by John F. Carr
However, if Kalvan worked this right, he could bind Nestros to Hos-Hostigos and possibly recruit him as an ally in the war against Styphon's House. Neither Grand Master Soton, nor the Inner Circle at Balph, would be pleased to find a new Great Kingdom with ties to Hos-Hostigos upon their own western borders. With the Council of Dralm refusing to support his title and claims, Kalvan needed all the allies he could muster.
"King Nestros, in return for your support and allegiance in Our war against the nomads and the Zarthani Knight, I will recognize you as Great King of all those Trygathi kingdoms, princedoms, dukedoms and baronies who agree to be part of your new Great Kingdom and who are not already under the sovereignty of King Theovacar."
Kalvan went on to make the usual terms and conditions binding upon two states who barely knew one another and yet whose kingdoms were joined as allies. It took several hours of tough negotiating between himself and his councilors and King Nestros and his council to come to final terms. He had General Klestreus draw up the proper binding documents. Trader Tortha was certain they would receive a warm reception in the Middle Kingdoms, except in Grefftscharr. But, Tortha agreed, there was nothing in the agreement to openly affront King Theovacar.
From the furrowed brow on Nestros' face, Kalvan knew he had safely navigated one minefield, but if he judged Nestros correctly this would not be the last, or the most dangerous.
"I welcome Your Majesty's support of the new Great Kingdom of Hos-Rathon. I only pray that you will be equally swift in helping us to modernize our army."
This request was going to be easy to fill for Kalvan, since he still had warehouses filled to the bursting with half the ordnance of Hos-Harphax captured during last year's war—most of the firearms dropped without a shot being fired! Not that he would let Nestros know that. He frowned and stared at the murals of old battles on the high ceiling.
"It will be done. We will send the orders to Hostigos Town tonight by fast messenger. Two thousand arquebuses and five hundred muskets will be delivered to Hos-Rathon to cement the alliance between Our two Kingdoms. We will also send five tons of Hostigos' fireseed, and will train two score of your selected apprentices in its manufacture at Our new University of Hos-Hostigos."
This must have struck Nestros as more than satisfactory; he jumped out of his throne to give Kalvan an un-kingly bear hug that all but crushed Kalvan's ribcage.
"Truly, Great King Kalvan, you are as generous as you are wise and master of the art of war. But enough of this, we will have plenty of time to celebrate when the nomads have been vanquished. Now we must plan our campaign. I have ten thousand troops billeted in and around Rathon City and two times ten thousand within a two days' ride. And another ten thousand within five days' ride."
"Excellent," Kalvan said. "Send riders out to all those within a two days' march. Meanwhile, we can gather provisions and prepare our soldiers for the battles ahead."
Nestros rubbed his huge hands together. "You speak my tongue, Great King Kalvan. The time has come to teach the nomads that it is safer in the Caverns of the Dead than it is in Hos-Rathon."
THIRTY TWO
I
Danar Sirna watched as Queen Rylla, flanked by Uncle Wolf Tharses and Xykos, Captain of the Queen's Own Bodyguard, sailed into the Great Hall followed by a dozen ladies-in-waiting and six of the Queen's Own Bodyguard. Rylla's bodyguard wore a red and black livery trimmed in gold and had taken the name of the Queen's Beefeaters, after a story Kalvan was supposed to have told Rylla about some famous Europo-American Queen. Today Sirna noticed they were wearing the thick white neck ruffs, which Kalvan called 'St. John's Platters.'
The moment Rylla took her chair of state, Outtime Studies Director Talgran Dreth, Lathor Karv, and Varnath Lala poured forth a cacophony of complaints, which sounded more like the gaggle of geese than educated discourse from Home Time-Line scholars. Listening to them it was hard to believe, but Sirna had heard these same over-educated dunderheads complaining about the barbarity of the 'local' Hostigi customs and their crude discourse.
"Silence!" cried Queen Rylla, in a tone-of-voice that could carry over the roar of a battlefield. In the Great Hall where she was holding audience, it rang from the stone walls.
