by John F. Carr
“It didn’t help that they lived in Hostigos Town while we were exiled in Hyllos, a backwater if there ever was one. I will admit I was always jealous of Rylla; she was a princess, while I was only a Lady. Rylla lost her mother, but I hated mine; she was a scold and a nag. Rylla’s father was a prince, mine was the baron of a tiny barony. She had all these doting uncles, Xentos, Chartiphon and Harmakros. Her betrothed was the handsome and brave Count Phrames. Then she met and married the handsome stranger, Lord Kalvan. And, guess what, Phrames still dotes on her. Me, he’d never give a tumble.
“I had no one but my father. And, yes, he spoiled me. Anytime we were in Hostigos Town I felt like I had two heads . . . everyone pointed and stared. True, I look just like the Princess Rylla, but I’m not her. I had no friends of my own. Everyone wanted me to be like the Princess Rylla, but I refused! I’d rather be hated than be like her.”
For a moment Sirna almost laughed out loud at this poor little rich girl’s problems, until she thought of her own life.
“Your Majesty, I can sympathize with your problems. My parents were late in life when I was born. I think they wanted a pet, not a child. Certainly, not a daughter who had a will of her own. They were very wealthy and had little time for me. I was raised by nurses and--” Sirna paused, she’d almost said robots before her hypno-mech conditioning blocked her vocal cords; she must be more lonely than she’d thought to confide her real self like this to an outtimer--”servants with no feelings. I grew up ignored, alone and hating my parents. As free traders, they spent most of their time on long journeys; I knew it was their job, but sometimes I thought they were always leaving just to get away from me. That may be why I jumped into marriage.”
“Oh, Lady Sirna, you’ve been married?”
“Yes, to escape my mother and father. It was a terrible mistake; he was ambitious and cold. He treated me like a servant before he died of a riding accident.”
“Was he a nobleman?”
“No, but he thought he was.”
“You’re lucky he died and left you a widow. We had a lot of those in Hostigos after Lord Kalvan arrived. I had this one beau, a famous general, Hestophes--I’m sure you’ve heard of him--until my father learned Hestophes’ father was a publican. Can you imagine? It’s bad enough to be a castoff from Ptosphes’ House, but to marry a commoner!”
And just when I was starting to like her...
“I don’t mean you, Sirna; after all, your father’s a wealthy merchant with his own House. That’s why this marriage to Lysandros is such a gods-send. Now, for the first time in my life, I’m not taking one of Rylla’s castoffs. I’m a Great Queen in my own right, and I’m the Great Queen of a real Great Kingdom. And, I love my husband! It’s like I’m in a dream. I pray to the gods that nothing bad happens to him in Ulthor. I’m afraid of enjoying myself because it might jinx things. That’s why I’ve been so quiet these past few days.”
Sirna nodded in agreement. “I know just what you mean.”
“And what about you and Phidestros? Are you ... ?” Lavena gave her a mischievous wink.
Sirna tried to keep the grin off her face but couldn’t.
Lavena laughed. “I thought so. Phidestros hasn’t given me a second glance since we first met.”
“He’s really a good man, I’ve been acting as the Iron Band’s healer since I was captured.”
“You were captured? Oh, what fun!”
“Not really,” Sirna said, telling Lavena the tale of the attack on the Royal Foundry and how the next day she found herself in the Gull’s Nest, when she regained consciousness. “I was told later that a peasant found me unconscious and sold me to the nearest brothel.”
“Oh!” Lavena cried, wrinkling up her face. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It turned out better than it sounds. I was very fortunate, praise the gods.” She had to force herself not to say the usual “Praise Dralm,” since she was now deep in Styphoni territory. The last thing she needed was to be brought up on a charge of heresy for a parcel of gods she didn’t give a phenig about. “The brothel, the Gull’s Nest, was temporary headquarters for Grand Captain-General Phidestros’ personal command. It was also their hospital. When it was learned that I had some skill in healing, I was treated like royalty by the General.”
