John Carr - Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

Anaxthenes heard the knock at the door, stopped his pacing, and turned around. His bedchamber was fit for a prince and recently re-modeled by Great King Lysandros for visiting dignitaries to the palace. Former King Kaiphranos had let the palace fall into disrepair and Lysandros had spent a small fortune-mostly borrowed from the Temple-to refurbish it for his enthronement. The Archpriest, however, was oblivious to the satin and velvet furnishings, and only had eyes for the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Petty-Captain Fydar. I have someone who says he has your permission to call."

Anaxthenes opened to door to see the Royal Bodyguard holding a short, hunchbacked man in a black robe by the scruff of his neck. It must be important or Yagos would have never come directly to his chamber.

"Let him down, Petty-Captain." The bodyguard grimaced but let the little man drop to the floor like a bag of laundry.

"Thank you, Archpriest," the little man said in a surprisingly deep voice, as he scrambled to his feet.

"You may go, Petty-Captain." Anaxthenes passed him a small purse. "I would be most appreciative if you told no one of this visit."

"Yes, Your Sanctity." The Petty-Captain had the look of a man who'd seen all manner of comings and goings in the palace and knew when it was smart to keep his mouth shut.

After the door was closed, Anaxthenes asked, "How did you fare, Deacon Yagos?"

The little man rubbed his hands nervously. "It was more difficult than I expected, Your Sanctity. This mercenary Captain-General commands more loyalty than most of that breed. I had to spend one purse on drinks for these mercenaries that call themselves the Iron Band. Among them they would drink the Harph River dry were it ale!"

"Yes, yes, go on!"

"They told marvelous and wondrous tales about fighting the Daemon Kalvan and his soldiers, but no one knew much about their captain-other than he makes yearly treks to Zygros City."

"I'm not surprised. His accent is Zygrosi. Go on, Yagos."

"I tried to talk to General Kyblannos, but he is married to his guns and has little interest in anything than doesn't clank or go bang. Grand-Captain Geblon has been with Captain-General Phidestros for eight winters, since he was a petty-captain. The man, besides an unquenchable thirst for drink, has an endless well of stories about his leader. Even falling off his stool, he wouldn't talk about Phidestros' journeys to Zygros City."

"So, then?"

"I found the highest priced madam in Harphax City. For a large purse of gold I was able to purchase the services of a most magnificent harlot."

"I take it you had a plan in mind?" Anaxthenes asked dryly.

"Oh, yes, Archpriest! I paid the Lady Sessadra-she claims to be Prince Selestros' bastard daughter-five golden rakmars, with a promise of ten more were she able to bring me the information I required. I then escorted her to the Red Dog Tavern, with the Temple Guard you loaned me-a wise precaution, Your Sanctity, since the two of us would not have walked six paces before this goddess was spirited away, so lovely is she."

"Please, spare me! The information-what did you learn about our Captain-General Phidestros?"

"Ahhh. Geblon could not wait to take her to his chambers. I watched from behind a barrel, while she stunned him with beauty like a snake spells a fat bird. Oh, our poor Grand-Captain never had a chance. He told her all about his great Captain-General and how it was rumored in the Zygros City wine shops that he was the get of the Zygrosi royals. Some say he is the spitting image of Grand Duke Eudocles, when he was a young man. Is this the Hos-Zygros connection you suspected, Your Sanctity?"

"You have done well, Yagos," Anaxthenes said, removing a large purse from the cupboard. He turned and tossed it to the little priest. "Here is your reward. Your goddess awaits!"

The little man nodded, as the purse disappeared within his tattered robe. "You know me well, Your Sanctity."

"Too well. Just don't mark the Lady up too badly; I don't want to have any complaints from the city warden. Great King Lysandros is said to have little patience with lawbreakers. I will not buy your freedom again. And see that you're not too drunk to report to the packet I have arranged for your transport, when we leave this barbarous kingdom on the third morning. If you're not at the dock on time, you can walk back to Balph!"

"Yes, Your Sanctity. I will return in time."

"See that you do!" Anaxthenes forgot the little man the minute he left the room. So much planning to do. Now that he had his observation verified: what to do? He knew Great King Lysandros would find this information most interesting, but Lysandros was of little use to him. Anaxthenes had taken his measure of Lysandros; he neither trusted the Great King nor his 'ardent' belief in Styphon. Lysandros was a man who loved himself before all things-including men and gods. Nor was he a fanatic like Rox-thar, trying to remake the world as he thought it should be. Should he tell the Grand Master? Yes. Soton might find this information of value in his dealings with Phidestros. Of one thing he was certain, someday this information would be worth much more than a dozen purses of gold.

Kalvan looked down at the parchment sent to him by his Chief of Intelligence, Duke Skranga. He had spent the day with Master Ermut trying to explain the concept of a lens for the new telescopes, or farseers as Ermut called them. It was too late to return to Tarr-Hostigos, so he was running over some of the day's briefings. One of Skranga's moles at Tarr-Harphax had picked up a very interesting bit of information, a communique between Great King Lysandros and Great King Niclophon of Hos-Bletha. The Hos-Blethan King was sending five thousand regulars from the Royal Army and another six thousand irregulars, mostly light cavalry and javelin throwers, under the command of Captain-General Lykron to join the invasion of Hos-Hostigos in the spring. The troops and their mounts would be ferried by Styphon's Great Fleet directly to Port Naphros in Hos-Ktemnos and from there they'd join the Great Host atTarr-Veblos.

Kalvan shook his head wearily and poured another shot of Ermut's Best into his new glass goblet, swirling the burgundy spirits around the glass before drinking it all down in one gulp. Suddenly the Styphon's House sponsored invasion force was beginning to live up to its billing as the Grand Host, as Great King Lysandros was calling it as he rallied his under lords. Captain-General Phidestros already had a sizeable Harphaxi force, five thousand cavalry and six thousand infantry, not counting the City Bands. If Great King Cleitharses sent the Sacred Square and the other Princely squares, or tercios, Kalvan could be facing another twelve to fifteen thousand Ktemnoi-next to the Hostigi the best man-for-man army in the Seven Kingdoms, or Eight counting the Sastragath under Wannax Sargos as a Great Kingdom, which it would be soon under his dynamic leadership. Kalvan could really use the sixty thousand nomads that had helped chase Grand Master Soton and his Knights back to Tarr-Ceros; unfortunately, they were all irregulars and couldn't be harnessed up and set aside for a rainy day. He had a feeling that Hos-Hostigos was going to be in the middle of a veritable manure storm come spring.

He needed a way to tie down those troops from Hos-Bletha, since there was nothing he could do short of an invasion of Hos-Ktemnos to keep the Sacred Squares out of the war. Maybe it was time to use some of the Confederate guerrilla tactics that his maternal great-grandfather, a former Virginian, used to tell him about as a lad. Winter was approaching and time was running short. Whom could he send? Skranga had the brains; once he was given the mission he'd improvise and make it work, if it could be done at all. He'd need a military advisor, but which one?