The Fireseed Wars k-5

by John F. Carr

  The merchant looked down at the blade and stammered, "Y… y… yes, Your Majesty."

  "What's your name?"

  "Free Trader Survan, Your Majesty."

  "Where are you based out of?"

  "Morthron, but lately I've been setting up operations in the Trygath."

  Lysandros smiled. "What are you doing here?"

  "A lot of my trade is with Rathon: amber, precious gems, mead, but furs mostly. My party was on its way to Rathon City when your men ambushed us."

  Lysandros nodded. This Survan sounded like a very useful informant. "I've got a proposition for you, Free Trader."

  The Free Trader got a hopeful glint in his eyes.

  "You can either work with us, and prosper. Or-you can resist, and die here in an unmarked grave."

  "Your Majesty, I would far prefer to aid you in your efforts rather than make myself a martyr. I am a Free Trader. I owe fealty to no state or kingdom."

  After studying the map, Lysandros asked, "As you can see-" he paused to point at the Rathon City walls-we have not made any headway with our siege. Where do you suggest we move to for our winter quarters?"

  "I'm sure Your Majesty realizes that none of the cities I suggest will open their gates for your Host."

  Lysandros nodded. "That is of little concern to us."

  Trader Survan nodded. "I thought as much. First, I would rule out Morthron, but not because it is my birth home. The town is too small to house such a large army as your Grand Host of Styphon. It would be easy to take, but hard to hold-the walls are low and it is vulnerable to attack by sea."

  Aristocles spoke up. "That's exactly what Count Hythar has been saying."

  "Good," Lysandros said. "What about this town?" he asked, pointing to Mybranos Town with his knife point, which was below Rathon City. "It's the closest large town on the map."

  The Trader shook his head. "No, too small again, Your Majesty. It would not hold half of the Host, unless you evacuated all the townsmen. But you will need them to labor on your behalf, or who else will make the bread and keep your barracks clean?"

  "Then where do you suggest we go, Trader?"

  "Thagnor, which straddles two of the Great Seas would be ideal; however, it appears that Kalvan the Usurper had that idea first."

  "We know that! It's too late in the season to besiege Thagnor now, not with winter coming. Where else?" Lysandros said in a tone that demanded a swift answer.

  "Nythros, Your Majesty. The city is big enough to hold your entire force, yet not strong enough to deny you entry. They are at odds with Grefftscharr and King Theovacar. They have a river and a good port on the Sea of Aesklos. The Nythrosi are ruled by a king and the people are used to taking orders. If you treat them reasonably, you can buy their loyalty."

  "Good, Free Trader. Now, since you know so much about Nythros, how large is their army?"

  "It is not large, five or six thousand men. Not many men when compared to your Host. Less than five companies use firesticks. It is also rumored that they hired out their fleet to ferry your enemies into Thagnor."

  Aristocles spat on the ground. "We heard rumors that the Daemon had left on a fleet, but we didn't know whose, or if they were true. The Nythrosi dogs will pay for their folly!"

  "Indeed," Lysandros added in a voice that brooked no retort. "Grand Commander, prepare the men for our journey. We will leave this gods-forsaken graveyard at first light."

  "What about this one?" Aristocles asked, pointing to the Free Trader.

  "Bring him along," Lysandros ordered. "He can help prepare our route with Count Hythar. We will need him to tell us about Nythros City and the layout of the walls and streets."

  "Has the Count ever visited the City?"

  "Not for a long time; he was born in the Trygath. His father was a tinker and they visited most of the cities in the Saltless Seas," Lysandros said. Turning to the Free Trader, he asked. "Can you make us a map of the City?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty. It will be crude, but it can be done."

  "Good. The Usurper has taught us much about the value of good maps. Demnos escort the Trader to Count Hythar's tent. He will be under the Count's wing until we arrive at Nythros City."

  II

  Duke Ruffulo was escorted into King Theovacar's private audience room by one of the King's Companions. He tried to quell the nervousness that had his stomach churning. One never knew Theovacar's mind or his moods and the farther away from his King, the safer he felt.

