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 TEN

I

It wasn't until Soton entered Great King Kaiphranos' audience hall that he finally began to understand how Kalvan had been so successful so quickly. The Grand Hall was dingy and filled with ancient furniture that looked as if it had been used for pistol practice. The only window worthy of the name had been laboriously carved through the wall, but otherwise the only outside light came through firing slits made for arrows. When they built the keep of Tarr-Harphax, petty barons and outlaws were fighting almost yearly over the lands left vacant by the annihilation of the Ruthani tribes. Princes and kings who wanted to sleep peacefully at night built for defense, not comfort. While still stout—the ancients built their tarrs to last—Tarr-Harphax hadn't been well maintained for a hundred years.

At least Kaiphranos had beeswax candles to light the Great Hall, not the grease-soaked tapers that filled the rest of the castle with a great deal of smoke and stink. Most of the hangings and tapestries were faded, some ripped or frayed at the ends. Even the Iron Throne of King Kaiphranos IV showed rust stains along the arms and legs. Soton had seen better furnishings in the longhouses of Sastragathi headmen.

Kaiphranos himself seemed hardly more than another shadow. He was bent and crooked, while his wispy white hair splayed out of his crown like an unruly bird's nest. Even from a distance his red velvet robe showed dark purple wine stains.

Flanking Great King Kaiphranos in lesser chairs of state were his eldest son and heir, Prince Philesteus, and the stooped, white-bearded Captain-General of Hos-Harphax, Duke Aesthes. Philesteus wore armor under his robes and was eccentric enough to go clean-shaven, which left his thick neck and double chin exposed to all. Duke Aesthes could hardly carry himself at all; at seventy winters and suffering from arthritis he was past active campaigning. During the thirty past winters, a time when Hos-Harphax didn't need to take war and armies seriously, this wouldn't have mattered. Now, however...

Across from Kaiphranos sat his much younger half-brother, Grand Duke Lysandros, a slender fine-featured man of middle age whose mink-lined, gold-filigreed robe was worth more than the entire contents of the Hall. Out of all Kaiphranos' advisors, he was the only adherent of Styphon's House and the fittest general. For once Soton wished he had a purse full of Anaxthenes' little vials, so he could put the scales of Hos-Harphax back into balance.

As he sat down next to Lysandros, Soton wished even more that he had a drink in hand, preferably good winter wine. From the look on Lysandros' face he knew this was going to be an ordeal. He leaned over and whispered to Lysandros, "Where's Prince Selestros?"

The Grand Duke answered in a voice loud enough to startle Kaiphranos. "Selestros is out wallowing with some he, she or it."

Great King Kaiphranos cleared his throat. Quite unnecessarily, Prince Philesteus barked, "Give ear to the Great King!"

The Hall was so silent that Soton could hear the creaking of his joints as Kaiphranos straightened up in his throne.

"Grand Master Soton," Kaiphranos said, in a whining voice that reminded Soton of a befuddled old tutor who had roamed the streets of Geas, the village where he'd grown up, then left as soon as the first whiskers graced his chin.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Is it true, what I've heard? That you plan to leave Us with tomorrow evening's tide?"

"Yes, it is true. I have been called upon by the Inner Circle to lead the Sacred Squares of Hos-Ktemnos against the Usurper Kalvan."

Great King Kaiphranos' face crumpled like that of an infant about to start squalling. "What have I done to bring this plague upon our land? I have worshipped all the true gods and paid Styphon's offerings. I have given my people peace and now the gods re-pay me with Daemons! Now, the Grand Master prepares to steal away in the night, to leave my Kingdom to death and ruin."

Soton made an effort to keep his expression neutral. He glanced over at Grand Duke Lysandros and saw him roll his eyes.

"I am not deserting anyone. I told Captain-General Aesthes three days ago that I would be leaving soon. I was not sent here to command the Army of Hos-Harphax, but to see that it was fit for battle." Soton raised his voice. "This I have done. Styphon's treasure has armed and refitted the Royal Army you have so long neglected."

If Kaiphranos had been a turtle, his head would have retreated into its shell; as it was he made a passing good imitation of one.

