by John F. Carr
Chartiphon nodded. "There is great wisdom in this. You have learned your husband's ways of war. I am proud of you."
Rylla felt tears well up, but forced them down. With her father and Harmakros dead and Xentos estranged from his people, Chartiphon was the only one of her original family she had left. "Thank you, Duke."
"No, it is I that should ask for your forgiveness. For my pride's sake, I opposed your husband in things both small and large. I was afraid of the change he dragged in his wake. Instead, I should have welcomed it. It broke Styphon's House's shackles and he saved our people… for a time. I know now he will do it again, in this gods-forsaken land."
"If any man can, he will do it," she said. "What is that noise?"
There was a great creaking and groaning, as if one of the Great Gates was about to fall from its moorings. Then the gates slowly opened and a mob of men stormed out. For a moment, she was about to order the guns to fire again, fearing a sortie. Then she saw their helmets-and other things: heads-raised on sword points. Her Beefeaters, headed by Grand-Captain Xykos, formed a wedge around her and Captain-General Chartiphon.
"Xykos! Raise me upon your shoulders and give me your farseer. I want to see what's going on over there!"
Two huge hands lifted her up onto Xykos' shoulders, as easily as she would have hoisted Princess Demia. Through the farseer she could see the men from the City again. They were bowing and the leaders were making themselves prostrate on the ground, crying out: "Down Styphon! Down Nestros! Down Styphon!"
One of the heads still had its crown, while several of the others had the shaved pates of Styphon's highpriests. She watched as one of the soldiers in Hostigos colors removed the crown with the point of his sword blade. The City is ours!
A few moments later, a delegation led by Prince Sarrask approached her horse, where Xykos had promptly seated her once she'd finished her initial observations. Sarrask held Nestros' crown at sword point. He let it slip down into his hands and wiped the blood off with his cape before presenting it to his Queen. "Here, Your Majesty. Taken from the Dralm-blasted traitor's head, whose name I shall not mention! I fear there'll be no more fighting today."
"Thank you, Sarrask."
She twirled the crown on one finger while she put her thoughts in order. She had told Kalvan that she would invest Sarrask as king of Rathon, but he was, like Hestophes, too valuable in the field. Besides, she'd grown accustomed to his gruff company, and he'd been with her in every victory since the war against Styphon had begun. It was true, Sarrask had once been her sworn enemy until the Battle of Fyk-then the gods, or her husband, had won his loyalty. He might be her gods-given luck gift.
Furthermore, now that she'd seen Rathon City she was loathe to entrust it to one of Sarrask's cronies. No, she needed someone in this seat whom she could absolutely trust to carry out her every order. When she made a list in her mind of those most deserving for this honor, one name, and one name only, sprung onto the top of the list.
Meanwhile, the Rathoni delegation, led by a group of what appeared to be richly robed merchants, bowed before her, saying, "We have deposed the False King Nestros, Your Majesty. We sue for peace with Hos-Hostigos!"
"You are wise. You have saved your people from a terrible bloodletting. We command you to stand." Then she turned to Chartiphon, pointing at him. "Meet your new King. We, Great Queen Rylla, proclaim our servant Chartiphon, Duke of Hostigos and Captain-General of the Royal Army, to be the new King of Rathon."
"Hail King Chartiphon!" they cried as one.
Chartiphon appeared stunned, as if he were dreaming. "My Queen, but why?"
She leaned close enough to say in private, "I'm doing you no favor, Uncle. I have no one else with your wisdom and leadership to leave in charge. I need someone I trust to hold this City against the Grand Host at all costs."
She turned back to the supplicants. "First, tell your people there will be a curfew from nightfall to sunrise for the next moon quarter. Anyone on the streets after dark will be considered a rebel or looter and will be killed on sight. Next, I order you to bring all the officers of the Rathon Army to me. At once!"
They leaped onto their feet, crying, "Yes, Your Majesty," before scurrying back to the City.
"Halt!" They froze in mid-step to a man.
Queen Rylla turned to Prince Sarrask. "Have your cavalrymen accompany them. Any unit that resists, kill them all!"