  He had done Theovacar's work before, encouraging Prince Varrack to attack the Ros-Zarthani during their march to the north. The loss Varrack had suffered there had done much to damage the Prince's pride, although that debacle was a hill to the mountain of trouble the Prince faced now. Prince Varrack had arrived in Greffa this morning to beseech Theovacar for aid. It appeared that Great King Kalvan had taken his war into Thagnor, displacing Varrack and adding the Princedom of Thagnor to his new domain.

  In an attempt to take his mind off his current situation, Ruffulo took a few minutes to study the large shell mosaic of Grefftscharr that covered one complete wall. The mosaic was over a thousand years old; the current borders of Grefftscharr were smaller. Some princedoms were no longer Grefftscharrer territories. The Princedom of Morthron had been lost five hundred years earlier in a war with Thagnor. It was now an independent princedom but it was allied with Grefftscharr.

  Morthron differed from all the other city states that bordered the Sea of Aesklos in that it controlled the Erkfryn River. The Erkfryn was navigable for at least barges, making it an easy invasion route to Greffa City. Theovacar's great grandfather had negotiated a treaty of alliance with Morthron. Morthron would defend the Erkfryn corridor and give Grefftscharr unrestricted transit rights; in turn Grefftscharr would send help should Morthron be attacked.

  The treaty did not prevent Grefftscharr from attacking Morthron; the King had realized that someday he might want to annex the Princedom. The last two kings of Greffa had talked about reclaiming this lost princedom, but he suspected that Theovacar was the one who would do it. If Theovacar could find a way, he would use the instability caused by the Hostigi migration to his advantage.

  There was a noise, as one of the wall panels behind him slid open. Ruffulo turned and found himself face to face with his King, who was looking around warily.

  "Your Majesty," he cried, bending down on one knee.

  "You may rise, Duke," Theovacar said, moving forward to greet him with open palms. They touched palms and the King directed him toward a chair with his eyes.

  He sat down only after Theovacar lowered himself into his own gilt chair, a smaller version of his throne. "I assume you've heard about Prince Varrack's arrival in Greffa after his loss of Thagnor."

  "Yes, Your Majesty. The City is awash with the news."

  "No doubt. What do the riffraff have to say about Kalvan?"

  "They are amused that Kalvan has discomforted the arrogant Prince formerly of Thagnor. Others talk of Kalvan's reforms and innovations."

  Theovacar's face shutdown, his fists balled. "Curse this Usurper Kalvan! Why have the gods sent him to bedevil me?"

  Ruffulo realized the question was rhetorical and kept silent. He was one of those who secretly wished that some of Kalvan's reforms would wash up upon their shore; under Theovacar's reign the Kingdom's subjects were losing some of their traditional rights and freedoms. He regretted not leaving for his Dorg hideaway when he first learned that Kalvan was headed for the Middle Kingdoms.

  Theovacar suddenly turned his suspicious gaze upon Ruffulo. "What do you know of the Usurper's plans?"

  "Nothing, Your Majesty. I have had little contact with anyone from Hostigos."

  "Well, you did business with Trader Verkan, or so my intelligencers tell me. Or were they lying?"

  "No, Your Majesty, but Trader Verkan was no Hostigi but a Citizen of Grefftscharr. I did some business with the Trader, made some investments in his fireseed mill. They brought a very good return until the mill caught fire.
"

  "Yes, I know all about the fire," Theovacar said. "The mill exploded shortly after one of Verkan's agents, the Trader Tortha, left Greffa. We were all set to claim the fireseed mill for the Throne, after Trader Verkan was declared legally dead. We believe the fire was set by Hostigi agents."

  "Your Majesty, I would know nothing about that." Nor did he know whether Trader Verkan was dead, as Theovacar claimed. Verkan wouldn't be the first absent merchant to be declared dead and find his estate confiscated for Theovacar's enrichment. One of them even had the temerity to turn up later in Greffa alive; whereupon, he was arrested on trumped-up charges, put into the palace dungeon and never heard from again.

  Ruffulo wouldn't wish that fate on his worst enemy, and certainly not on Trader Verkan, a man he admired. If Verkan was still alive, he hoped he was smart enough not to return to Greffa.

