Gunpowder God (7 page)

“Then you no longer have anything to lose, Sorn. It’s time to bring in the Strike-Teams and start the mass evacuation. I’ll talk with Dalla about setting up an evacuation conveyor head to Fifth Level. We don’t want them on Pol-Term. Or even more than a few hundred thousand on any one time-line. Commissioner Galvath, I want you to oversee a study on the best distribution sites. Commissioner Sorn and I will discuss the best way to present our conclusions to Management. The rest of you leave and work out some plans for the evacuation. And, remember, don’t say a word about this meeting to anyone, not even your families—especially your wives!”

Dalgroth Sorn shook his head wearily. “Let’s just hope this doesn’t spark the rebellion we’re trying to prevent. If word of this gets out, we’re all finished!”

Tortha could only nod in agreement.

“Your Majesty!” exclaimed Baron Zothnes, the former Styphon’s House archpriest turned informant and supposedly loyal supporter. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a private audience, too long.” He bowed, mostly from the head down, as his huge belly wouldn’t allow much more forward movement.

Kalvan nodded. He didn’t much like the smarmy Baron, but he was his nearest thing to an inside window to the Inner Circle of Styphon’s House and for that reason, and that reason alone, he tolerated his presence.

“I need to question you about some things.”

Zothnes rubbed his hands together, which with all the gold rings he wore, made a clanking noise. “Yes, sire. Anything.”

“First, how do you fare in your new barony?”

“Ahh. Your Majesty was quite generous. My new lands are fertile and within its boundary there’s a good woods. The tarr is quite small and drafty, but with some renovation it should suffice. I was able to bring most of my old subjects from Hostigos and they appear to be mixing well with the locals, despite the language problem.”

Kalvan nodded, trying to keep the surprise he felt off his face. If Zothnes had retained even a half of his former subjects’ loyalty, then he was certainly doing something right.
Maybe a leopard can lose its spots
, he pondered.

“What can I do for Your Majesty?” Zothnes asked.

“I want to know what you think about the new Supreme Priest and what he might do in the future?”

Zothnes fluffed his chin beard a few times. “Styphon’s Voice Anaxthenes has always been ambitious, much like King Theovacar or Great King Lysandros. He was former Supreme Priest Sesklos’ favorite for many years and I’m sure the old reprobate would be happy to see how well his protégé has done. Now that Archpriest Roxthar’s star has been eclipsed, Anaxthenes appears to be even more on the ascendancy.”

“What makes you think that Roxthar’s power is declining?” Kalvan asked.

“First, Your Majesty, you must realize that Roxthar’s an aberration. Just think about it: An archpriest who actually murders people in the name of Styphon! It’s absurd. Of course, for political reasons, there’ve always been a few token believers in Styphon—like the Peasant Priest Cimon—in the Inner Circle. But never a fanatical believer like Roxthar. He’s giving Styphon’s House a bad name—”

They both broke out into laughter.

“Insomuch as that’s possible, of course, Your Majesty. Most of the archpriests are only with the Temple for the gold and the power that are available to those who’ve climbed the higher rungs of the hierarchy. The highest being the Inner Circle at Balph where I resided for almost ten winters. I must admit I miss the pampering, but many of the duties were onerous, especially all the time one has to spend with other archpriests.”

Kalvan nodded.

“So you can see that Roxthar’s rise has ruffled many feathers and he has few allies among his fellow archpriests, and even then only those like Archpriest Dracar who are afraid of their own shades. Now that Hos-Hostigos is no more—and I say that with sadness, of course, Your Majesty—the Inner Circle feels more secure and their need for a rabble-rouser and butcher like Roxthar has decreased. He is still useful, like in Hos-Agrys, but I notice that Styphon’s Own Voice keeps him as far away from Balph as he can.

“Styphon’s Voice Anaxthenes, I believe, has found a useful tool in Roxthar. He keeps the archpriests and highpriests in line and gives them something to fear more than Anaxthenes’ ambitions. Once Styphon’s House has gained ascendancy, either through proxy or by putting their own men on the thrones of the Five Kingdoms, then Roxthar’s usefulness will have come to an end. At that time, I suspect he will succumb to one of the Lady of Death’s little vials.”