"Styphon's gold has bought you twelve thousand mercenaries and provided you with three Lances of the Holy Order. Your army has a commander, two, perhaps three. You don't need me."

"Grand Master Soton is correct, Your Majesty," Archpriest Phyllos said. Phyllos was Styphon's House top cleric in Hos-Harphax, as well as a member of the Inner Circle and head of the High Temple of Harphax City. "Furthermore, I have just received word that a convoy is on its way from Balph with a hundred tons of Styphon's fireseed and three thousand of Styphon's Own Guard. There is to be another convoy from Agrys City with eight thousand more mercenaries and a fifty thousand ounces of gold for the war against the Usurper."

Soton's head reeled. He'd have to completely re-think the war against Hos-Hostigos. Why hadn't I been informed of these reinforcements? What other surprises are hidden in the sleeves of Anaxthenes' robes?  

"I want the Grand Master to lead Our Army!" Kaiphranos cried. "He will bring us Styphon's Own Blessing."

Soton stamped on his anger until his voice came out in a deadly monotone; after all, it has been the Inner Circle's policy to weaken the central authority of the Northern Kingdoms. Yet, it was Kaiphranos' failure of leadership that had made their efforts so successful. "If you had kept your own house in order, there would be no need for Styphon's troops and Styphon's gold to give you back the kingdom you have lost. We are not here at your pleasure, but at Styphon's Will. Remember this: What has been given, can be taken away."

As Soton had expected, Kaiphranos' anger melted away like last moon's snowfall. Left behind were a frightened old man and a son who'd never grown up, puffing himself up in anger. To defuse the situation, Soton added, "Let your son re-unite his future kingdom and earn his spurs. Even in distant Tarr-Ceros we have heard of the fame of the Harphaxi Royal Lancers." It was so easy to salvage Philesteus' pride; yet, it went against Soton's very grain. Let Anaxthenes do his own double-tongued work from now on!

"Yes, Father," Philesteus said. "The Grand Master is right. With our own Royal Army we will skin the snake in his own den."

Kaiphranos waved away his son's words. "I want to know more about this army you plan to lead from Hos-Ktemnos, Grand Master. Why do they not open the battle against the Usurper Kalvan?"

"I am not at liberty to speak about their plans. We have learned in Harphax City that even the stone walls have ears."

"Are you accusing me of harboring traitors and intelligencers?" the old king was beginning to get his color back.

"Of course not. But is it not true that a highpriest of the false god Dralm passes through these doors every day?"

Kaiphranos averted his gaze and stared at the floor. A moment later a servant, bearing goblets of wine on a tray, entered the chamber. Soton was shocked when he took one and saw the green corrosion on what appeared to be a golden stem.

"Highpriest Cratos is an old friend and trusted advisor. I could not believe he would violate Our trust. Besides, this war is not about Dralm or Styphon, but about the lands that were stolen from my Kingdom by this Usurper Lord Kalvan!

"Nor is this what We have come to this Council of War to discuss." The old King brightened as though struck by inspiration. "I now want to announce Our decision in the matter of a proper reply to the godless attack by the Traitor, Rebel and Daemon Kalvan into the land of Hos-Harphax one and a half moons ago. We have in this matter sought the advice of our Councilors and Captains and the wisdom sent only by the gods."

Soton steeled himself for the worst; he was fairly sure that the part about "seeking advice" was pure diplomacy, meant to placate Styphon's House. The Temple had ears and eyes in too many places in Harphax City not to have known whether or not Kaiphranos had consulted with any significant numbers of his "councilors and captains." No, whatever was about to come out now was likely to be the old man's decision—or whim. Kaiphranos' last major decision had been to appoint Lysandros Captain-Governor of Harphax City, which meant that the only competent general of the House of Harphax would not be taking the field during the upcoming campaign. All of which left Soton less than optimistic that the words he was about to hear would contain any great amount of wisdom.

"It is Our will that the Royal Treasury be called on to ease the suffering of those who lost homes, herds and kin to the Host of the Traitor, Rebel and Daemon Kalvan.

