Gunpowder God (27 page)

Progress was being made on the new model blast furnaces; not that he expected they would be able to produce anything like cold-rolled steel, but they should be capable of casting steel plates large enough for the proposed steam engines. This time next year, he’d like to have a start on a small fleet of paddlewheelers. The paddlewheelers would be ideal for the local rivers as well as bays and harbors, but not for the Great Lakes which were known for their witch’s brew of storms.

The Griffin
, explorer Robert de LaSalle’s ship, one of the largest ships launched in the Seventeenth Century, was lost on her maiden voyage, carrying a load of furs, and not even a single timber was recovered. Great Lakes storms were known to explode across hundreds of miles of open water with little to no warning. Many captains claimed that their storms were more difficult to navigate than ocean storms due to the fact that the lake waters could jump and strike so quickly.

Galleys and galleasses were popular in the Saltless Seas, as they had thick hulls and banks of oars so they could paddle their way to shore if necessary to avoid storms. The majority of boats, however, were gaff-rigged schooners which could sail into the wind and drop their sails quickly if a storm came up suddenly, as they frequently did.

Kalvan’s musings were halted by the arrival of Count Vinaldos and two of his men.

“Your Majesty! Urgent news from Balph.”

Balph!
he wondered. He knew that Duke Skranga had a small spy ring there, but their messages were few and far between. Theirs was the most dangerous post in the Five Kingdoms. To be caught as a Hostigi spy meant being boiled in hot oil, or being tortured to death by the Investigation. It was only due to Skranga’s perseverance and deviousness that they had any kind of intelligence operation in the Holy City of Styphon’s House.

The two of them rode off the muddy path to an abandoned hut, with guards discreetly pacing them. They both dismounted and Kalvan took out his pipe. “What’s this news that is so important?”

Vinaldos bowed as he handed him a packet.

“Please summarize it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. One of our agents has managed—by Styphon’s Own Tool, I have no idea how—to become a member of Styphon’s Voice’s personal bodyguard.”

“The Sephrax Guard?” This was the first dispatch from Balph in over a year, which was understandable considering the danger they were in and the difficulty of getting word to Thagnor City.

“Yes, Your Majesty. This information was only provided to me now as proof of the veracity of the report. But he’s not just a member of the Guard, but a Captain and part of the household guard, which means he is often present at Styphon’s Voice Anaxthenes’ private meetings with his most ardent supporters. His news is that Anaxthenes has ordered that Princess Arminta, Prince Phidestros’ new wife, is to be kidnapped while he is away fighting Great King Lysandros.”

“I’ll be damned!” Kalvan said, completely taken aback. “This is unexpected. Anaxthenes has created a deadly foe out of the man from whom he has the most to fear. Good tactics, in the sense that Phidestros will do whatever it takes to win his wife back, unless he doesn’t care about her. Either way he has to try and save her; after all, her father’s an important Prince. Bad strategy by Styphon’s House because in the long run they have made two deadly enemies, her husband Prince Phidestros and her father Prince Soligon. Typical Styphon’s House arrogance, though; sometimes I believe they are their own worst enemy.”

“That was my thought, Your Majesty. Should we make some kind of overture to Prince Phidestros? Maybe an offer to join him when he sacks Balph.”

“Interesting thought, however, it’s premature at this point. What if he refuses Styphon’s demands and his wife is killed?”

“I doubt he will do that, Your Majesty. Princess Arminta is with child.”

Kalvan paused to reload his pipe with fresh leaf. “Whew! That changes everything. Prince Phidestros will have to do whatever Styphon’s House demands, or he’ll lose face. Once he has his wife back, or she’s murdered, things will change. Of course, Phidestros will have to worry about Soton being on his northern border. Interesting times, all right. Still, I don’t believe it’s in our best interest to get involved. Let’s wait until the dust settles, then we can see if there’s any advantage to be gained by making an overture to Phidestros.”

The Army of Greater Beshta was following the Besh Road when Prince Phidestros and his party came to a halt as they prepared to make a detour through some farmlands to avoid a low-lying marsh. He had one of his men visit the farmer and present him with a purse to compensate him for the damage his army was about to do to his potato fields. The farmer and his family came out of the large daub-and-wattle house to wave and watch his soldiers to make sure they didn’t steal any of his livestock.