Sirna jumped like a stung horse. No pleasant simile that, either. Sirna, with her abominable horse riding skills, had ruined most of her riding outfits. It hadn't helped that the remainder of her clothes had been in one of the wagons captured by the Phaxosi bandits. Sirna swore by every god she had ever heard of that she would not specialize in any Sector that depended upon horses for transportation in any future Paratime assignment!
Her mind settled on that point, Sirna turned her attention back to the Great Queen.
Rylla had been out riding when the University foundry party had returned with its story of an attack by "bandits." Queen Rylla hadn't bothered to change before seeing the Foundry team, merely girding on her dress sword and pulling on the Great Queen's crown over hastily brushed hair.
"I thank you for your attention," Rylla said. "Now, I wish to hear a tale. Not the gobbling of a farmyard full of turkeys! Captain Ranthar, you speak first. I judge you to be the most seasoned soldier among those present."
Both Lathor Karv and Varnath Lala looked ready to protest, the first at his seniority being ignored and the second at a man being given preference. A look passed between Sirna and Aranth Sain, to say that if their colleagues made a spectacle of themselves before Queen Rylla they would soon wish they hadn't. Assuming, of course, there was anything left of the two after Rylla got through with them…
Ranthar Jard delivered the account of how the University's wagon train had been attacked by "bandits" while crossing Mythonos Ford. They had lost six wagons, five horses, twelve oxen and two men killed, seven more wounded. The bandits had surely suffered losses, but they had taken great care to remove all of them. They had even tried to take away all their fallen weapons and horses.
"By the favor of the gods, we stopped them from removing everything. The horses we gave to some peasants, who looked in need of meat. The weapons and tack, we brought with us."
"Good sir," Rylla said. "You sound doubtful that these were bandits."
"I was doubtful then," the Captain said. I am more so now. They were too well mounted and too disciplined. They were also trying for the foundry supplies. Bandits mostly try for food, horses or weapons. The foundry supplies would be hard to move, but they would do the most harm to Hostigos."
Rylla's expression hardened, "Indeed! And the captured gear?" She seemed on the verge of licking her lips. Sirna was reminded of a cat that has just sighted a tasty morsel of unprotected meat.
"Every piece that had a mark of origin on it, was either Harphaxi Armory or Phaxosi."
Before Sirna's eyes, Rylla appeared to turn into another and far more formidable feline—an Indian tiger ready to spring. She recalled a film she'd seen, of a hunt in some Sino-Indian Subsector and a pair of the creatures at bay.
"Prince Araxes, you have gone too far this time!" Rylla pronounced. She might have been praying. "We are going to return what you've been handing out to bandits. We will lay it at your very feet, in your very palace. Of course, you may not be in a condition to appreciate our gift by the time you receive it."
Sirna could almost see the bared fangs.
Rylla sat back down and regal dignity seemed to settle on her like a cloak. "To repay you for the dangers you have been through on Our behalf, the Foundry deserves some suitable gift, to show the Throne's gratitude."
"If Your Majesty would care to entertain a suggestion—" Aranth began. Rylla nodded. "The best gift, would be to let me take a band of the Foundry men with you, when you invade Phaxos. The debt we want to pay isn't as big or as old as the Great Throne's, but it is enough."
The only person on the University Team who didn't conceal his or her surprise was Sirna. She merely raised an eyebrow.
"With pleasure. We will let you decide who goes and who stays. Meanwhile, We would ask of you one more service to t
he Throne. Seek out Prince Sarrask at the Silver Stag and say that his Queen requires his presence."
Sarrask was Acting Captain-General of Hos-Hostigos while Harmakros was campaigning with Kalvan. In spite of the time he spent at the Silver Stag or one of his other favorite haunts for emptying wine jugs and bedding available women, he was doing a fairly good job.
"I will go," Ranthar said. "My horse is fresher than Captain Aranth's." He bowed, then rose at a nod of dismissal from Rylla.
The University party filed out between the guards. The Queen's Own Bodyguard still bore halberds and two-handed swords, Sirna noticed, but since her last visit to Tarr-Hostigos they had sprouted pistols as well. The guards at the Tarr doorway had two apiece.
Ranthar Jard was long gone by the time they rode under the portcullis and downhill across the switchbacks to Hostigos Town. As soon as she could, Sirna dropped back to ride abreast of Aranth Sain.
