by John F. Carr
“It is too early to determine,” Kalvan answered, knowing full well the answer. After Kestophes was dismissed, Kalvan turned to his Chief of Intelligence.
“You’re right not to trust him, Your Majesty,” General Klestreus said. “We have no evidence that he has consorted with the godless Styphoni, but he is openly unhappy with our arrival in Ulthor and this has helped to breed discontent among his subjects.”
“Kestophes is going to be even more unhappy after Rylla and I move into his palace. Allow him to sequester one of his nobles’ manors; let it be his choice. This will not gain him any friends. Make sure his new quarters are secure, but not under obvious guard.”
Klestreus nodded.
“Now, notify the Great Queen of this so she can begin to gather her things. She will be very pleased; she’s lobbied for this course of action for a moon quarter.”
II
Archpriest Anaxthenes looked with favor upon his fellow band of conspirators. Despite some setbacks and the insufferable meddling of Archpriest Roxthar, they had come a long way from the days of meeting in graveyards and under the ruins of the old Temple of Dralm. Soon they would be elevated out of the basement to rule as the predominant faction of the Inner Circle. Today they were assembled in his own private chambers at the Great Temple of Styphon with no fear of agents-inquisitory, intelligencers or Styphon’s Own Guard breaking down the door. As the First Speaker, Anaxthenes was acting Styphon’s Voice and shortly he would be wearing the red robe of primacy; that is, as soon as all the Electors of the Inner Circle arrived in Balph.
The most delicious irony of all was that Archpriest Roxthar would be the last to know that Anaxthenes had fixed the Election. He was looking forward to watching Roxthar rant and rave as his appointment was confirmed by the College of Electors--he imagined the Investigator foaming at the mouth and turning apoplectic. How long have I suffered this madman’s insolence? Well, it won’t be for much longer.
“Is everyone here?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Eminence,” Archpriest Neamenestros answered. He was an old friend and for many winters had been the bedrock of Anaxthenes’ support within the Inner Circle. Neamenestros would make a good First Speaker after his Election to Styphon’s Voice. If I even need a Speaker.
“Good. I called this meeting to discuss what best to do with the Grand Host of Styphon now that Hos-Hostigos has been conquered. Any suggestions, Archpriest Grythos?” Grythos was one of the newest members of the cabal and the only one with military experience. After more than two decades of service, he had retired with distinction as Knight Commander from the Order of Zarthani Knights.
Grythos stood up, saying, “Your Eminence, I believe the Host’s most important job is to dispatch the Usurper Kalvan while we have him on the run, before he eludes us and finds sanctuary in the Trygath or the Middle Kingdoms. Twice the Usurper has almost destroyed Styphon’s House! If we allow him to escape now, we will only have to fight him again. And the next time may be under circumstances of his choosing--not ours.”
“Wise words,” Archpriest Euriphocles said, waving his thin arms that stuck out of the yellow sleeves of his robe like brown sticks. “The Daemon Kalvan is like Hadron, Lord of the Dead, able to resurrect himself at will.” His voice broke. “He must be sent to join his fellow devils in the Caverns of the Dead!”
Anaxthenes sighed. “Despite your fears, Euriphocles, Kalvan is a mortal man. He received a bad leg wound at Ardros Field. He can be killed and he will be killed. But, I do agree with you that Archpriest Grythos’ words contain much wisdom. However, Styphon’s House on Earth has other enemies, Kalvan being only one among many.” Anaxthenes counted them off on the fingers of his right hand. “First, there is Kalvan; second, there is the turncoat King Demistophon; third, there is Dralm’s puppet Great King Sopharar and finally, our own internal enemy--the Holy Investigator, Archpriest Roxthar. We must destroy them all before they bring Styphon’s House down upon our heads!”
There were murmurs of agreement from his fellow conspirators.
When the voices had stopped, Archpriest Grythos continued. “It is my counsel that we finish off Kalvan and his army before we turn our attentions elsewhere. I have seen battles lost because their commanders were too ambitious and thus lost in small actions that which could have been won in the main.”
“There is truth in your words, Grythos. However, we do not have the luxury of time. It may take a year or two before Kalvan is brought before the headsman: Can we afford to wait that long to settle our other problems?”
