by John F. Carr
Grythos, whose left arm was bent outward from a poorly-healed sword blow, pleaded, "Grand Master, I did my best. We must have fought every outlaw band in Hos-Agrys. Someone had spread the word that we were Investigators and every farmer, serf, peasant and townsman's hand was raised against us! If you should blame anyone, it would be Roxthar."
"The Investigator is a dagger buried between my ribs, but he is not responsible for every failure that Styphon's House encounters."
"Grand Master, it would have taken a real army to reach Salis Village. I myself took a bad head wound and my arm was broken in two places; the bones had already grown back together before I could find a healer."
"That is the price of battle. But you didn't just fail to reach the heir; you lost all of the other heirs to the Throne of Light! Do you know what that means? Now, we may have to let the traitor Demistophon continue his rule because we don't have a legitimate claimant. It's only Lytris' Own Luck that the Agrysi haven't figured out what we were up to."
"I never thought the Agrysi were capable of fighting like Kalvan's wardogs!"
"It's not all their fault, Archpriest" Soton said, with open contempt. "You knew better than to fight unknown opponents on a battlefield of their choice. I heard all about it from one of the survivors, one of your sergeants. You came to them not knowing who they were. It's very possible they were Hostigi deserters or mercenaries in the pay of Duke Mnestros, an outright Dralm-lover and Hostigi ally. Now, your incompetence as a commander has left me no choice but to leave the siege and lead an army into Hos-Agrys to fetch the boy you couldn't capture."
"I could command the siege in your absence, Grand Master."
"Grythos, at this point, I wouldn't trust you to guard the privies of Roxthar's Investigators!"
The Archpriest looked so down-in-the-mouth that Soton almost felt sorry for him, that is, until he remembered how badly he'd failed at what should have been a routine snatch and grab operation. Now he was going to have to delay the siege and use six thousand men to do the job of three hundred.
III
"Are you all right, Your Majesty?" Captain-General Demnos asked. "Your face is as white as fresh-fallen snow!"
Great King Lysandros shook his head, saying, "No, no, no. While we have been sitting here, waiting for Kalvan to present himself for us to slaughter, my own Kingdom has gone to Regwarn!" He paused to hold up the parchment he'd just removed from its leather tube. "This is a missive from Chancellor Lyphannes regarding the rebellion in Harphax City.
"Here, let me read from it:
It is my considered opinion, Your Majesty, that the rioting and lawlessness that have made the City streets unsafe for anyone without their own armed band of bodyguards will soon break into open rebellion. Already there are reports of lawlessness and open discontent in the Princedoms of Arklos, Balkron, Thaphigos and Harphax. There are also rumors that Prince Phidestros may bring his army into Harphax City to restore order.
I plead with Your Majesty to return to Hos-Harphax with all dispatch while you still hold the Iron Throne-
"That doesn't sound good, Your Majesty," Demnos said. "But it is possible that Lyphannes has overstated the problem. He's an alarmist and fearful of a small mouse. What has Duke Kaphros to say in his report?"
"Kaphros is dead. He died of the coughing fever."
Demnos jaw dropped. "We knew he was ill, but this is terrible news, sire. He was your only real loyalist in Harphax City."
"I know." Lysandros realized now that he should have never left Hos-Harphax. My Queen and this weak-in-the-knees Chancellor are all that are between my Throne and disaster. My arrogance and desire to best Phidestros as commander of the Grand Host may have cost me everything.
"Then the Kingdom is in real trouble, Your Majesty. Didn't the Chancellor's last letter tell of former Prince Selestros' growing influence over the lesser orders in the Kingdom, and that the High Temple of Dralm had put its full support behind him and his supposed visions?"
"I should have torn the High Temple of Dralm down before we left and killed all the priests!" Lysandros' voice was rising. "And might well have done so, if Archpriest Phyllos hadn't commanded me to do it; I don't take orders from underlings. A curse on all priests and their minions! Yet, if I leave Thagnor now, I will face an open break with Styphon's House. Grand Commander Aristocles has all but threatened me with the complete loss of the Temple's support! Without Styphon's gold to pay my soldiers, my Kingdom is truly lost."