"Aye, aye, Your Majesty!" he cried.
The delegates paled. Already the Hostigi Corp of Engineers were working the Great Gates loose from their hinges. The guards along walls were all lifting their helmets on swords. From where she sat, it appeared the City streets were deserted.
She called Chartiphon to her side again. "I'm going to leave you five thousand Hostigi regulars to stiffen the troops that you'll find inside. I understand most of them haven't been paid in a moon half so they should be quite eager for a five crown muster bonus. Bring all who are fit into Our Army."
"Silver or gold?"
"Silver. Although, I suspect you won't be short of gold. The Styphon's House High-Temple of Rathon should be good for a hundred thousand ounces and the three smaller temples should provide another fifty thousand or more. Part of Nestros' deal with Balph was that he construct the temples immediately. We must have men inside the palace to guard the Treasury, which is sparse, considering all the concessions Nestros made to Styphon's House to guarantee his legitimacy. Still, there ought to be enough to pay the troops until you start collecting taxes and duties.
"Klestreus has a list of suspected Styphoni worshippers and possible traitors among the lords and merchants. I suggest you imprison them all and hang the worst of them. Keep an eye on the traitors who killed their King, too. I suggest that you find reasons to question their loyalty. Confiscate their wealth and property; that will provide you with operating capital until you get the tax situation sorted out."
Chartiphon looked a little dazed, but a smile was beginning to crease his lips.
"Also, I want you to take a wife-someone of the Rathoni nobility. The higher the better, and from a large and wealthy family. And soon."
"A wife! At my age!"
"You're not that old! I want you to sire several children, at least one boy. You're founding a dynasty-whether you like it or not. And, that's an order!"
This time a big smile broke out. "Yes, Your Majesty. This might prove to be one of your more enjoyable orders!"
"If you think it'll be a problem, I'll find you one."
"No! By the Gods, no, Your Majesty. I can still fire my own powder, thank you."
"Good. Then it's settled. I expect a wedding feast before we leave."
Chartiphon's mouth gaped. "When is that?"
"You've got five days. Allfather Dralm built his Sky-Palace in two."
Chartiphon gulped, saying, "Yes, Your Majesty."
II
Great King Lysandros looked ahead at the burned fields and the occasional ruins of former villages that stretched out before the Grand Host and said, "It is as if Roxthar's Investigation has preceded our march!"
"Truly, the gods have abandoned these lands," Grand Commander Aristocles replied. "I have seen these tactics before, after the Battle of Tenabra. Prince Ptosphes burned all the fields, villages and towns in his army's wake. It didn't stop us, but it certainly slowed us down."
Lysandros nodded. So far, the only Nyklosi he'd seen were a few hermits and animal-worried skeletons along the side of the Nyklos Trail. All I want is to find Kalvan and bring him to battle. Why does it have to be so Dralm-blasted difficult?
Roxthar, who had wanted to stay in Hostigos to finish his Investigation, complained constantly about the absence of heretics. He'II be as worthless as dugs on a boar when we reach the Upper Middle Kingdoms where nobody believes in Styphon, much less Allfather Dralm! He had tried to talk his co-leader Aristocles into leaving the Investigator behind, but the Grand Commander had his orders from Grand Master Soton, who wanted Roxthar as far away from Balph an
d Hos Agrys as he could get him.
The campaign season was growing late; it was almost fall. Soon the rains would make the roads impossible to travel. How am I to feed my men come winter, he wondered, if every place we go we find nothing but wastelands?
Captain-General Demnos rode up with two scouts. Demnos was a broad man with a flat face and a full, well-trimmed beard. He had a scar that ran from his hairline, through his forehead, down across his left eyebrow and through his cheek to just above his thick brown mustache. His features were otherwise regular and it was rumored that the scar brought him lots of feminine attention. Demnos was the former head of King Kaiphranos Royal Bodyguard and Lysandros had appointed him head of his own guard after his brother's death. He was one of the few men that Lysandros trusted. After Captain-General Anaphon's death at Librox Ford, he had made Demnos commander of the Harphaxi Royal Army; at present, he was in command of the forward van and responsible for scouting.