"It is Our will that Count Phrames and all other invaders who may be proved to have followed the Usurper's orders to march into Harphax to the destruction and wasting of Our lands shall be under the same ban as the Traitor, Rebel and Daemon Kalvan, and shall suffer the same penalties at the hands of Our justice.

"It is Our will that Duke Aesthes shall take his seat at Tarr-Minnos and shall from there command a force of horse to watch a line from Tarr-Minnos south and west to Tarr-Kyloth that no further invaders may cross it without warning.

"It is Our will that no man who has sworn oath to the Iron Throne of Hos-Harphax shall pass forward of this line without Our express command, given under Our hand and seal.

"It is Our will that the Host of Harphax be readied with the greatest dispatch to march and utterly crush the Traitor, Rebel, Daemon Kalvan, at such time as Our noble and loyal allies may be able to give of their strength for this purpose.

"This is Our will in this matter, proclaimed this 11th day of the Moon of the Tall Grass in Our seat of Tarr-Harphax."

Soton was glad he hadn't been smoking his pipe; if he had, it would have clattered to the floor, betraying to all his gaping mouth. As it was, he was able to compose his features before anyone noticed, although safely out of sight under the table, his hands were clenching into fists. Kaiphranos' strategy was simple; to lie down and let the Hostigi do what they pleased—as long as they did it only along the frontier. Aesthes' patrols would detect any enemy attacks penetrating deep into Harphax territory, Soton supposed, but they would be unable to scout out such an attack before it was launched. Add to this lack of warning, Duke Aesthes' past performance and Prince Philesteus' rashness and what might the Hostigi do before the Harphaxi met them in battle, assuming now that Kaiphranos really meant to array his army and that it was fit to do so?

Lysandros' face gave away no more than usual—which was nothing. The Captain-General Aesthes' face was too swathed in white, tobacco-stained whiskers to reveal much expression. Philesteus had neither whiskers nor any reason to hide countenance. He looked horror-struck and gobbled like a turkey for a moment before he found his voice, while his face turned the color of a turkey's wattles.

"Fa—Your Majesty! This—the honor of Hos-Harphax demands—we shall seem...!"

Kaiphranos looked mildly at his heir until he could be sure that the Prince had lost his voice again. Then he said more firmly than Soton would have expected, "I am the judge of the honor of Hos-Harphax and what it demands. And what it demands now is that we not expose any more Harphaxi to attacks—from which we cannot defend them—by provoking the Hostigi further. With the help of the true gods and our friends and allies this will not always be the case, but most surely it is so now."

Soton looked at Captain-General Aesthes, hoping to hear him deny that his men were as helpless as Kaiphranos implied. When he saw the old Duke slowly nodding his head, like a bear just awake from sleep, Soton's stomach turned to cold iron. There would be no opposition to Kaiphranos' witless demonstration of spite against Styphon's House, as well as fear of the strength of Hos-Hostigos, unless one wished to intrigue it in to existence by dealing directly with some of the mercenary captains, or even Lysandros. Such dangerous games Soton would leave to Archpriest Phyllos who would never have to worry about facing a former ally, now turned enemy, on the field of battle.

"Your Majesty," Grand Duke Lysandros said, "It seems to me we provoke the Servant of Daemons Kalvan by our very existence, or at least by our refusal to let an enemy of the True God proclaim himself Great King and rule over our lands and subjects any time it pleases him! Unless we are to cravenly submit ourselves to—"

"It is not well done to call your Great King and elder brother a coward," Kaiphranos said. "Were it not for my affection for yourself—"

From the battle running across Lysandros' face it was easy to read that he felt neither respect nor affection for his older brother, but with two healthy heirs between him and the Throne he so obviously coveted, there was little he could do but swallow his bile.

"For...forgive me, brother..." Lysandros finally choked out. "I do not wish to go beyond calling Your Majesty's attention to facts that your advisors, perhaps, have not called to your attention."

"This wish does you credit," Kaiphranos said, "so I will overlook any indiscretion that arises from your eagerness to defend the honor of Hos-Harphax. We will speak of this no further, Duke Lysandros. I will take your advice under consideration."