Most of the Archpriests shook their heads.
Archpriest Neamenestros said, “The First Speaker is correct. We must deal with these other threats before they deal with us. Great King Demistophon will sack our temples and kill our priests if he thinks he can get away with it. He is, after Kalvan, our most dangerous threat and the League of Dralm counts the majority of its members among Demistophon’s Princes. If the Grand Host chases the Daemon Kalvan into the hinterlands, the League will see this as an opportunity to strike from within. Demistophon will condone their treachery for they would only be doing that which he himself wishes to do.”
“Very good, Neamenestros. You have sketched out our present dilemma. As long as we have the Grand Host under our command, we must use it wisely and decisively. Otherwise, it will be the Temple which is in dire peril. My plan is to split the Grand Host into two armies: one army to chase Kalvan wherever he may go, the other to invade Hos-Agrys and capture King Demistophon in Agrys City.”
“That is a most ambitious plan,” Archpriest Grythos said, pausing to light his pipe. “Even without the Harphaxi Army, or whomever we send into Hos-Agrys, there will still be nearly one hundred thousand soldiers to chase the Hostigi. Several times what the Usurper Kalvan’s ragtag force can muster.”
“True,” Anaxthenes replied. “However, we have to be careful which army we send into Hos-Agrys. If we use the Harphaxi Army, Great King Lysandros will see it as a means to extend his hegemony deep into Agrysi territory. This would not bode well; we do not want to vanquish a weak king, only to raise a strong neighbor--one whose loyalty, I fear, is more to the Iron Throne than to Styphon’s House.”
“Verily, Your Eminence,” Archpriest Grythos responded. “Lysandros will be Styphon’s Sword, only for so long as it is to his advantage. It would be far better to place him in charge of the Grand Host than to give him the opportunity to annex large portions of the Kingdom of Hos-Agrys--in our name!”
“I thought Lysandros, of all the Great Kings, was our one trustworthy ally,” Archpriest Neamenestros declared.
Archpriest Grythos looked into Anaxthenes’ eyes and raised his eyebrows. Anaxthenes nodded.
“On the surface that may be true,” Grythos said. “However, while I was in Harphax City last year, I had an audience with Great King Lysandros and was able to take my measure of the man. I also interrogated a number of his advisors and subordinates as well as some of his opponents. He is a very ambitious king. It is clear that most of his subjects in the Harphaxi capital believe that Lysandros arranged his brother’s death. No one who knows him believes otherwise.”
Everyone around the table nodded.
“By doing so, Lysandros did Styphon’s House a big favor. May Styphon bless the old fool, Kaiphranos,” Archpriest Zemnos pronounced. “If Lysandros hadn’t poisoned him, we might have his blood on our robes.”
“That is quite possible,” Grythos conceded. “However, Lysandros did not commit regicide for Styphon’s House, but for his own unquenchable ambition. King Lysandros uses our gold and our support, but only for those things that concern him. True, we have had common purpose in the war against the Usurper Kalvan, but one day our paths will diverge--at that moment, Lysandros will think no more of tearing down one of our temples than one of Kalvan’s tarrs!”
“You marshal your facts well,” Zemnos replied. “I would not have wanted to meet you on the battlefield! Maybe we should retire Lysandros from the field and put you in
his place.”
All the Archpriests laughed. Anaxthenes, too, as he knew there was little gold in winning battles and much profit in being an Archpriest of the Inner Circle.
Archpriest Grythos took a moment to re-light his pipe while everyone was laughing. When the room was quiet once more, he continued. “Lysandros will continue to be our paladin for as long as he needs us and our gold. So it should be our goal to make sure that his current pecuniary state is prolonged. This will not be difficult. Even if Lysandros were seated on the Iron Throne in Harphax City today, it would take him many winters to rebuild his reconquered princedoms. It will take even longer to raise enough taxes to replenish his treasury without wholesale rebellion. He is not loved by his Harphaxi subjects, and hated by many. Now, mired in the False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos chasing the Usurper Kalvan, it will take him even longer to rebuild Hos-Harphax.
