John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

Kalvan laughed. "Hostigos could use a regiment of intelligencers with your resourcefulness. Although we may not need them, I plan to run the Royal Army through Hos-Haraphax like lime through a goose's gullet."

Skranga laughed. "You've got the men for it. You should see the sorry toss-birds from every gaol and dungeon that Lysandros and Phidestros have parading up and down the streets of Harphax City! I wouldn't use them to clean the Hostigos army barracks' latrines. If they can't find any better soldiers than that the Hostigos Royal Army should clean out all of Hos-Harphax like the flux!"

"Is there any chance Phidestros is hiding the varsity-I mean the good troops?"

"Har, har, har!" Skranga sputtered. When his coughing spell was over, he poured himself another goblet of brandy and topped off Kalvan's. "True, there's some good mercenary troops-if they don't all desert before spring! And some good Royal soldiers perhaps survived the Chothros cutting, but even Galzar himself couldn't turn that motley mob into a real army. No, there's not much to fear from Harphax next year-except who to make the new Great King."

"Phrames is my choice."

Skranga nodded. Just like Kalvan to have the answers to questions before he even got around to asking them. Skranga paused to tamp his pipe, and then lit it with his tinderbox. "A good leader, even if a bit womanish-I don't mean on the battlefield or in the cot. But, he's delicate about other matters, like killing prisoners and such like." From the frown that creased Kalvan's brow, Skranga knew he'd stepped in a cowpie of some kind, but not exactly sure how. He attempted a quick save, "Even a good farmer has to shoot a few old dogs if they don't keep the foxes out of the turkey pens."

"You're right, but Phrames has learned a few things cleaning up Prince Balthar's stables in Beshta. I think he'll be a good king."

"What do you say, a toast to Great King Phrames, long may he reign!"

"It's a bit premature," Kalvan said, "but why not." The two goblets clinked together soundly.

It's pretty and bubbly," Rylla said, dropping the cold lump of green glass into Kalvan's open hand, "but I don't believe even Allfather Dralm, could turn this bauble into that far-seeing telescope you talk about."

"The bubbles can be removed by proper heating and air control, but it's the milkiness that bothers me. I think Master Ermut may have too much slaked lime and not enough potash in the mixture. I'll talk to him tonight and help him revise the formula.

"Once we have decent glass all it will take is proper grinding to make a lens. With good lenses we can make telescopes for all our commanders, and maybe even captains. The tactical advantages we will gain will be worth two or three regiments of shot."

"I do not doubt you, my husband, not even Endrath, has shaken the land as much as you have."

There was a distant look of awe on Rylla's face that bothered him until she finished her thought, in typical Rylla fashion. "Of course, I'd be happier if you spent more time shaking our marriage bed than talking to your cronies at the University."

"Those 'cronies,' as you call them, might well be my greatest gift in the long run to the Kingdom's future."

"I beg to disagree, but I believe that Princess Demia is your greatest gift."

Kalvan smiled and nodded his head. Rylla was right; their dandelion-headed little Princess was the greatest accomplishment either one of them had done, alone or together.

"Maybe it is time I spent more time at home."

Rylla looked up at the ceiling as if beseeching the gods. "How many times have I heard those words? And, Kalvan wipe that smile off your face. If you think you're going to keep me locked up for another entire campaign season, you're drunker than Pandros. Sick, pregnant, or in chains I'm going to be on my horse, with a sword in my hand, no matter what you do. Is that understood?"

"Yes, kitten," Kalvan said, resigning himself to the inevitable. "Which reminds me, I have to send Duke Skranga's Harphaxi agent another fifteen thousand gold crowns. Prince Bythannes is so in debt he's having trouble raising his daughter's dowry, and Skranga wants to loan him the money before one of Styphon's agents buys him lock, stock and barrel. Things are not going so well now that Skranga's back in Hostigos and Lysandros has stopped playing general and started wooing the Elector Princes himself."

"Has Skranga learned anymore about Lysandros' replacement, Captain-General Phidestros?"

"The information is sketchy. He's spent most of his career in Hos-Zygros and Hos-Agrys. Klestreus says he's a former Zygrosi mercenary with a reputation for ruthlessness and battle savvy. The rumor mill has it he's the by-blow of some high placed Zygrosi Prince or nobleman, so he's always been able to get his hands on enough gold to run a first class outfit. But Klestreus was as surprised by his sudden elevation as Duke Skranga was. It looks like with Lysandros in charge we're going to be facing real military leaders, rather than the nincompoops King Kaiphranos put in charge of the Harphaxi Army."

"Too bad," Rylla said. "I'd like to teach King Demistophon some manners as well as Lysandros. And I still haven't forgotten Prince Araxes insult."

"Are you still chewing on that?" Rylla nursed a grudge better than anyone he'd ever known, even better than some of the Appalachian hillbillies he'd had to arrest. "We didn't need the Phaxos army anyway and when Araxes sees the walls of Haraphax come down, he'll come running."

In a tone of voice that encompassed years of wifely frustration-even though they'd only been married little over a year, Rylla said, "You don't understand. Prince Araxes, by not heeding Our call to arms, has given the Crown of Hos-Hostigos a deadly insult. I can hear Soton and the Arch-priests laughing now! Balthames is already pleading that he won't be able to muster his forces this spring, because the planting season was delayed by last spring's campaign! Next, we'll be hearing excuses from the Ulthori and Kyblosi princes."

"We will settle Araxes hash when we have less pressing problems on our plate," Kalvan said. "He never actually joined Hos-Hostigos, just opened discussions. I do not want to get the reputation as a Great King who takes umbrage at every minor slight. As Duke Mnestros, pointed out, many of the Agrysi princes are worried that we will usurp their princely rights and we must act with caution."

"Caution! Does Styphon's House worry about what this princeling or that noble thinks of their grand strategy; no, they march where they will and let the loser beware!"

"My point, exactly. By this reckless policy, they have alienated many of the northern princes and barons. We need to exploit this, not follow in Styphon's footsteps. Someday, remind me to tell you about the Marshall Plan, where the Great Kingdom of America sent its enemies food and clothes and all manner of goods to help them regain their former strength as great kingdoms."

There was a hesitant knock at the chamber door.

Rylla, who had been about to fire back a rejoinder, asked, "Who could that be? I told Xykos to bar the door to anyone but Demia's wet-nurse. I'm tired of not being able to talk to my own husband!"

Kalvan snatched a rifled flintlock pistol off his desk.

"Come in," Kalvan said.

The door opened a crack and the Royal Page Aspasthar stuck his head in, like a turtle warily sniffing the world as it came out of its shell. "Brother Mytron to see you. He says it's important."

Kalvan set the pistol back on the table. "Show him in, Aspasthar."

"Brother Mytron entered the room apologetically, "I apologize Your Majesties. But I have made an important decision and I wanted to tell you both as soon as possible."

"What is it?" Kalvan asked, shooting a look to Rylla who looked like she was about to bite the priest's head off.