Lavena laughed. “If I know men, I’m sure he was interested in more than just your healing abilities. You are a striking young woman. As long as Phidestros treated you like a Lady, that’s all that counts.”
“Phidestros did treat me like a Lady. It also gave me an opportunity to get to know him at both his best and his worst. He was under a lot of pressure from your husband and from Styphon’s House.”
Lavena nodded. “Although he’d never admit it out loud, Lysandros is jealous of your Prince. He believes that Phidestros has had greater opportunities to display his talents. Now, it is my husband’s turn to command and he will find great rewards when he returns with Kalvan’s head on a stake.”
Damn, I’ve got to remember this is the enemy I’m talking to. Not some new girlfriend I just met.
They had been traveling uphill for some time and the coach came to a stop at a border crossing. At last, they had arrived at the former Princedom of Sashta, now a part of Greater Beshta. There were no guards on the Hostigos side of the border, but the score of soldiers on Beshta’s side were wearing Phidestros’ green and black livery with polished helmets and breastplates. It appeared the Prince had used his personal livery as the colors for the new combined Princedom of Greater Beshta. The troopers stood at the ready, looking like consummate professionals. She suspected they were there to keep Roxthar’s thugs at bay.
Once the guards saw their letter of passage signed by the Prince himself, they quickly passed them through the gate. She noticed that a new watchtower had been built and there was a small swivel gun mounted on top.
Right away it was obvious that they were in a civilized land. While some of the farms were still in ruins, they were either in the process of being torn down or replaced. There was new construction everywhere, and men working in the fields. Even women and children were visible in the small villages they passed. There was still obvious battle damage, but by next summer most of it would be cleared away and this land would look as peaceful as the Harphaxi countryside.
Lavena’s face appeared somber. Sirna wondered if the Queen was contemplating her future; it wouldn’t be easy bearing a child alone in Harphax City, being friendless, and Lysandros absent. No, the Harphaxi hens would not be enamored of their new Queen--that was certain. She was too beautiful, too sure of herself and too arrogant. They would hate her for being an outsider, a former Hostigi, the daughter of a traitor and the wife of a man many of them detested. No, Lavena’s position was not a secure one, nor one to be envied.
Sirna almost felt sorry for her.
“It looks like your Prince has already made a good start on reclaiming his lands.”
Sirna nodded. “Phidestros will be a good prince, Your Majesty.”
“Please, just call me Lavena. And what about your future?” Lavena asked.
Sirna shook her head. She’d already given that subject far too much thought. She did not want to give herself to an outtimer who would be dead or ancient in fifty years, while she was as young in appearance as she was today. And he would want heirs; Sirna could never doom any of her children to such a short mayfly life. Nor could she take them back to Dhergabar where they would be viewed as half-breeds, neither citizen nor prole. “I don’t know.”
“You might want to make some plans. Are you aware that Phidestros will soon be married?”
“Marriage! He hasn’t mentioned it to me.”
“Doesn’t he think you’re well-born enough?” Lavena asked.
“No. Phidestros is a bastard; he of all people would never put birth above character. It’s I who would refuse his hand, were he to ask. I cannot wed someone who is not a free trader. My family in Greffa would disown me.”
“Then, you
really don’t know?”
“What?”
“That Princess Arminta’s hand in marriage has been promised to Phidestros--”
“Arminta!” she cried, quickly running through her mental list of the different tin-pot Harphaxi princes and princesses. Princess Arminta was Prince Soligon of Argros’ oldest daughter. Why is she marrying Phidestros?
Lavena’s hand covered her mouth. “I swear, by Yirtta’s Necklace, I didn’t know that you hadn’t been informed. This marriage was arranged by my husband before he left Harphax City to join the Grand Host. I know he kept it a secret from Prince Phidestros until after the Siege of Tarr-Hostigos. I don’t know why Phidestros didn’t tell you ...”
“Because it might have upset our leavetaking!”
“Well, men do have a different view of these things.”
“Oh, don’t they. I’m sure he’s convinced I’ll stay his mousey little mistress after he’s married, too. Have I got a surprise for him!”
