by John F. Carr
“Lysandros is from a weak line of Kings, while on the other hand Prince Phidestros is the unrecognized bastard of Grand Duke Eudocles of Hos-Zygros.”
“How did you learn that, Your Divinity?”
“One of our Highpriests, formerly from Hos-Zygros, noticed the physical resemblance between the two men. When he came to me with this news, I sent some of our intelligencers to search out the truth. A few bribes did the job. They are father and son. Duke Eudocles is a man after my own heart; he’s not afraid to do whatever it takes to get the job done. His older brother is ailing and soon he will be the new Great King and help solidify our control over the Five Kingdoms.”
“Is he in our pay?” Danthor asked.
“Oh, yes. To the sum of five hundred thousand ounces of gold. We own him and soon the Ivory Throne.”
“What about Selestros, Your Divinity? What will you do with him?”
“If we had him assassinated, the uproar would be too great. Thus, we are forced to tolerate him until King Lysandros returns. Lysandros will see that he’s dispatched, regardless of public opinion.”
“In what capacity, Your Divinity, do you need my services?”
“Danthor, I want you to research the Royal Family lineage of Hos-Agrys. We are looking for a blood relation beneath the age of majority for the Throne of Light. Once we have our candidate, any others you’ve uncovered will be put away or dispatched. The younger the better, as it will be that much longer before they reach their majority.”
“Your Divinity, may I use my own staff, as well as those of the Temple?”
“Of course, send men you trust to dig up anything you need. Remember, the full resources of Styphon’s House are behind your quest.”
The young underpriest poked his head in the door again. “Your Divinity, Archpriest Grythos is here.”
“Send him in.”
“Should I leave, Your Divinity?” Danthor asked.
“No. I want you to attend this meeting. You have useful ideas and this is a time for such men as ourselves.”
The big Archpriest came into the room, bowing in the direction of Styphons Voice and nodding to Danthor. “I take it this meeting has something to do with the news that the morning sun brought with it, Your Divinity?”
“Yes, Grythos. We are preparing for the succession to the Throne of Light.”
“What about Great King Demistophon? Will he be of use once the City has been taken?”
“Maybe, in the past. But Demistophon has thrown his lot in with the False God Dralm and his followers. He can no longer be trusted.”
Grythos nodded. “Will you leave Grand Master Soton to rule in his stead?”
“No, the Grand Master is more useful elsewhere. As you have doubtlessly heard, the barbarian Warlord Sargos has returned from his war with the Mexicotal with great success and much gold and silver. They say it took a train of a thousand horses and mules to pull all his treasure wagons!”
Grythos smacked his lips. “By Styphon, such fortune is truly wasted on such a barbarian! I take it his cause was greatly helped by King Kalvan’s handguns and fireseed.”
“No doubt. The Mexicotal have none. We may have to make some changes to our trade agreements in the coming years.”
“That would not go over well in Hos-Ktemnos, Your Divinity, were word ever to leak out of Balph that we were trading fireseed with the Mexicotal,” Danthor cautioned.
“I know,” Anaxthenes said. “Nor would the Middle Kingdom rulers take such a policy lightly; however, since the Fireseed Mystery has been released, we can always use intermediaries to do our work. I will put it under advisement for the time being.
“Grythos, I want you to leave in two days for Hos-Agrys. Archpriest Heraclestros will join you with his retinue. He is my choice as the new Highpriest of Hos-Agrys. Grythos, you are my choice to be the regent for our new Great King. I expect the two of you to work in close concert. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Your Divinity.”
II
Great King Lysandros and Grand Commander Aristocles were seated at a small table in the Grand Commander’s tent. Outside were the sounds of whickering horses and the hammering and sawing of wood as their new headquarters was being built. The Grand Host had moved well beyond the effective range of Kalvans new guns, and almost out of sight of the Thagnor City outer walls. All in all, a pitiful position from which to direct a siege; certainly not one to inspire confidence in the end result. Morale was down and growing worse with nightly raids by Hostigi irregulars who moved through the night like wraiths, cutting the throats of sentries and lobbing petards into the tents of sleeping troopers.
