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 SEVEN

I

Chancellor Xentos was shrewd enough to realize he should do something in return for Kalvan's cooperation, such as help assemble the Great Council of the realm. Sending word of the Council and copies of the Edict of Balph to all the Princes in Hos-Hostigos used up horses at a rate that made Harmakros wince when he contemplated mounting his cavalry for the spring. It also used up a few of the messengers; the wolves were fewer now, but the weather was only slightly warmer, and a two-day blizzard swept across the Great Kingdom while half the riders were still on the road. Xentos dipped into the Treasury to replace the horses and help the families of the dead.

On the twelfth day of the Red Moon the Great Council of Hos-Hostigos met in the Great Hall of Tarr-Hostigos. Prince Sarrask of Sask and his silver-armored bodyguard were the first to arrive. When not drinking beer at the Crossed Halberd tavern, Sarrask was in Hostigos Town square watching the Royal troops at drill and on parade.

Prince Balthames arrived three days after his father-in-law. Before the evening was through, he tried to seduce one of the royal pages. This earned him a ruined nose that Brother Mytron spent all night trying to repair. His older brother, Prince Balthar of Beshta, arrived the next day in a mail-curtained wagon with an escort of fifty cavalry and never left his room until the day of the Council.

Prince Pheblon, the new ruler of war-torn Nostor, was the next to arrive. He had salt-and-pepper hair worn down to his shoulders, a black goatee and an understandably harassed expression. Prince Armanes of Nyklos not only came himself, but he brought two-hundred thousand ounces of silver to contribute to the Royal Treasury. Kalvan made a mental note to find out whose confiscated estate had produced the silver. More work for his secret services. Prince Tythanes of Kyblos was the last to arrive.

Prince Kestophes of Ulthor did not come himself, pleading illness. It was said that while hunting he'd been thrown when his horse broke its leg in a gopher hole. Kestophes had taken a bad spill, leaving him unconscious for several days. But he did send a large embassy. The head of it, a Count Euphrades, assured Kalvan that he also bore what might be called a watching brief for several Princes of Hos-Agrys who had ties of blood or friendship to Prince Kestophes. Kalvan made another mental note to see if anyone in Euphrades' retinue could be persuaded to tell who these mysterious Princes were. He had no objection to Princes who wanted to join Hos-Hostigos learning the secrets of his Councils; he did object violently to those who might simply want to know which way to jump when the spring campaign opened.

However, a limited gain in military security was not enough reason to mortally insult Prince Kestophes by refusing to seat his ambassador. So far, Ulthor City was Hos-Hostigos' only port on the Great Lakes, or Saltless Seas as they were called here-and-now, which meant the only route to the Upper Middle Kingdoms and the west, particularly Grefftscharr. Prince Kestophes was going to have to do something much worse than send an unduly inquisitive ambassador before Kalvan would take notice of it—official notice, that is...

Kalvan's modified enthusiasm for Chancellor Xentos underwent a further modification when the Council of the Realm assembled and Xentos walked in with Baron Zothnes, the former Archpriest. The hisses of indrawn breath made the Great Hall sound like feeding time in a snakepit, and Kalvan heard someone mutter, "Styphon's spy." Rylla's father, Prince Ptosphes, went as far as grasping the hilt of his ceremonial dagger. Kalvan made another mental note to sit down with—or if necessary, on—Xentos until he explained why he'd brought the turncoat Archpriest into the Council without a word of warning. Meanwhile, he had to stand behind his Chancellor or look like an even bigger fool than he already was. Which would make the Council a waste of time, and the Princes would not take kindly to that. Not one little bit...

Kalvan rose and rapped the table with the ceremonial mace that was used as a gavel. "Peace, my lord Princes. Baron Zothnes is high in Our confidence. He has renounced allegiance to the false Styphon by oaths to which most of you were witnesses. Will you deny this, so denying hope of reward to those who see the truth about Styphon and repent of their sins and errors? Will you be harsher in your judgments than the Great Allfather Dralm himself?"

