by John F. Carr
“Agreed, Your Majesty. The current Styphoni stalemate is more a question of operational tactics, than grand strategy--which is to destroy yourself and the Hostigi people.”
Kalvan grimaced. “Yes, that’s why we need to find a temporary colony and some allies who can help redress our own weaknesses.”
“But weaknesses only to the Grand Host, Sire. And I don’t really believe that any of the Middle Kingdom rulers---Theovacar included--have any idea of what kind of warfare you are about to bring to their lands. By the time they wake up you should be well situated.”
“We’d better be, or the Hostigi--as a people--will cease to exist. This war with Styphon’s House is to the last man standing; I believe both sides understand that now.”
Tortha paused to knock the heel out of his pipe. “You’re right. Styphon’s House is determined to destroy all of Hos-Hostigos. However, I don’t think that’s going to be as easy as they believe.”
“I hope not,” Kalvan said, “may Galzar aid us in our war. But, back to Grefftscharr, how big is their navy?”
“The Grefftscharrer Navy is the biggest navy in the Upper Middle Kingdoms. Over three hundred fighting ships, a hundred transports and as many grain ships as King Theovacar needs. Their problem is that their Navy is spread over a large area--three of the Saltless Seas, which means it takes time for them to concentrate their forces in any one area.”
“That’s very good news. Our navy is pitiful, a score of confiscated schooners and maybe a dozen galleys and triremes. Some small transports that might hold fifty men and half that number of horses. I’ve got some ideas for ships, but never had the time to develop them.”
“I’m not surprised, Your Majesty. It’s a wonder you’ve found time to sleep with all the battles Hostigos has fought since your arrival.”
“Sleep is a luxury I often can’t afford. Despair threatens our Army as much as Styphons troops. I need to find some solutions to our current difficulties before the Grand Host goes on the offensive again.” Kalvan knew his greatest strategic challenge was to develop a strong navy since the Upper Middle Kingdoms were centered around trade and travel along the major waterways and the Great Lakes. He already had a group of Ulthori boat builders working on gunboats, basically a mobile platform for some of his lighter four- and six-pound guns. They were a good idea, but only a temporary solution. Soon everybody would have them, although the shortage of light guns would slow the locals down considerably.
Most of the Upper Middle Kingdom guns were the heavy iron bombards, useful in sieges or for shore batteries. Not even a fool like Prince Varrack would think of mounting one on a small craft.
If he and his people were going to survive, Kalvan would need every advantage he could squeeze out of his head, or dream-up on the spot.
“I will set up a meeting this evening with Ambassador Dykar from Nythros. It’s time to discuss hiring their Navy to transport some of our troops and subjects to Thagnor.”
“Why Thagnor, Your Majesty?”
“Because of its strategic location for one. Another is that of all the local kingdoms and princedoms, not one of them has fewer friends and allies than Prince Varrack.”
Tortha burst out laughing. “True, Your Majesty. King Theovacar cannot speak the Prince’s name without sputtering. The man’s arrogance and naked ambition are singular in an area where it’s expected and even condoned. Still, Thagnor is nominally a Grefftscharri vassal. Theovacar will take its conquest as a personal affront.”
Kalvan shook his head. “Theovacar has already taken our presence in his sphere of influence as such. This will draw a line in the sand. Our choices are limited: Either we go south into Hos-Rathon, which will mean war with King Nestros and would place us even closer to those territories owned by Styphon’s House than we are now. Or we move into the Upper Middle Kingdoms where we will be encroaching upon Theovacar’s power base. The advantage to being in the Saltless Seas is that Styphon’s House will be as bereft of allies as we are, and even farther from their lines of supply and reinforcements.”
Tortha added, “They will be able to draw some supplies from Tarr-Ceros, but the great Zarthani Knights’ fortress is primarily set-up for defense. The only waterway connecting the Lydistros River with the Saltless Seas is near Thagnor territory, therefore most of their supplies will have to go overland, expensive in both mules and time. So, both you and Styphon’s House are without allies in the Middle Kingdoms, although they have more gold with which to purchase them.”