As Kalvan remembered hearing, the Lady of Death was Thessamona, Anaxthenes’ mistress and private assassin.

“Duke Skranga has left us a well-placed man in Balph,” Kalvan said. “It might cost his life, but would it be worth it to have him attempt to assassinate Roxthar?”

Zothnes shook his head. “It would be nigh on impossible, Your Majesty. Roxthar is protected by Styphon’s Own Guard. The Guardsmen see the Investigator as their own tree of gold and they will not let anyone near him that they do not completely trust. He has made many of them rich with his Investigation. True, Styphon’s Own Voice can penetrate their wall, but no one else except maybe Grand Master Soton of the Order of Zarthani Knights. I implore you not to waste such a valuable asset on an impossible quest.”

“Good advice, Zothnes. When do you think that Styphon’s House will return to the Middle Kingdoms to finish the job that the Grand Host couldn’t complete?”

“That’s a very good question, Your Majesty. And, an important one for all of us that live under your rule. It will take at least another winter for Soton and the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance to complete the conquest of Hos-Agrys. King Sopharar of Hos-Zygros is a Dralmite, so he will have to be replaced. That could take another winter, since it’s so far from the Temple’s heart. Great King Lysandros is a good ally, or at least fully bought, and will do as the Temple asks in most things. The Great King Lukthos of Hos-Ktemnos is a milksop who can hardly bear to be away from his mother; I don’t see him offering much resistance to anyone, much less Styphon’s Own Voice who put him on the Golden Throne. I would guess, unless there’s some calamitous event, that we won’t see another army from Styphon’s House for at least three winters.”

“Good,” Kalvan said, bringing his fist down on the table hard. “That’s very close to my own estimation. Only this time we’re not going to wait for Styphon’s House to hit us first.”

P
hidestros could tell from his tight lips that Great King-Elect Selestros wasn’t happy to see him the moment he entered Selestros’ presence chamber.
Selestros wants to believe he’s in control
, he thought.
In my presence that’s difficult.
It didn’t help that Phidestros was wearing his captain-general’s costume: silvered armor, engraved and chased burgonet helmet, ceremonial sword and dark green knee-breeches with black hose. Arminta called it his bully suit, in contrast to his work suit: a dinged and battered back-and-breast, a Kalvan-style saber and a brace of pistols which he wore to battle.

Arminta was right: It was time to set the Great King-Elect straight regarding a few facts he didn’t want to know. If Phidestros couldn’t intimidate him with his dress, he’d call in the Iron Band and put him in the dungeon. Since that might cause problems later on, he’d prefer to set him straight in a more courteous fashion. But, having dealt with the nobility for most of his life, he knew that wasn’t always possible
. They not only believe they’re better than other people, they think they’re smarter, too
.

Phidestros looked around the room at the nervous Chancellor and two bodyguards. “This was supposed to be a private meeting.”

“Please address me as Your Highness.”

“Formality is just going to get in the way of our little talk. The rest of you leave—now!”

Selestros’ eyes widened when the Chancellor and both guards scooted out of the room as fast as they could go without actually breaking into a run.

“See how easy that was?”

“If you’re trying to humiliate me, it’s been done by experts. If, however, intimidation was your intent, it will not work as long as the Allfather is at my side.”

Phidestros reined in his temper. “All I’m trying to do is inform you that I’ll be leaving Harphax City this morning and taking half of my troops with me.”

Selestros’ eyes widened. “You will no longer be guaranteeing the City curfew.”

“I’ve left enough men under Captain-General Geblon to do whatever is necessary to keep the peace. Most of the criminals are dead or have fled the City. The riots are over unless someone tries to purposely stir the people up again. Geblon will deal harshly with any such troublemakers.”

“Praise Allfather Dralm. That is good to hear.”

“I have to leave because I have an appointment with your Uncle. The time has come to prepare for battle.”

Selestros practically swooned with relief. “I want you to bring me back the head of the man who murdered my father. I will post it at the City Gates for all to see.”

Was Selestros so afraid of Lysandros that he couldn’t even use his name?
he wondered. “If I do this for you, what will I receive in return?” Phidestros knew from all his dealings with princes and other nobles that his rewards must be on the table before he left.