As Zothnes sat down in the face of a temporarily subdued Great Hall, Kalvan reflected that there was something to be said for being the son of a minister with a fine line in hellfire-and-damnation sermons.

Zothnes, whalelike in his fur robes, was abject in his thanks. Personally, Kalvan would much rather have had the other defecting Archpriest, Krastokles. He'd been one of Sesklos' handpicked troubleshooters, and it wasn't really his fault that the trouble shot first. However, only Dralm could get the benefit of former Archpriest Krastokles' repentance now. He'd died early in January, so suddenly there was talk of poison, although Kalvan personally suspected appendicitis.

As it turned out Baron Zothnes was about the most useful member of the Council. Everyone had read the Edict of Balph, everyone knew that Styphon's House was sharpening axes for them and everyone knew there was only so much they could do without knowing more about the Inner Circle of Styphon's House than they did. Unlike Krastokles, Zothnes had only recently been Elected Archpriest of the Inner Circle. He was essentially a manager, and one of his managerial skills was a very good memory for useful facts about everyone who might support or hurt him.

As Zothnes delivered his rambling briefing on the Balph hierarchy and Inner Circle, Kalvan realized that if Zothnes ever rode one of those cross-time flying saucers to a world with gossip columnists he'd make his fortune overnight. The names of highpriests, upperpriests and archpriests swirled past Kalvan until he felt as if he were reading a long Russian novel without a cast of characters to help him keep track of who was doing what to whom.

He made yet another mental note, this one for at least twentieth time: Get the scribes together and work out a system of Zarthani shorthand. One of these days something vital was going to be forgotten because everybody thought it was somebody else's job to remember it.

Gradually five names came to the front: Sesklos, Supreme Priest and Styphon's Own Voice; Archpriest Anaxthenes, First Speaker of the Inner Circle; Archpriest Roxthar, keeper of the sacred flame and political in-fighter par excellence; Archpriest Dracar, next in line of succession behind Anaxthenes for Sesklos' chair and not at all happy about it; Archpriest Cimon, the painfully honest and reform-minded "Peasant Priest."

Remembering the Cluniac Order and the Franciscans Kalvan suspected Cimon might prove to be the most dangerous. A serious reform movement within Styphon's House was something Hos-Hostigos needed like more wolves.

"There have been First Speakers of the Inner Circle who have achieved the title only by outliving all their rivals," Zothnes emphasized. "Anaxthenes is not one of them. No man knows his mind, and few learned of his plans for themselves until he has executed them—for better or for worse. Sesklos loves him like a son, but is often child to Anaxthenes' plans. Should he thwart them now he might die clutching the viper to his chest. More than one of Anaxthenes opponents has died thus.

"Let us not be among them," Rylla said.

"Praise Dralm," echoed through the Great Hall.

Note, thought Kalvan, royal food-tasters. Yesterday at the latest. 

"Bless Your Majesties, and with Dralm's help may it never be so," Zothnes added.

"Anaxthenes is no believer in Styphon," continued Zothnes. "Indeed, it is said that he believes in nothing save his own ability to outwit all his enemies. Nor is Archpriest Dracar a believer. Cimon is useful for public appearances and talking with the local backwoods priests, while Roxthar wears his piety like a shroud and his ambition like a dagger. There are so many tales about Archpriest Thymos and Archpriest Heraclestros, Archpriest of the Golden Dome of Agrys City, being true believers it is hard not to wonder."

Zothnes dabbed at rheumy eyes with a handkerchief that appeared to have been stolen from a chimney sweep. "A strange, sad fate for Styphon's House—that men subject to all the weaknesses of believers should be among those who control its destinies. Indeed, Dralm works in mysterious ways."

Sarrask of Sask howled with laughter, and everyone else except Prince Balthar of Beshta at least chuckled. Kalvan and Rylla looked at each other but stifled their own laughter at the expression on Xentos' face. To hear even a former priest say that it was a sad fate for a temple to be run those who believed in its god was clearly something Xentos had never believed he would hear and very much wanted to believe he hadn't heard now.

