by John F. Carr
“Thank you, Cleon. Is he in the audience chamber?”
“Yes, sire. I did as you requested. And, I had two of your Guard placed behind the screen as you requested.”
After the last assassination attempt a week ago, he wasn’t taking any chances. The two men behind the screen would have rifled pistols with the order to kill if there was any hostile move on the Ambassador’s part towards his person. After a supposedly friendly Agrysi nobleman had tried to open his breastplate, using a poignard as a can opener, Kalvan no longer trusted strangers or retainers who hadn’t been old hands around Tarr-Hostigos. As Rylla liked to point out, the death of Great King Kalvan was worth more than an entire army to the Styphoni! The bounty on his life was one million ounces of gold. Vanar Halgoth and his Bodyguard now frisked anyone entering his audience chambers, public and private. If they didn’t like it, they could argue it out with Halgoth. Wisely, Kalvan thought, few chose that course of action.
The Ambassador was sitting in the chair facing the private throne--the Fireseed Thrones were in the public audience chamber--which formerly held Prince Kestophes’ chair-of-office. The Prince was restricted to his current quarters, the mansion of one of his Dukes. Kalvan had enough problems without having to listen to underlings who didn’t know when or how to shut their yaps. If his attitude didn’t quickly improve, Kestophes might find himself leading a rear guard action against the Grand Host--a suicide post if Kalvan ever heard of one.
Ambassador Dykar made a strong visual statement; he was well over a lance in height (about six-foot two back home) and dressed in the latest Urgothi, or Spanish-style, garments as Kalvan called them--he would have represented the height of fashion under Philip II. He wore a high crowned hat and a peapod doublet with a thick ruff neckpiece that would have been called a St. John’s Platter back in otherwhen. Dykar bowed, saying, “Your Majesty, it is good to meet you at last.”
“Yes, Ambassador Dykar. Please have a seat.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The Ambassador then passed over his credentials, which explained that he had the power to make treaties and agreements in the Name of the Koynig and the Family of Five. It was more of an open portfolio than Kalvan had expected; Ambassador Dykar was highly placed indeed. Unfortunately, he had no one in his own cabinet who could brief him on Nythros politics or the who’s who of the City State.”
“I would like to speak frankly here, Your Excellency.”
“Anything you say to me, Your Majesty, will go no farther than Koynig Harthmann’s ears and those of the Family of Five. You have my word of honor.”
Kalvan had to accept that or else insult the Ambassador. “Of course, Your Excellency. I desire enough ships to transport thirteen thousand men and two thousand horses from Ulthor Port to Thagnor City.”
The Ambassador’s pupils widened, but otherwise he remained impassive. “That could be arranged. However, we had been under the understanding that we would be transporting civilians and some guard units.”
Kalvan smiled and stretched his arms out, opening his hands. “We did not want other ears to learn of Our plans.”
Ambassador Dykar nodded thoughtfully. “Probably wise, in this instance, Your Majesty, as rumors have it that Koynig Theovacar has intelligencers stationed in Ulthor Port. We even recognized one or two at the docks.”
“If you would be so kind as to give any names and descriptions to my Chief Intelligencer, General Klestreus, I would be most appreciative.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Kalvan used his bell pull to alert Cleon. A moment, later his body servant entered and was told to have Klestreus wait outside the Audience Chamber for the Ambassador.
“Thank you. That will be most helpful. We may be able to use one rat to catch the entire nest.”
“It is wise, Your Majesty, to take precautions when one has the opportunity,” the Ambassador said. “Thirteen thousand men will require the use of a fleet. However, we have some sixty troop transports, each carrying around one hundred-and-fifty men and fifty horses, sitting at our docks in Nythros. Our galleys are as large as Grefftscharri galleys, holding almost a hundred marines. We have almost thirty of them in the Western Fleet. That should be enough to transport the bulk of your forces.”
Kalvan shrugged his shoulders. “Now, how much would your superiors regard as fair price for transporting these men and horses to outside Thagnor City?”
The Ambassador hemmed and hawed for a moment. ‘Your Majesty does realize that our transporting your Army from Ulthor Port to Thagnor City may be regarded by their overlord, Koynig Theovacar, as an act of war.”