Selestros drew back his hands. “You’ve already got Greater Beshta; what more could you want?”

“I’m the one who’s going to battle. I need certain rewards and guarantees.”

“Such as?”

“First, I want the Princedom of Sask to be mine. To do with as I please.”

“Isn’t that one of the Elector Princedoms?” Selestros asked.

Phidestros nodded.

“It’s worthless in its present state. It’ll be worth even less after Lysandros and his army trample their way through it. Yes, it’s yours.” He appeared relieved.

“Also, I’d like to see one of my men rewarded for his services to the Throne.”

“And who would that be?”

“Duke Geblon. Since the Princedom of Harphax is without a prince, I believe he’d make a good choice.”

“But it’s mine….” Selestros whined.

“You’re about to be enthroned as Great King of Hos-Harphax as soon as Lysandros is killed. What do you need with a mere princedom?”

“So, this is what it’s going to cost?” Selestros sneered.

Phidestros had to bite his tongue to keep from smacking the smile right off his face. “Ask Dralm, and see what the Allfather has to say about it.”

Selestros looked back and forth from Phidestros to the new statue of Dralm at the other end of the presence chamber. “How important is it to you that your man be crowned Prince?”

“Important enough that if you don’t do it, I’ll take all my men and return to Beshta and let you deal with the riots and Lysandros’ return all by yourself.”

Selestros’ already pale skin blanched. He bowed his head, as if in prayer. After a few moments, he looked up. “I asked Allfather Dralm. He says that your request is reasonable, if it will serve the realm. You have my word. I will grant your man—what’s his name?”

“He’s Duke Geblon of Shasta.”

“I will crown him Prince of Harphax. Is there anything else?”

Phidestros smiled. “That will do, for now.”

“What about Our Army?”

Phidestros had to pause to contain the amusement he felt bubble up. He used the time to fill his pipe with fresh tobacco and light it. “At the moment, the Harphaxi Army is under the command of Great King Lysandros. After the fighting and deprivations they’ve been under for the past two winters, I believe they are anxious to return home. It is my suspicion that they are much less anxious about who is the
rightful
claimant to the Iron Throne.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Selestros said with visible relief.

Phidestros pointed the pipe stem at the Great King-Elect like the barrel of a pistol. “However, they are, for the most part, loyal soldiers and will fight for whomever they believe to be their rightful commander. At the moment, that man is your Uncle and Great King. It will be my job to convince his soldiers that he no longer has any claim either to their loyalty or to that title.”

“And if you don’t succeed?”

“Then the Harphaxi Army will be no more. My soldiers will be better armed, better rested, better fed, better prepared and better led. If my men are in any way endangered, I will not hesitate to kill any or all of Lysandros’ troops.”

“Then, what will I do for an Army?” Selestros asked, obviously distressed.

“Do what I did. Build your own army, a company at a time if you have to. You’re the Great King-Elect, for Galzar’s sake! Hire a captain-general, give him a muster pay-out and make it his problem.”

“Could I hire one of your captain-generals?”

“You can try. But don’t count on it. My men are uncommonly loyal.”

“Will you give me some suggestions for a commander?”

“Hmm. I’ll have to sleep on it. If I think of anyone, I’ll post you a dispatch. Meanwhile, do not change any laws or make new policies without running them by Captain-General Geblon, or should I say Prince Geblon. He’s my right arm, as far as you’re concerned. I’m going to be busy fighting Lysandros and I don’t need any distractions.”

“Are you taking my uncle’s wife with you?” Selestros asked, not bothering to keep the disgust he felt out of his voice.

“No, she will remain here in Harphax City in the summer palace.”

“I do not want that
woman
in my City. She’s the spawn of Styphon and a lover of unclean demons.”

“She’s going to stay and I’m guaranteeing her safety with my Army. If anything happens to her or the Lady Sirna, I will set my men loose on this City like Roxthar’s Investigators! No one will escape their wrath, yourself included.”

“Prince, you’re forgetting who will soon be Great King of Hos-Harphax,” Selestros sputtered.

Phidestros rose to his full height and stared into Great King-Elect Selestros’ eyes. “Once my blade has taken one King’s head, do you think it will hesitate to take another?”

He marched out of the chamber to the resounding echo of those words.