General Tythos was his second in command and had expected to replace Captain-General Anaphon after his death. He had only ceased complaining about that "injustice" when Lysandros had threatened to break him down to captain.
Demnos, who was covered in pale dust, rode up and stopped to beat the dust from his clothes before he approached his overlord. "Your Majesty, a small party of Hostigi are approaching. From the banners, it appears to be the Prince of Nyklos."
"Didn't he die at Ardros Field? Or is this new Prince another of the Usurper's commoner friends who has been elevated to Prince?"
"I do not know, Your Majesty. His banner is unfamiliar, three silver moons over a stag's head. I will approach them and identify this man who proclaims himself Prince of Nyklos."
Demnos and his guards rode off and returned a quarter candle later.
"Your Majesty, the Prince is the legitimate son of the late Prince Armanes of Nyklos, who was once your brother's vassal."
"Armanes, I remember him. He had the graces of a plowman. I'm glad the traitor is dead. I only rue that it was not at my hand!"
"It is just as well. The heir appears quite tractable. He told me that his Great King has abandoned him to us."
Lysandros set back his head and roared, "Well, there is truth in that. But not by any choice of his former Great King. Quick, he is approaching! What of his family?"
"He has three sisters, no living brothers and his mother, Princess Nicla."
"Good. I shall make them all hostages to his loyalty."
The boy rode up on a magnificent white stallion, which was lathered and panting like a bellows. Prince Carvros appeared to be in the middle of a growth spurt, his legs and arms jutting out from his body; his face was unbearded and unlined. His small party of retainers had grim expressions and appeared prepared for the worst.
After introductions by Captain-General Demnos, Prince Carvros blurted out, "Your Majesty, I would ask your leave in sparing my poor Princedom any more damage. We have suffered greatly at the hands of our unlawful and former self-proclaimed Great King."
Lysandros nodded, making an effort to keep a smile from breaking out. This is as easy as spearing fish in a barrel! "So far I've seen nothing that your former overlord has not already destroyed."
The boy nodded, his eyes welling up. "There was no need to despoil our land, driving the farmers and serfs away. I begged him…" He appeared to gain some dignity, as if his father's memory had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "Your Majesty, I would like to swear fealty to my rightful Great King of Hos-Harphax as your loyal vassal."
Lysandros gave the appearance of great thought. After a proper wait, he said, "Your father has tried Our patience, swearing homage to an outlaw and raising up in arms against his truly-Elected King."
Carvros had the presence of mind to appear shamed. His companions were eying the boy with contempt and murderous intent.
Lysandros suspected they had come unaware of the boy's motives and still held loyalties to their deposed Great King. Why do I not command such loyalties?, he wondered. Why do men of lesser birth, like this outlaw Kalvan and that jumped-up mercenary., Prince Phidestros, command such loyalty? He suspected this was something he would never understand. However, it was his duty to protect this boy, since he was his first conquest in Hostigos.
"I shall accept your fealty, Carvros and crown you Prince of Nyklos. We shall do it here in the presence of my sworn men." Before taking the boy's oath, he directed Demnos to have General Tythos brought to him at once.
"To guarantee your loyalty, you will send your mother and three sisters to Us as hostages."
The boy turned as pale as the white ash that covered everything still above ground and clung to the blackened branches of the trees like dirty snow.
"They will not be harmed. I will have them escorted under guard to Harphax City where they will be treated as the loyal vassals I'm certain they are. I am certain that you, as their protector, will never do anything to cause their harm."
The boy shook his head, as if that would be the last thing he would ever do. "You have my oath, Your Majesty."
"Good." He needed a few loyal vassals if he was to hold this formerly lost land. Prince Sthentros, the new Prince of Hostigos, was full of complaints and a turncoat. He could never be trusted. However, his daughter was the most desirable woman he'd ever seen and would make a proper Queen for Hos-Harphax, so he tolerated her father-just barely.
"Look out!" cried Demnos. "Trouble's coming."
