John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

The foundations of the mole were laid in the days of Grefftshcarr's great trading empire of the Iron Route, fifteen hundred years ago. It had been growing ever since, a shipload or more of stone a year, with every king trying to leave his mark on it. King Theovacar's plans were ambitious, like Theovacar himself-he wanted to completely rebuild the lighthouse at the elbow of the mole, which had been in ruins for eight hundred years, raise its beacon fifty feet higher than it had been placed originally, and replace all the batteries' old bombards with Kalvan's brass new-style long guns.

While Zinna supervised loading the baggage into the cart, Kostran Galth drew his Chief aside. "I had problems getting the audience you requested. It may be a couple of moon halfs before I can set it up. Since we're not well-known here, I'm having to use intermediaries and I don't want to pay enough gold to attract the wrong kind of attention."

"Good thinking, Galth."

"Time for a civilized breakfast, then." Verkan normally didn't care what he ate as long as it didn't eat him first, but four weeks of rock-hard bread and salted fish had whetted his appetite for real food. Verkan was disappointed about the interview with Theovacar taking so long to arrange, but now that they had a conveyer-head in Greffa, he could slip back and forth between Dhergabar and Greffa as events allowed. It was too late in the season to bring the cannon and arms that Kalvan needed, so there was no damage done.

"Yes, Zinna will go on ahead and see to it. Did your best finery survive the voyage?"

Verkan made a Zarthani gesture of averting bad luck and looked Kostran a question. Kostran nodded. "I think we're about to receive our charter, or at least an explanation of why we can't be granted it at this time. A messenger from the palace had an escort of six Companions. I haven't heard of that happening to anybody Theovacar wasn't planning to favor, or at least anybody whose good will he didn't value."

Since the Royal Charter would give them a legitimacy no one in Greffa or on Kalvan Prime could doubt, that was good news. The eight hundred Companions were the elite bodyguard of the Kings of Grefftscharr, descended from the household warriors of the tribal chiefs who'd founded the kingdom over two thousand years before. They were crack lancers but carried (and used) musketoons for palace guard duty, swore blood-oaths to the King and at least twice had died to the last man rather than outlive a fallen King. They weren't a likely choice for messengers to anyone King Theovacar didn't wish to honor.

The Palace Seneschal usually conducted the interview and an appropriate 'gift' was expected. He wished he'd had a cask of Ermut's brandy that Ranthar Jard had told him about; he suspected a purse of gold would do as well.

Verkan swung himself into the saddle and urged his horse up to the head of the little procession. Kostran brought up the rear. Verkan noted with approval that he had one hand effectively, but not blatantly, close to the butt of his pistol, just in case the teamster might be in league with-or an agent-of Styphon's House, since ordinary robbers would hardly dare operate in broad daylight in the best-policed area of Greffa.

If the Styphoni were able to work effectively in Greffa, it would be through local allies too powerful for Theovacar to suppress, allies bought with gold or hopes of it. The Middle Kingdoms had always regarded the gods of the Five Great Kingdoms as socially inferior to their own war and thunder lords. The incomprehensible act of mere mortals calling a council to demote Allfather Dralm had sowed further confusion. Now that the fireseed secret was free to all men, there was hardly reason for more than common politeness to Styphon's House, if that.

Correction: King Theovacar and the nobles had no reason for more than politeness. The merchants who lived by trade along the Saltless Seas might think twice before risking having the Great Kingdoms barred to them if Styphon's House won its war against Hos-Hostigos. Since Theovacar was trying to win the favor of the great mercantile houses as a balance to his unruly warrior nobility, he might turn a blind eye to their dealings with Styphon's House-even if those dealings led to moderate breaches of his peace.

Verkan wondered if his information from the east could be traded for information about Styphon's House activities in Greffa. A pity to have to use strictly local resources and methods on such a vital matter, since it would surely involve him more deeply in Greffan politics. It couldn't be helped, though-there was an old Paracop saying: 'A little bit involved is like a little bit pregnant; there's no such thing.'

Also, the only way he could make himself independent of local resources and methods was to bring in many more Paracops than he could justify devoting to what was after all a glorified hobby-he'd be cutting his throat andKAvaris if he did that!

Kalvan was in the audience chamber, where Captain-General Harmakros was telling him and Rylla, about the problems he was encountering in getting the former Hostigi pikemen to embrace their new-bayoneted arquebuses, when a royal page arrived to announce that Chancellor Xentos had just arrived in HostigosTown and sought audience.

"Thank you, Aspasthar. Bid him enter, then go to steward and order some wine to be brought up." He'd save Ermut's brandy until he saw if any celebration was in order; Rylla was hot enough under the collar without adding any fat, in the guise of brandy, to the fire.

Queen Rylla, who looked magnificently regal, announced in chilly tones, "I hope the Chancellor brings us better bones to chew on than those brought by Duke Mnestros."

There had been few letters and even fewer encouraging words from Xentos since his leave taking last summer to attend the Council of Dralm in Agrys City. What little Kalvan had learned about the new League of Dralm had come from Duke Mnestros who was openly dissatisfied with the Council's lack of progress. The League's unstated goal was to act as a counter to Styphon's House's growing secular and priestly power. Any such gathering of princes, before Kalvan's dissemination of the Fireseed Secret, would have resulted in Styphon's Ban and no more fireseed, which meant their greedier neighbors would have rushed in with their armies to carve out big chunks of territory.

To Kalvan, without whom there would be no League of Dralm, not even being invited to join the League was a bitter pill indeed. Their snub did not bode well for monetary, or any other kind of Council of Dralm sponsored support for Hos-Hostigos. He had not counted upon going against Styphon's House all by himself, either, for even moral support would have helped Hos-Hostigos' cause.

Kalvan, who was familiar with the Evangelical Union (The German Protestant equivalent to the League of Dralm during the Thirty Year's War), hadn't exactly expected them to send him great sums of gold or muster large armies to come to his aid. On the other hand, he hadn't anticipated a cold shoulder from the Council of Dralm either. Rylla, who'd been bounced on Xentos' knee as a child, was even more surprised-and hurt, too. Kalvan saw his primary duty during this meeting as defusing Rylla's temper so he could prevent a full-blown church and state conflict on top of the religious war Hos-Hostigos was already fighting.

Aspasthar returned with a large amphora of wine and Chancellor Xentos, who was still brushing the dust from his journey off his blue robe. Aspasthar set down the amphora and returned to the kitchen for a tray and some goblets. Last year's grapes had produced wine that mostly reminded Kalvan of South Korean homebrew, which a fellow enlisted man had described as "certified pure goat piss." However, it was all they had for celebrating right now, and Xentos' return did call for a celebration-of sorts.