“Furthermore, Lysandros’ princes and barons have grown independent of the Iron Throne since their former ruler King Kaiphranos kept a very light hand on the reins of power in Hos-Harphax--how else could some interloper such as this upstart Kalvan come out of nowhere and forge a great kingdom that took all of Styphon’s might to break? Thus, it is up to us to ensure that Lysandros does not return to Harphax City and the Iron Throne until Kalvan is vanquished and Hos-Agrys and Hos-Zygros are under our fists. If Lysandros survives the war against Kalvan, he will return a much poorer king than when he left.”
“A very good analysis, Archpriest Grythos,” Anaxthenes concurred. He and Grythos had been discussing Styphon’s dilemma for a moon and it was pleasing to see that the Archpriest’s rhetoric had been well presented and received. “To ensure that Lysandros’ troubles continue, even upon his return to Harphax City, we shall support other claimants to the Iron Throne, including his nephew Duke Selestros--the debauchee who sold the Iron Thome to his uncle--and any other pretenders and upstart princes.”
“Woo!” Zemnos cried out. “This is like the old days before the Usurper Kalvan, when Styphon’s House had the run of the Five Kingdoms.”
“But what will the Holy Investigator think of this stratagem?” Euriphocles asked, his high-pitched voice quivering with anxiety.
Once I have consolidated my power, thought Anaxthenes, this coward should be one of the first to go. On the other hand, he is a useful fool.
“Who cares,” Archpriest Zemnos answered. “Roxthar is too busy Investigating the Hostigi poor to pay any attention to what we do. Even if he does, his support has eroded. Soon we will have a new Styphon’s Voice to stiffen our spines.”
“Finally, our power base will be secure from even this butcher of innocents,” Archpriest Heraclestros added.
“It’s unfortunate, that the Temple Guardsmen continue to support this madman,” Archpriest Zemnos said, echoing Anaxthenes own thoughts. “Still,” he continued, “in time their support will wither, especially after they realize there’s little gold left in Hostigos. Speaker, how about this: What if, after you’ve been Elected Styphon’s Voice, you were to order Styphon’s Own Guard into Hos-Harphax to protect it against future heresy? That way we could keep that meddler Xenophes out of Balph and shunted off to where he has no say in how we run the Temple. Let him hunt down shopkeepers and peasant boys.”
“Brilliant, absolutely brilliant idea, Zemnos!”This was as good as any plan he’d ever spun; he’d have to make sure that this one did not rise too high. If Zemnos was younger, he might have made a good protégé. “Won’t High Marshal Xenophes be surprised when he receives his new orders!”
“But what will Roxthar say?” Euriphocles asked.
“Again, who cares?” Zemnos growled. “Once Kalvan is dead everyone in the Inner Circle should take their daggers and carve Roxthar up like a Feast Day boar on the Great Triangle Table.”
Half the room broke out in laughter; the other half showed gaping mouths.
Anaxthenes purposely kept his expression neutral. It was a great idea, but one whose time had not quite yet arrived. Meanwhile, he had Archpriest Grythos busy building up his own personal guard. Someday, though-- Roxthar, watch out!
FIVE
A brothel might not be the ideal military headquarters for the commander of the Five Kingdoms’ largest army, but Captain-General Phidestros was attempting to make the best of it. At least the Gull’s Nest’s stoutly barred door and armed guards gave his command privacy from the white-robed priests of the Holy Investigation that had overrun Hostigos Town like ants over a broken crock of molasses. Nor did they have to suffer Archpriest Roxthar’s daily harangues as he tried to bully the Grand Host into running down every errant Hostigi for the Investigation. Menandra’s “parlor” didn’t offer much in the way of furniture, but the chairs were comfortable and the ladies pleasant.
He finished tamping down the tobacco in his bowl, lit it with a splinter of wood and puffed on his pipe until the tobacco was burning. After exhaling a small cloud of smoke, he turned to his most trusted advisors, saying, “Soton and Great King Lysandros had another big meeting yesterday but I still don’t know what they talked about.” He threw his arms apart. “I’m supposed to be the commander of the Grand Host, but no one’s bothered to tell me a thing. Does anyone else know what’s going on between Soton and Lysandros?”
General Geblon, Phidestros’ former second-in-command of his old mercenary unit, the Iron Band, shook his head.
