Gunpowder God (37 page)

His voice sounded sincere. Kyblannos decided that he would not want to be in those barons’ boots come spring. “Prince Phidestros will welcome your hand in friendship, Your Highness. An alliance with Greater Beshta will keep the Styphoni dogs in their kennels as they have no fire to fight the Hero of Ardros Field.”

“Well said, Captain-General”

A chorus of happy cries from the birthing room cut off the Prince’s words.

The Chief Midwife, a wide woman with a big smile, strode into the common room. “General, the baby is a boy. A healthy baby boy, Praise Yirtta!”

“Praise Allfather Dralm!” Prince Necolestros’ shouted.

The Chief Midwife curtsied and said, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I did not know you were here.”

“You’re excused. May the gods be praised! This is wonderful news. I’m certain that Prince Phidestros will be pleased to know that he now has an heir. A fine baby boy.”

“Yes, he will,” Kyblannos said. “I must get word to him at once.”
Yes, and I need to get it there quickly before he fears the worst. There’s no telling what the Prince might do if he doesn’t learn that his wife and child are safe
.

A
lmoner Ruphlo sat behind a table overloaded with scrolls and parchments that detailed the Temple’s accounts for the past winter. The Treasury office was filled with priests in black robes, fidgeting nervously around the table as Highpriest Ruphlo, the new Temple Almoner, attempted to explain to Styphon’s Voice the decrease in the Temple’s annual tithes and collections from the Five Great Kingdoms. The previous Temple Almoner had lost his head over accounting irregularities and Ruphlo was twitching nervously as Anaxthenes demanded answers for Styphon’s House’s declining revenues.

In the early days of the Temple, when Styphon was a minor healer god, the almoners had been the priests who distributed phenigs to the poor in an attempt to build acceptance and followers. Following that tradition, even now the high priests among the almoners wore the black robes of under-priests. When the Temple’s fortunes rose, after the discovery of fireseed, the almoners went from distributors of coins to collectors.
If things keep going the way they are
, Anaxthenes mused,
we may soon be forced to purchase our followers again
.

“You’re telling me the Temple has suffered losses amounting to around two-thirds of its previous annual revenues from the Five Great Kingdoms!” Anaxthenes exclaimed. “How do you explain this?”

The Almoner rose to his feet displaying his black robe, which was too short and allowed his skinny legs to stick out, giving Ruphlo the appearance of a giant black crow. “Collections and offerings from all Five Great Kingdoms have declined significantly, Your Divinity. The uprisings and turmoil in Hos-Bletha have decreased our revenues there by over three-fourths. Hos-Zygros temple revenues are the same as always, but they’ve never been large since our follower base in Hos-Zygros is the smallest of any of the Five Kingdoms. Due to the war in Hos-Agrys and the sacking and burning of Agrysi Temples our earnings there have declined to less than a tenth of their previous annual amount. Revenues in Hos-Ktemnos are down because of the nomad invasions, especially in the west. Some of the faithful are blaming the invasions on the Temple’s war against the Infidel Kalvan.”

“Tell me who these peasants are and I’ll send the Holy Investigator and his minions to Investigate them!” Anaxthenes snapped.

Ruphlo held out his hands, splaying his fingers in supplication. “I do not know the individuals; these are from reports gathered by my town almoners.”

Anaxthenes had to hold his anger in check to keep him from grabbing the Almoner’s twig-like arms and snapping them like branches. A few more years of declining revenues and it would be his head on the chopping block. Styphon’s House could tolerate many vices and evils, but revenue losses were not among them. “Continue, Highpriest Ruphlo,” he ordered.

“Your Divinity, Temple revenues from Hos-Harphax have almost completely dried up. In those few loyal princedoms where they are being collected, there is no way to safely transport them to Balph due to civil disturbances and the hostility of the current rulers. Bandits have also grown bolder now that the Temple Bands are needed for battle rather than to guard the treasure convoys. There are no revenues from the Trygath, otherwise known as the False Kingdom of Hos-Rathon, now that our ally, King Nestros, has been deposed by the Usurper.