Zothnes' supply of gossip eventually ran dry, but before it did the Council knew they had a better idea of whom and what they were facing. The Edict of Balph and the leading personalities of the Inner Circle pointed only one way.

Prince Ptosphes stood and summarized, "Styphon's House will not fail to send gold and fireseed to King Kaiphranos. They may even place a portion of the men in their own pay under Harphaxi command. Most certainly, though, such men will shake off Kaiphranos' authority like a dog shaking itself dry the moment Styphon's House gives the order."

"I almost feel sorry for Kaiphranos," Prince Tythanes of Kyblos said. "He won't know which way to look for enemies."

Sarrask snorted like a boar interrupted a feeding. "I'll feel a damn sight sorrier for him once his head is on display outside Harphax City."

In order not to appear to be dominating the Council, on the second day Kalvan let Ptosphes continue with a military briefing he'd worked out in advance with Rylla, Ptosphes and Duke Chartiphon. Before long they were all standing in front of the big deerskin map of the Five Kingdoms, while Ptosphes used a poker from the fireplace as a pointer.

Hos-Zygros was neutral, at least for now. Great King Sopharar was known to be a dedicated follower of Dralm, yet far enough away from Balph to sit out the coming storm. The Zygrosi would make trouble for anyone who made trouble for them, and for the time being nobody else. Even if they wanted to raise an army to intervene in the war, their population was small—Hos-Zygros was the least populous Great Kingdom after Hos-Bletha—and by all reports hardest hit by the Winter of Wolves.

"Hos-Bletha, at the other end of the eastern seaboard, is nominally neutral, but would probably interrupt its neutrality in ways friendly to Styphon's House if they have an opportunity to do so. Mostly the Blethans are too far away to have much of a say in next spring's campaign," summarized Ptosphes. "I say, 'if' because the nomads and wild tribes from the Sea of Grass are said to be stirring, even moving eastward. Small blame to them, if it is true the Mexicotal are moving north on Xiphlon."

"Small blame, indeed," Rylla echoed.

The Mexicotal held here-and-now Mexico as far south as Yucatán and bore a grisly resemblance to the Aztecs, complete with a fondness for human sacrifice. The semi-desert country of northern Mexico and Texas and its savage tribes had kept the Mexicotal away from the Kingdom of Xiphlon in here-and-now Louisiana, Mississippi and east Texas—at least, until now.

"That may also keep the Zarthani Knights at home," Ptosphes added. "I will count it as a gift from Dralm if it happens."

The Holy Order of the Zarthani Knights were here-and-now cousins of the old Crusading orders and had protected the western frontiers of Hos-Bletha and Hos-Ktemnos from Sastragathi nomads and tribal uprisings for centuries. Kalvan didn't know a great deal about them, but as heavy cavalry they might be somewhat handicapped in broken country, particularly against Hostigi pikemen and mobile artillery.

What Hos-Ktemnos would send depended upon the movements of the nomads and upon whether the Knights came north. "King Cleitharses would at least send mercenaries in his pay and money to the Harphaxi Princes he trusted to spend it wisely."

"If Cleitharses can find any who are fools enough to trust him," Sarrask put in.

"They'd be no greater fools than you, willing to fight Kalvan for a pittance and a chance to marry off your—daughter," Prince Balthames said, referring to the origins of his arranged marriage to Sarrask's daughter.

For a moment it looked as if Sarrask was going to reply by drawing his sword. Kalvan made another mental note: stop those two from behaving like Kilkenny cats, and sit on Princess Amnita if necessary since she's behind it.