Lysandros laid his hands out on the table. “The harsh truth is that the Hostigi bombardment has demolished our plans for besieging Thagnor City. What I want to know now is, what can we accomplish before winter sets in?”
Grand Commander Aristocles shrugged his shoulders. “Your Majesty, I was given orders by both Grand Master Soton and Styphon’s Own Voice that the Grand Host of Styphon’s House is to stay in the Middle Kingdoms until we have destroyed the Hostigi Army and killed the Usurper and his family. My hands are tied. I can see that our siege has become a farce, as ships bearing foodstuffs arrive from the upper seas every day and we can do nothing to stop them. It appears our Grefftscharri allies have not lived up to their commitments.”
Lysandros exhaled deeply. “Theovacar is not a good ally. He is more concerned with shoring up his rule than honoring his word.”
“True, but we may find him useful later. Now that Kalvan’s conquered Greffa City, Theovacar will learn he needs us more than we need him.”
“Be that as it may,” Lysandros said, “how can we expect to match Kalvan’s Navy on the Saltless Seas when he’s defeated the greatest Navy in the Middle Kingdoms? The minute we depart from here with our guns, the Usurper will be free to navigate Thagnor River again. He will soon own the Aesklos Sea. Then his Navy will harry our transports from Glarth Town. When that happens, how will we be able to import enough food and material to continue this war?”
Aristocles shrugged again. “We can only do our best. Kalvan is not a god, nor is he infallible; sooner or later he will make a mistake. When he does, we need to be in position to take advantage of it.”
“What about our supply problems?” Lysandros asked. “It’s been a moon since the last supply train. Almost all our victuals are coming by ship from Glarth at exorbitant prices. It takes over two hundred tons of victuals a day, and twice that of forage for the horses, to feed our army.”
“I’ve contacted Tarr-Ceros about bringing supplies overland and by boat along the Erkfryn River. Let us find some use for our alliance with Grefftscharr.”
“If the Rathoni irregulars under King Chartiphon don’t poach them before they reach our camp.”
“I’m asking for an escort of two Lances of Knights.”
Lysandros sighed. “We can use them. We’ve lost a third of our original numbers through Prince Phidestros’ leave-taking, the Ros-Zarthani defection, casualties and desertions. At the moment, we barely outnumber the Hostigi three to one and that’s only if we don’t count the Army of Rathon, which has grown to a significant size.
“It’s just as well,” Aristocles said. “We’d have trouble feeding any more men. The Usurper Kalvan has not left us much in the way of forage. We’ve stripped the larder of Morthron bare of food stocks and overland supplies from GrefFa City have stopped since its capture by the Hostigi.”
“So, at present, we’re just marking time here until we have a fleet. Meanwhile, according to the latest dispatches from Harphax City, almost a third of my capital city has burned and there are riots almost every other day. It’s taken the full weight of what remains of the Royal Army to restore peace, while Prince Phidestros waits patiently in Argros for events in Harphax City to spin out of control--leaving my pregnant wife as the only person between my Throne and disaster!”
“I sympathize, Your Majesty,” said the Knight Commander with
a shrug. “However, the Order has its own problems. Warlord Ranjar Sargos has returned from his war against the Mexicotal stronger and richer than before. Next spring we can expect his hordes to cross the Great Mother River--”
“Yes, but my problems are not in the near future, but today!” Lysandros exclaimed. “I need to return to Hos-Harphax while I still have a kingdom to rule.”
Artistocles held out his hands. “I will not allow it. Now that Soton has defeated the League of Dralm’s Army there is nothing to stop him from conquering all of Hos-Agrys. Then he will be free to come to our aid with his army. All we need is patience and time.”
“Agrys City has not fallen yet,” Lysandros pointed out. “Until it has, it is premature to speak of the conquest of Hos-Agrys. I wish Soton success, but we need help now. I do not know how much longer I can wait here, polishing my sword, for something to happen.”