“Furthermore, our sales of fireseed have dropped by another third since last winter. The only kingdom not making its own fireseed is Hos-Ktemnos.”

“What about Hos-Bletha?”

Highpriest Ruphlo shrugged. “The revolts in Hos-Bletha have removed our usual constraints on fireseed manufacture and sales. As a result, many of the Blethan nobles and claimants are now using the Usurper’s formula and making their own fireseed. Even sales in Hos-Ktemnos are declining as the nomad invasions have left many small villages and towns depopulated.”

Anaxthenes rubbed his forehead; he had the beginnings of a massive headache. He could not let this state of affairs continue, or all would be lost. Curse and blast Kalvan and all his lackeys! The losses of fireseed revenue were understandable, since the Usurper’s fireseed formula worked better than Styphon’s own mixture. However, it was the decline in tithes and collections that were the most dangerous to the Temple. It indicated a loss of fear by the peasantry and lower orders—this could not be tolerated. Maybe there was use for Roxthar and his Investigators, if they could raise revenues.
I will have to give this more thought
, he pondered.

“The only bright spot is that Styphon’s Great Banking Houses are seeing an increase in income, except in those territories where lawlessness abounds. The princes and kings still need gold to outfit and supply their armies. Also, our sales of cotton, tobacco and corn have been very good.”

Styphon’s Voice shook his head. He knew, when the day came that the Temple must depend on usury and the sale of goods to fund its operations, that would be the day it closed its doors.

A sudden banging on the door distracted him from the account ledgers and left the Almoner twitching in fear.

“Who is it?” Anaxthenes demanded.

Suddenly there was a crash as if the door were about to be smashed in. His Sephrax Guards raised their halberds.

The door fell of its hinges revealing Grand Master Soton with war-hammer in hand and a tremendous scowl on his face. “There you are! These Temple rats of yours have been giving me the runaround for the past two candles.”

“Relax,” he ordered his guards. Turning to Soton, he said, “There are easier ways to get my attention.”

“If so, Your Divinity, I haven’t found them. I’ve just come by galley from Agrys City to Thebra City and from there by overland coach.”

If the Grand Master had braved the winter seas for a personal audience, it must be important—or another disaster. As if the Temple’s financial ruin wasn’t enough problems….

“What event occasioned you to make such a perilous journey?”

“I attempted to find a ship a moon half ago, but I was unable to find a captain willing to brave the seas during the last two storms. I want to know what you intend to do with the Princess Arminta?”

If it were anyone else asking, Anaxthenes would have told them to jump into Hadron’s Pit and helped them on their way out of this life and into the netherworld with his dagger. Grand Master Soton was not only the Temple’s greatest military leader, but its most powerful landowner. The Zarthani Knights ruled more land than any two Great Kings. With the nomads pouring over the Ktemnoi borders and a war raging in Hos-Agrys, he was not in a position to alienate his most important commander. Biting his tongue, he said, “Selestros’ head was delivered by Phidestros’ henchman, Captain-General Kyblannos, over two moons ago.”

For the first time since entering the Treasury, Soton relaxed.

“The Princess was released to Kyblannos in return for the Infidel’s head. It was decided by the Inner Circle that Phidestros’ good will was worth less than that of the head of the False Worshipper of Dralm, known as Selestros, who claimed to be his Messenger.”

Soton nodded. “You may be right. I was worried that you might be tempted to renege on your deal with Phidestros.”

Anaxthenes smiled. “I won’t say that the thought did not cross my mind, nor the minds of several of my advisors. However, the Bastard Phidestros has been of use to the Temple in the past and may be again in the future. Although I was not pleased to learn that he convinced the Electors of Hos-Harphax to place his henchman, Geblon the new Prince of Harphax, upon the Iron Throne as Prince-Regent of HosHarphax. There is even talk that his henchman will be joined in wedded union with Lysandros’ bitch, Great Queen Lavena. The Mercenary’s ambition knows no end.”