Kalvan said, “On the other hand, your current dispute about trade rights with Morthron Town is enough provocation for Theovacar to declare war-- were he of such a mind. Is this not true?”
Ambassador Dykar replied, “It is a good summation of the current impasse, Your Majesty. In regards to the cost of passage, our Koynig has declared fair and reasonable value at two ounces of gold per man and twenty per horse.”
Kalvan leaned back on his throne, his face a bland mask. This was about twice the going rate for civilians, and about half of what he’d been afraid the Nythrosi might charge. A good deal, since it would only cost him somewhere in the vicinity of sixty thousand ounces of gold. Kalvan held out his hands, both palms open. “We have a deal.”
The Ambassador looked disappointed, as if he were really hoping that Kalvan might refuse his terms or had missed a good haggling session. But, he laid his hands atop Kalvan’s, sealing the deal by local custom. “Agreed, Your Majesty. I will send word to Nythros to have the galleys and transports come to Ulthor Port. That will take about a moon half.”
“That is acceptable, Your Excellency.”
“Now that we have closed our negotiations, Your Majesty. May I inquire as to your plans once we land your force outside of Thagnor City?”
Kalvan shook his head. “You may draw your own conclusions, but Our plans are a state secret. However, they will not endanger your City State and We will welcome you as allies if Koynig Theovacar decides to dispute your claims with hostilities.”
Dykar looked him over like a card shark looking for a tell. Seeing none, he said, “Your Majesty, I would like to see our states united in purpose against the rapacity of Koynig Theovacar and his dynasty. I will inform our Koynig and the Family of Five of your words.”
“Very good,” Kalvan said. He suspected that the only way the Nythrosi would press for an alliance was if war were to break out with Grefftscharr; otherwise, thanks but no thanks. You’re on your own.
“Now, on a more delicate subject, Your Majesty. How would you like those funds to be transferred? We can take specie or banknotes.”
“I have banknotes drawn on the Great Banking House of Styphon. I would prefer to use those.” For two reasons, thought Kalvan, it amuses me to finance our getaway with Styphon’s Own gold taken from parchment banknotes I found in their temples that we sacked. Secondly, we have to use them soon before Styphon’s House realizes that we have them and comes up with a way to cancel them!
If Dykar saw any irony in King Kalvan using Styphon’s own funds to escape from Styphon’s Grand Host, it didn’t show on his face. I’d hate to play poker against this s.o.b.!, Kalvan thought. “I’ll have my Treasurer present you banknotes worth around one hundred thousand ounces of gold and your agent can present them to your Koynig. All balance remaining can be credited to Our account.”
“Very good, Your Majesty. I’ll send them off on the Relentless, one of our largest galleys, as no pirate would be foolish enough to challenge her in open waters.”
ELEVEN
Verkan Vail had reserved a private dining room at the Constellation House with a privacy screen for his unexpected meeting with Danthor Dras, Dean of Aryan-Transpacific, Styphon’s House Studies. Danthor was currently researching Styphon’s House as an Archpriest of the Inner Circle on Kalvan’s Time-Line. This was the first time he’d been back to First Level in o
ver a year.
During Verkan’s time on force, Danthor Dras and the Paratime Police had been in a blood feud, which was how Kalvan, who had done his share of policing Appalachian hillbillies and moonshiners, might have put it. Danthor had been picked up for a minor Outtime Contamination infraction on one of the Alexandrian-Macedonian timelines, but Chief Zarvan had made a “Federal Case” out of it. Danthor was astute, a master manipulator and string-puller, so it wasn’t hard to see why he’d gotten under Zarvan’s skin.
After all, Danthor had climbed his way to the top of the Styphon’s House hierarchy in less than two years! Danthor was also one of the keenest observers and social realists--at least for someone from out of the Dhergabar University henhouse--that Verkan knew. Once Danthor had realized that Verkan was not going to continue his half of the feud, the Scholar had done an admirable turnaround and was on the way to becoming one of Verkan’s friends, if not allies. Who would have guessed?