Lysandros now looked as if he'd swallowed not only his bile, but his tongue as well. It occurred to Soton that perhaps there was a method in the apparent madness of keeping Lysandros out of the field during this campaign. A major victory to his credit, or more likely a valorous part in a Harphaxi in defeat, would give him allies among the nobles and mercenary captains who could only feed his ambitions. It also occurred to Soton that very probably Styphon's House would not be losing so greatly by Lysandros remaining safely behind the walls of Harphax City. Barring the direct intervention of Styphon and Galzar on the side of the Harphaxi, Kalvan was going to eat Kaiphranos' army for first meal and pick his teeth with their bones.

Lysandros was as brave as he was able; he might not wish to survive such a defeat and if he were in the forefront of the battle, he might not survive whether he wished to or not. Some men could do Styphon's House as much service dead as alive; Lysandros was not one of them.

King Kaiphranos continued, "Prince Philesteus, it is Our wish that you may lead such part of your Royal Lancers as you wish into the field to form part of Our strength watching the hosts of the Traitor, Rebel and Servant of Daemons Kalvan. You and they are to obey the orders of Captain-General Aesthes in all matters where his authority runs."

It would take the God of Judges, Galzar Himself, to determine that, thought Soton. Both Aesthes and Philesteus started to reply, then both seemed to think better of it. For the first time in half a candle, Soton felt like smiling. Duke Aesthes was clearly none too happy about having under his authority a Prince notoriously hot-headed enough for three captains half his age. Philesteus was just as torn among his joy at going into the field at the head of his beloved Lancers, his frustration at being under the Captain-General's orders and his reluctance to leave Harphax City with the opportunity to intrigue with the captains of his own faction against Kaiphranos' policy.

From the bland way Kaiphranos was studying his two commanders, Soton was quite sure he was reading their thoughts just as clearly. Had the servants of Styphon underestimated the wits remaining to Kaiphranos? If so, he would have to discuss the matter with First Speaker Anaxthenes when he returned to Balph.

"My Knights and I must take counsel as to how we may best obey the will of the Great King. I must say that I think he has been given advice by men not knowing the true strength that Styphon's House may bring to the aid of its allies. Yet, it is no shame to them not to know the secrets of the God of Gods."

"Will be you taking your Lances of Knights away from the Army of Hos-Harphax?" Duke Aesthes asked, his rheumy eyes remained aimed like twin cannon mouths at Soton, ignoring the glare from Philesteus and the cough from Kaiphranos.

"As I said, I must take counsel with my Knights. I can say, however, that there seems to be small need for that at present."

Which means, old man, that two thousand of my Brethren will be within reach of your orders if you need to rein in that spirited stallion Philesteus the Bold and find no one else will help you because they're all afraid of offending their next ruler. But Styphon have mercy upon you, should you make ill use of them—for I shall have none!  

By the Gods, let me escape from this snake pit and I will do anything you ask of me even if it means sacrificing captives to you as the Mexicotal do on their stone altars!  

Archpriest Phyllos moved for the first time and Soton found himself looking into eyes that made him think of a whole battery, loaded and with the matches smoking in the gunners' hands. Certainly Styphon's House could not afford to leave the Knights alone in supporting Hos-Harphax against Kalvan. Too many Harphaxi nobles would never forgive or forget if they did that and Lysandros' devotion to the True God would become even more a black mark against him.

Too bad for Anaxthenes' catspaw if this was another of the First Speaker's grand schemes. Archpriests were going to have to learn the difference between cavalry and infantry just like everybody else if they wanted to stop Kalvan before grass grew on the ruins of Styphon's temples!

 

 

II

Master Gunner Thalmoth finished winding his slow match around the eight-foot linstock, then held the lighted end up to his lips and blew on it until Kalvan was afraid the man's beard would catch on fire.

"Everyone back!" Thalmoth shouted. The other gunners and foundry workers backed away from the gun-testing pit, leaving Thalmoth standing alone with a smoldering match poised over the touch-hole of the new sixteen pounder inside. "Farther, farther!" he shouted as a few of the younger workers showed signs of wanting to stay close enough to the pit to see what happened.