“I am sorry about your difficulties, Lysandros, but you demanded to be co-commander of the Grand Host. And, is it not true that the expenditures you use to maintain your army and your Throne are borne by Styphon’s House? What can be given, can easily be taken away; I’m certain that would be Styphon’s Voice’s response to your leaving.”
Lysandros spun around and rose to his feet; his head whirling. “I’m going outside. I need some fresh air.” He was surrounded by enemies and his only ally was an untrustworthy former mercenary over a thousand marches away. How, in Galzar’s name, was he going to extricate himself from this Dralm-spawned privy pit?
III
Arminta looked down at her swelling belly beneath the shift with wonderment. She felt a jab as the baby shifted positions and smiled. This new child was a miracle as far as she was concerned. Unlike many of her class, she’d always wanted children and been fond of her nieces and nephews. However, she had given up all hope of having children because of her refusal to accept her father’s choices for her marriage bed. Fortunately, she’d had an indulgent father and several other sisters who were more malleable to being married off for dynastic reasons.
It was also true that her father depended upon her advice. Prince Soligon was not a stupid man, but a simple one. He took people at their face value and was inclined to believe what he heard. It was his nature. Her mother had been his primary advisor, the steel in his backbone. When she died of the pox, Arminta became her father’s confidante and advisor. She was good at it, and had expected to do it until her father went to Dralm’s Sky-Palace.
This baby, a gift from the Goddess, and her marriage were proof that one never knew what the gods held in store for the future. Arminta was happier now than she’d ever been. In Phidestros she had found her spirit mate. They talked as equals and warmed the marriage bed with equal fervor. His secret ambitions were fuel to her own; one day, she knew in her heart, they would occupy one of the five Great Thrones. She would have to raise a new shrine to Lytris to thank the Goddess for her good fortune.
True, to others her husband might appear harsh and cold, but she knew that was because he’d never had a father’s love. Phidestros had been forced by his hard-scrabble upbringing to guard his feelings and erect a wall of steel, which she suspected was why he’d named his mercenary company the Iron Band. To her and her alone, he opened his heart and his mind.
She wished he were here with her at this moment, but he was off at the Palace in Argros Town talking with her father about the dire situation in Harphax City. She had suggested the meeting as a way to bring the two men she loved most closer together. Her father could use some of Phidestros’ steel.
Phidestros was also seeing just how much support Selestros would find outside of Harphax City for his candidacy for Great King. Great King Lysandros was greatly feared, but also widely hated. It was necessary to learn if he was hated enough that his subjects would support his removal and the Election of former Prince Selestros to the Iron Throne. And, whether the Prince’s sudden conversion and piety would be believed, or held up to ridicule and scorn by the lower orders. King Kaiphranos’ youngest son had a reputation far worse than that of the usual wastrel or drunkard.
One of the maids came into the bed chamber and Arminta put down the scroll she had been trying to read off and on all morning. “Yes?”
“Your Highness, that rascal Kyblannos is here to see you,” she said with a giggle. All the maids loved Duke Kyblannos, who flirted outrageously with them and told them wild yarns.
“I’m proper. Send him in.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the maid curtsied and left.
“Your Ladyship, you look in fine fettle this morn’,” Kyblannos noted.
“Yes, I’m enjoying coming to term. Praise the Allmother, it is truly a blessing.”
“I’ve never seen a woman wear it so well, Your Ladyship.”
“Thank you, Baron.” she replied. His words certainly matched her feelings, whether they were flattery or not.
“I mean it, Arminta,” Kyblannos said, “I know most don’t take my words seriously, but I mean what I say. I’ve been with the Captain now for almost nine winters, and I’ve never seen him happier or more ready for action-- you’ve been good for him.”
She smiled, and patted her belly. “He’s been good for me, as well.”
“Trust me, it’s rare when these arranged marriages turn out to be a love match as well! I pray to the gods that you always share such a love.”
Arminta was touched. She’d never heard Kyblannos speak from the heart before. “Thank you, friend. I know my husband greatly values his old comrades.”