  "It is My will that Prince Varrack stay here in Greffa as a symbol to my other Princes of what happens when one is too lax and allows his land to be stolen. However, when We do re-conquer Thagnor, Varrack will not be returned to his throne. We will put in his place one who has been of value to the Iron Throne and continues to prove his usefulness."

  If this was a bribe for his cooperation or loyalty, Ruffulo wasn't interested. He was a Greffan, born into the nobility, with roots planted deep in the City. He wasn't interested in being sent into exile, even if he wore the crown of a prince. Otherwise, he would have left for Dorg two winters ago. Only upon fear of death would he leave-or send his family away. However, he knew better than letting the King know his true feelings.

  "Your Majesty, I recommend you appoint one of your best captain-generals as Prince of Thagnor, since it's most likely there's going to be a lot of fighting there."

  Theovacar rubbed his chin beard. "A good suggestion, Duke. I fear that King Kalvan will not blow away with the first north wind."

  Ruffulo nodded. "It will be a joyous day, Your Majesty, when Kalvan is defeated and sent from our land in disgrace."

  "It will be an even more joyous day if this Usurper Kalvan is hanged from the City battlements as an example to other outlanders."

  Yes, and how are we to do that, when he commands an army several times the size of our own, and one far better armed'? Ruffulo wondered. "Yes, Your Majesty, it will be a day of personal triumph."

  "It will, unfortunately, take a few winters. At the present time, the Usurper's army is far larger than Our own. I am thinking of raising fees on all imports and increasing estate taxes to raise the funds to increase Our Navy and Army. How do you foresee the Assembly of Lords reacting to my requests?"

  He didn't need to ponder this question. "Badly, Your Majesty. The Lords chafe now under all the Throne's tariffs, surcharges and estate taxes. They will balk at any further demands."

  Theovacar's face turned beet red. "Yet, how these same witlings will beseech their King when Kalvan and his armies knock on Our walls! Do they not realize that Grefftscharr's weakness in allowing the Usurper to take his defeated army into Our territory and displace one of Our vassals will show the other Great Kings how vulnerable to attack we are? Soon every Zarthani younger son and captain will be trespassing upon Our lands."

  You could spend some of that fortune in gold in the Treasury that the Kings of Greffa have been hoarding for the last thousand years, Ruffulo thought to himself. He knew saying it out loud might cost him his head.

  Instead Ruffulo dissembled: "I will do my best, Your Majesty, to convince my fellow members of the Assembly how urgent it is that we build up our military forces. Still, they will argue that the Royal Treasury is filled to the rafters with gold and silver and ask why His Majesty does not use his own funds."

  Theovacar snorted. "I can see that We have been too lax. That gold has been assembled century by century by my forbearers for the good of Our subjects. No one will profit if we squander the Treasury."

  "Of course, Your Majesty. I will pass your words to the Assembly and urge them to support your proposed taxes in this hour of need."

  "Good, Ruffulo. I knew I could count upon your support."Then the King turned away, staring at the mosaic map, a reminder of a time when Greffa ruled a far larger kingdom with an iron hand.

  Ruffulo slipped out of the audience chamber in relief. He would only have to deliver the bad news, not eat it-this time. He remembered those halcyon days when he was unrecognized by the King and did not have to parse his every word, nor pass on the King's demands to his fellow lords in the Assembly. He was making no new friends and losing old ones now that he was acting in the King's service. Fortunately, those friends who knew him best understood he was playing this deep game for survival; one where losing the King's favor would mean either banishment or death. Nor was he the only noble acting as the King's cat's-paw.

  III

  For their mid-day repast, Phidestros was eating roast pork with succotash and sweet potatoes in his private audience chamber with Lady Sirna. Despite the good food and blazing fire in the fireplace, the air was so chilly he felt as if he was in danger of getting frostbite. This had been going on for some time. Even the musicians felt the chill and as a result were playing music more appropriate to a funeral than an afternoon meal.

  "Have you been outside today, Sirna?"

  She shook her head. "Why do you ask?"

  "I thought maybe you'd brought the early winter chill into the castle with you. What's wrong?"

  "You can't be that oblivious, or can you?" she asked, with a piercing stare.

  Suddenly, Phidestros got it. "You're angry because of the coming visit by Princess Arminta."

  She nodded, her lips tight.