"Aranth, you can't be volunteering for military service."
"Afraid you can't handle Lala without me?"
"Oh, you know what I mean! Rylla's been itching for Prince Araxes' giblets on toast for a year. Now she's finally got an excuse to take them."
"I can't un-volunteer, Sirna," Aranth said with a grin. "Not now, and not with Rylla and Sarrask running the show. I don't know whether I'd be accused of treason or mutiny, but it would be something capital. Don't worry, I won't take anybody with a family or who doesn't have some soldiering experience. Let the rest of them spend the next moon arguing over replacing damaged materials and how or when they're going to return to Nostor. I'm past being bored and this looks to be the most entertainment I've had since I left Home Time-Line."
Sirna opened her mouth to reply indignantly, when she saw two of the Foundry guards trying not to smile. They probably thought she was Aranth's mistress, worried about his riding off to war!
Her silence let Aranth go on in a whisper. "Look, Sirna. This campaign in Phaxos is going to make trouble no matter what. It will make less if both the University and Paracops have a credible observer on hand. I'm credible to both. Ranthar isn't available or credible to the University. Or, at least not to Danthor Dras, and right now that's the same thing."
"May Styphon's demons piss on Danthor Dras!" Sirna muttered. She felt wholly unrepentant at such a thought about one of the University's most distinguished Scholars. Danthor might be the dean of Aryan-Transpacific scholars, but right now his century-long feud with the Para-time Police was not an asset to the people actually on the spot and getting shot at!
The hill became steeper, and Sirna had to give all her attention to controlling her horse. Her mind found room for only one memory; how that film of the two tigers had ended. They had attacked the hunters around them, dying in the end of spear and arrow wounds, but killing between them no less than eight men.
Prince Araxes had signed his death warrant by cornering Rylla. What price would the Great Queen pay?
II
Prince Sarrask of Sask, splendidly attired in green and gold velvet, entered Rylla's chambers with a flourish. Under his silvered and plumed high-combed helmet, Sarrask's face was flushed, from either exertion or drink. While his features were more fleshed out than at the end of last year's long campaign, it was apparent that Sarrask had not regained all the weight he had lost. On many occasions, Rylla had seen the Prince out in the inner courtyard early in the morning practicing arms.
"I heard about the ambush of the Royal Foundry team, Your Majesty. A terrible travesty! Prince Araxes has gone too far, by Dralm's Beard—excuse me, Your Grace!"
"You are excused, you old rascal." It was bad enough that Prince Araxes had bolted from Hos-Hostigos during the middle of last year's war against Styphon's Holy Host; now he added insult upon injury. Kalvan, with his soft ways, didn't understand how the insubordination of princes could spread like an epidemic. Maybe things were easier in the Princedom of Pennsylvania, but here compassion was seen as weakness.
And this dangerous and subversive idea that underlings could do as they pleased had spread!
Their former Chancellor, Xentos, had slapped her in the face with his refusal to bring the Council of Dralm to heel. What good was his being Primate, if all he did was fill parchments with dead words? Hostigos needed deeds, gold and weapons from her friends, not empty words and promises! She refused to even think about the Leak of Dralm—But to business, she told herself. "What should be our reply to such a egregious violation of our border, Prince Sarrask?"
"I say we go into Phaxos Town and hang Araxes from his own battlements! That should teach him, once and for all, the price of insolence to his betters.
"Good. Your view matches my own. I grow weary of this upstart's insults to the Great Throne of Hos-Hostigos." Rylla motioned Demia's nursemaid, who had followed Rylla into the audience chamber, to bring her over to Rylla.
"Demia, say hello to your Uncle Sarrask!"
Demia goo-gooed and squealed with joy. The nursemaid, after looking at Rylla for approval, set her in the bear-sized Sarrask's lap.
Sarrask caught Demia and lifted her up to his face where he proceeded to make a series of most un-Princely noises. "Little Demia you have your mother's eyes and nose, your father's forehead, and Prince Ptosphes' smile. What a fireseed shell you're going to make! If you were a little older, why I'd think about making you Princess of Sask."
Seeing Rylla's up-turned eyebrows, Sarrask reddened in embarrassment—a sight Rylla had not expected to see in her lifetime, or any other!
