by John F. Carr
Lysandros took a moment to remove his tobacco pouch and fill his pipe barrel. He was pleased when it didn’t drop from his half-frozen fingers.
When Theovacar took out a pouch of his own, the Great King said, “I have some of the finest leaf available, from the Inner Circle’s own tobacco fields. Would you like to try some?”
Theovacar nodded and Lysandros passed him over his pouch. When both pipes were lit, he continued, “It was never Our intention to conquer or hold land in the Upper Middle Kingdoms. However, once Kalvan had established himself in Thagnor, We realized that We needed to secure a base of operations. Seeing as how the Nythrosi were at odds with Your Majesty, as well as having ferried Kalvan’s troops into Thagnor, We believed they were deserving of some reward for their actions.”
Theovacar’s lips curled into a small smile. “This is good tobacco. Can you get me more of it, Lysandros?”
Lysandros nodded. “I’ll have one of my stewards bring you a keg tomorrow.”
“Thank you. This leaf is far superior to what I obtain here in GrefFa.”
“It’s from the best fields in Hos-Ktemnos, those belonging to Styphon’s House, and specially cultivated for the Inner Circle of Styphon’s House and special friends. But, getting back to the Nythrosi, because of this flagrant abuse of your good will and patience, We believed that they were deserving of conquest, and that this effort on Our part might be beneficial to the Greffan Throne.”
“How could that be?” Theovacar asked, raising one eyebrow.
“After We have captured and killed Kalvan, dispersed and enslaved all of the Hostigi who have invaded your lands, We will then present Your Majesty with all the lands We have captured to do with as you see fit.” If you can hold them.
“Now, that is much more to Our liking.”
“In addition, We propose an alliance between our two realms to be declared against the Usurper and Outlaw who proclaims himself to be Great King of Hos-Hostigos and, more recently, King of Thagnor and Great King of Nos-Hostigos.”
“There is wisdom in this request; however, We must meet with Our advisors before We commit Our Kingdom to such an alliance--however worthy.”
Lysandros knew that Kalvan had been trading with the Greffans for several years so he probably had important friends at Theovacar’s Court to represent his interests. He needed to override these partisans. “In addition, and to further show Our regard and respect for Our friend, King of Grefftscharr, We will include ten wagons of fireseed and a thousand arquebuses for your army upon signature of our mutual treaty and alliance.”
With these words, he had Theovacar’s full attention.
“This gift will certainly command Our advisors’ attention, King Lysandros.”
“It is meant to, but it is only with the promise of more to come. We still have several thousand more guns that We can present to Your Majesty when you have decided it is time to replace your crossbows with fireseed weapons.”
“We will talk to Our advisors in the morning. We will get back to you in a day or two.”
“We have one more request. To reach Thagnor City and the Usurper Kalvan, We will have to cross the lands belonging to Morthron, a Princedom We understand is allied with yourself. Is that not true?”
Theovacar nodded. “This is true.”
“We would like your permission to march the Grand Host across Morthron territory. In all other things, We will leave the Princedom undisturbed and pay Prince Eythart a generous bounty in exchange for allowing Us to trespass upon his domain.”
Theovacar looked thoughtful, then said, “Again, We will discuss your requests and arrangements with Our advisors before making a decision.”
Lysandros left the room smiling like a cat finding an unguarded pigeon pie in the kitchen.
II
Verkan Vail was waiting at the Transposition Depot of the Paratime Building to welcome Inspector Ranthar Jard, who had just arrived from Hos-Bletha for a debriefing and some time off on Home Time Line. The large depot room was crowded with hundreds of Paracops of every description, some in standard green-issue uniform and others in out-time garb, like a trio dressed in turquoise blue tunics and floppy hats, four men in buckskins wearing coonskin caps, a man in full armor except for a helm, three women in hoop skirts and several officers wearing banker’s suits, with top hats and vests. Ranthar, obvious by both his height and high-combed steel helmet and back-and-breast, stepped off a slideway and waved.
“Hi, Chief.”
“How are you, Ranthar?”