One of Skranga's agents in Beshta had heard rumors that Amnita had claimed a false pregnancy, fingering one of Balthames consorts as the father. Balthames had ordered accused cavalry officer murdered, only to learn afterward that Amnita was not pregnant. In front of witnesses, Balthames had wept copious tears and promised to end her next pregnancy with his rapier. One of Sarrask's spies had informed the Prince of Sask of the threat to his daughter; in return, he'd promised to "geld the little bung-hole boy with my mustache trimmer if he injures my little girl!" in front of the Beshtan ambassador.

An open fight between Sarrask and his son-in-law would inevitably involve Beshta, which contained the most invasion routes both into and out of Hos-Harphax. The last thing Hos-Hostigos needed was for Balthar to become a turncoat and play havoc with the invasion plans.

"If he feels safe enough, Great King Cleitharses may even send some of the Sacred Squares of Hos-Ktemnos," Prince Tythanes of Kyblos said. Kyblos was the southernmost princedom in Hos-Hostigos and closest to Hos-Ktemnos. "Some of us will be greeting Ormaz in Regwarn, Caverns of the Dead if that happens."

Kalvan saw no reason to disagree, even to cheer up all the glum faces around the table. The Sacred Squares of Hos-Ktemnos were universally regarded as the finest infantry in the world. They reminded him of the Old Spanish tercios, but with better firearms; they didn't use sword-and-buckler men so a Sacred Square was four hundred musketeers and four hundred billmen. They even had something like a divisional system with a Great Square of three Sacred Squares, five hundred cavalry and anywhere from four to ten light guns. Then there was the Holy Square, comprised of the three Sacred Squares of Ktemnos—the only Princedom in Hos-Ktemnos to have more than one Sacred Square. As far as Kalvan was concerned, the Sacred Squares of Hos-Ktemnos could stay home with his blessing, as well as Dralm's!

Hos-Agrys was the biggest and most dangerous question mark. It was the closest, it could do the most damage if it chose to intervene, and in Ptosphes and Kalvan's opinion it probably would.

To be sure, the evidence was conflicting. On the one hand no fanatically pro-Styphon monarch could sit firmly on his throne when two out of three of the Agrysi Princedoms were ruled by Princes favoring Allfather Dralm—and in many cases openly hostile to Styphon's House. On the other hand Great King Demistophon was the heir to a long tradition of Agrys hostility to Hos-Zygros; it was possible he would unfriendly to Hos-Hostigos merely because King Sopharar was not.

Chief Klestreus added, "Personally, Demistophon is hot-tempered and prone to strong, even insulting language. His sharp tongue has made him enemies within Hos-Agrys and without. However, Demistophon is not prone to hold grudges and prefers to be on good terms with everyone. When that isn't possible, he will choose what looks to be the winning side."

"To anyone not knowing we have Kalvan's wisdom and Dralm's Blessing fighting for us, that must look like Styphon's House," Ptosphes said. "Demistophon has an army twice that of Kaiphranos the Timid and the wealth to hire as many mercenaries as Styphon's House will let any one man contribute to their cause."

That was a point Kalvan wanted driven home. Styphon's House might do battle mostly by proxy, careful not to alarm the kings and princes too much. They'd even been more careful not to let any one ally claim too large a share of the victory. The Archpriests were not about to defeat Kalvan only to make one of the other Great Kings an equally dangerous adversary. Not now with the Fireseed Mystery bandied about on every street corner in the Five Kingdoms.

So it would be a complicated and uneasy alliance marching against Hos-Hostigos, with even troop deployments likely to be affected by politics. That was fine with Kalvan. Hadn't Napoleon himself once said he preferred to make war against allies?

Of course, there was one way of taking Hos-Agrys out of the picture. If those unknown Agrys western princes were really interested in revolting, and a little help could tip them over the edge, King Demistophon's temper might do the rest. Of course, Demistophon might eventually want to take vengeance on Hos-Hostigos, but "eventually" might not mean this year. Also, if by some chance King Sopharar of Hos-Zygros could be persuaded that Demistophon's army moving so far west to suppress the rebels was somehow an a threat to him...