“Good for you. You’re an attractive young lady, you’ll find another man.”
“I don’t want another man; I didn’t want Phidestros! That just happened.”
Sirna hadn’t wanted an outtime affair, but their mutual attraction had been
too strong. Now, it would be over and she should be relieved. Why am I so
angry? I’m being: abandoned again. Is that why?
Lavena shook her head. “Men don’t care what we want. My father is the same way. He indulges me in small things, but my marriage to Lysandros was set in stone before I heard about it.”
“You could have refused his hand.”
“While I have often disobeyed my father in things small, I would never defy him to his face. His pride is all he owns.”
“He is the new Prince of Hostigos,” Sirna declared.
“Yes, but it’s a grim joke played by the gods. It was my marriage that purchased his crown. Now, father is Prince of a graveyard. Who knew that mad Archpriest Roxthar would turn our beloved Hostigos into a cemetery.”
“Only the gods. It’s only by Phidestros’ intervention that I was not a subject of the Arch-Butcher’s Investigation.”
“Oh, no!” Lavena cried, her face blanched of color. “You’ve met the Investigator face to face.”
“Oh, yes. Roxthar came to the Gull’s Nest to confront Phidestros, when he learned of my presence there.”
“But, Sirna, you’re not a Hostigi. You’re from Greffa. He has no right to Investigate you!”
“I was unclean in his eyes. After all, I had worked in Kalvan’s Royal Foundry. To Roxthar there are no physical boundaries except those between Styphon’s Sky-Palace and Regwarn. He went after me like a fox after a broken-winged duck! It was only Phidestros’ will and the Iron Band’s swords that kept me from being dragged out into the streets by that bloodthirsty monster!”
“That is proof the gods watch over you, Sirna. Is not Lytris the Patroness of Greffa?”
“That is true. There are statues and shrines to the Lady all over Greffa.”
Lavena looked her directly in the eyes, with a wounded gaze. “Would you like to come with me to Harphax City, Sirna? You have no one waiting for you in Besh Town. Just as I have no friends in Harphax City; no family, either, now that my father is living in Hostigos Town. I don’t know if I can stand living in that drafty old palace, hated by everyone in sight, without at least one friend.”
Sirna was torn. For her research on Aryan Transpacific, Styphon’s House Subsector, Kalvan’s Time-Line, it would be far better to be based in Harphax City, the hub of Hos-Harphax, than stuck in a backwater Princedom. She might even be able to find someone in Harphax City from the Kalvan Study Team! Then I can go home to visit.
On the other hand, she would miss Phidestros and her friends in the Iron Band. I wonder if Phidestros will care. He might even prefer that his mistress decamp. And, how will I feel as he parades his new wife through town?
“I will talk with Phidestros and see if he still needs me. Most of the soldiers I tended are well now. A few died; those with the most grievous wounds were left behind.”
“That’s to be expected, Sirna. I’m sure you’re a good healer.”
“I’m a lot better now than I was before. I’ll make my decision after I talk with the Prince. If I have no further healing duties, I have no reason to stay in Besh Town. You’re staying at Tarr-Beshta for a few days, aren’t you?”
Lavena nodded. “I will stay there for as long as you require, Sirna. I’m not eager to return to Harphax City, even with my new badge.” She wore a golden chain of office hung with a huge green emerald surrounded by diamonds. It was of immaculate workmanship and ancient in appearance. “I’m not sure of my welcome.”
“You have the King’s Bodyguard.”
“Yes, but little else.”
TWENTY
Duke Osthwuld heard the roar of thunder, so close it sounded as though Thanor’s Hammer had struck the castle itself. Righting himself in his chair, he asked himself, “What in Hadron’s realm is that?”
Courtiers scattered while his favorite courtesan began to scream. He continued sitting at Prince Varrack’s large oak dining table, eating his morning bread and porridge. He was in command of Thagnor while Prince Varrack was off romancing his latest female conquest. If this thunder the guns of the Greffan fleet? he wondered. It’s awfully early in the morning, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Prince Varrack has been dancing over hot coals for too long now. It’s time he got burned. Finally, King Theovacar’s patience has come to an end.