“That is true; however, this advantage is negated by the Temple’s bad faith dealings with all of the Middle Kingdoms for the past three centuries. Their allies will be both more expensive and less enthusiastic than those in the Great Kingdoms where Styphon’s advantage is almost insurmountable.” Kalvan’s smile had turned to a glower. “Which we have learned to our dismay.”
“Your Majesty, would you like me to join you at this meeting with Ambassador Dykar? I do not know him personally, but I am familiar with Nythros City and have a few acquaintances there.”
“Of course, your counsel will be most welcome. And Tortha, you can help me with any language problems as I’m still not fluent with the Urgothi tongue.”
“I will do my best, Your Majesty.”
NINE
Captain Lysia, I would like your permission to see you again,” Hestophes said, trying to rein in his nervousness. He thought she liked him, more than just as her rescuer at the ford; unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to spend very much time together on the trail back to Ulthor Port. After they’d reached the city, it had taken him days to locate her detachment. Fortunately, King Kalvan had recalled the Army of Observation; their work was done. Later today he had an audience with the Great King, who wanted to discuss the perplexing lack of movement by the Grand Host and how they could take advantage of it.
From now on, Hestophes wanted to spend every moment, when not with the army, in Lysia’s presence. Her image consumed his mind. It would be too much to ask the gods that she felt likewise.
“Of course, Hestophes. You don’t have to call me Captain when we’re off duty.”
“Lysia, I just don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage of my rank--”
She laughed, like a bubbling brook. “You’re not that kind of person, I do know that much. You’re a good man, one who disobeyed his own orders to save my life. But, I know you well enough to know that you’d never take liberties. And I know a lot about men. When the Harphaxi soldiers attacked our farm--”
“Please! I don’t want you to suffer any more pain. You don’t need to tell me anything.”
“I must, so that you know all about me. We’ve talked for two candles about our youth, but while this saddens me, it is part of who and what I am now.”
“There are no parts of you I do not admire.”
Lysia blushed and glanced down at the floor. “I must say this, Hestophes. It’s hard for me to remember these things. What’s happening between us is all too soon and too confusing. I never thought I could have feelings for a man after what happened. It was awful!”
“Please!”
“I must, if we’re to be together, Hestophes! You need to know my dishonor. Then we will see how you truly feel. During the first invasion of Sashta, a squad of Harphaxi soldiers broke down our door and shot my father right in the throat--” She stopped with tears streaming down her face.
Hestophes had to resist the urge to wrap her into his arms; this was not the time.
She gathered her composure and continued, “My brother Tylon took one of my father’s pistols to shoot one soldier; he shot him good. Right in the mouth! The others didn’t give him time to reload. They used their swords to hack my brother to pieces--” She paused, sobbing for a few moments. “I don’t remember much after that, except their rough hands on my arms, ripping my dress.”
She began to shake. “I’m soiled; I’m a throwaway.”
“By Dralm, you’re nothing of the kind! You lived to fight those
bastards again, that’s all that counts. This is a war to the death.”
Lysia dried her tears. “I should have gone to work at a brothel, but I wanted to hurt someone, THEM! When I heard that the Great Queen was looking for women who wanted revenge, wanted to hurt the enemy, wanted to kill the enemy--I signed the muster rolls for Queen Rylla’s Pioneers.”
“None of it matters to me, Lysia. I admire you for who you are now, not what you’ve done or survived. I’ve seen and done terrible things myself.”
“Let us make a vow, then.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Never to talk again of the past. From now on, it is as if we are born anew.”
“Darling, I give you my oath.”
“Fine, Hestophes. It is done. We will meet again at the Ram’s Head Inn tomorrow after drills.”
II
Anaxthenes, resplendent in his new scarlet robe of Primacy, sat back on his divan and enjoyed the opulence of former Styphon’s Voice Sesklos’ apartments at the top of the Great Temple of Balph. I must have been a fool, he thought, not to have wanted this all along!