“Great, Chief! Playing the Prince of Bletha in exile has been a lot of fun. Everyone on the team has been great, even that minstrel Gasphros. We’ve got all of Hos-Bletha spinning like a top; there must be four claimants to the throne now. It’ll take them fifty years to sort this mess out. That ‘steal from the rich, give to the poor’ idea of Kalvan’s worked like a charm!”
“That Robin Hood story is a common children’s tale on most Europo-American subsectors,” Verkan said. “Kalvan just applied it to a new situation. Otherwise, it could be interpreted as Paratemporal Contamination. I’m not sure how the Paratime Commission would view your part as the Prince in Exile, either.”
“It was Kalvan’s plan and Duke Skranga is the operative in charge.” Ranthar smiled, “I’m just following orders.”
Verkan laughed. “As long as you don’t step out of character, I don’t see any problem.” He longed for the days when he could work undercover and make decisions without outsight committees and newsies judging his every action.
“The Blethan Operation is going great; they’ve been unable to supply the Grand Host with a single company. I even ordered a copy of The Adventures of Robin Hood from stores. I’ve read and re-read the book half-a-dozen times. The genius part was Kalvan’s idea of applying it to the situation in Hos-Bletha. We’ve been hijacking and ambushing Styphon’s House priests and noblemen in our green jacks and green hose. The commoners love us. I myself haven’t had this much fun in a hundred years! However, Styphon’s House has put a price of twenty thousand gold rakmars on my head.”
“Then don’t get caught.”
“I don’t intend to, Chief. But we sure have Styphon’s House in a lather.”
“That’s the goal, Ranthar. Your party is tying down several thousand troops that won’t be able to join the Grand Host in their hunt for Kalvan.”
Verkan noticed that the crowd had suddenly quieted; he looked up to see it breaking open for Danthor Dras, in his Styphon’s House Inner Circle hooded yellow robe with the red border, signifying his rank as Archpriest. Everyone moved away from him as if he had a Fourth Level plague. Danthor looked every inch a Styphon’s House Archpriest and his face was set in the grim demeanor that they habitually wore.
“Hello, Dras.”
“Chief, I didn’t expect to find you down here,” he said with a welcoming smile. They clasped hands and began to walk toward the antigrav lift.
“I’m here to debrief Inspector Ranthor.”
“Oh, the Man in Green, as Styphon’s House calls him,” Danthor said, with a smile. He turned to Ranthor: “You’ve caused the Inner Circle no end of headaches!”
“That’s the plan.”
“Well, it’s working. I’ve been questioned by everyone from Styphon’s Own Voice to some Blethan upperpriests about what to do about the Hos-Bletha rebellions. I’m the only Archpriest in the Inner Circle from Bletha so that’s made me the local expert on all things Blethan. Fortunately, Anaxthenes has needed me to spy on Great King Cleitharses so no one’s considered sending me to Bletha, so far.”
“That could prove to be a problem. How is the old king?” Verkan asked.
“He died a ten-day ago from colon cancer,” Danthor said, with a frown. “The horrible diseases these outtimers suffer ... I don’t know where they get their courage. Cleitharses lived three ten-days longer than anyone, including myself, expected. I think he was hanging on in hopes that his nephew would arrive.”
“I read your report
. Did he ever get Anaxon’s reply to the phony letter?”
“No. If he had, it would have killed him right away. I still feel bad for giving that document to Anaxthenes and counterfeiting the new letter.”
“Don’t feel too bad,” Verkan said. “When it comes to Outtime work, we all have to do what’s necessary to maintain our covers, and, as an Archpriest of the Inner Circle, you’re at the top of the heap on Kalvan’s Time-Line.”
“I’ve done worse things in my career than betray the old King, but I really liked him. Cleitharses was a good man and never meant anyone harm. Unfortunately, he was a weak ruler and allowed himself to be bullied by Styphon’s House.”
“Cleitharses should have been born a shopkeeper or music teacher,” Verkan observed.
“He would have been much happier. Has anyone in Agrys City received word of Styphon’s spring campaign?”
Verkan shook his head. “If Grand Master Soton bulldozes through Agrys City like he did with Hostigos Town, there won’t be an independent kingdom on the eastern seaboard by the end of next year.”
“That wouldn’t be good for your friend Kalvan.”
