the Palace.
Even before that, however, he would have to see Great King Lysandros and demand that this horrid Investigation be brought to a halt. He'd met Roxthar himself and the Archpriest seemed like a reasonable man. Maybe the problem was that no one had treated him as an equal. Everyone said such horrible things about him behind his back, it was bound to make him suspicious and bad-tempered. He knew how to deal with those types.
After all, wasn't his daughter engaged to a Great King? It wouldn't have happened, if he hadn't been there to orchestrate it. Lavena, for all her virtues, was too quick to answer love's summons. He'd had to coach her and order her to play the temptress. It had worked, too. It hadn't hurt that the new Great King was anxious to produce an heir to cement his reign over Hos-Harphax.
They were met at the gate by one of the Palace stewards.
"I'm Prince Sthentros of Hostigos and I seek an audience with my Great King."
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I am under strict orders to admit no one. Not even Roxthar himself, can cross this threshold." There were two big halberdiers standing behind him, with expressions that made it obvious they knew their job.
Sthentros knew how to approach these petty functionaries. He gave the man his most ingratiating smile. "Our great friend, King Lysandros, probably does not know of our arri
val. It was requested by the King himself. He wants to see his fiancee."
The word "fiancee" got the steward's attention.
"Please come into the antechamber. You can wait there while I inform His Majesty that you have arrived. How would you like to be announced?"
"Prince Sthentros of Hostigos and his daughter, the Princess Lavena. That will do."
"Yes, Your Highness," the steward said as he bowed, then quickly scurried away. His guests appeared impressed.
It took most of the afternoon before the steward returned and by then even Sthentros' enthusiasm had waned. Things will be a lot different once Lysandros is gone and out of my life!
Lavena, who could make herself comfortable anywhere like a kitten, was curled up on one of the marble benches. One of his retainers had given her his fur cloak to rest upon, not surprising her father in the least. Men always scurried to win her favor.
The steward looked self-important and had a twinkle in his eye, indicating that he'd enjoyed his visitors' discomfiture. Sthentros made a mental note to learn if the steward had purposely kept Lysandros in the dark about their arrival. If so, he'd personally see to it that someday the churl got the whipping he deserved!
"Come with me, Your Highness. You too, Princess." When the others started to rise from their benches, he shook his head. "The rest of you can wait for your Prince."
Lysandros was in the private audience chamber seated on a throne formerly belonging to Prince Ptosphes. I never liked that bumpkin, Ptosphes, but he did have more manners than this Great King.
Lysandros rose to his feet, opened his arms and waited for Lavena to fall into them. He whispered some endearments into her ear and then offered her a seat. Meanwhile, Sthentros was left waiting while they talked for a quarter of a candle, stifling every yawn and the urge to throw a screaming fit. With his luck of late, it might end with him in the Palace dungeon.