Kyblannos, head of the Harphaxi Royal Artillery, spoke up. “From the scuttlebutt I’ve heard, Grand Master Soton is attempting to talk Roxthar into leaving his Investigators in Hos-Hostigos. Roxthar, who smells the blood of wounded prey, wants to dog Kalvan all the way to the Middle Kingdoms and put him to the Investigation. Maybe Soton’s enlisted Great King Lysandros to help him thwart the Investigator?”
Phidestros studied the gray-haired artillery general carefully. Kyblannos had served in a score of mercenary units before joining the Iron Band, or Iron Company as it was called in those days. It was hard to find a company of mercenaries in the Northern Kingdoms in which he didn’t know somebody. “That’s a better story than the rumor I heard, the one in which Lysandros wants to take over command of the Grand Host himself and send us packing.”
Geblon leaned his head back and barked out a laugh. “Not Dralm-damned likely! Who are they going to replace you with: Prince Anaxon, the late Captain-General Anaphon or General Tythos, who’s been taking credit for every action--within a day’s ride--that ended in success?”
“Well, how about Tythos’ latest fiasco!” Kyblannos answered. “He came back into camp like a whipped dog, with his tail dragging. After two nights of running scared, he left behind two to three thousand troopers dead or captured. Now, according to him, it was all Captain-General Anaphon’s fault for falling for the Hostigi wagon ruse!”
“Well, of course,” Geblon returned, “poor Anaphon’s in Hadron’s Privy Pit, while Tythos is still alive. Who’s to dispute his word--not those poor wretches that came streaming in behind him. The best of them, the gaol scrapings of the Five Kingdoms, and all that poppycock about Agrysi troopers fighting under Kalvan’s banners.”
“No, Tythos got that right,” Phidestros said. “Everyone who was close to the disaster swears an oath that they saw Agrysi banners and the standards of Duke Mnestros. So there’s some truth to that rumor.”
“With that Dralm-blasted traitor, Demistophon, anything’s possible,” Geblon replied. “I fought in two campaigns in Hos-Agrys; the one sponsored by Great King Demistophon was the most slipshod, disorganized cat and dog fight I ever witnessed with these two eyes.”
“This just proves they should have let you chase Kalvan the way you wanted, Captain-General,” Kyblannos said.
He nodded. “Too late, now. I’m still waiting for orders.”
Kyblannos shook his head. “Everyone wants to share the glory in a successful war and, from what I’ve heard, they all believe you’ve had more than your share. An old Agrysi comrade, who enlisted in Styphon’s Own Guard, told me that Roxthar wants to split
the army, send half of the Host against Kalvan and the other half against Great King Demistophon.”
Phidestros shot up onto his feet, his pipe flying. “What? Arch-Butcher Roxthar now wants to divide my command, now that we finally have the opportunity to tree Kalvan and put him away for once and for all.”
Kyblannos held a big horn-nailed finger to his mouth. “Hush! In Hostigos Town even the plaster walls have ears.”
“But what has Demistophon done?”
Kyblannos lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Demistophon didn’t contribute any troops to the Grand Host, nor would he allow his vassals to do so. Now that he’s allowed his Princes, or the League of Dralm, to attack the Host, Roxthar believes this is proof that he is in league with Kalvan. He wants to punish him, maybe Investigate the Agrysi. The League of Dralm has stuck in his craw like a finger bone. And, Roxthar blames Demistophon for not closing the League’s shop down two winters ago.”
Phidestros bent over to pick up his pipe, then sat back down. “Total lunacy! He acts as if Kalvan has run to ground, when he’s still loose with almost half his army. The Grand Host is ready to march now. Every day we delay is another gift to Kalvan; time to run, time to rest his troops, time to recruit allies.”
Both generals nodded their agreement. Kyblannos added, “Roxthar is a priest, not a military man; he doesn’t understand momentum or how quickly it can dissipate. Kalvan’s troops have lost their homes; they are weary, exhausted and their morale at its lowest ebb. This is the time to hunt him down and destroy the remnants of his army and his subjects.”
Phidestros shook his head. “We can’t afford to allow the Hostigi to retreat into the Middle Kingdoms. We have no allies there and Styphon’s House has been overcharging them for inferior fireseed for years. Now, thanks to Kalvan, they can make their own. What do they owe Styphon’s House or any army financed by the Temple?”