The workers kept back and somehow in the process Kalvan had to join the retreat to avoid being jostled in a manner not befitting a Great King's dignity. He grinned, wondering if Thalmoth had planned this to avoid having to publicly give orders to his sovereign.

Suddenly the linstock dipped, the priming powder puffed and the sixteen pounder spewed flames and white smoke. Double-charged for the proof firing, it reared halfway out of the testing pit on its oak beam, then thumped back into place. From where Kalvan stood, it looked completely intact.

Half a dozen picked men ran forward with sponges to cool the barrel, rammers and tools to measure any deformation of barrel or bore. As a light breeze blew away the smoke and dust, they leaped down into the pit, leaving Thalmoth posing dramatically at the rim with a linstock over his shoulder.

Kalvan didn't begrudge the old man his moment of glory; he'd come out of retirement to take care of the testing program for the Royal Hostigos Arsenal and was clearly worth any two other gunners in Hostigi service, except Alkides. Although a native of Hostigos, Thalmoth had spent twenty of his younger years as a mercenary and he'd handled guns in more battles than he had fingers and toes.

Finally, Thalmoth turned to the spectators and gave the thumbs up signal for success which Kalvan had introduced. The next step would be firing a proof charge with the breech dug in to give the gun maximum elevation, then a field carriage—thank Galzar or Somebody that the gunsmiths, black smiths and carpenters had finally stopped arguing about who would be in charge of the carriage shop!—and last of all, a naming ceremony, with Uncle Wolf Tharses presiding over the gun's acceptance into the Royal Artillery. That would be about the last such ceremony for a while, though. No more brass for the Foundry, or at least not much; Kalvan doubted there was a brass chamber pot left in the entire Great Kingdom.

Hooped wrought iron would do for the four and eight pounders, but Hostigos already had about as many of those as there'd be horses to draw. What was needed was the heavies, the sixteen pounders and those thirty-two pound siege guns he'd been dreaming of since last summer. Made of brass and firing either solid shot or iron shells—he'd seen the first experimental shells last week—the heavies would pry open any tarr he'd seen here-and-now like a sardine can. Made of hooped wrought iron, those brutes would simply be too heavy to move over here-and-now roads without slaughtering draft animals like hoof-and-mouth disease.

Wait a minute! If he couldn't make siege guns with hooped wrought iron, what about siege mortars? They would be made large enough to lob a really destructive shell a few hundred yards and have a trajectory that would carry it over any walls. Solid shot, too. If castles couldn't be battered open, perhaps they could be hammered flat from above. Or, at least, made uninhabitable if the shells could be filled with some sort of incendiary compound...

Of course, the mortars would have to be very short range in order to be light enough to move easily. Four or five hundred yards would probably be the limit. However, they could easily be dug into pits like the one being used for gun testing. It would require some fancy shooting to hit them, and a few dozen riflemen in other pits close to the walls could discourage any gunners standing in the open long enough for that.

Mortars might be a poor man's weapon, but Kalvan had been at the wrong end of enough Chinese mortar barrages to have a lively respect for them. Besides, anything that impressed castle-holders that a siege was no longer something to sneer at would be an asset to the Great Kingdom.

Kalvan sent a page off to his tent for a piece of the thin-cut pine he used in place of notepads and some charcoal. For at least the fiftieth time he cursed the slowness of the paper project which had worked up only as far as a high grade of mush. For the fortieth time he realized that Brother Mytron was doing the best he could with the knowledge and tools at hand, not to mention the time he could spare for the paper project. Mytron in fact now wore three hats: he was Royal Papermaker of Hos-Hostigos, Surgeon-General to the Royal Army and Rector of the new University of Hostigos. Unofficially, he was also chief Rylla-watcher, a job in which Ptosphes and Kalvan gave him all the help their military duties allowed. That wasn't much, with the campaign season growing nearer each day. As soon as the streams and rivers shrank a bit...

