John Carr - Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

For the first time in twenty winters, Sestembar had a real opportunity to get from underneath Duke Eudocles' shadow. Not only would sole distribution rights of Ermut's Best in Hos-Zygros make him a wealthy man; it would give him renown as well, which meant no more running errands from Hos-Zygros to Hos-Harphax. Or dealing with ungrateful whelps like Eudocles' by-blow, Phidestros.

He spat a wad of tobacco on the icy wooden planks and knew his decision was made. As soon as he completed this unpleasant visit, he would return to Hos-Zygros and report the failure of his mission to Eudocles. Then he would begin to plan his grand future!

Inside, the tavern was filled with off-duty soldiers and a liberal sprinkling of serving wenches in low-cut dresses that were cinched as tight as saddle belts on a horse pulling one of Styphon's House's gold trains. There were roaring fires in both hearths and the room stank of beer and unwashed bodies. It didn't take long to find Captain-General Phidestros- he was at the center of the noise, with his red-haired subordinate, Grand-Captain Geblon. Geblon had his head nestled in the bosom of some slattern, while Phidestros was draining the ale from a flagon of heroic size.

Phidestros eyed him and quickly sobered up. "Welcome, Your Lordship."

Sestembar hefted the heavy saddlebag he carried over his shoulder, and motioned to the outside.

Phidestros looked up to the rooms at the top of the leaning banister and nodded his head at the door with an armed guard. The Count fought for calm as he followed Phidestros' arrogant stride up the narrow stairway. He had to keep his jaw from dropping when he saw the nicely furnished room behind the stained and unpainted door. Phidestros took the only chair in the room, facing a large desk with a deerskin map of the Five Kingdoms outlined in black. Sestembar resisted the temptation to remain standing and chose to sit upon one of the three-legged stools.

"Nice desk," Sestembar commented, in an attempt to open their conversation on a neutral topic.

For the first time since Sestembar had arrived, Phidestros smiled. "Yes, I made it myself. The walnut bole was as wide as my arms." He made a circle with both arms as wide as they would go. "Look at the grain."

Sestembar vaguely recalled hearing that Phidestros had once been apprenticed to a cabinetmaker. He stood up and pretended to study the highly polished walnut tabletop. He was far more interested in the muster list of Harphaxi riflemen resting on the top parchment than in any wood grain.

Phidestros followed his eyes and his smile disappeared. The Captain-General quickly shuffled the parchments out of sight and indicated that Sestembar should return to his stool by a cool glare and nod of the head.

Now that he was a noble, Sestembar deeply resented inferiors who stepped out of their place; someday he would even this score with Phidestros-royal bastard or not. He didn't like loose ends and Phidestros was a very big one, regardless of what plans his father thought he was weaving for the boy. If Duke Eudocles had listened to him twenty-eight winters ago, he'd have put the baby into a bag right after his entrance into this world and thrown him off the nearest bridge.

"What brings you to Harphax City, Your Lordship?"

Sestembar bit down on his temper and said, "I've come with words of congratulations from your father. He is pleased to see his son rise to Captain-General of the Harphaxi Royal Army."

Phidestros frowned. "His praise has come too late for this son. However, you can give him my thanks."

"I will do that," Sestembar replied with lips frozen into a smile.

"Now I have a request for my father. What I need most are a company of brass-founders and pattern makers for my Artillery Works."

Sestembar's jaw dropped open. "The few brass casters we have are working night and day casting guns and training apprentices! The Grand Duke would rather share his mistresses."

"Well, then why, by the Wargod's Mace, has he shared his brass-founders with the Usurper Kalvan?"

"I know of no such thing." This is a most interesting accusation, he thought. I'll have to investigate it upon my return to Hos-Zygros.

"It is not common knowledge, this is true," Phidestros said. "At least, not in Hos-Harphax. The brass casters are working in the Royal Foundry of Hos-Hostigos."

Something about Phidestros' guarded expression made him wonder if it was common knowledge among Great King Lysandros' intelligencers. If not, how did Phidestros find out? Does he have his own 'deal' with Hos-Hostigos? "Well, the Ivory Throne knows nothing about it. Furthermore, you must realize that with the Great Kingdoms in the midst of a war we are not in a position to let any brass casters leave Hos-Zygros. Great King Sopharar will not allow it."

Phidestros' large fists clenched and unclenched.

"However, it may be possible that we can arrange a trade." Sestembar's voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "We have heard rumors," Sestembar paused to look over at the parchments, "that the Harphaxi Army has learned the secret of Kalvan's rifles. If you could provide me with rifles and information on their manufacture, you will be richly rewarded." This offer was a calculated risk; if Phidestros took him up on it, it could very well upset his 'arrangements' with Hos-Hostigos. On the other hand, if the Grand Duke ever thought he hadn't done his best to obtain the rifles-well, his life wouldn't be worth half-a-phenig.

Phidestros' voice rasped like a file over his next words. "I am the Captain-General of Hos-Harphax, not an intelligencer in the pay of my father! These rifles you speak of are state secrets, the property of the Throne of Hos-Harphax. Were I stupid enough to trade you one, even for a company of brass founders, Great King Lysandros would have me boiled in oil-and I could not blame him! Yes, I'm a mercenary, but I'm not a harlot who sells her favors to the highest bidder! And you can throw these words in my father's face for all I care. If he wants to show his support, let him send a score of brass founders and fifty companies of Zygrosi soldiers for the Grand Host to use in their war against the Usurper!"

"Your father is Grand Duke of a Great Kingdom and don't forget it, Captain. He doesn't make deals with bastards!"

"Bastard I am and Captain I was, when last we met in Zygros City. Now, I'm Captain-General and prefer to be addressed as such by those enjoying my hospitality!"

Sestembar's hand reached for his sword hilt until he realized where he was. "One day you will go too far."

Phidestros leaned backwards in his highback chair and hooted with laughter.

Sestembar could feel the heat in his cheeks. He lowered his head and thought of the fun he would have breaking this upstart on the wheel in the deep dungeons of Tarr-Zygros. When he felt his composure return, he looked up and said, "It appears we have opened this meeting on the wrong note. If it is my fault, I apologize." The last statement went down so hard he had to gulp back the bile that it brought up.

"I accept your apology, Count. We will not bring up the subject of rifles again while you are in my house."

Sestembar gulped again and nodded his head, not trusting his voice. When his composure returned, he said, "I also have very important news to tell you. Your father insisted that I ride all the way from Zygros City to tell you in person."

For the first time tonight, he had the younger man's full attention.

"Your cousin First Prince Pariphon has died of the flux."

Phidestros looked thoughtful. "The Heir of the throne of Hos-Zygros is dead. Does that make me or my father the next Heir?"

"Blasphemer! Bastard ingrate! I ought to run you-" Count Sestembar stopped pulling his sword out of its sheathe when Phidestros drew a pistol out of a hidden compartment inside the desk and cocked it. Even with death staring him in the face, Sestembar couldn't help but wonder why Phidestros did not mention his own brother as the next Heir. Does he know something I don't?