Very neat. Except that some of those western princes of Hos-Agrys had claims on Zygrosi lands too, or at least said they had. If they seized those lands, and even worse, if they insisted Hos-Hostigos recognize the seizure in return for their support against Styphon's House, then Great King Sopharar would be persuaded that it was Hos-Hostigos threatening him. If that happened...

Too many 'ifs,' Kalvan decided, and too little solid evidence. Not even the names of those princes! File the whole question of raising a rebellion against Demistophon and get back to the business at hand.

Kalvan discovered that while he'd been speculating the discussion had turned to the best strategy. Ptosphes was arguing for the southern strategy, for meeting what was coming at them from Hos-Harphax, that Kalvan and Rylla had worked out in their bedchamber.

"An army in Beshta is close to Harphax City, which is the best way of making Kaiphranos fidget. It will be on the flank of any army coming through Arklos or Dazour. If our cavalry knows its business, we'll have warning in time to cut off either advance."

And if the cavalry didn't know its business, they were all dead—much deader than Lee's hopes of victory at Gettysburg, killed because Jeb Stuart forgot that he was supposed to scout before anything else.

"What about two advances, one along each possible route?" Prince Balthar of Beshta asked his cadaverous face growing even longer. Balthar wore a food-stained black robe and wooden peasant clogs. He looked exactly like what he was: the Ebenezer Scrooge of the here-and-now princes, and the butt of ribald songs and jokes throughout the Five Kingdoms. Last year he'd been happy enough to loot the vaults of Styphon's temples in Beshta but was now beginning to regret letting greed overcome his usual foot-dragging paranoia.

"Then each force will be weaker than our united army," Ptosphes replied. "We will fight them one at a time and smash them both."

"And if they come through Nostor?" Balthar squeaked. "Or what if the Army of Hos-Agrys moves far to the west, then rides into Hos-Hostigos? What of Nyklos and Sask then?"

Sarrask of Sask snorted. "If they come through Nostor, half of them will starve and Prince Pheblon can knock the rest of in the head. Sorry, Pheblon, from what I've heard a mule crossing Nostor would starve unless he carried his own rations."

Pheblon's bleak expression was all the reply anyone needed.

"As for the advance all around Yirtta's potato patch, to come from the west—Balthar, do you think we're fighting fools who will try to reach a man's brain by the way of their arse hole?"

The only man who didn't laugh was Balthar, and Kalvan didn't entirely blame him for not seeing the humor of the situation. In last year's war his lands had escaped the fighting; this year, no matter how he wriggled, Beshta seemed to be the main battleground.

They didn't discuss taking the offensive, but Kalvan didn't worry. An army in the south with good scouting on either flank could be as offensive as it wanted to be against what had to be the objective: the Styphoni army. An offensive movement before the enemy's plans became clear could only be aimed at real estate, and there was only one piece of real estate whose capture would be decisive—Harphax City itself. Unfortunately, there was no way the Hostigi were going to be equipped to storm and besiege a city of two hundred thousand residents.

They did discuss garrisoning the forts in Beshta, Tarr-Veblos and Tarr-Locra, and southeastern Sask so the Hostigi could start raiding and scouting as soon as the roads dried.

Balthar's face grew even longer, if possible, but he'd noticed Rylla's eye on him and kept his mouth shut. That was further reason for putting reliable garrisons into Beshta as soon as possible—to keep an eye on Balthar. There were rumors (note: have Skranga and Klestreus investigate independently) that Beshta had been buying grain in Hos-Harphax. If Balthar had been paying for it in information...

The Council ended by appointing Duke Harmakros Captain-General of the Army of Observation and they christened the garrisons. He was to be based at Tarr-Locra and Kalvan showed Harmakros and the Council his design for rebuilding it into a star fort. Then it turned into a party, with only tough venison, potatoes, succotash, salt pork and rabbit stew, but plenty of wine. Kalvan kept wishing for bourbon, but also held his cup out every time a servant passed by, and they came by every time they saw it empty. He was in the middle of his tenth cup and a long dissertation on the difference between an enemy's capabilities and his intentions, when Rylla squeezed his hand.