Unfortunately, the warm weather had only given Rylla her own bad case of cabin fever; she felt fine and was firmly convinced that keeping her shut up like the crown jewels was good for neither her nor the baby. She argued the point with her husband, her father, with Brother Mytron and even Head Midwife Amasphalya, who as a girl of fifteen had helped her grandmother bring Ptosphes into the world.

Maybe Rylla had a point. Certainly there were plenty of "good breeders," as Amasphalya put it, among the women on both sides of her family. Maybe Princess Demia's troubles hadn't been passed on to her daughter? Maybe any baby who didn't miscarry from its mother's temper tantrums could easily survive mere cannon shot? Maybe Kalvan was being a little selfish, keeping Rylla shut up, just to save himself one more headache?

Maybe, but he wasn't going to change his mind now. If Rylla sailed through the last two months of her pregnancy as well as she did the first seven, she could have her next baby in a trench at the siege of Balph if she wanted to. But for this one, she'd stay put!

The page returned with the pine board and charcoal. Kalvan realized he was hungry and sent the boy off to the gunner's mess to scrounge some food and wine. Rylla claimed he didn't keep enough ceremony with his meals, but he'd be damned if he was going to waste time with that sort of thing now. With a twenty-nine hour day and no need for sleep, he just might get done half of the things that needed doing no more than a moon or two late.

 

 

III

Kalvan was finishing his first sketch of an eight-inch mortar and the wing of a rather tough goose, when he heard one of his pages clearing his throat. "Your Majesty, Duke Chartiphon wishes audience."

Kalvan tossed the goose bones aside, wiped his hands on his breeches and stood to greet Chartiphon. Despite his new titles and responsibilities, the old Captain-General of Hostigos appeared much the same as he had when Kalvan had first entered Tarr-Hostigos. He was a big man with a gray-streaked golden beard and rugged features, still wearing the same battered and lead-splotched breastplate and two-handed sword.

Chartiphon bowed, then motioned to a man standing beside him to come forward. "Your Majesty, this is Ranthar, a free trader come from Grefftscharr. He bears a message from Colonel Verkan."

Ranthar was a tough-looking young man with sandy hair and a bristling beard; he wore well-worn leather riding clothes and looked to be well under thirty until you saw his eyes. Kalvan hoped he would have a chance to hear from Ranthar the stories of some of what those eyes had seen.

More immediately to the point was the signet ring on Ranthar's left middle finger; it was Zygrosi work, plain brass, and there were only four rings like it in the whole world—none of them likely to be in the possession of someone Colonel Verkan didn't trust.

"You've assured yourself of a warm welcome already, Trader Ranthar. How is Verkan?"

Trader Ranthar bowed gracefully, as though meeting Great Kings was an everyday event for him, then smiled. "Colonel Verkan was well the last time I saw him. Also very busy, putting together a shipment of victuals and weapons for Your Majesty's use. He sent me on ahead overland with a pack train while he followed the ships across the Saltless Seas to Thagnor, Morthron, the Nythros City States and Ulthor Port. If you send men to Ulthor Port now, they should be just in time to meet him and help unload his cargo swiftly."

Ranthar handed Kalvan a leather wrapped wooden tablet listing what Verkan was sending. It was quite an impressive list, with its most notable entries, a thousand stand of muskets, five tons of Kalvan-formula fireseed, six hundred sets of pikeman's armor and a hundred tons of grain and salt pork. Also a thousand ingots of brass and two hundred of lead riding on Ranthar's pack animals along with a miscellany of gunlocks, flints, powder horns and other lightweight but necessary gear.

"Well done," Kalvan said. "See my Paymaster at the Treasury for twenty gold Crowns for yourself. I'll tell Colonel Verkan that he's chosen a good messenger."

Not that this was any surprise; a free trader who didn't learn to pick good subordinates probably wouldn't live to wear out his first hunting knife.

"My Thanks, Your Majesty," Ranthar said. "Colonel Verkan says he wishes he could have sent more sooner. However, the nomads of the Sea of Grass are now on the move. King Theovacar would let neither food, nor arms, nor fireseed leave his realm until he was certain the nomads were not turning north. Even then, Colonel Verkan had to pledge all he owned and all he could borrow from his fellow traders in payment."

