John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

The picture changed again. Now it showed the Great Square of Phaxos Town, another of the late Prince's expensive public improvements. Armored Hostigi soldiers with red and blue plumes held back a crowd on all four sides. In the middle was a stout block of wood. On one side of the block stood a bare-chested man with a two-handed ax slung across his back. On the other side lay a half dozen shrouded bodies. Four Hostigi soldiers were lifting another body on to a litter. One soldier was putting what looked to be a woman's head into a bag bulging with what Sirna was afraid were other heads.

"The Great Queen," Danthor intoned, "gave orders that all immediate members of Araxes' family were to lose their heads. That is correct, that was a woman's head that soldier was carrying by the hair."

There was a collective gasp from the assembled faculty.

Sirna noticed most of the Hostigi were infantry, but a small mounted group occupied the middle of the west side of the square. One slim figure in silvered armor was bareheaded, long blonde hair tossed by the same breeze that whipped the pennons and standards.

Rylla. She had ordered this slaughter of the Princely House of Phaxos and all those nobles who wouldn't swear allegiance to the Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos. Forty men, at least-not counting the members of Araxes immediate family, their lives forfeit, their property already being divided among Hostigos supporters along with the gold looted from Styphon's temples.

When Rylla spoke of the need to punish Prince Araxes for letting his indecisiveness go on too long, could anyone have imagined this?

The screen now showed a close-up of a castle gateway, with men in Phaxosi colors filing out between two lines of Hostigi. The Phaxosi, Sirna noted, were disarmed, except for swords and daggers, but otherwise seemed to have all their gear and clothing. A few bandaged ones were being supported by their comrades.

"After eight days of shelling, the garrison of Tarr-Phaxos surrendered on promise of life, limb and personal property for all those not on Rylla's purge list. Rylla sent in a sortie party to deliver both Prince Araxes and the Styphon's House Highpriest the Prince was holding captive. Five of the officers went to the block and a Hostigi garrison is now installed."

"Was the agreement kept?" someone from behind Sirna asked.

"As of our last report, it had been. Of course, Rylla was given everything she wanted and I'm sure she has plans for those paroled Phaxosi troops. But I think what we have here is evidence of just how little one man can do to re-direct, or 'change' if you must use it-history. If Kalvan can't even control his own wife, how can he control larger events?"

"How do we know that she's not doing Kalvan's work while he's fighting Grand Master Soton?"

"Good question," the leonine countenanced Danthor, gave this particularly adept student a promising smile. "The Kalvan Study Team members included that in their report, after the Nostor Foundry debacle." He directed a sardonic bow in Sirna's direction.

Sirna tried to disappear into her chair. Dras had never been married; otherwise Sirna suspected he would have known the difference between marriages and historical events. Given a choice between trying to win a battle and try to change her ex-husband's mind on a matter where he'd made it up, Sirna would have pulled on armor at once! Although some marriages did resemble battlefields, even more than hers had-

She was surprised when she heard a voice that sounded like Aranth Sain say, "It's obvious the distinguished Scholar has never shared the Nuptial Cup."

Scattered laughter met this reply and Danthor Dras' face turned red. To regain control, he began speaking in a pontifical tone of voice. "The real damage done is in the minds of neutrals and would-be allies. We already have reports from our sources in the conclave of the League of Dralm. It is being asked out loud whether Kalvan is going to prove any different from Styphon's House? Must every worshipper of Dralm also march in Kalvan's train, wherever he may wish to take it? And so on."

Sirna mentally drowned the whole conclave of Dralm in a bottomless pit of bison dung. If Rylla had slaughtered a thousand Phaxosi peasants, but left the Prince of Fencesitters sitting on his sitting-down place, they wouldn't have said half as much. But a general house-cleaning of nobles who had advised their Prince to folly even if they hadn't gone raiding themselves-oh, that was an abomination beyond belief.

Which Rylla should have known, and if she didn't know it she should have listened to those who did. As much as you respect Rylla, you can't get around the fact that she has literally made a royal mess of things.

I certainly wouldn't want to be in Rylla's boots when her husband gets home!

The surrender of Tarr-Phaxos was the last picture. The seminar wound down as people drifted either out into the corridor or toward an improvised bar-buffet behind the display. Sirna headed in the latter direction. Missing lunch had given Sirna an appetite even worrying about Rylla couldn't take away. As Sirna came away with a loaded plate, she nearly bumped into Darlan Trov. She hadn't seen him come in, but she was instantly wary. It was a universal rumor that he was one of Hadron Tharn's advisers in some of the man's more questionable schemes. It was also a rumor that Darlan Trov had never bothered to deny.

"What do you think of Rylla's latest antics?" Darlan asked.

Sirna toyed with the idea of saying exactly what she thought and hoping Darlan would take the report back to Hadron Tharn. A pro-Kalvanist could hardly be trusted as a spy, and Sirna would be out of a job she no longer wanted to do. She was still filing her reports, but they were so mundane-mostly Study Team internecine warfare-they put even her to sleep.

Except that Hadron Tharn had a long memory, a short fuse, and more influence than any other six Opposition politicians put together in University circles. If he pressed enough of the right buttons among his allies, he could probably find a majority on Sirna's thesis committee. Sirna wasn't quite ready to bring her outtime career with the University to an end, just for the pleasure of speaking her mind.

"Well, I agree that it was taking too hard a line with Prince Araxes, at least with Kalvan absent. But I don't agree that Kalvan hasn't made any difference. Did we hear or see of any atrocities against civilians?"

"There was that rape in Lower Town-"

"For which three Hostigi and two mercenaries were tried and hanged, as Danthor pointed out. If Rylla had wanted to, she could have gone through Phaxos like the Red Hand through Sask. She's learned something from her husband. I only wish she had learned more."

"You want to see Styphon's House overthrown, then?"

About as subtle as one of Roxthar's Investigators, and deserving the same sort of answer. "I think once the fireseed secret was out, Styphon's House was doomed. The only question now is how long it will take, and what will be left afterward. The faster Kalvan wins, the faster he or somebody else can rebuild afterward."

"That sounds as if you care about what happens to a bunch of Fourth Level barbarians."

For a moment Sirna knew exactly what had motivated Rylla, sympathized and would have done something equally drastic to Darlan Trov. Then she remembered that she was on the wrong time-line for that.

"As people, no. But a time-line that wracks itself to pieces so that nothing really interesting happens for a century-what good is that to the University? Could we even investigate it safely? You've been outtime enough to know the answer to that."

Darlan only nodded and turned away, his disappointment as naked as a tavern dancer. Sirna stabbed a meat roll with her fork, rejoicing in a subtle if small victory. Gods, if you exist, try to teach Rylla a little subtlety too. Nobody else can.