"Kalvan, I think it's time we were to bed," she whispered into his ear.

"Bed?" He realized he'd spoken louder than he'd intended and tried unsuccessfully to lower his voice. "I'm not sleepy, but—"

"I know that you idiot! Do you think I'd ask you to come to bed if I want to sleep?" She pinched him on the ear and kissed the side of his neck.

Kalvan felt his face turning the same color as the wine and started to swear, then heard the stifled laughter all around him and saw Ptosphes nodding slowly to Rylla.

Kalvan kissed Rylla, then led her toward the door. Not quite so stifled laughter followed them out.

Score one for Rylla! In a week it would be all over the Great Kingdom that the King and Queen were still like lovers on their wedding night. Who couldn't think that was a good omen and proof that there was nothing to worry about in the spring campaign?

On-the-job training in kingship might be hard on a king's subjects; with teachers like Rylla, it wasn't so bad for the king.

 

 

II

Danar Sirna found herself a seat in the section reserved for the Kalvan Study Team in the University Presentation Hall. Today was the last of Scholar Danthor Dras' lectures on Kalvan's Time-Line. The Chancellor of Dhergabar University in his usual natty charcoal-gray tunic stood to one side. Half a dozen newsies, including Yandar Yadd, and several she didn't recognize, fussed at the technicians working the lights and recorders.

She searched for the distinctive profile of Danthor Dras, Scholar Emeritus, Chairman of the University Department of Outtime History and supreme authority on Fourth Level Aryan-Transpacific, Styphon's House Subsector. But he was nowhere in sight. No doubt the time for a properly dramatic entrance hadn't arrived. Sirna's former husband had taught her about those, even if he'd only called himself a politician...

Enough of that, she told herself firmly. She tried to find a seat as close to the front as possible. I spent twelve years in the Outtime History Department and never saw Danthor once until appointed to the Kalvan Study Team. She shook herself mentally. Enough complaining, already! You won't have to worry about University politics and faculty game playing for five long years. It's time to get ready a new life—an outtime life on a barbaric world! 

Sirna sat down next to a striking woman with unusually blond hair. She wondered if the woman was an adopted prole until she turned, then Sirna recognized the familiar profile of Baltov Eldra, the First Kalvan Study Team's Historian and member of the Second Team.

While she was debating whether or not to strike up a conversation, Eldra said, "Hello. My name is Eldra. What's yours?"

"Danar Sirna."

They touched hands in greeting.

"You must be a new member of the Team."

"I am. How did you know?"

Eldra laughed a pleasant chiming. "You're one of the few around here who doesn't look like a stuffed shirt."

"A what shirt?"

"Stuffed shirt. A colloquial expression from a semi-civilized Fourth Level time-line. It means someone who's overflowing with himself, or stuffed into his shirt."

"Oh. I should have guessed. What was it like on Kalvan's Time-Line."

"Fascinating—if you don't mind no hot and cold running water, no decent heating, food that's either undone or burned—"

"I have that every time I try to cook for myself," Sirna said. They both laughed. "What about King Kalvan? What's he really like?"

Eldra sighed. "He's handsome, regal, charismatic, brilliant—just about everything you could want in a man."

"It sounds as if you got to—well, know him rather well..."

Eldra shook her head. "Not that I didn't want to, but Queen Rylla's a she-wolf protecting her cubs when it comes to her husband! Furthermore, Kalvan's Time-Line is like most Indo-Aryan descendant cultures—a strong paternalistic moral tradition, with virgin icons and sub-legal houses of prostitution. Any woman with healthy, natural urges who doesn't sublimate them to marriage and motherhood is considered a harlot. Unless you find a lover on the Team—and I wouldn't recommend that—be prepared for a long, lonely five years."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Sirna said. She hadn't had a relationship with a man since her marriage foundered.