"He will be repaid in full, if not before the campaign, then afterward."

"At Styphon's expense?"

"Exactly."

Ranthar's report confirmed others, both about the nomads and about Theovacar's character. Theovacar was in his mid-to-late twenties and definitely ambitious to expand his kingdom, but equally determined not to risk what he already had. Not a bad man to do business with if you had something of value to bargain with—and Kalvan realized that if he offered to show Theovacar the way to the copper and iron deposits around Lake Superior, he'd have something the man should jump at. Also a permanent solution to any shortage of metal for cannon.

He'd have to talk with Verkan when he arrived in Hostigos Town to be sure he wasn't planning to sell King Theovacar knowledge he already had. Even if the ore deposits were known, of course, that didn't mean they couldn't use a better way of getting the metal from the shores of Lake Superior down to the docks of Greffa.

Kalvan only knew a little more about mining than he did about paper making, but it could also solve his shortage of artillery...

He'd have to work mostly with Verkan, of course. That might mean turning the man from Colonel of the Mounted Rifles into here-and-now's first copper magnate, which would be a pity; the man was too good a combat officer to be spared easily. However, it was probably necessary; one of these days Kalvan might have to stop making ten men do the work of fifty, but he suspected he'd be a grandfather before that day was even in sight.

Ranthar was now fumbling something out of his belt pouch. "This is not from Colonel Verkan, it was from a man who thought someone trusted by the Colonel would be the best way to send it to Your Majesty secretly. As you will surely see, it would be the end of him if any of Styphon's minions were to discover his betrayal. I shall tell you the man was on his way from Agrys City, but I would rather not tell any more."

He handed Kalvan a piece of parchment, folded in four and with the badge of the Inner Circle of Styphon's House stamped into the sealing wax. It directed a certain sea captain to transport two thousand cattle southward in ships to the mouth of the Thebra (Potomac River). He was to return with a full Lance of Zarthani Knights, landing them in Harphax City no later than eighteen days from today. The meaning of the date was obvious; it was about when the Harphaxi were supposed to march. That in itself was useful to know, although Kalvan had never had any intention of waiting more than another half moon.

This last minute movement of Knights, particularly when the Harphaxi Army would need more than a single Lance to stiffen its spine, was perplexing. They had three Lances of Zarthani Knights—with oath brothers and auxiliaries about twenty-five hundred horse—with them already, according to his spies, but they would need five or six more to stiffen the well-born nitwits and ill-paid mercenaries of their cavalry enough to face the Army of Hos-Hostigos.

Several of the 'traders' working for Skranga had reported troop movements throughout Hos-Ktemnos and, for the last half-moon, it had been apparent that Styphon's varsity would be coming from the south. Kalvan didn't like the idea of dividing his forces, but it looked as though he wouldn't have a choice.

There have been rumors of bad blood between the Harphaxi and Styphoni, who were mostly Knights and Styphon's Own Guard, popularly known as the Red Hand for their bloody treatment of enemies and allies alike. The Temple Guardsmen were placed behind unreliable mercenary companies or poorly trained levies with orders to kill all those who turned, ran or attempted to surrender. The Red Hand weren't above killing civilians, either; if that's what it took to put down a peasant uprising. Mostly recruited from hardened mercenary units, Styphon's Own Guard gave one and all, high and low, respect for the might of Styphon's House—and a healthy dose of fear as well.

Was Soton was using his Knights to put some backbone into the Harphaxi Army? If so, were even more Lances moving toward Harphax City? Or was the Inner Circle, now that it had decided to fight its own war, strengthening the Harphaxi just enough to make them a better grade of cannon fodder? If that could be proved and a word whispered into Great King Kaiphranos' ear by a well-placed and reliable secret agent, if there were such a thing... He'd have to talk with Skranga about whether or not they had such a spy.

