Great Kings' War (41 page)

In her role as pay clerk, she paid off the other eight workers from the Foundry warehouse and was going over the scribe's soapstone tally when she heard Eldra calling her.

"I'll be back in a little while," she told the scribe. "Don't put it on the parchment until then."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sirna hoped the scribe wouldn't disobey her orders by way of trying to see how much he could get away with under the nose of a new clerk. She didn't feel like punishing him or any other Hostigi when they might all be dead in a week, or arguing with the senior members of the University Study Team over her "weakness." Professor Lathor Karv would be leading the pack; to hear him talk, you'd think he'd invented the concept of wages.

As Sirna approached Eldra, she noticed that several other members of the Study Team were standing with her, and that a band of horsemen was cantering toward the Foundry from the direction of Hostigos Town—or Bellefonte as it was called on Kalvan's Time-Line. As she recalled, there was a university town just about where the Foundry was—it was some completely unoriginal name, State College, Pennsylvania—that was it!

She moved behind her teammates to keep them between her and the horses. She'd have to get used to those big beasts before too much longer, but right now the memory of the spill she'd taken when her barely controlled mount shied at a fast-moving field gun was much too vivid.

Eldra had remarkably little sympathy over her distaste for horses, but then Eldra loved the perverse beasts and had an outtime Fifth Level ranch where she raised the big devils in equine form. There was even a tale about how on one Fourth Level Franco-Byzantine time-line, Eldra had disguised herself as a man to win a famous cross-country horse race—the tale ending, naturally, with how the man who came in second found himself getting an unexpected but agreeable consolation prize.

The leading rider in the group was the Great King himself. Verkan Vall—Colonel Verkan—was just behind him, and on Kalvan's right! Her scream was strangled into a squeak, but it was still loud enough to make Eldra turn.

"What the Styphon?"

Sirna pointed with a hand she was proud to see wasn't shaking. "That—it's the Prince Sarrask of Sask! The Sarrask who sacked Hostigos Town—"

Eldra used First Level hand signals to signal her to silence, then stared hard at the big man in well-hacked armor that must have once been gilded. "It can't be—well, I'll be Dralm-damned! It's our Sarrask all right, the one who belongs here, but he's trimmed down to the twin of the one you saw on the Control Time-Line. Oh well, stranger things have happened outtime... And they'll happen to you, so get used to them and don't be so jumpy."

"Yes, ma'am."

Eldra ran her eyes over Sarrask again. "Definitely trimmed down. If he lost another twenty pounds, he'd be almost handsome. Not like Kalvan, of course, but not bad... And
this
Sarrask is exuding a definite masculine vitality."

The two rulers, unaware they were being discussed like a couple of prize bulls, sat on their horses while Kalvan's dismounted bodyguards took positions all around him. Half stayed mounted, but all looked very alert; some quietly drew their pistols without aiming them at anybody.

The two rulers, Verkan, and a man who seemed to be Verkan's bodyguard remained mounted and conducted a long discussion that seemed to involve lot of hand waving. The few words she overheard were all military technicalities, so she concentrated on studying the Great King Kalvan without appearing too disrespectful. "A cat can look at a king," was a saying that she'd encountered, but she wasn't so sure about the rights of free-traders' daughters.

Kalvan appeared tired but still in fine shape physically; he obviously wasn't hiding any wounds or sickness from the campaign in Hos-Harphax. The face was certainly handsome, although it looked better when he smiled, which wasn't very often, but then why should he be smiling at all, with everything he had to worry about? It was hard to tell much about his body, as he was wearing a back-and-breast, an open faced, high-combed helmet—a
morion
if she remember the term correctly—and bulky riding boots with pistols in them. A light cavalry trooper's outfit, from what she recalled, and probably the best combination of comfort and protection he could manage.

At last the Great King signaled, and guards came to hold horses as the four men dismounted. Kalvan turned to the Foundry people.

"I'm sorry to have kept you from your work so long," he began. As if a Great King needed to apologize for anything—but then Sirna recalled that Kalvan had lived most of his life on a time-line with all sorts of myths about equality. Maybe he thought he was being gracious—although Sirna had to admit that if he thought so, he was right.