The sudden appearance of Danthor Dras ended their conversation. Today he had his long silver locks combed dramatically back in great waves. As he greeted acquaintances among the newsies, his voice was low and gravelly, never missing a dramatic emphasis or pause.

He probably keeps his hair long so he doesn't have to resort to implants or wigs when he's back on Aryan-Transpacific...   

After an overlong introduction by the University Chancellor, the Scholar strode to the podium. "Usually my Outtime Preparation Seminars are not so well attended, at least by non-students not seeking credit." He paused for the expected wave of laughter, then continued, "After several centuries of promoting Outtime Historical studies, I'm gratified by this sudden surge of public interest—even if it was brought about by the bumbling of the Paratime Police."

Both the newsies and the University people applauded.

"I hope you don't mind a little repetition, class, but I'd like to frame this talk so the public doesn't get the wrong idea about what we're doing here." He paused to wink at a clot of newsies who smirked like old friends hearing a familiar story. Like most of the professor and politicians of her acquaintance, newsies held the public in smug contempt.

Danthor continued, "Kalvan's Time-Line is of special importance to paratemporal studies, because we can pinpoint the precise moment that Kalvan's Time-Line split off from the parent Styphon's House subsector. Usually we do not spot the creation of a new time-line for months, years or even decades. The discovery of the Kalvan Time-Line is a unique event in Home Time Line history.

"What makes Kalvan's Time-Line even more important is that it is limited to a single time-line. This means the University can place the time-line under detailed surveillance, comparing any changes with the five adjacent time-lines we have chosen as controls. I do not believe it is possible to overstate the importance of this discovery. At the least, it should revolutionize our understanding of Paratemporal processes and social change. If the 'Kalvan Effect' makes long-term social and technological changes on Kalvan's Time-Line, we will be very close to the day when we can prune, graft and trim outtime societies to our own specifications by the selected introduction of 'gifted' individuals. The end result will be an enormous increase in the outtime resources that can be safely brought to Home Time Line and our Fifth Level Industrial and Service Sectors as well as greater protection of the Paratime Secret."

To say nothing of giving University historians and sociologists more control over outtime activities, thought Sirna. The University had been fighting the Paratime Police for that for over a millennium. Remembering some of the faculty dinners she had attended, she questioned whether the academics would do as well overseeing Paratime as the Paratime Police had done over the past ten thousand years.

She frowned. That was a heretical thought for a future faculty member and a supporter of the Opposition Party. Maybe her bad marriage had soured more than just her outlook on men; it was probably just as well she would soon be too busy to worry about such things.

Danthor Dras went on to explain how he'd become an authority on Aryan Transpacific, Styphon's House Subsector. Several hundred years ago he'd been involved in a survey of Fourth Level Indo-Aryan Religious Studies when he'd happened upon Styphon's House Subsector, at that time virgin territory. Danthor had spent about a third of his time since his discovery either on Styphon's House studies or outtime. Twenty of those outtime years had been spent as an upperpriest of Styphon's House.

At the Great Library of Balph, Danthor had discovered scrolls chronicling the Zarthani migrations from the west coast of the minor landmass to the east coast. The roots of this migration began in Upper Middle Kingdoms over fifteen hundred years before, when the Great Lakes'—or Saltless Seas'—iron ore deposits were discovered. Until that time, trade between the iron-poor city-states of the Pacific Coast and Middle Kingdoms was sporadic and of no great importance. Soon the Iron Trail was upgraded and large convoys from Greffa were making the transcontinental trek for California gold. The Grefftscharri kings made treaties with some of the barbarian tribes, conquered or exterminated others and paid bribes only when necessary.

Trade with the Upper Middle Kingdoms brought increased wealth and power to the west coast city-states and aggravated tensions between the northern kingdom of Echanistra and the city-states of the south. This rivalry broke out in open warfare when iron was found in Great Desert, putting the Iron Trail out of business and ruining the economy of Echanistra. The northern city-states banded together to conquer the south and thereby turn it back to a captive market. The southern city-states allied against the northern kingdoms and defeated their army. Twenty years later a great southern land and sea force sacked the great city of Echanistra.

