John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

"We called that a luau, where I came from," Kalvan said, suddenly remembering that Sargos wouldn't have the faintest idea of what he was talking about. "Beyond the Cold Lands a luau is a great feast of welcome in the Kingdom of Hawaii. Oh, I see what you're getting at. Why don't we roast the Knights out of those tunnels?"

Kalvan jumped up, his headache forgotten, and wrapped his arms around the Warlord. "Yes, yes, this is a vision from the gods."

Ranjar Sargos tried to jump up and down, found he couldn't, and began grinning so hard Kalvan was surprised his cheeks didn't split. Suddenly Kalvan was very aware that neither man had bathed in a month of Sundays. It was astounding what a man's sense of smell could grow accustomed to!

Kalvan disengaged from the nomad's embrace and said, "Let us have something to eat and then we will call a Council of War! Jaklon is my breakfast ready?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. Should I heat up the last of the chocolate?"

"Capital idea. Sargos your idea is absolutely inspired. It'll take time to get the wood we need, but nothing compared to what it would take to starve these stubborn iron heads out of those mines!"

Dalla closed the collapsed-nickel door behind her and took a pack of cigarettes off the shelf. "Ahhh. I miss these when I'm playing Dalla, proper Greffan wifey of Trader Verkan. She lit up and smoke swirled around her head. Then she reached over and gave Verkan a big hug. "That doesn't mean I'm not glad to see you!"

Verkan followed with a smile of husbandly contentment. "We've got two ten-days away from Dhergabar and Paratime HQ to look forward to. I could get used to this."

The three-story mansion's in the heart of Greffa's-merchant district-was his official Grefftscharrer residence. The collapsium-shielded basement was Verkan's home headquarters-a piece of Home Time-Line on Fourth Level, Aryan Transpacific. The basement was large enough to accommodate, including sleeping quarters, a Paratime Police team of twenty men. The basement even had its own Paratemporal Conveyer-a small ten footer suitable for only six persons, except in an emergency when a whole team could squeeze inside for an evacuation. Not that that could ever happen here; the collapsed-nickel shielded basement was strong enough to ward off anything but a direct hit by a nuclear warhead.

The office was almost a double for Verkan's office on First Level, down to the horseshoe desk and large picture window. He even had a see-through case for his Kalvan's Time-Line souvenirs.

"It's time to see how Kalvan is doing." Verkan hit a button in the sitting room and what appeared to be a solid wall turned into a blank viewscreen. "The sky-eye we put up over Tarr-Ceros ought to pick up Kalvan pretty quickly."

The screen filled with a high earth shot of the Lydistros Valley, with Tarr-Ceros dominating the highest ridge. From this distance the great Order of Zarthani Knights castle looked like a toy model. "Dalon Salth is riding undercover as one of the Mounted Rifles so all I have to do is key-in his locater number and we should find Kalvan and the Army of the Trygath fairly quickly." The picture on the screen changed to a green hilly area with an enormous army bivouacked down below. "They're still there!"

"Why has Kalvan set fire to those hills?" Dalla asked.

Verkan peered closer. Smoke was pouring out of tunnels and pits at the peaks of the five hills. "You're right someone has lit them on fire! From what Dalon told me over the radio, Soton left four Lances behind him to hold Kalvan up-"

"How could a few thousand men hold up an army that big?" she pointed to the sprawling army below.

"It's a case of pre-industrial military honor. Kalvan's allies cannot honorably leave a large force behind them without losing face among their own troops. Since a large part of the cohesive force behind such a horde is based on oath-bonding and personal honor, Kalvan is forced to honor Warlord Sargos' and King Nestros' obligations. So he has to halt the army and finish off this detachment before following the Knights. To press forward would mean dishonoring his allies and as such they would lose not only prestige and manna, but many, if not most, of their retainers."

Dalla pursed her lips and blew out a series of smoke rings. "That means that Soton will escape to his hiddyhole. That's going to mean more problems for Kalvan next year."

"Exactly. Of course, when Soton finds out that Kalvan has roasted his men in this stone crockpot of his, Soton's not going to be very happy. Nor will he be pleased if Harmakros and the Mobile Force reach him before he gains Tarr-Ceros."

"You mean it's all right for Harmakros to hare off after Soton, but not okay if Kalvan does it."

"To the nomads, Harmakros is a sub-chief and only doing his Warlords' bidding. Since Harmakros only has a few thousand men-almost a scouting party in relation to the nomad host-honor is preserved."

Dalla took another puff on her cigarette. "Men, I'll never understand them."

"Women-ahhh! Wait until you see the mess that Rylla has gotten Kalvan into. I wanted to tell you about it earlier, but with the welcome back party upstairs and all."

"What's my friend done now?"

Verkan picked up the controller, switched to Hos-Harphax sky-eye and keyed-in the locater number for Ranthar Jard. This time the viewscreen showed a burning town, with what looked to be a fireworks display near Tarr-Phaxos.

Dalla blew out a cloud of smoke. "This is Rylla's handiwork!"

"Oh, yes. And in direct violation of her husband's orders."

"Then I don't blame her. Europo-American is still too patriarchic-centric for my taste."

"Seriously, Rylla went too far even in terms of the mores and customs of Aryan-Transpacific. You remember me telling you how Prince Araxes had ambushed our foundry team on its way to Nostor."

"Isn't that the same Araxes who renounced his allegiance to Hos-Hostigos last year, when it appeared that Kalvan was in trouble?"

"Same Prince."

"Then Rylla has local custom on her side."

"No, a woman does not lead an army on Aryan-Transpacific, but that's still the least of her transgressions and might well be forgiven since she is winning. The real public relations disaster is her actions have given the Hostigos the 'appearance' of being the aggressor. Remember, Aryan-Transpacific is not a place where you find monolithic kings and rulers; each kingdom is made up of princes and barons who owe their fealty and military support to their direct overlord or king. But, that support exists only so long as the lesser rulers are not afraid that their overlords' orders will infringe upon their feudal and historical rights. Until Rylla moved the army into Phaxos, most princes sympathized with Kalvan and Hos-Hostigos in the war against Styphon's House. Many of them suspected Kalvan of being tough on barons and princes who displeased him, but they weren't sure. Now, with Rylla's invasion of Phaxos, they have proof-and that's a Hos of another color.

"Let's take a closer look."

The lens now zoomed in on the town walls, at least, those that were still standing. "Is that what I think it is on that pole?" Dalla asked.

Verkan instructed the lens to zoom in for a closer shot. On the screen was a head, with its mouth stilled permanently in mid-scream, impaled on the pole. Next to that pole was a woman's head missing an ear and most of her hair.

"Pull back! I've seen enough. Rylla-this time maybe you have gone too far."

Verkan whistled. "Kalvan is not going to be happy about this. Let me see if I can reach Ranthar."

After a short wait, Ranthar's voice came alive. "Verkan, we've got problems here."

"We saw the poles with the heads."

"Those are Prince Araxes' close relations, with assorted war criminals and Styphoni priests. Rylla in her zeal has depopulated about half the noble houses of Phaxos, which includes any of them with ties to either Hos-Harphax or Styphon's House. I don't think this is going to play well in Hos-Agrys."