One of the Prince’s Housecarls ran into the dining chamber, his armor clattering. “Your Grace, we’re under attack!”
Osthwuld finished swallowing and dropped the chunk of bread he’d been gnawing. “What standard are they flying?”
“It’s a red keystone on a green field, Your Grace. I’m not familiar with that device.”
“Any other flags?” he asked between cannon discharges.
“A double-headed golden axe surrounded by stars. They’re also flying a blue halberd on a red field. I’ve never seen its like before!”
Osthwuld nodded. “It’s the flag of Hostigos. We’re under attack by Kalvan!” What has Varrack gone and done now?
“There’s maybe a dozen warships, Your Grace.”
“Then nothing to worry about ... Order the fleet to set sail. That’ll put them on the run.”
“But your Grace, their ships carry more guns between them than we have on our entire fleet!”
He tried to organize all the facts that he’d heard about the gods-sent King Kalvan and Hos-Hostigos. Maybe we do have a problem. Kalvan is the one who solved the fireseed mystery. He must have a lot of it with him, too. And his army is huge!
“Did we not hear that Great King Kalvan lost his Kingdom to the dung-eaters of Balph?”
“Yes, Your Grace, but he still has an army, and apparently a navy!”
May the gods come to our aid if Kalvan’s dragging the false priests of Styphon behind him. “Find me Captain-General Errock. I need him. Now!”
“Yes, Your Grace!”
II
Kalvan’s cabin aboard the Prince Ptosphes was full of tobacco smoke, fire-seed fumes, stale fish odors and the stench that comes from men crowded together for a moon with no bathing. The Hostigi fleet had silenced the Thagnor City guns, all three of them, giant stone-throwing iron bombards that took half an hour to load. Only one of them had time to fire before a broadside from the Prince Ptosphes knocked it and its crew head over heels, taking a good portion of the wall with it. A petty officer using one of the University’s primitive telescopes had reported that the other two guns had been unseated and were out of action--at least for this battle.
Kalvan wished he could climb the rigging and watch the battle from the crow’s nest himself, but Admiral Herad would have been scandalized. He was the Great King, even if only in name, and had to act the part. Kalvan could have ordered a halt to the bombardment the moment the guns were silenced,
but he wanted to create a diversion until the gunboats had time to reach the docks. Once they’d arrived, he’d order his Marines into Thagnor City when the Army of the Saltless Seas entered from the other side.
The only remaining obstacle was the old tarr on Eryn Wolan (Belle Isle), a huge fort with almost a dozen antiquated bombards and some six hundred men. Vart-Burgult had controlled the passage through the Burgult straits for three hundred years, providing Thagnor with tolls and tariffs that had made the Princedom a rich prize. Once the City and outlying areas were under Hostigi colors, Kalvan would ask for Vart-Burgult’s surrender.
If the fools inside refused, he’d give them a few months of short rations, then ask again. He didn’t want to besiege the fort since it was so well situated that he’d lose hundreds of good men despite his advantage in fireseed. Nor did he want to destroy the walls. Not when he could outwait them through the winter and get the castle for a few bushels of squash and barley cakes.
Captain Mykos, his adjutant, ran into the cabin, “Phrames’ troops have entered the City! We got word that the Prince has breached the city walls in three places and has met with minimal resistance. As you predicted, Your Majesty, the Army of Thagnor is a paper panther.”
There was another ragged volley of cannon fire and Kalvan had to open his mouth wide to keep his ears from plugging up. “We should control Thagnor City by nightfall,” he shouted. “Count Vinaldos, what have you been able to learn about the fort’s provisions?”
“Your Majesty, one of the prisoners we took yesterday was a former guard at Vart-Burgult. He claims that they’re supposed to keep two seasons’ worth of victuals, but they’re usually short because the Prince’s purchasing agents buy the cheapest bread, beans and salt pork, much of the meat spoiled or worm ridden. The bread is hard as stone and full of weevils. He said there’s usually not more than two moons worth of edible rations in the fort.”