Demnos shook his head. "I do not believe that Styphon's House will renounce you for the following reasons: firstly, Aristocles is stuck here in Tnagnor laying siege to Thagnor City; secondly, Grand Master Soton is in the middle of besieging Agrys City preparatory to conquering all of Hos-Agrys-a formidable proposition, even for 'Styphon's Hammer'; and finally, the Temple's power is threatened by a former Prince who claims to have seen Allfather Dralm in a vision and is currently spreading the seeds of revolt throughout Hos-Harphax.
"Styphon's Voice does not dare withdraw support from their only real ally in the Northern Kingdoms. If Harphax falls to the worshippers of Dralm, then they will come to the aid of their brethren in the League of Dralm, which would put Soton and the Host of Styphon's Deliverance at risk on two flanks."
Lysandros nodded, thanking the gods for this wise counsel. Now he knew why he relied so heavily on the commander of his Bodyguard. "Thank you, Demnos, for your considered words. Tell General Tythos to prepare the Army to return to Hos-Harphax. Tell him to do it quietly under the guise of an attack. I don't want to reveal to Aristocles what my plans are until it's too late for him to stop us. Also, we will need victuals and other provisions for the march over the Nyklos Trail. I want to be fair about it; we will only take half of the Host's supply train with us. Have Tythos send enough men to see that it is done, even if it takes the entire Army!"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Meanwhile, I want you to take the King's Pistoleers and two thousand light cavalry and go to Nythros City where you will remove half the treasure that the Host's accumulated."
"Only half, Your Majesty?"
Lysandros laughed. "I would take it all, but that would bring Aristocles barking at our heels."
"That is wise, Your Majesty," Demnos said, with a nod.
"I've been considering this course of action since my last dispatch from the Queen. Trust this, Demnos, for your loyalty and wise counsel, you will find a suitable reward waiting for you when we return to Harphax City."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"
IV
"What is the meaning of this, King Lysandros?" Grand Commander Aristocles demanded, as he reined his big charger in, stirring up a small dust cloud. "I have received word that you and your army are about to retire from the Grand Host."
Lysandros stared him straight in the eyes. "Yes, We now face open rebellion throughout Hos-Harphax because of my absence. It is time for Us to return to Our Kingdom."
"I warned you, Lysandros. This will not go over well with Styphon's Voice!"
"We are leaving. I will pray to the Wargod for the success of your siege. But outside of a major battle, there is no way you can stop us from leaving."
"By Yirtta's udders! I will not fight an ally who has fought at my side for over a winter. If we fight amongst ourselves, we will only give the Usurper Kalvan two victories without his having to spend a man to earn them! Not only would Galzar find that folly, but Styphon would curse us from above."
"I'm also going to take half the supplies-"
"What? That I will fight you over!"
Lysandros crossed his arms. "I will need lots of victuals and forage to make my way back to Hos-Harphax. From here to the Nyklos Trail and all the way to Hostigos is nothing but wasteland, burned farms and forests. No game, no forage, no wildlife of any sort."
"We're not getting much in the way of supplies any more from Glarth Town," Aristocles replied. "The war in Hos-Agrys has created shortages. What are my men supposed to eat? Dead rats and corn stubble?"
"You can raid into Ragnar or Lahrag. Where we are going is a man-made desert."
"I'll give you half of our food stocks, but only if you grant those of your men who wish to remain here your permission to stay with the Grand Host."
The King had to fight to keep a sly grin off his face. He knew how that vote would turn out; the complaining about poor rations, the damnable Hostigi and the constant raids were a never ending rumble throughout the camp. "It shall be done this eve. Those who wish to return to Hos-Harphax will depart in the morning."
For a moment Artistocles looked panic-stricken, then he regained his composure. "Only those soldiers who you brought with you or who hail from Hos-Harphax will be eligible to leave. Is this understood?"