  "Dearest, you know it's not of my choice."

  Sirna stood up as if to leave, then shook her head and sat back down. "Of course not, nothing is ever your choice. Did you think your upcoming nuptials would please me?"

  Phidestros almost said, "But you're my mistress, Sirna, so why should it bother you?" but wisely thought better of it. He was learning, although slowly it appeared, because he really hadn't thought of Sirna in regards to his upcoming union with Princess Arminta, whom he'd never met. This marriage had been plotted by his sovereign before Lysandros had left Harphax City to join the Grand Host; he hadn't learned of it until Lysandros was about to depart with the Grand Host. He suspected it was the King's clumsy attempt to guarantee his loyalty through a dynastic marriage.

  Not that he had a lot of choice in the matter. He could refuse and upon Lysandros' return he'd find himself in hot water. Although, if sword came to shield, his army outnumbered the King's, soldier for soldier, and he would have the advantage of a more rested and better trained army. However, that would make him an outlaw, like Kalvan before him, and he might soon find himself in a war against Lysandros, Grand Master Soton and Styphon's House's Treasury. That was not a fight he'd welcome.

  These Grefftscharrer women were more independent and concerned with fidelity than the Zarthani women he'd known. On the other hand, most of the women he'd known had been serving wenches or paid companions. Sirna was neither; she was a Lady. Until recently, he hadn't had the social position to spend much time with real Ladies, but he was getting a quick education.

  "Sirna, I knew nothing about this until just before we left Hostigos Town. Lysandros sprung this marriage upon me. I've never even met the Princess."

  "Just because Lysandros sprung it on you didn't mean you had to spring it on me. If the Queen hadn't told me, I bet you still wouldn't have broached the subject. If you'd have said something before we left Hostigos Town, well-"

  Phidestros knew women enough to understand that that "well" covered a lot of territory. He hadn't brought it up back in Hostigos Town because at the time it seemed far in the future, and because he didn't want to start the fight they were having now. He'd grown quite fond of Sirna; she wasn't frivolous like most of the women he'd known. She had a firm head on her shoulders and a good heart, and he could reason with her like a man. It also didn't hurt that she was the best lover he'd
ever encountered. However, while she might be the perfect mistress, Sirna would not bring a large dowry or the political connections that Princess Arminta would bring to their marriage bed.

  "Maybe this Princess will be as disinterested in Lysandros' proposed union as I am," he said. "That would settle the whole affair nicely."

  "And, maybe Great King Lysandros won't be interested in capturing Kalvan and beheading him," Sirna rejoined.

  "All right, you win, Sirna. I'm probably stuck with Arminta. But that doesn't mean anything, really. It's just a dynastic marriage; we'll have a few brats and live separate lives. Meanwhile, you and I can do as we wish."

  From the storm clouds gathering on her face, he rather welcomed the interruption when Mynos, his manservant, opened the door carefully and stuck his head inside. "Your Highness, I have an urgent message for you from Baron Ranthos."

  "Bring him in," he ordered, thinking: This interruption couldn't have happened at a better time.

  Sirna, meanwhile, crossed her arms and gave him a look that would freeze a pigeon in mid-flight.

  Ranthos, still in a wet cloak with his breeches dripping water, came into the room, blowing heartily on his bent fingers. "Your Highness, Lady Sirna. Please excuse me while I warm myself a bit before your fire."

  "Of course, Baron. What brings you to my quarters in such haste?"

  The Baron turned from the fire with a big grin, rubbing his hands briskly. "Can I speak freely before the Lady Sirna?"

  "Of course," Phidestros replied, "I trust her implicitly." Surprising even himself, his words were truthful; he trusted Sirna as much as his confidants Geblon and Kyblannos.

  "We captured one of Styphon's messengers."

  "And what makes this one so important?" It was standard practice to detain every Styphon's House messenger at the Shastan border and give them a sleeping potion along with a tankard of winter wine. The messages they were carrying were opened and read, while the courier was sleeping off the potion at the way station. General Kyblannos had engineered a way to open Styphon's Great Seal and then reseal it so the messengers never knew that their letters had been compromised. So far it had given them valuable insight to what was going on between Balph and the Grand Host of Styphon.