"No—I didn't mean that as it sounded, Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect to you or your daughter!"
"None taken, Sarrask. I pray to Yirtta Allmother that when Demia grows up that she has many retainers as faithful and loyal as yourself."
Sarrask smiled and brought Demia closer for a chaste buss on the cheek.
Rylla found her stomach beginning to turn. What had come over her? Not long ago she had hated this man above all others, except maybe for Gormoth of Nostor. Had she changed that much in little more than a year—or had they both changed? Kalvan must have bewitched them both. Yet, if he had, it was a good spell, for Sarrask of Sask made a much better friend than enemy.
The nursemaid removed Demia from Sarrask's lap and she began to cry. Rylla signaled it was time for the little princess's nap.
Now for the true test . "Prince Sarrask, what would you say, if I told you I wanted you to act as joint commander of a punitive expedition to go into Phaxos and teach those Styphoni-lovers a lesson in fireseed diplomacy?"
Sarrask smiled as if he had just been given the first of three wishes. "How soon can we leave?"
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Prince! Soon. Very soon. I want you to draw up a list of all the troops we can muster divided into those we should leave here to garrison the town and Tarr-Hostigos, and those for the Army of Retribution. Then I want you to help me draft letters to General Hestophes and Prince Phrames."
"What about your husband?"
"I will write to Kalvan when we have finished our work in Phaxos. We would not want to divert his attention from his great purpose in the Trygath, would we?"
Sarrask smiled again, only this smile was more predatory then friendly; Rylla was sure it mirrored the one creasing her own face. Unfortunately, her husband did not understand that a Great King could not let petty Princes, like Araxes, walk unmolested on their betters' toes. Because, if you let them get away with that, the next thing you knew someone bigger and even nastier would be turning over the throne.
It wasn't Kalvan's fault he didn't understand these things, as he liked to remind her things were different in the City of Brotherly Love. However, it would be a long, long time before even Princes and Great Kings treated each other as equals in the Six Kingdoms. That was just the way things were. And no amount of wishing, praying or hoping was going to change this; at least, not until Styphon's House was vanquished once and for all. That reminded her, she needed to talk with Baron Zothnes and find out how many of Styphon's temples
were housed in Phaxos; the treasury could use more gold and silver coin. After the war in the Trygath was over they would need to invade Hos-Harphax; well, that was, if Kalvan returned before the fall rains. If not, maybe she could cook up a surprise of her own, assuming that Phaxos was justly served.
III
Verkan Vail was reviewing the last of the message balls on his horseshoe desk when his secretary buzzed. He looked out the big window and saw Ranthar Jard, still in his Aryan-Transpacific breastplate and morion helmet. I hope nothing bad happened to the Foundry party on their way to Nostor, Verkan thought. Even two years AK, After Kalvan, there were parts of Nostor where bandits and robber barons held sway, in anybody's book, a dangerous place for a party of academics. And, today of all days, Verkan did not need a dust-up with the University crowd. He was cleaning off his desk in preparation for a trip to Greffa, with Dalla along this time. It was as close to a holiday as they'd had since he'd taken over as Paratime Chief.
Lately, former Chief Tortha Karf, as Trader Tortha, was spending more time on Kalvan's Time-line than he was. And that struck him as awfully unfair.
Ranthar practically ran into the room, shaking his head.
"What's up?"
"Chief, we've got problems. A group of Phaxosi soldiers hit the Nostor Foundry party—"
So much for this vacation . Any foul-up involving the Kalvan Study Team was a possible public relations disaster. "How are the Study Team members? Any losses or serious injuries?"
"No, Chief. A few cuts and abrasions, but there were no serious injuries, except some hurt pride. And we know who they're going to take that out on, don't we?"
Verkan expelled his breath. "Well, that's good news. I guess."
Ranthar laughed. "I wouldn't have lost any sleep over it, if Talgran Dreth or Varnath Lala had taken a lead pill!"
"I would have, think of all the forms we'd of had to fill out."
Ranthar slapped his head. "Forgot about that. Sorry, but that's all the good news. The bad news is that Rylla is going to use this as an excuse to declare war on Prince Araxes of Phaxos!"
