John Carr - Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

"Try that again, Count, and I will gladly splatter your tripes all over the wall!" He shot the pistol into the ceiling, filling the room with fireseed smoke and small pieces of falling plaster.

Sestembar carefully put his sword back into its scabbard.

There was a knock at the door. A voice boomed, "Need any help dragging the corpse out, Captain-General?"

Phidestros' laughter filled the room. "The day I can't haul my own dead is the day I retire and run this tavern." He quickly reloaded the pistol.

There was the loud tramping of boots walking away on the plank floor.

"Look Sestembar, I've never liked you, or your pretensions. I know all about you and the slum you came from. Don't rise up or I'll shoot! You can give my father his congratulations. Now that Great King Sopharar's only grandson is dead he is next in line to be the next Great King. If I were Sopharar, I'd hire a regiment of wine tasters."

Sestembar couldn't stop the growl that wrenched from his throat. "You ungrateful, puffed-up popinjay. You will fall on Kalvan's blade as fast as you've risen. If you live a hundred winters, you will never be more than a shade of your father's-"

"Please, Sestembar, I weary of your insults. Say what you must and leave before I give you to my men for their sport!"

Sestembar bit his tongue until he could taste the salt of his own blood. "As I said before, your father sends his congratulations upon your promotion." He paused to clear his throat to keep from retching. "He also asks that you think well of him and consider accepting this gift-five hundred gold rakmars."

He removed the swollen saddlebag from his weary shoulder and slung it at Phidestros.

Phidestros caught it as if it were a cannonball, then threw it back against Sestembar with such force that it knocked him off his stool and onto the floor, half dazed.

"Tell my father he can keep his blood money! I will not be bought or bribed. He will have to fight his own battles with Kalvan to get one of his rifles, if he still has the mettle. And, you old man, come again to Hos-Harphax at your peril."

"You ungrateful whoreson! You've got airs just like your slut mother-"

Phidestros stood to his full height, his big hands clenching and unclenching. "My Mother was a Princess in her heart and in her actions. A Lady, she was-too good for the likes of you or that swine that calls himself my father!"

Phidestros banged his heel on the floor twice.

Sestembar shouted, "You've gone too far-"

The big red-haired captain opened the door again and marched in with two huge companions.

Phidestros pointed to the Count. "Geblon, take this bag of rubbish and throw it into the alley, before I wring his neck with my bare hands!"

"Gladly, sir. And what about this saddlebag," he added, hefting it as though it were full of feathers.

"Pass it out among the men-the spoils of war!"

The three men laughed and the Count felt huge calloused hands grab his ankles. Sestembar tried to struggle, but to no avail. The soldiers bounced his head off the stairs as they dragged him down the staircase by the feet. He almost passed out twice. Have to keep my wits, or I'll never escape!

Halfway down the stairway, Geblon paused to open the saddlebag and began showering the soldiers below with golden rakmars-enough gold to ransom a baron. In the riot that ensued, Sestembar always thought himself fortunate to escape from the One-Eyed Boar losing nothing more than his hat, jacket, and shirt.

Limping away from the alley, Sestembar was bruised from head to toe and promised himself revenge upon the ingrate for each and every insult. Phidestros, you will pay for this in blood and treasure! His rage and wounded pride were all that kept him warm until he reached his quarters, with four bruised knuckles and a broken arm-received when a thief attacked him with a cudgel. Sestembar had taken the blow on his left arm, disarmed the thief and beaten him to death with his own crude stick.

For a day that had started off so well, the killing was the only bright spot in an otherwise absolutely horrible evening. Worst of all Sestembar would have to replay it all again in detail to the Duke! Only the thought of all the gold Sestembar would make in his dealings with Hos-Hostigos gave him any solace. Yes, let Kalvan deal with Phidestros; Eudocles' get was lucky, but like all things his good fortune would soon run its course. It was too bad he would not be there in person to savor that comeuppance.

Geblon knocked, then pushed the door open. "What was all that about, Captain?"

Phidestros smiled. "Payback. The Count came to inform me that my cousin had died."

Geblon frowned. "Cousin?"

"You know that my father is Great King Sopharar's brother, Duke Eudocles?"

Geblon shrugged. "I've heard the rumors and the two of you look very much alike…"

"Well, they're true. Eudocles was my father, although I did not learn of it until last winter."

"Not a good father."

"He has helped my career with gifts of gold from time to time through his intermediary, Count Sestembar. The men must have wondered why the paychests were never empty."

Geblon smiled. "Yes, we did. For a while, we thought you were raking in gold rolling bones! But none of the boneshakers knew you."

Phidestros laughed. "But, I want you to keep it to yourself. That's an order."

"Yes, sir."

"I don't want this story on the streets."

"Probably a good idea, since it might give Lysandros reason to suspect your loyalty."

"Exactly. I don't want him to suspect that I'm in my father's purse!"

Geblon hooted! "That's a good one. Not after what you did to that Count and his saddlebag!"

"That would read to the Great King as subterfuge. Lysandros doesn't trust anyone because he's a backstabber and a regicide. I suspect he fears that someone might do to him what he did to his older brother, Kaiphranos. I just pray to Galzar he's not an oath-breaker, as well!"

"I haven't heard him tarred with that brush," Geblon said. "Although many a tongue in Harphax City has been wagged over how convenient the old King's death was for Lysandros… But most of the suspicions have been aimed at Styphon's House."

"Always a good target, but maybe not the right one in Kaiphranos' case…"

"Well, like Kaiphranos, young Prince Pariphon, the heir to the Ivory Throne, died a most convenient death-at least, for my father."

"You don't think…"

"Lysandros and Archpriest Anaxthenes aren't the only ones in the Five Kingdoms who know how to use little vials of poison. My father is as ambitious as Lysandros and far less squeamish!"

"Hmm."

Phidestros paused to strike sparks with his tinderbox, blew the tinder aflame, lit a pine splinter and then his pipe. "Today was independence day. I turned down my father's moneybox because I wanted him to know that I can't be bought and I'm not about to play lapdog for my father's ambitions-even if he may well be the next king of Hos-Zygros."

Geblon whistled. "Well, after your heroic defeat of Prince Eltar you certainly don't lack for willing ladies and well wishers. As Captain-General of Hos-Harphax, you don't need your father's charity, either. But what about his army?"

Phidestros shook his head. "We have no lack of bodies to throw at Kalvan's guns. And I need no further debts to my father, who only found his son when he proved useful. Besides, I had Captain Lythrax follow Sestembar the moment I learned he'd arrived in the City. Lythrax saw him meet with a suspected Hostigi intelligencer."

"Lysandros lets one of the Usurper's agents run free in Harphax City!"

"Yes, it's easier to follow a hawk in the sky than in a forest. My question is: Was this meeting my father's idea, or Count Sestembar's?"

Geblon shook his head wearily. "Things were much simpler before Kalvan came to Hostigos."