"Yes, it is, Grand Commander Aristocles." Lysandros kept his grin to himself, thinking, the poor bugger must have suddenly realized that if the entire Host voted, his army would retire en mussel
FIFTY-TWO
Kalvan was seated in King Verkan's private chambers where they were both enjoying a game of checkers, which he had brought with him from Thagnor and recently introduced to Verkan. The checker pieces were cast in gold and the board was made of rare black and white woods. Verkan was preternaturally good at the game, almost as if he'd played it before. He'd beaten Kalvan two out of the last three games.
It had been fun "baching" it for the past couple of months, but Kalvan was really beginning to miss his family. The siege of Thagnor was still static; about all the Styphoni were doing was twiddling their thumbs. While he could muster almost nine thousand troops to take back to Thagnor, that wasn't enough soldiers to give the Grand Host indigestion. He had no choice but to wait until the siege was lifted before he could return to Thagnor City. Worst case scenario, they would have to wait until fall when the Host left for winter quarters in Nythros.
However, Kalvan's time in Greffa provided him the opportunity to help Verkan set up the new fireseed mills as well as the Greffan Foundry and gun shops. As in Hostigos, the guilds fought them every step of the way, so Verkan had created his own Royal Guilds for gunsmiths and fireseed alchemists.
He hoped that Sargos' attacks across the Great Mother River would force the Inner Circle to recall the Grand Host and move up the Host's departure. According to the last courier, it had been a moon since Lysandros had departed with the Army of Harphax in a huff. Not a single Hostigi courier had made it through the Styphoni lines since then.
Maybe if the Hos-Ktemnos faction left, Kalvan would be able to meet the Host on almost equal terms. He'd enjoy that, oh yes indeedy!
There was a commotion outside the chamber door, and Kalvan heard a familiar voice. Sarrask's here? I wonder why?
Prince Sarrask was there resplendent in his finest silvered armor, the silver shining like the table settings at the Russian Tea Room, with a large leather tube in one hand. "Your Majesty, I come with wonderful news!"
"We heard about your victory over King Theovacar," Verkan replied. "Well done, Prince. Solan, bring us some refreshments, a cask of Ermut's Best if there's any left. Let us make a victory toast!"
Sarrask graciously bowed to King Verkan. "Thank you, Your Majesty. But that's old news. Although I must say, it felt good to beat the tripes out of Theovacar's Companions! These Greffans-yourself excepted King Verkan-have a lot to learn about Hostigi-style warfare. But, stab me, Great King Kalvan'll teach em!"
Kalvan looked down at the leather dispatch case with distaste. He could spend half the afternoon going over those documents before he got to the meat of them. "Sarrask, you know as much as anyone in Thagnor City about what's going on. What are these all about?"
The big man actually preened. Still, regardless of Sarrask's many vices, he'd kept the excess weight off and was in fighting trim.
"Can you summarize the important news?"
"Oh yes, Your Majesty," Sarrask replied, all but bursting out of his breastplate.
"First, and most importantly. Queen Rylla has given birth-"
"Dralm-damnit! I should have been there. Is she all right?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. And you are the father of a new son, I mean heir- Prince Ptosphes the Second. Queen Rylla invited me to the viewing, and he's a big baby with all his limbs and digits."
Kalvan's chest swelled until it felt as if it were about to explode. "Ahhh. This is good news indeed! Verkan, we shall have to announce it to the City. Let there be three days of celebration-"
"Your Majesty, you might want to hear the rest of the news I bring."
Kalvan nodded, trying to hide his impatience. Thank god, Rylla survived the birthing chamber-This may have to be the last one for a while. And it's a boy! Now, we have our heir. I can't risk anything happening to her. What would I do if she came down with childbed fever and I lost her?
"The Grand Host has broken apart! First, Great King Lysandros and the Harphaxi Army left. There was great rejoicing throughout the City. Then five days ago the remainder of the Host packed up all their weapons and foodstuffs and departed. From the direction they took, it appears they are returning to Tarr-Ceros, not Hos-Ktemnos.
"As soon as they left, the Great Queen ordered me to take my command to Greffa City and bring these dispatches to Your Majesty."
