John Carr - Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

"Yes, Lavena is Demia's looking-plate likeness, but only in appearance. She could be Rylla's younger sister as well. I have heard that where Rylla uses manly arts in war, Lavena uses the womanly arts of love."

Ptosphes bowed his head. "I fear, I have heard likewise. It's a stain on my dear Demia's memory."

"Has Lavena used these wiles on Hestophes?"

"I believe so, Harmakros," he answered. "For the first moon-quarter since his return from Eython, Hestophes acted as if he'd been gut-shot."

"How did this happen?"

Ptosphes laughed. "How does any man fall in love? For me it was as if I saw color for the first time, or had been struck on the side of the head with a mace!

Harmakros shook his head in disbelief. "I consider myself fortunate to have missed this vision or war wound. I had thought Hestophes was a man of solid temperament, as I am."

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Harmakros. There's a Demia, if he's lucky, or a Lavena, if he's not, for every man. Apparently Lavena encouraged Hestophes-that's what he told me-and I've never known him to lie. Then dropped him like a stone when her father told her about his humble origins."

Harmakros shook his head. "She has a fool for a father!"

Ptosphes paused to knock the bowl of his pipe against the heel of his hand. "I agree. I should have sent Sthentros packing after Demia's death. I've never liked or respected him, that's why I put him in a barony far from Hostigos Town."

"How is Hestophes taking love's ill wind?" Harmakros asked

"Hestophes has been down in the privy ever since he returned from Tarr-Eython. Kalvan's decided to put Hestophes in command of the Royal Army of Observation to keep him away from his new estate."

"Yes, his barony borders Hyllos." Harmakros shook his head. "As you remarked, Colonel Democriphon will not be pleased."

"Kalvan will soften the blow; he has told me that he will invest him with a title and some lands." Ptosphes paused to refill his pipe.

"Well, that takes care of one romantic misadventure; what about our Royal couple?"

"This fight of theirs is bad for everyone's morale. Even the soldiers' drills are listless."

"This is not any time for slacking now that Captain-General Phidestros is filling Tarr-Veblos to the bursting with stores and arms for next year's campaign season."

Ptosphes finished filling his bowl with tobacco. "Any new intelligence to report, Harmakros?"

"Colonel Democriphon has been sending patrols and raiding parties into Arklos for two moons now. They appear to have done little to halt the flood of victuals and armament into Tarr-Anibra and Tarr-Veblos. There are more of Styphon's vessels at the wharves of Harphax than harlots in the Sask Army train!"

Prince Ptosphes laughed.

"The Harphaxi used the better part of the last two moons to build a new outer courtyard and have brought the garrison up to about ten thousand men, most of them untested troops and militia but who are receiving daily drills. To my eye Tarr-Anibra appears to be the staging ground for a major invasion force."

"Harmakros, what do you think of investing Tarr-Anibra before the big rains? Not only would it upset Lysandros' and Styphon's House's invasion plans, but it would serve to bring Kalvan and Rylla together, united against a common enemy. Who knows, after the siege, they might forget their quarrel."

"There are three problems with that plan. First, while Phidestros has built quickly, he has built well. The new outer walls at Tarr-Anibra are three to four lances thick at the base; we would have to bring our biggest guns into Arklos to make a breach. Secondly, we would have to conquer Tarr-Veblos to protect our rear. Thirdly, Phidestros has two thousand mercenaries billeted at Tarr-Syrax and another thousand encamped outside Arklos Town. Both are less than a two-day ride away. We might step into a hornet's nest if we aren't careful, my Prince."

"This is very bad business for Hostigos. Especially with my daughter and Kalvan waging their own war. We have to do something to bring those two back together. They are both so desperately unhappy, Dralm damnit! If Xentos were here he would know what to do."

"Have you tried to suggest to Rylla that she apologize-"

Prince Ptosphes started to laugh and then began coughing.

"Are you well, Prince?"

"I'm fine, old son. I've just been short of breath lately. Old age catching up to me." Ptosphes took several deep breaths before he continued. "My daughter believes her actions in Phaxos were completely justified and cannot, or will not, try to understand any other view. Her deepest feelings have been hurt and nothing short of a full-blown apology by Kalvan will get her to change her course. Not that my son-in-law is acting any better! You'd think she'd chopped off the heads of Araxes' five children with her own sword the way he is acting. Dralm save us all from their folly!"

Harmakros took a long draw on his pipe and exhaled a cloud of smoke before answering Ptosphes. "As Kalvan says, Dralm helps those who help themselves."

Ptosphes sputtered. "You might be right. They both suffer from an excess of pride and stubbornness. What they need is a neutral place and something to take their minds off this mess so that their love for each other can bloom again. Maybe if we can get them talking again, they can sort it out between them. It's that cursed silence of theirs that is driving a wedge between them."

Harmakros leaned forward. "What about Aspasthar's adoption ceremony? I had planned to make Kalvan Aspasthar's godfather-it was Kalvan's idea, surely he can't refuse! Maybe I can ask Rylla to be his godmother."

"Unusual, but not unheard of, considering you are still unmarried." Ptosphes paused to load his pipe with fresh tobacco. Aspasthar was Harmakros' bastard son, only recently discovered, when the boy's mother took ill and died. "Kalvan won't like it when he's found out what we've done, but to Regwarn with it! It's time for action, not more talk."

"Good." Harmakros nodded. "I will have my scribe write out a letter in the morning inviting both of them. I know we are doing the right thing. I pray for Dralm's Blessing and that our plot works."

"Yes, and soon. Rylla is growing displeased about all the time Kalvan is spending at the University-even if she's the reason he's living there! When she finds out that Kalvan has admitted woman students there, she's going to go off like one of Kalvan's rockets?

"Women students?" Harmakros shook his head. "You don't think-"

"No. Not yet anyway. But there are days when I feel as if I'm sitting on a barrel of fireseed in the midst of a raging battle. And it's neither Lysandros or Styphon's House that is holding the match, but my own daughter!"

"Here let me pour us another drink. A toast! To Kalvan and Rylla putting this silliness behind them and getting back to their real work-putting Styphon's Foul Den of Demons out of business!"

They clanked their goblets together to Ptosphes' "Aye, aye!"

Kalvan watched as Queen Rylla's Own Bodyguard trailed after the towering Sastragathi warchief, Vanar Halgoth. The Queen's Beefeaters were tall for Zarthani, all over a lance-which was about six foot, two inches, as far as Kalvan would venture guessing without a yardstick. Rylla had her recruiters scouring Hos-Hostigos for the tallest and broadest men they could find for the Queen's Bodyguard. They reminded Kalvan of Fredrick the First's, or was it the Second's, Potsdam Guard; now that three years had passed since he'd been snatched from otherwhen, he was beginning to forget such small details. He suspected that in another decade, nothing would remain of his former life as a soldier and policeman except a few dreamlike remembrances.

The Sastragathi berserker, in his Viking-style horned helmet, stood half a head taller than any of Rylla's Beefeaters except for Captain Xykos. Halgoth approached the throne and bowed, a major concession from any freeman Sastragathi, which Kalvan recognized immediately. "Please, do not bow on Our behalf, Warchief Halgoth. We are pleased to recognize you as a friend."