Kyblannos nodded. “We would follow him through the Caverns of Regwarn fighting demons and fireseed devils if he asked. If not for Phidestros, I would be a lowly soldier in some ragtag army, not a General and Duke of Beshta.” He paused to blow his nose. “I just wanted you to know that, Your Ladyship. And the men respect you, too.”
“Thank you, Kyblannos.” She had to exert all her self-discipline to keep from tearing up. She didn’t want to embarrass herself, or Kyblannos.
Kyblannos blew his nose again, dabbed at his eyes with his dirty handkerchief, then said, “I have something I want to show you.” He took a crunched up scroll out of one the pockets in his over-large doublet and presented it to her.
As she started to open it, he held up his hand.
“Let me tell you what it’s about, Your Ladyship. I know the Captain has told you that one of our Barons, a former Hostigi named Ranthos, was able to decipher the secret code that Styphon’s House uses for its important messages.”
“Yes, he told me this. It appears there’s a Styphon’s House way station on his lands that the messengers use to rest and change horses.”
“True. Ranthos, a right smart captain, built a good inn and tavern next to the way station to encourage the Styphoni messengers to spend the night there. He has their wine drugged and, when they’ve passed out, has one of his men open their pouches and bring him the letters and documents inside. The bartender has a deft touch with the seals and, after he’s finished, you’d never know they’d been broken! I wish we had ten just like him . . . but, anyway, Ranthos deciphers the messages, copies them and sends them to your husband.”
“Yes, he’s told me about that and what some of the messages contained. That Prince Anaxon business was quite horrid!”
Kyblannos nodded in accord. “This new Styphon’s Voice is even worse than the old one! The Prince was really tempted to spill the brew on that one, but Ranthos pointed out Anaxon was doomed no matter what we did. It was just a matter of meeting Hadron sooner, than later. And it would hurt us more in the long run to let Styphon’s House know that someone had deciphered their code.”
“Ranthos was right, although it chills my blood to think of how easily Styphon’s House murders those who oppose them.” Arminta shivered.
Kyblannos shook his head. “No accounting for priests. This god business makes fools of most men, leastwise them that take it seriously. Anyway, before Ranthos left for Hos-Agrys, he taught me how to decipher the co
de and he’s had their messages forwarded to me here at Tarr-Dodra. I’ve been deciphering them for the Prince.”
“I was aware of that.”
“Well, this morning a very important message came through. I usually hold them until the Prince returns, but this one here is way over my helm!”
“What is it?”
“The message I just deciphered was from the Supreme Priest and Styphon’s Voice Anaxthenes. In it, he is relaying to Archpriest Heraclestros, who’s to be the new Highpriest of Agrys, about another highpriest’s research on King Demistophon’s nearest heirs. From what I read, I deduced that Styphon’s Voice has ordered Soton to behead Demistophon and install his youngest heir as the new Great King of Hos-Agrys with one of his Archpriests as the regent.”
“That’s very interesting news,” Arminta said, “especially now that Demistophon’s uncle, Prince Vython, is dead. We may be able to use it to our advantage.”
Kyblannos smiled. “That’s just what the Prince would say.”
“Which heir are they specifically looking for?”
“The son of his deceased cousin, Duke Thalros. The Duke’s widow and her young son Dementros are living in Glarth. For some reason not mentioned in the letter, Thalros was banished from court over twenty winters ago. He died four or five winters ago, leaving a widow and his son. It occurred to me that if we could find Thalros’ son and foster him, we’d have control over the heir to the Throne of Light.”
“That’s good thinking, Kyblannos. How old is the boy?”
“The letter says he’s ten winters old so he won’t reach his majority for three more years.”
“We cannot afford to let him fall into this Archpriest’s hands,” Arminta said, her forehead furrowed in thought. “Does the letter give any information about the other heirs?”
“Yes, Your Ladyship. It gives the names and locations of the other three heirs and instructs Heraclestros to find them and have them abducted. If that’s not possible, his agents are to make certain they are killed. Any underage children are to be taken alive at all costs.”