John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

"And if there is no alliance, will there be twenty-five thousand fewer?"

"The host of the Great King will fight the horde wherever we find it," Kalvan answered. "But is it not better that we fight it together? Sticks separated are easily broken. Tied into a bundle, they defy the strength of a giant."

"Your Majesty speaks eloquently. I think, perhaps, it would be wiser if you spoke thus to King Nestros."

"Nothing would give me more pleasure, if I knew where to find your High King?"

"Let Your Majesty ride to Rathon City, and I believe you will find no obstacles in your path."

Rathon City was the here-and-now equivalent of Akron, Ohio: about fifty miles away-three days easy marching.

"The High King will see me in Rathon City before the horde can wreak any more harm upon his realm. Now, I see that the sky promises rain. Would you and your guard commander care to accept the hospitality of my tent, which I think is closer than your own?"

Baron Thestros and his guard commander exchanged looks; then the herald nodded. "We are honored by Your Majesty's hospitality."

"Call it the first repayment of the hospitality we have received from King Nestros' subjects," Kalvan said. Baron Thestros frowned, and still looked puzzled as he led his guards off behind Aspasthar.

When the Trygathi commanders were safely on their way, Harmakros rode his horse beside to Kalvan. "Your Majesty, far be it from me to tell you how to guide the realm-"

"If you ever stop telling me, Harmakros, I'll find another Captain-General. Out with it. I don't want to get caught in the rain if I can help it. A fine spectacle for our allies, me leading a charge with sword in one hand and handkerchief in the other."

Harmakros quickly ordered the First Royal Horse Guard into a wide circle, and then put them in movement toward the tent. Riding practically boot to boot with Kalvan, he grinned.

"Your Majesty is as silver tongued as any bard, but is this the time to be so truthful about what we want?"

"It is the best time. Any earlier would have given the Union of Styphon's Friends or the League of Dralm time to make noises. Not to mention, letting the Zarthani Knights send scouts on to our line of march, and maybe more than scouts. Ten thousand Trygathi could give us enough trouble. Think about ten thousand Knights."

"I'd rather think about more pleasant things."

"Like that blonde at Mnebros Town?"

Harmakros flushed. "I didn't know Your Majesty noticed."

"Just because I slept alone doesn't mean I don't know the officers who didn't." They were silent for a moment, guiding their horses over a rough patch of ground.

"It's Mnebros Town that made me think the time was ripe to tell the truth," Kalvan went on. "Those people were so Dralm-damned glad to see us, it was pathetic. We could have had anything we asked for, not just wine, women, and banquets. They were truly frightened of that horde.

"What the Styphon! A horde that size scares me! But our lands are farther than they're likely to reach. Around here, nobody knows if they'll have a roof over their heads and all their family alive come winter."

Kalvan stopped speaking while his horse trotted around a bush that separated the two men. "Nestros will do his best, but if that isn't going to be good enough…"

"If that isn't good enough," Harmakros replied, "his Princes and barons will start looking around for someone whose best might be good enough?"

"Exactly." The gray sky was overhead now, and to the northwest was turning black. The royal pavilion was in sight ahead; the herald's party was just turning in to it. "The Trygathi nobles have always had more independence than the ones in the East, at least since fireseed came along. Things aren't as settled here and a good castle gives you more bargaining power when the only way to take it is starving it out. King Nestros will be down to lord mayor of Rathon City if he lets too many of his nobles' lands be overrun."

Harmakros shook his head. "And you learned all this from those old parchments?"

Kalvan nodded. He knew that Harmakros had risen from a commoner's family and had never learned to read or write, which was typical of here-and-now, where-for the most part-only the nobility, and priesthood, had any education. "An alliance with us is really a gift from the Gods; now, all we have to do is convince Nestros of that. All the second-line troops he probably couldn't feed anyway can go back and defend their homes. We will put our men into line with his, and he'll have twice as big an army as he would otherwise. And a better one to boot! He'll keep the loyalty of his barons, defeat the horde and have his title recognized all at once. How could any man resist-?"

At the word "resist," the skies split apart in a thunderclap that made the horses jump. As the thunder rumbled into silence, the hiss of rain took its place. A few drops spattered across Kalvan's hands, a few more across his face, then the deluge struck.

He reined his horse to a walk and sneezed as drops found their way up his nose-so much for royal dignity.

Knight Commander Aristocles took a moment to light his pipe. "I talked to the messenger myself, Soton. The Usurper's troops have already reached the Trygath. Soon we shall cross swords with our true enemy, not these miserable curs that we have been driving into Kalvan's lands."

Grand Master Soton drank deep from his tankard. "We must not only harass Kalvan, but defeat him as well if we are to keep his armies from the gates of Harphax City."

"Better yet, let the nomads bleed him dry. Every day their forces grow and so does their battle prowess. This new Warlord of theirs may prove to be our problem someday. For now, let him be Kalvan's thorn."

"Well said, old friend. Although it sickens me to despoil any Zarthani lands with the nomads we are sworn to keep at bay."

"This Trygathi gaggle of pretend princedoms and petty kings are only a few generations removed from their cowhide wagons and tents! They are not true Zarthani, but mostly decadent tribes, remnants of the Urgothi migrations. I will shed no more tears over their passing than I would that of a herd of buffalo."

"That may be true of the Sastragathi peoples, Aristocles, but some of these Trygathi princedoms go back a century or two. You forget my own village was on the Trygath/Ktemnos border. True, their ways are crude, but their hearts are strong and they do know how to fight. I'm glad it's Kalvan and the nomads who will be ground against their spears and swords."

Knight Commander Aristocles reached over and poured another cup of the bitter chocolate into his tankard. At Tarr-Ceros he preferred his chocolate laced with honey to sweeten the taste, but the Grand Master kept his table as spare as those of his lowliest troopers. He raised his tankard up and toasted, "To the mighty walls of Xiphlon and long may they keep the Mexicotal at bay."

"A good toast, Aristocles." The Grand Master took a long draught from his own silver tankard. "It would be a tragedy if those flesh-eaters brought down the walls of the noblest city of our age."

In a lightning-swift change of mood, Soton slammed his tankard down on the table, spilling the dark brown fluid over the deerskin maps and parchment letters. "We should be marching toward the Mexicotal's rear instead of herding nomads!"

Aristolces shook his head. "The spiders of Balph would never allow us to march to the aid of a Middle Kingdom city. They would rather have us guarding turkey pens from foxes instead!"

"Baaaah!," Soton muttered, glaring down at the brown stains on the tapestry covered floor of his tent.

"What's wrong, old friend?" Aristocles asked. "You haven't been yourself since you last returned from Balph. You refuse to talk about your audience, but even the dimmest of the Brethren sense your dark mood."