“Agreed. It would be a disaster. The fall of Hos-Agrys would allow Styphon’s House to concentrate all its military, political and economic strength toward removing Kalvan no matter where he goes.”
Danthor paused to remove his clay pipe from an inner pocket in his yellow robe.
“Come on, let’s go to my office, Danthor. You, too, Ranthar.”
The three of them took the antigrav lift to the Paratime Police Chief’s office. All three were smoking by the time they reached Verkan’s horseshoe desk in his private office.
“My whole life, I never thought I’d be invited into this--the inner sanctum of the Paratime Police,” Danthor said, “at least, not as a free man.”
They all chuckled.
Danthor’s disdain for the Paratime Police had been legendary. Or at least up until a year ago, Verkan thought. Thanks to fast-unfolding events at Balph we settled our mutual differences and found out we actually liked one another.
Before sitting, Verkan took out a flask with a fancy glass stopper in the shape of a halberd head and of obvious outtime manufacture, offering everyone a drink.
“I haven’t had that in a while,” Ranthar Jard mentioned.
“This is pretty raw brandy,” Danthor said, making a face and drawing back from his glass. “What time-line is this from?”
“Kalvan’s Time-Line. This is the famous Hostigi brandy, invented-- with some help from King Kalvan--by that time-line’s first scientist and distiller. The Hostigi call it Ermut’s Best, after the inventor. He’s the new Rector of the University of Hostigos. It’s crude, but it grows on you.”
Danthor nodded, taking a small sip. “It’s stronger than most of the swill on Aryan-Transpacific, but it definitely needs some work. Now, if we can just get Kalvan and his Hostigi through this next winter or two, he might have a chance to improve on it.”
Verkan and Ranthar nodded in agreement.
“I may even have an idea that will help Kalvan.”
“What’s that?” Verkan asked, sitting up straight.
“What if I send one of my Balph Study Team assistants to Agrys City? I have one or two that I’ve helped climb the hierarchical ladder of the Balph priesthood. Mathrov Verth would be ideal; he’s a savvy University undergraduate that I’ve helped promote to Highpriest. He uses the name Mathros on Kalvan’s Time-Line. He’ll lose his usefulness to the Balph Study Team, but he might have more value as a Styphoni turncoat in Agrys City. I can have him travel overland to Hos-Agrys, where he can inform one of Kalvan’s allies about Soton’s plans to besiege Agrys City If that doesn’t wake up Great King Demistophon, nothing will.”
“Does Kalvan have any friends inside Agrys City whom I can use as a contact?”
Verkan took his pipe out of his mouth and emptied the dottle into an ashtray. He opened a small pocket knife to clean out the ash while he used his First Level perfect recall to run through the possible Hostigi exiles in Agrys City.
“I’ve got it, Chief,” Ranthar said. “Old Xentos, isn’t he Primate of that Dralm outfit that’s headquartered in Agrys City?”
“Yes, but I don’t know how much of an ally of Kalvan’s he is these days. Xentos left a trail of broken promises behind when he left Hostigos. If he’d spent half as much time helping Kalvan as he did to promote his own career, things might have turned out differently.”
“Don’t be too rough on the old priest,” Ranthar said. “He’s way over his head with this Fireseed War business, and no one expected Styphon’s House to react so quickly and decisively.”
“That’s true,” Verkan replied. “What do you think, Danthor?”
Danthor gave a self-satisfied smile. “It doesn’t matter. If Xentos is the top ecclesiastical figure at the High Temple of Dralm, he’ll do just fine. No one connected with Dralm will want to see Styphon’s House conquer Agrys City. The Primate is a big enough fish that even Demistophon will have to heed his warning. Plus, I’m sure that the King has his own agents within the League of Dralm.”
“Of course, he does,” Verkan said.
“Good. Maybe they’ll even have time to prepare a proper welcome gift for Grand Master Soton and his army.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Kalvan and most of his top aides were touring the top floor of an abandoned mansion formerly owned by one of Prince Varrack’s cronies, who had fled the city sometime during the short siege. Most of the furnishings were gone and the floors were stripped to the base boards. Kalvan suspected he’d sold everything that was portable, or had squirreled them away somewhere. He was trying to determine if this three-story mansion was a good home for the new University of Hostigos. Guildmaster Varianos, head of the Stone Masons Guild, had sworn to the integrity of the foundation and walls; the only problem was that the building was too close to the city’s second wall.