It was Archpriest Roxthar beating his horse's flanks in an effort to reach them before the Nykosi party left. What now? Lysandros wondered.
"Your Majesty, I understand we have some Hostigi-those blasphemers!" He pointed to the Nyklosi delegation. "Have them sent to my party!"
Demnos put his palm on the Investigator's chest to keep him from lunging off his horse and onto Prince Carvros' mount.
The young Prince and his retainers were deathly still, their faces pale and trembling.
"Investigator!" Lysandros shouted, "Control yourself. These are not Hostigi, but Harphaxi subjects. This is Prince Carvros of Nyklos, my loyal vassal."
Roxthar's eyes tried to bore a hole into his skull. "I can smell the taint of heresy upon them! Boy, do you make obsequies to Dralm?"
"Don't answer him, Prince," Lysandros ordered. "Archpriest, you are here at Our sufferance. Do not make a nuisance of yourself, or you will find your freedom curtailed."
"I am here by Styphon's Will-not man's. I will do what I have been told to do by the highest authority. These are former Hostigi subjects-let them deny it!"
"What they have been is of no importance. They are now loyal subjects of Hos-Harphax and myself, their Great King. My subjects still have the right to choose their own gods. As long as they do, you and your Investigation will stay out of my realm-or you can argue with my Guard's swords."
Roxthar was at a complete loss for words; a sight Lysandros had not seen before and one he wished would continue for the rest of the campaign. Finally, Roxthar gave him a menacing glare, then turned and rode away on his horse.
Demnos leaned over and said, "I applaud your courage, King, but you have made a bad enemy this day."
Lysandros nodded. "I'll not let priests give orders to me in my Kingdom!"
After Roxthar had left, Lysandros motioned General Tythos over. "General, this is the new Prince of Nyklos. I want you to escort him back to the palace with a suitable guard."
"Yes, Your Majesty." In a low voice, he said, "The lad's men do not look trustworthy."
"No, they don't. Take a company of soldiers and a commander you trust and leave them with the Prince as a bodyguard. Then return with Princess Nicla and her children and see they are escorted back to Hostigos Town. From there, I want them sent to Harphax City. They are to be billeted at my palace; give orders that they are to be treated as guests."
Lysandros turned to the Nyklosi delegation. "If anything should happen to my new Prince, I will see that all of you are brought before Archpriest Roxthar. Is that understood?"
>
"Yes, Your Majesty," the spokesman replied, his voice quaking.
"You are all dismissed."
SEVENTEEN
Verkan's eyes ran wearily over the stacks of paper, visidisks, data cylinders and memory cubes piled high on his horseshoe desk. I was not, he decided, cut out to be a politician. Unfortunately, that was the nature of the job of Paratime Police Chief.
With almost half a million officers in the field at any one time, reading Code Red reports, making policy decisions, answering requests from important industrialists and politicos and preparing briefings to give to the Paratime Commission for the next budget cycle were all more important than any individual case-or person. Overseeing all that took time and energy. As Czar Nicholas of Russia had said before his untimely death: "I do not rule Russia, ten thousand clerks do."
Despite the fact that Chief Verkan had more than ten thousand clerks to deal with running and maintaining the Department of Paratime Police, there were always those items that had urgent policy or political implications and could only be dealt with by the man in charge. Especially now that it was budget time and once again he would have to fight tooth and nail to keep the Executive Council from eviscerating the Department's budget.
He rolled his shoulders a couple of times to restore circulation. I need to be back in the field. I was a fool to let ex-Chief Tortha talk me into taking this job. He thought back to his last meeting with the Paratime Commissioners and their not so veiled threat to officially reprimand him if he didn't stay at Paratime Police Headquarters: "We strongly suggest no more outtime trips. It's your job to oversee and run the largest constabulary in the Five Levels, not to protect your outtime friends!"
Verkan was not a politician, nor even the least bit fond of the breed. He despised useless staff meetings, memos, red tape (a very useful Fourth Level Europo-American term) and all the other products of professional paper shufflers and bean counters.