Phidestros was careful to see that his men didn’t indulge in foraging at his peasants’ expense; it was something he had learned by paying attention to King Kalvan. Although, he realized, it would take some time before his serfs and freeholders believed it.

He was pleased to see that the road gangs were making progress on widening the Besh Road and laying down the rock base, despite the inclement weather. However, they were stalled by the marsh and he wondered how they were going to circumvent it. He told one of his aides to get the roadmaster and bring him over for a talk.

The roadmaster was a tall man with a broad chest and a ginger beard. “Your Highness, what can I do for you?”

Phidestros noted the man had a Hostigi accent. “I was wondering how you were going to deal with the marsh that’s flooding the road?”

The man idly stroked his beard while he thought. “Your Highness. This stretch of the road has only been passable during the summer months, due to a drainage problem. That farmer has grown rich off the tariffs he charges to use his land as a bypass. Unfortunately, this area of the road’s a sinkhole and we’d have to move a hundred wagons of stone to stabilize it and fifty more to raise the roadbed high enough that it would stay dry through most rains.”

Phidestros estimated the cost of moving that much limestone from the nearest quarry.
Probably two ounces of gold per wagonload. With labor, the total cost would be well over five hundred Crowns.
“Would moving it through this potato patch be cheaper?”

The roadmaster nodded his head. “There’s a bit of an incline, Your Highness, but we could probably work around that. King Kalvan used to raise the angle of the roadbed to maintain stability. That would be my suggestion.”

“Let me talk to the farmer.” Phidestros rode over to the farmhouse with Captain-General Kyblannos and several bodyguards.

Phidestros, making an arc with his arm, asked, “What do you believe this section of potato patch is worth?”

Kyblannos dismounted and walked through the potato plants. He kicked at the ground, sending up a gray dust cloud, then pointed to hoof marks and trampled plants. “It’s not much of a potato patch. I think it’s just an excuse to levy a tariff on local traffic.”

“That’s what I thought. Would a hundred silver crowns be a good price?”

“A very good price, Cap’n; more than he makes in five winters. But he’ll want to haggle.”

Phidestros nodded. “You’re good at haggling. I’ll let you work out a price with him.”

By the winter after this coming one, the Besh Road would stretch from Besh Town all the way to Sask Town. He was using Kalvan’s Great King’s Highway as his model. He’d even found two of Kalvan’s
engineers
among his new citizens and put them to work as roadmasters.

He watched as Kyblannos and the farmer started talking and gesturing. Then they were both waving their arms and imploring the Sky-Thrones of the Gods. This went on for some time before they clasped hands.

Kyblannos had a big smile on his face when he rode up. “It’s yours, Cap’n. It’ll only cost you seventy-five silver crowns. The farmer tried to describe this wart wrinkle as Yirtta’s Own Patch of Earth. He kept at it for a while, but in the end he knew that if he tried to overcharge you it might turn out badly. Most of these freeholders are greedy, but they’re not stupid.”

“Good work, old son.” Phidestros rode his mount back to where the roadmaster was overseeing the workers. “Roadmaster, that potato patch is now Crown territory. You can run the road through it now.”

He smiled. “You’ve just saved us half a moon’s work, Your Highness. “May the gods keep watch over you.”

Phidestros turned back to Kyblannos. They were well across the Sashtan border and only a few days from Besh Town. “Here’s what I want you to tell Great King-Elect Selestros when you arrive in Harphax City. But, first present him with Lysandros’ head—after you decant it from the wine barrel!”

They both had a good laugh over that and Selestros’ possible reactions to the sight, which included everything from dropping into a dead faint to spewing his breakfast on the floor.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to go in person?” Kyblannos asked. “Selestros might take insult that you’re sending an underling to present him with his uncle’s head.”

“I miss my wife. To Regwarn with what Selestros wants! He’s going to have to learn that he’s not the one rolling the bones.”

A sentry came galloping up, spraying mud and dirt clods behind him. “Ho, Prince!”

“What is it?” Phidestros demanded.