An uneasy peace held for a few decades; unfortunately, four hundred years of intermittent warfare had depleted the treasuries of the southern city-states and led to the deforestation of much of the Pacific Northwest which had been supplying the lumber for uncountable war ships and stockades. With the trees cleared, the land changed from forest to meadows and pasture lands and the population continued to grow. When there was no longer enough land, they began to move south. The southern city-states saw this folk migration as another invasion of northerner barbarians, with uncouth ways and a corrupt tongue, and went on the offensive.

Meanwhile, the Upper Middle Kingdoms, much richer from their sales of arms and iron, began to expand into the Ohio River Valley. Here they collided with the newly formed Iroquois Confederacy, the fiercest and most organized Amerind resistance the Zarthani had faced. King Childrek the Red of Grefftscharr knew full well he didn't have the manpower to defeat the Iroquois while simultaneously containing the Crow and Shawnee to the south. To counterbalance the Confederation, Childrek invited the northern Zarthani to migrate to the Atlantic seaboard. They came over the Iron Trail in families, tribes, clans and nations.

The Zarthani immigrants quickly became embroiled in long and bitter war against the Iroquois. The Zarthani had the advantage of better arms and armor as well as Grefftscharrer military aid. The Iroquois were fighting for their homeland, their families and their lives. It was a savage war with no quarter given or asked. After a century of warfare, the Zarthani armies under the command of Simocles defeated the Iroquois army at the Battle of Sestra. Within fifty years the victorious Zarthani had scoured the native Amerinds from every mountain and valley in what was to be Hos-Harphax, Hos-Agrys and Hos-Zygros.

The last migratory wave came after the entire Pacific Northwest was subjugated by the south. The new Zarthani refugees found the lands of the Northeast already occupied or war-torn. So they moved down the Potomac River into Maryland and Virginia. Here, aided by adventurers and experienced fighters from the north, they build a line of forts and proceeded to subdue the Tuscarora, Powhatan, and other local tribes. In the south, internal turmoil, mistrust and conflict made the Indian resistance less determined than in the north. Many fled west or were assimilated—most died. Within a few decades there were hundreds of small towns and villages dotting the lush southern tidal lands.

"We now come to a day, thirty years after the founding of Ktemnos City," Danthor Dras said, with a toss of his head that made his silver hair ripple and catch the lights. "A village highpriest of the minor healer god, Styphon, experimenting with various medicinal compounds mixed together a batch of saltpeter, sulfur and charcoal. The results were explosive, but not fatal. Once the formula was perfected it didn't take very long for the hierarchy of Styphon's House to see the military and political potential of this 'miraculous' explosive, 'fireseed.'

With an ironic raising of the eyebrows, he added, "In the beginning their motives for guarding the secret of gunpowder may have been the noble desire of the follower of a healer god to protect their world from the ultimate weapon. Whatever they were we shall never know. We can be sure they have descended to the basest of motives now."

A picture of a Styphon's House temple-farm appeared on the screen behind Danthor's head, displaying a priest in black robes lashing at several temple slaves with an iron-tipped whip.

Sirna heard gasps of horror and disgust around her. Religion and other pseudo-philosophies hadn't flourished on Home Time-Line for at least five thousand years. Many at the University believed that First Level culture and psycho-hygiene should be spread among the less enlightened time-lines as a matter of duty. That they were successfully opposed at every point by the Paratime Police and their supporters had fueled the fierce hatred of the guardians of the Paratime secret among the University Faculty and leaders of the Opposition Party.

Weren't the Paracops just as callous and self-serving as the outtime primitives who subjugated and enslaved their fellow beings through pseudo-religions?—or so the argument ran. Sirna didn't know the answer herself, but she hoped a few years on Aryan Transpacific, Styphon's House Subsector might provide her with an answer to that question and a few personal ones—like what she was going to do with the rest of her long life.

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Framed