Verkan watched as Danthor, dressed in a powder-blue shimmersheen tunic and matching breeches, made his way into the Constellation’s main dining room. He was trailed by hangers-on and newsies, like the alpha male of a pride of lions on his way to feast on some tasty wildebeest, followed by jackals and hyenas. And there was the head hyena, Yandar Yadd, followed by his sycophant and Tri-Planet legman, Shabron Larv. Word must have slipped out that Verkan and Danthor were going to meet publicly--leaks were happening a lot these days.
The newsies and paparazzi--another useful word from Kalvan’s Europo-American Subsector--were probably expecting fireworks. They would have to be disappointed.
Verkan rose to clasp hands and received a brief hug from the Scholar. Verkan thoroughly enjoyed the look of sheer horror that opened up on Yandar’s countenance! Then he activated the privacy screen and they both sat down.
“It’s good to see you, Verkan,” Danthor said, shaking his head. “I knew things were bad in Balph, but the nasty goings on in the Inner Circle make the Dhergabar Faculty Union meetings look like democracy in action.”
They both laughed.
“I take it things have gotten worse since Sesklos died?”
“The old fraud didn’t die of natural causes, I think the new Styphon’s Voice had something to do with it. He was way too self-satisfied about his passing, like that of a cat after eating the family bird. The poison was unfamiliar, but it reminded me of curare, an alkaloid taken from one of the Moonseed plants and used as a poison in certain primitive cultures on the Southern Continent, Minor Land Mass.”
Verkan nodded, he was familiar with its uses. In his youth, he’d spent some time on a Fourth Level, Europo-America Alexandrian Subsector where the Aztecs and their allies had created an empire that extended up from the tip of the Southern Continent, Minor Land Mass to the middle of the Northern Continent. Passing as one of the local outtimers had been one of the most dangerous and difficult assignments of his career. In fact, he still had that feather headdress and blood-stained stone knife that he’d pried out of the hands of the Priest he’d killed. Maybe it was time to put it in his display cabinet.
“I’ll tell you, Verkan,” Danthor said, while making a washing motion with his hands, “I’ve been in a lot of middens in my centuries of outtime research, but this one in Balph is getting to be the worst.”
“What happened?” Verkan asked. It was almost unheard-of to see Danthor nonplussed and Verkan didn’t like it.
“It’s the new Styphon’s Voice, Anaxthenes. Since Roxthar’s been out bleeding the Hostigi countryside, Anaxthenes has been consolidating his control over the Inner Circle until he’s got them in the palm of his hand.”
“I thought Roxthar owned Balph from the buildings down to the cemetery stones.”
“Not anymore. The Investigator spent too much of his time and his power out of Balph, harassing and murdering the Hostigi people. His absence gave Anaxthenes the breathing room he needed. First, he consolidated his control over the Inner Circle, killing at least two of his intractable opponents--that I know about. Next he marginalized the opposition, led by Archpriest Dracar. He won’t murder Dracar because Anaxthenes learned, by Dracar’s reactions to Roxthar, that he’s a baseless coward and more useful alive than dead. Dracar’s now the unofficial Inner Circle whipping boy.
“He used the other Archpriests’ fear of Roxthar--highly understandable, of course--to coerce them into supporting his Election to Styphon’s Own Voice and his reforms.”
“That’s not at all like any of the Anaxthenes we know from the Kalvan Control Time Lines! Are you certain he’s not been replaced?”
“No, there’s no First Level involvement; I’ve watched his personality transform myself; it’s been enlightening.”
Anyone else but the Scholar would have used the word incredible.
“He’s also created his own army, the Sephrax Guard, with special uniforms and absolute loyalty to Styphon’s Voice. He used the other new Archpriest, Grythos--a former Knight Commander of the Order of Zarthani Knights--to create it for him.”
Verkan nodded. “Anaxthenes knows that Roxthar owns the Temple Guard down to the soles of their boots. It makes sense that he’d create his own praetorians to counter Roxthar’s ability to coerce the Inner Circle and the priesthood.”
“It’s understandable, but this crew of his makes the Red Hand look like Boy Scouts. From all evidence, including his ‘retirement’ from the Order of Zarthani Knights, I believe Grythos is a sadist and misses military life for the opportunities it provided him to indulge his desires for domination and humiliation. A lot of the ex-soldiers he’s recruited for the Guard are out-and-out sadists and bullies.”