“I’ve got an urgent dispatch for you, Your Highness.” The messenger couldn’t contain himself, adding, “The Styphoni took Besh Town while you were on campaign!”

“What? Is the Princess all right?”

The man shook his head. “The Styphoni took her prisoner. The details are in the pouch.”

Phidestros felt his heartbeat race. He tore open the leather bag and pulled out the parchment inside. He read the letter haltingly, while cursing under his breath.

“What’s it say?” Kyblannos asked.

“The Styphoni somehow knew we were going to be in Hostigos and they used that diversion to attack Besh Town. They blew up the Town Gate and started to sack the town, taking prisoners.”

“Were they put under Investigation?”

Phidestros shrugged, his face frozen in a rictus of rage and anger. “I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Kyblannos said. “What does Styphon’s House care about a bunch of underlings?”

“I know what they wanted them for. To use their lives as bargaining tokens for the Princess. Dralm-damnit! This would have never happened if I had stayed home. Arminta has a soft heart and they used that against her, the blackguards! She couldn’t sit idly by and watch our subjects die. Maybe the time has come to raise a real army and raze Balph to the ground and kill every temple rat within a hundred marches!”

Kyblannos shook his head. “You can’t lose your temper, Cap’n. If you do something like that, it will forfeit the Princess’s life.”

“You’re right, you’re right…” Phidestros’ stomach hurt so much it was as if he’d been stabbed in the gut. “I…I…I don’t know what to do, may Styphon be damned and his priests drowned in boiling oil!”

“Pull yourself together, man, before the men see what’s going on. See that copse over there. Let’s ride to it so we can discuss this in private.”

Phidestros pounded on his saddle pommel like a man possessed as they rode over the potato patch and up the hill to a stand of oak and maple trees.
Why was I so stupid?
He should have guessed that Styphon’s House would take advantage of his absence. His problem was that he had focused too much on Grand Master Soton, forgetting that Styphon’s House had other willing commanders.

He pulled hard on the reins, when they reached the little copse. He jumped down off his horse and took out his water flask, yanked off his helmet and dumped the water over his head.
Dralm-damnit! What am I going to do?

Kyblannos got off his horse, wrapped his arms around him, giving him a bear hug. “I know you want revenge, Cap’n. But it’ll have to wait until we see what the damned buggers have done with the Princess.”

Phidestros pushed him away. “I want to kill every scum-sucking bastard in Balph! But you’re right, not now. I’ll have to put my revenge on ice. But if anything happens to my wife and unborn child, I’ll pull Balph down a brick at a time and kill everything living until it’s a graveyard!”

“Now, you’re thinking, Captain. We need to find out what those thieving priests want for her life.”

“I hope Cythros has some answers. He’d better, or I’ll throttle him with my own hands!”

“Cap’n, we don’t even know if Cythros is dead or alive. He’s a good man; he wouldn’t let the Styphoni take her unless there was a good reason. We need to get to Besh Town and get some answers.”

Phidestros nodded. “You’re right, old friend. We need to get the complete story before we strike back, but strike back we will, by the Wargod’s Mace!

The sea journey from Harphax City to Zygros City had been a harrowing one. The fast galley, The
Sea Sprite
, had been forced to return to port several times, once waiting an entire quarter moon before the ocean storms calmed enough that they could continue their journey. Duke Sestembar had twisted his ankle aboard ship so badly he was still walking with a limp; he was certain he’d grown a new crop of gray hairs and learned the real meaning of sea sickness. He was also certain that he’d never sail again except under the threat of death.

It didn’t help that he was waiting outside the Prince’s chambers while he topped one of his slave girls. The Prince had an inordinate appetite and kept a dozen beautiful slave girls. His appetites were prodigious and his tastes in flesh were known to slave dealers throughout the Five Kingdoms.

He was on his third pipeful when the slave girl slunk out of her master’s chamber. Both her eyes were blackened in the current Zygrosi style and her nightgown ripped. She looked at him with wet orbs, looking like a long-haired raccoon, as if for succor. In return, he gave her a hard look—she bolted down the passageway, her bare feet slapping against the stone floor.

He knocked on the open door before entering.

“Odard, is that you? Bring me another cask of wine.”