"The Royal Foundry is going to be part of a second line of defense we're building to meet the Holy Host, as the Styphoni are calling themselves. We're also fortifying Hostigos Town itself, of course, and this side of the Tigos Gap. Tarr-Hostigos will keep anyone from getting through the Gap from the other side.

"We'll be wanting the Foundry workers to dig trenches and gun positions, proof against cavalry. We'll also be using the new warehouse to store supplies. No fireseed, naturally, so you'll be able to go right on working."

She thought it was polite and politic of Kalvan to act as if he were soliciting their cooperation, as though they were in charge of the Foundry, when in fact its status as the Royal Foundry made it quite clear who was in command. True, their credentials were as foundry 'contract' workers from Zygros City and Grefftscharr. Still, Kalvan didn't have to worry about any of them packing up and leaving for home—not with an army of Styphon's fanatical soldiers some thirty thousand strong out there!

"In fact," Kalvan continued, "I expect you'll be able to go right on working through the entire battle. We don't intend to let Styphon's Unwholesome Host reach the second line or anywhere near it. However, even Great Kings' intentions do not bind the gods. We will have to prepare for the worst and work for the best.

"Colonel Verkan of the Mounted Rifles has very kindly offered one of his best officers, Captain Ranthar, to command the defenses of the Foundry. He will choose positions for the trenches, train workers in arms and take command if it does come to a fight.

"I'm trusting the loyalty you've all shown so far to continue until Styphon's wolves are driven from the land."

"Down Styphon!" a foundry worker cried. The workers all repeated the cry, then someone—it sounded like Eldra—shouted, "Long Live King Kalvan!"

It started up another round of cheers from the Foundry workers; the Team Members joined in, not wanting to be conspicuous; although Sirna could see that several of them—particularly Varnath Lala and Lathor Karv—were having problems making the proper cheering noises and their faces looked as if they were chewing bitter lemons. A good thing the Hostigi workers weren't paying attention to anything but their gods'-anointed Great King. Still, not even Allfather Dralm could help them, if Kalvan saw those faces—being accused of treason would be the least of the Team's problems. And nothing Kalvan would do to them would compare, later, to what Paratime Chief Verkan Vall would do!

Kalvan acknowledged the cheers with a half salute, half wave, then Colonel Verkan helped him remount. A moment later the royal party was riding back the way they'd come, except for Captain Ranthar and his groom, who stood holding the reins of two horses with one hand and roll of parchment under the other arm.

Ranthar dismissed his groom, directing him to the stables, then turned to the assembled Study Team members. "The first thing to do is find a room where we won't be overheard—"

Talgan Dreth, the Outtime Studies Director and Team Leader, interrupted him. "The first thing you can do is explain by what authority—oh," he broke off suddenly when he saw the hand signals "Captain" Ranthar was making.

Eldra laughed out loud at the older man's embarrassment, and even Sirna couldn't help smiling. The Director took himself
so
seriously, even though it wasn't particularly funny that the Kalvan Study Teams were now under the watchful eye of one of Chief Verkan's most trusted—say
observers
, to be polite. Talgan must have thought he was an outtimer appointed by Kalvan! For the Director's peace of mind and the state of his health, it was a good thing that Captain Ranthar was undercover Paratime Police...

Sirna wondered how long Ranthar Jard had been Captain Ranthar on Kalvan's Time-Line. Some time, obviously, or he wouldn't be an officer in the Mounted Rifles. That was most likely a clue about what he'd been brought here to do—or prevent, but she couldn't be sure which.

She began to think that perhaps she should have insisted a little harder with Hadron Tharn that she wasn't the stuff of which good spies are made.

A moon-quarter after the meeting at the Royal Foundry, word reached Hostigos Town that the Holy Host was on the march again. Kalvan's General Staff held its Council of War at Prince Sarrask's temporary residence, an inn called the Silver Stag. The improvised council chamber, if not regal, at least had enough benches, as well as a table that if not exactly groaning was at least muttering darkly to itself under the weight of food and drink piled upon it. Sarrask, it appeared, was determined to be a gracious host to the end, if this was the end—and Verkan Vall was unpleasantly aware that it might be.