"You've done well, Prince." So, Sargos had been true to his word. Now the Knights were needed back along the border marches. Good riddance! Then another thought hit him. "Did Queen Rylla take it into consideration that the retreat might really be a feint and that the Grand Host might be lying in wait for the Army of Greffa to return to Thagnor?"
"The Queen has been in seclusion, Your Majesty, so I don't know if she's considered it, but Prince Phrames mentioned it. He's sent several companies of Sastragathi irregulars to follow the Styphoni to see that they're not doubling back or up to some other trick."
"Good." It's nice to know that I can leave for a while and the whole place doesn't fall apart, thought Kalvan. It also appears that Sarrask and Phrames are now working together, probably due to Sarrask's victory over Theovacar and his timely retreat-I certainly never would have allowed Sarrask that command, if I'd been there. Still, it was he, not Rylla, who had, once again, underestimated Sarrask. He had a feeling that Sarrask would rather walk on red-hot coals than disappoint his Queen.
II
Harphax City was like a city in the aftermath of a siege, Sirna decided. Disheveled bodies lay strewn along the cobblestone streets: some were tosspots sleeping off last evening's hangover, others were beggars in rags, but more than a few were blood-soaked corpses from the previous night's riots. These days Harphax City was a dangerous place to travel even by day, forcing her to hire a score of bodyguards to guard her coach. There were very few travelers on the city avenues; however, shadowy forms could be seen lurking in allies and in dark doorways.
The furtiveness of its inhabitants was beginning to remind her of Hostigos Town after it was sacked by the Grand Host: the ruined buildings, the constant smoke, the pale, drawn faces of the citizens-everything but the white robed Investigators. She would love to have been able to leave Harphax City for one of the smaller towns where she would be safe, but she had obligations to the Queen as Lavena's only friend. Furthermore, Sirna was also working for the Harpahxi Study Team, which would allow her to return to Home Time Line and Dhergabar University in something other than disgrace-unless she bugged out.
If she demanded it, the Study Team would provide her with a paratemporal conveyer to take her back to Home Time Line. She still found it hard to believe that she would be treated as a celebrity. But the thought brought her little comfort. She did not want her escapades of the past year broadcast throughout Dhergabar City and First Level. Her privacy was more important than any fleeting fame.
Besides, even with all the furor of Harphax City, she was safe here from Hadron Tharn's machinations.
Ahead loomed the stone towers of Tarr-Harphax, the Great Queen's last refuge. Two ten-days ago, rioters had attacked the Palace, breaking in and setting it on fire. If it hadn't been for
the King's Bodyguard, the Queen would have died there. Now she was ensconced in a stone fortress.
There were armed soldiers at every gateway and Sirna was frisked more than once. It took her half a candle before she was presented to the Queen in her private audience chamber. The room was dark and dank, and you could see the moisture stains on the wall where the hangings and tapestries met. Lavena looked shrunken, as though she was falling into herself, while her big belly hung down on her frame. Her face was wan and she hadn't bothered to put any makeup on-a first.
"Sirna!" she cried, jumping up.
They hugged tightly, and Sirna was concerned by the fact that she could feel Lavena's rib bones poking through her flesh.
"Your Majesty, are you all right?"
"I'm here all alone," she said, as her eyes began to well. "Dralm-damnit!" she cried, as she wiped her eyes with the edge of her robe. "I don't know these people, and I don't trust any of them, either. The guards look me over like a fresh piece of meat. And that oily Chancellor Lyphannes; he'd sell me out for a silver service setting!"
Sirna had met the Chancellor and noticed that he couldn't meet her eyes. She wondered if he was selling out to Prince Selestros' faction or had designs on the Throne for himself.
"I'll stay here with you, if you want," she heard herself say.
"Thank you, Sirna, thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."
"You need to eat more, you have to think of the baby."
"I know, I know. I've just been so worried…"
What am I thinking? Sirna asked herself.At least, my guards are loyal, since they were picked out by Maldar Dard. Besides, it's partially my fault Lavena's in this predicament. If only I hadn't titled that play King Kaiphranos.