Soton nodded. “Regardless, while I agree with most of what you have said, we cannot afford—until the war in Hos-Agrys is over—to start a war with Prince Phidestros. Whether or not he cares about his wife is unimportant; the loss of face of having her a prisoner would be his undoing.

“Now under the Mercenary’s command—considering that his underling will command the Army of Hos-Harphax and its levy—is the largest army in the Five Kingdoms, rivaling even the army of the Usurper Kalvan. If provoked, Phidestros could gather a force of some sixty to seventy thousand men and no one could stop him. Not even I, at least, until this cursed war in Hos-Agrys comes to an end….”

Anaxthenes gasped. “I had not realized the extent of his forces.”

“Due to the Ban of Galzar, Phidestros left the Holy Host of Styphon with almost thirty thousand soldiers. With the leavings of the Hos-Harphaxi Army and its levy, he and Prince-Elect Geblon could raise another thirty to thirty-five thousand men. Many of them battle-tested veterans of the Fireseed Wars.”

“Then it was Styphon’s Will that I release the Princess.”

“I don’t care whose will it was, it was the right decision. If you had withheld the Princess, or harmed her, Phidestros would have come down out of those hills and blown through Balph like a runaway tornado. He would have killed every priest, burned every stick of wood and overturned every stone until there was nothing left living except the rats and cockroaches.”

For the first time since Kalvan had been banished, Anaxthenes felt that events were careening out of his control. Things had never been like this until the Usurper Kalvan had arrived, unleashing untrammeled change and disorder.

“All is well now that Phidestros’ bitch is returning home,” he said.

“Not quite; it won’t end well until we hear the news that their child has been born and is in good health. If not, I don’t have to draw you a sand picture for you to know who will be blamed.”

“We shall have to pray to Styphon and ask for his favor,” one of the Highpriests blurted out.

Anaxthenes’ turned upon him with a look that could turn flesh to stone. “ALL OF YOU OUT! I want to talk with the Grand Master in private.”

“Not you,” he said to his bodyguards.

The highpriests scampered willy-nilly out of the room like puppies dodging a willow switch.

Soton nodded. “Good. The last thing I need is trouble with Phidestros or Hos-Harphax until I have the conquest of Hos-Agrys sewed up. Speaking of which, I received your scroll stating that Archpriest Roxthar was returning to join the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance. Last I heard he was in Beshta.”

Anaxthenes sagged. “He returned, unhappy that Knight Commander Orocles didn’t allow him to Investigate the unbelievers in Besh Town. He’s now in Balph stirring up trouble. He needs heretics to Investigate and he’ll find them here or with you. I’d rather have him busy in Hos-Agrys, than in Balph.”

“The threat of Investigation doubled, if not tripled, the number of casualties during the siege of Agrys City. The Agrysi fight like demons and will not surrender. It is our good fortune that they’re not very good soldiers, since they have among their number few veterans. Still, I would rather take prisoners than kill them wholesale.”

Anaxthenes nodded. “True, the more we kill the less slaves to sell. But, now, let me ask you a question, Grand Master. Would keeping Roxthar in Balph, at this stage in the war, result in substantially fewer casualties than sending him to join the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance in Hos-Agrys?”

Soton stood rooted to one spot thinking long enough for Anaxthenes to drink two sips of wine from his goblet. Finally, he spoke, “At this point, no. The Agrysi have feasted upon the Hostigi tales of woe and torture regarding the Investigation long enough that nothing we can do will change their minds. They will see Investigators where there are shadows until the war is ended.”

“That is what I thought. Then Roxthar will be your tool. If you use him carefully, he can be of benefit.”

“To a degree. If I give him his head he will turn Hos-Agrys into another graveyard, like the False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos.”

Anaxthenes nodded. He’d had his share of fights with Roxthar before he was elevated to Styphon’s Voice.

“And, if he refuses to obey my orders?” Soton asked, looking hard into Anaxthenes’ eyes.