Do I really have time to do this? The answer was, of course he did. This building would hold the key to Hostigos’ future, the young minds and bodies who would flesh out his ideas and reinventions. The problem Hostigos would face in the future, assuming they survived the present onslaught of Styphon’s Grand Host, would be avoiding some of the pitfalls of his own world’s history. Already, he’d brought the concepts of religious war and total war to here-and-now. What he didn’t want to do was bring unbridled change and out-of-control industrialization. Slowing the coming industrialization is not going to be easy--if it’s even possible. Once some local booster comes up with manifest destiny--look out!
Not that Kalvan didn’t already have his plate full with things to do. He’d assigned Master Ermut and a team of artisans to build a new and enlarged paper mill; they’d promised to have it up and running by midwinter. Once Ermut had solved the sizing problem, before they left Hostigos, they had been turning out a decent quality rag paper that didn’t fall apart in your hands. The new stuff actually held up under an ink pen. Note: Set up rag collection depots and see about local sources for linen.
He had a new Royal Foundry under construction, a new glassblowing facility for making brandy flasks and a new Bank of Hostigos being built. Mytron was overseeing the building of several temples to Allfather Dralm. In his copious spare time, Kalvan was working with Captain Nathros on a new road system and semaphore station layout to go from Thagnor to Rathon City. He’d made General Klestreus his Chief of Staff and put him in charge of setting up the new Thagnor food depots and collection stations; he had a real gift as an administrator and bean-counter.
Master Ermut, here-and-now’s first scientist, was the new Dean of the University of Hostigos, while Mytron, the former rector, was the realm’s new Chancellor--now that former Chancellor Chartiphon was King of Rathon--and head of the Temple of Dralm. Both men were busy overseeing the cataloging and accounting of the materials and equipment that had survived the exodus from Hostigos. Unfortunately, too many valuable and irreplaceable items had been aba
ndoned, destroyed or left behind in their haste to leave Hostigos.
“All the walls are stone, Your Majesty,” Guildmaster Varianos said, his breath blowing puffs of fog into the air. “Good construction, too.”
“It’s even bigger than the original building that was the foundation of the University of Hostigos,” Chancellor Mytron added. “The grounds are quite large, with two large barns for the laboratories.” He pointed out the window. “Over there we could raise up another classroom.”
“I don’t like the fact that it’s right up against the City’s second wall,” Kalvan said. “I’m certain we’ll see a Styphoni siege in the spring and I don’t want to have to rebuild the University again if they bust through the outer wall.”
Mytron shook his head. “We’ve been all over the center of the city and there are no abandoned buildings big enough for our purpose. We’ll either have to buy up a block or two of prime commercial property or demolish several blocks of townhouses and apartments, which will prove both costly and unpopular.”
“Dralm-damnit, I know,” Kalvan said, throwing out his arms in frustration. Everything seemed to take more of his time and cost more money than anyone could have predicted. It wasn’t easy rebuilding Hostigos Phoenix-like out of the rough materials of Thagnor.
“That may not be a problem, Your Majesty.” Ermut paused long enough to bring a soapstone out of one of the pockets in his brown robe. The Dean appeared to keep all nature of things, from fruit to meteorites, in his oversized pockets. “The Army engineers have finished the outer wall and have just started working on shoring up the second wall.”
While Ermut was making his drawing, Aspasthar asked, “Your Majesty, does this new University you’re building in Thagnor mean we may not be returning to Hostigos?”
“That’s a good question.” Kalvan started to knock his pipe bowl against one of the walls to dislodge a plug of burnt tobacco and ash. He stopped in mid-swing, instead striking the barrel against the heel of his palm. Pipe barrels were not as sturdy as the ones back on otherwhen. They didn’t have the French briar to make bowls here-and-now, so he’d had his own personal pipemaker experiment with burls of different woods. Black Walnut burl was the best they’d come up with so far.