He had always enjoyed working behind the scenes, pulling Sesklos’ strings like a master puppeteer, but this was so much better. Anaxthenes, Styphon’s Own Voice, sounded good even to his mind’s ear. Now, for the first time, he could deal with crises and problems head-on, not from behind curtains or closed doors. And his first crisis--Holy Investigator Roxthar in full boil, fulminating and screeching--waited outside his door.
The Council of Electors had been dismissed less than half a candle ago; the Council which had elected him Styphon’s Voice, over Roxthar and Dracar’s protests, thirty votes to six. Roxthar had sat stunned, as if hit with an axe. Archpriest Dracar, whose dreams of Election had come to naught, had slunk from the room like the toothy little rodent he truly was, deep inside his yellow robe.
Anaxthenes’ ears still rang with the congratulations of his fellow Archpriests of the Inner Circle. Even Soton had given him a bear hug. For the first time since Roxthar’s arrival three days before, the pall that hung over Balph with the Investigator’s appearance had lifted.
Just in case the Investigator’s anger turned ugly, he had his special deputy, Yagos, hidden behind the drapes with a dart-blower, some sort of tube that spat poison darts. His deputy had bartered the device from a former Mexicotal slave, who had been rescued when one of the Styphon’s House war galleys had boarded a Mexicotal slave ship and captured the flesh-eaters. A coffle of these unusual Ruthani slaves had been brought to Balph as curiosities and sold in the slave market. One of his house agents had bid on the lot, thinking they would add a sense of mystery to Anaxthenes’ new mansion.
He would have used one of Thessamona’s poisons but she’d left for the countryside to tend to her sister’s latest birthing. It was best that she had vacated Balph at this particular time; she had no official standing but would have nagged him to attend the ceremonies involved in his elevation. It would have been difficult to refuse her without causing resentments and Thessamona was a dangerous woman to rile.
Yagos had taken a liking to one of the small brown-skinned Ruthani and through signs had learned about the dart-blowers and their special poison--curare. Yagos had brought this to his attention and it had been one of those darts that had finally ended Sesklos’ interminable life. Now, Yagos was hiding with instructions to send a dart into Roxthar should the Investigator act upon his temper. He only hoped that it would be that easy to remove the Investigator. Yagos had firm instructions not to act until Roxthar had left marks upon his person so that no one could say that he’d murdered the Investigator; thus sparing him the wrath of Styphon’s Own Guard.
Were he free to act, Anaxthenes would have had Roxthar ambushed and murdered before he reached the Holy City. However, the Investigator had strong ties to High Marshal Xenophes, the head of Styphon’s Own Guard; the Temple Guard would have taken the loss of their benefactor badly, maybe even sacking Balph in the aftermath of Roxthar’s death. If Grand Master Soton had been more forthcoming with his support, this would not be an issue. Unfortunately, Soton was another true believer and refused to do anything that might cause a schism within the Temple.
However, once the Usurper Kalvan was removed, Anaxthenes would deal decisively with all of these issues: Roxthar would be stilled permanently, Xenophes would be dismissed and Soton tamed. For his peace of mind, it couldn’t happen soon enough.
The shouting in the outer chamber was now loud enough to carry through stone walls and his assistant, Highpriest Valmoth, opened the door. “Your Divinity, Archpriest Roxthar demands to be admitted to your chambers at once.” Valmoth, usually unruffled by any crisis, appeared shaken.
I’d better let that madman in before he demoralizes my staff!
“Valmoth, you may grant permission to Archpriest Roxthar to enter.”
The Highpriest let out a sigh of relief, spun around and returned to the outer-chamber.
Within a breath, Roxthar ran into the room like a caged wolf that had just escaped from the Balph Menagerie. “How dare you take control over the Inner Circle while I was doing Styphon’s Own Work in the False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos!”
“I took nothing that was yours, Archpriest. In future, when you speak to me--my proper address is Your Divinity, not you.”
Roxthar’s mouth actually foamed, like a rabid opossum. He sputtered, his arms windmilling, as he tried to contain his temper. Clearly the Investigator had been among those who feared his every breath for far too long. It was time the dangerous fool learned some humility.