One thing was certain; this wasn't something he could decide all by himself. "Chartiphon, send out messengers. We're going to hold a Council of War at Tarr-Hostigos. Count Phrames should be arriving from Beshta sometime tomorrow, so we'll set it for tomorrow night. I want Ptosphes, Klestreus, Xentos, Rylla and Brother Mytron."

"Good news?"

Kalvan shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Styphon's House is up to more of their slippery tricks. Here. Take this message to Prince Ptosphes and have him read it to you."

Chartiphon nodded and left. Like most Zarthani men who were not scribes or priests, he felt no shame at not being able to read, although he was good at recognizing map symbols. Harmakros was the same way. Fortunately, most of the upper nobility and merchants knew how to read and write the Zarthani runes, but Chartiphon had begun his career as a simple trooper and owed his rank to Ptosphes' eye for talent.

Kalvan turned to Trader Ranthar. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay in protective custody for a while. It's not that we don't trust you, it's that I don't trust Styphon's House not to have spies here. If they learn what you've done, the first news I might have for Verkan is that you've been kidnapped and tortured for what you might know about their plans. That would be poor payment to him, and even worse to you."

Ranthar laughed. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I hope you're not allowing the Styphoni more common sense than they've shown thus far."

"I'd rather give them credit for too much, than for too little."

Ranthar nodded, and at Kalvan's gesture of dismissal bowed himself away. He suspected that Ranthar would visit the nearest tavern, probably the Crossed Halberds or Silver Stag, and have a drink or two before surrendering himself to protective custody. After he left, Kalvan directed several of his plainclothes bodyguards to discreetly follow the Trader and make certain he wasn't accosted until he was in custody.

Left alone except for the pages and bodyguards watching him from a discreet distance, Kalvan began to pace up and down. It was now certain that Hostigos was faced with something more like a war on two fronts than a single attack with two prongs. That would throw all their strategic plans into the melting pot, and mean major changes at the last minute. Of course, it would also mean the same for the Harphaxi, and because they were so much less likely to be able to cope with last minute changes to their plans, things might just balance out.

Kalvan decided to stop worrying about troop movements until he had a map in front of him and some reliable advice in his ear. One thing was certain: the University's next job after developing paper was going to be inventing a semaphore system. Relay riders would have to do for this campaign, but he would need something faster if he was going to have to make a habit of coordinating two or three armies spread over two or three hundred miles of real estate. Napoleon's campaign in Russia had fallen apart as much because of lack of staff communications as because of supply problems.

Also, a system of codes—nothing fancy, simple substitution would do—for now. There was no evidence that Styphon's House used ciphers, but it needed to be confirmed. Note: Have Skranga spend whatever gold necessary to purchase an ear in the Inner Circle. The Inner Circle was as corrupt as the French Papacy had been during the Babylonian Captivity. There had to be an Archpriest for sale. Skranga's biggest problem so far was getting a spy with the proper credentials, preferably that of a Highpriest of Styphon's House. The upper priesthood of Styphon's House was as status conscious as the Court of Louis the XVI and thus almost as unapproachable. Furthermore, Balph had buttoned up its breeches and was checking credentials at the gates and docks.

Finally, do something about the Temple's command of the sea. Styphon's House hadn't done much with it this time; until now most of the troops moving into Harphax City from the south and from Hos-Agrys had marched overland, supplied out of the Temple warehouses when they couldn't buy or forage locally. This might be about to change; one of Xentos' friends who had already reached Agrys City had written to him reporting many laden merchant vessels sailing up the Hudson and returning empty. Put Skranga on that, too. Was Great King Demistophon planning on joining the war? If so, on whose side?

This war would be decided on land. The next time, Styphon's ships might do a lot more damage and Kalvan had no desire to play the role of the French in some here-and-now future Mahan's Influence of Seapower on the Wars Against Styphon's House.  

Royal Navy of Hos-Hostigos. Note: put on the list of long-term projects. Now what about ports; they had one on the Great Lakes—Ulthor Port; now they needed one in the Atlantic. This might mean rolling up more of Hos-Harphax than he had planned, but that would have to wait. This coming campaign would be for survival and more time. Time, the one thing Styphon's House seemed determined to deny him.

 

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