Not just for the Hostigi and Kalvan, either. This was the kind of situation that had killed many a Paratimer—a fast-moving battle that could go either way on very short notice. The only sure way to be safe was to leave so soon you'd obviously be deserting your friends. If they won, you'd lose all chance of working with them again, apart from the risk of being executed for treason or desertion. If they lost, you still might not be able to deal with the victors—and you'd have to live with yourself whether you could or not.

All this was true even if you hadn't developed any deep loyalties to your outtime comrades. That happened more often than the Paratime Commission like to admit; in fact, it most often happened to the best outtime operatives—one reason why Verkan Vall had been Tortha Karf's third choice to succeed him. It was small consolation to Verkan that at least he'd never assumed he was immune to Outtime Identification Syndrome (as the Bureau of Psychological Hygiene's jargon called it) so he hadn't been surprised when he realized that his body might very well be one of those picked up after Kalvan's Last Stand.

Prince Sarrask was the only member of the Council present when Verkan arrived. He was seated at the far end, munching his way through a large plate heaped with sausages; it appeared he was well on his way to gaining back most of the weight he'd lost on the road back from Tenabra.

Sarrask waved Verkan to a chair, finished a sausage, then grinned. "I saw one of your new girls at the Foundry giving me the eye the other day," Sarrask said. "You know, the tall redhead with the big nose and the big—" His hands out outlined in the air two of Danar Sirna's most prominent features.

Verkan tried hard not to laugh. "I have to warn you, Your Grace, that Sirna is the daughter of a blood-brother of my father. So she must be considered under my protection."

Sarrask chuckled. "Under your—protection? Whatever would your wife Dalla say about you protecting Sirna?"

"She'd say Sarrask of Sask talks too much," Kalvan said, sticking his head into the room.

Sarrask grunted like a boar stuck in a bog, then shrugged. "She'd probably be right, too. Dralm-blast it! I apologize, Colonel Verkan."

"Accepted," Verkan said with a bow. Sarrask wouldn't be a problem after Kalvan's public reprimand, but it struck him that as the University Teams' strength increased, the Prince might not be the only man with an eye for their unattached females.
Suggest to Kalvan that the Foundry be formally declared part of the Royal Household?
That would solve the legal requirements, at least, and Rylla could probably help. In the long run, it would also set useful precedents for when—call it "international trade"—really began again in Kalvan's Time-Line after half a millennium of strangulation by Styphon's House.

That was as far as Verkan's thoughts took him before the rest of the Council started arriving. By the time everyone had arrived, it was the largest and most rank-heavy Council of War Verkan had ever attended in Kalvan's Time-Line, and was in the running for the prize in all the time-lines where he'd attended Councils of War.

There was Kalvan himself, four Princes (Ptosphes, Sarrask, Armanes and Balthames), six Generals (Chartiphon, Harmakros, Phrames, Klestreus, Hestophes and Alkides the artilleryman), the Ulthori Count Euphrades and at least a dozen noble and mercenary captains whom Verkan knew only by sight and name; First Level recall didn't help with information you didn't have!

It occurred to Verkan that if the Silver Stag collapsed, the rest of the Holy Host's campaign would probably be recorded as "mopping-up operations."

It also struck him that the Council was much too large to do more than give everyone a chance to be heard, whether they had anything to say or not beyond praise for Kalvan's victory and sympathy for Ptosphes' bad luck. Kalvan had almost certainly arranged for a smaller meeting to do the real business, either before or after this huge, unwieldy Council of War.

The Council ran on until all the food was gone and everybody had said his piece—or sometimes several of them. It also managed to hammer out a surprisingly complete strategy, and Verkan realized that perhaps he'd underestimated the hold Kalvan had over these people, particularly after his victory at Chothros Heights. That, it appeared, had been such a victory as no Great Kingdom had won over another in two centuries—since about the time Styphon's House really started clamping down on wars that threatened to create large and dangerous independent political units.

It also helped that the military situation was so simple that a nine-year-old child could probably have planned the campaign. Hostigos Town was something the Holy Host had to take and the Hostigi had to defend.