“Your Divinity,” he sputtered. “Our agreement was that Dracar would become Styphon’s Own Voice On Earth while I concentrate my Investigation on the heretics outside of Balph.”
“Wrong, that was your agreement with the former Styphon’s Voice Sesklos. I only abided by those terms as long as Sesklos was alive. When he died, I was surprised as anyone to learn that he had entrusted the Temple’s fate in my hands.” Anaxthenes who had orchestrated his own appointment as Styphon’s Voice, tried to appear perplexed. The fire in Roxthar s eyes told him he probably wasn’t doing a very good job.
“I would personally escort that old fraud to Hadron’s caverns were he still alive!” Roxthar cried.
“Unfortunately for you, he’s dead and so are any agreements he made with you and anyone else. Now, I’m Styphon’s Voice and I’ll make my own arrangements.”
Roxthar looked as if he was about to swallow his own tongue.
“Maybe it’s time the Inner Circle reviewed the success of this Holy Investigation that many in Balph are calling Roxthar’s Reign of Terror.” Anaxthenes did his best to keep the smile he felt inside from showing on his face. After all, he couldn’t single-handedly dispense of the Holy Investigation without taking on the Temple Guardsmen. That day, however, was coming.
Roxthar snarled. “Don’t you dare threaten the Holy Investigation of heathens and apostates! If you dare, the streets of Balph will flow with rivers of blood.” Then he leaped, like a beast, over to the drapes and pulled them apart--revealing Yagos, with blowpipe in hand. He held up the smaller man by the front of his black robe, lifting him half a rod off his feet. Yagos face was stretched in terror.
“What does this mean?”
“It means I don’t trust you, Archpriest. Now, release my Deputy. I have work for him.”
The look of gratitude in Yagos’ eyes reminded him of his favorite hound’s face after he’d removed a brace of porcupine quills from its hindquarters.
Roxthar reluctantly released Yagos, but not without a loud slap across the face.
“That was unnecessary. Archpriest, obviously you’ve spent far too much time amongst the helpless women and children of Hostigos. We will not tolerate such arrogance here in Balph.” He made a motion of dismissal to his Deputy:
“Yagos, go and bring Archpriest Grythos and have him bring the Sephrax Guard with him. I would hate to see Archpriest Roxthar lose his self-control again.”
/> He could hear the grinding of Roxthar’s teeth.
While his Deputy scurried out of the room, he said, “In the future, I do not want to see any more of your Investigators within a hundred-march radius of Balph. If I do, I will have my Guard tie them up, fill their orifices with boiling lead and shoot their worthless bodies out of the Balph guns. Are my words clear enough, Archpriest?”
Roxthar’s mouth was gaping open like a deep water ocean fish just come to surface with a hook in its mouth. When he’d recovered, he spat out, “High Marshal Xenophes will have something to say about that!”
“About what?” Archpriest Grythos asked, as he entered the room--a silvered back-and-breast over his yellow robe with a red border. Four Sephrax Guardsmen wearing silvered armor chased with gold with a red Styphon’s sun-wheel with sparks at all four corners enameled on their breastplates, and tall-combed morion helmets, followed behind. They were four of the biggest men Anaxthenes had ever seen.
Archpriest Grythos, who had organized and trained the Sephrax Guard, had handpicked veterans of the border wars from the Princedom of Sephrax. Sephrax was the youngest and westernmost of the Ktemnoi Princedoms and bordered the Sastragath. Many of its subjects were of Urgothi descent. They were known throughout the Five Kingdoms for their height and girth, and feared for their fierce temper and fighting prowess. There were over three hundred of the Sephrax Guard stationed around and inside the Great Temple and all the important Temple buildings, including the Temple Treasury.
With Styphon’s Own Guard subject only to its own commanders and Archpriest Roxthar’s orders, Anaxthenes had commissioned Archpriest Grythos to establish a new Temple guard. They were to be his own personal bodyguard and owe their loyalty to Styphon’s Voice alone. He was their de facto commander and paymaster. If events had given them another year before Roxthar’s return to Balph, Grythos would have had time to raise enough loyal troops to face down Styphon’s Own Guard.