“How did they miss jumping aboard Roxthar’s Investigation?” Verkan asked.
“Roxthar is a true believer; he recruits from the lower ranks of Styphon’s priesthood. Grythos has gotten the majority of his men from gaols, dungeons and Styphon’s debtor houses in Sephrax, which is the most backwards princedom in Hos-Ktemnos. A lot of them are ex-mercenaries that were cashiered for atrocities and exotic tastes that even their commanders couldn’t stomach.”
Verkan said, “In wartime a plethora of those types emerge and have the opportunity to indulge themselves. ‘Like flies to wanton boys.’”
Danthor looked up, surprised. “You’re familiar with the Bard’s works?”
“Yes, I’m too young to have met him, though.”
“That’s a shame. I met him as an undergraduate--he died a couple of years later. Queen Bess, too; now, there was a ruler. We had our tiffs, but getting back on track, Anaxthenes’ next step was to coerce the Inner Circle into declaring a State of Emergency, granting him full powers.”
“I thought the Grand Host just defeated Kalvan, not the other way around.”
“No, this has nothing to do with Kalvan, and everything to do with Holy Investigator Roxthar, who is neither holy nor much of an investigator. However, he is an expert at picking up fear and taking advantage of it; he may be a latent precognitive. It’s too bad he’s not an empath.”
Verkan grinned wryly. “These types usually aren’t; empathy would blow his mental circuits.”
“Which would be a good thing, Verkan. Let me tell you about the meeting we had yesterday afternoon. I was called into Anaxthenes’ quarters--a penthouse at the top floor of Styphon’s High Temple, formerly the headquarters of Styphon’s Own Voice Sesklos. Even the God Alexander, on Fourth Level Alexandrian-Macedonia, doesn’t have such opulent furnishings. The overall effect, whether he’s aware of it or not, is a hypnotic induction from all the over-stimulation and ceremonial ritual involved in a face-to-face meeting.”
He used his first level recall to reconstruct the meeting for Chief Verkan:
“Archpriest Danthor, I take it you are happy with your new position in the Inner Circle?”
“Yes, Your Divinity. It is afar distance from my previous temple in Bletha Town.”
Anaxthenes laughed. “I’m not laughing at you, Archpriest, but at my memories as the youngest son of
a Baron who had more children than he could feed. I know neglect as well as the boredom of hayseed provinces. I helped elevate you, Archpriest, because I saw that we shared a similar background and need for acclaim. Is that not right?”
“Yes, Your Divinity. I cannot thank you enough for your faith in my abilities and for my present high position in the Temple.”
“Good,” Styphon’s Voice said, all but smacking his lips. “Then, maybe you can help me with a difficult problem.”
“What would that be, Your Divinity?”
“Great King Cleitharses has begun to present Us with a bit of a problem.”
Danthor raised his eyebrows, fearing what was to come. He liked the gentle king with his love of reading and scroll collecting. King Cleitharses had the best library outside the Temple Archives in the Five Kingdoms.
“It appears that the old fool is going to appoint Marshal Valthros as the new Lord High Marshal of the Ktemnoi forces in the Grand Host and request that Prince Anaxon return to Ktemnos City.”
“Your Divinity, how does this bode ill for Styphon’s House?”
“Ever since the disastrous Battle of Phyrax, when Soton retired from his position to protect his Knights and left the Ktemnoi forces to face Kalvan’s guns unsupported, Anaxon has blamed Grand Master Soton for the destruction of the Ktemnoi Sacred Squares. He has confided to his most trusted advisors--some in Styphon’s House’s pay, of course--that upon his uncle’s death he will ‘cleanse the palace of those cowardly yellow bedsheets and rule as a proper Great King. Not as some plaything of some pox-ridden priests.”
“Truly, “Anaxthenes continued, “it is not in the Temple’s best interests to have Prince Anaxon return to Ktemnos City--either now, or later--to be invested upon the Golden Throne. He is needed now in the fight against the Daemon Kalvan; later when the Usurper is vanquished, an accident may befall him. After all, wars are dangerous places and many people die in battle.”
Danthor nodded, wondering where all this was leading, and fearful that he knew.