Sacking towns is a bloody business, Lysandros thought to himself as he stepped over the dead body of an older man, who'd been stripped naked of clothing and possessions with only his slashed boots left behind-too tight to remove. From his gaping mouth it was obvious he was the owner of a full set of teeth, which meant he must have been a rich man. Some soldier was now dressed as a nobleman in clothes that wouldn't last the campaign. Yet, such actions were good for morale: besides, who was he to stop the boys and their fun?
Inside the tavern the air was clear of any smoke but tobacco and the stale but clean smells of spilled wine and ale. Lysandros was on his second goblet of wine, when his co-commander entered the tavern.
"There you are! Celebrating already?"
"Don't be so glum, Aristocles. We won!"
"Maybe, maybe not."
"What do you mean, 'maybe not'?"
"Our scouts have just returned from the Thagnor border. The Hostigi are turning away the refugees by the thousands."
"They're not taking them in? The very Sky-Palaces must be in danger of falling!"
"No, it's not by the Usurper's orders. It appears that Kalvan is not at Thagnor City, but Queen Rylla rules the kingdom in his stead."
"Oh, that one," Lysandros said, nodding knowingly. "She has a heart of ice such as my own. This Queen ordered the deaths of everyone in the Phaxosi princely line, including women and babes in arms. She'll not care a crabapple for some Ulthori ragamuffins. If I didn't have her twin as my bride, I'd take her to the marriage bed after Kalvan has been beheaded and her brat put to the sword!"
Aristocles shook his head in disbelief. "It's a good thing Roxthar is not around to hear you speak such."
"We are all better off for his absence."
Aristocles nodded.
"What I want to know is: where in Ormaz's name is the Usurper Kalvan?"
"That, Your Majesty, is the question of the hour. We will have to set additional scouts out to see if they can find his Army. Leave it to him to come up with some ruse or trick that will give him the advantage of surprise."
"Then we will be twice wary. He would not have stripped Thagnor City bare of soldiers, leaving his wife and brood at our mercy. Not if I know that man. At most, he may have an army of some ten thousand strong. With all the trees leveled for twenty marches around Thagnor City, there is no place to hide an army large enough to do us damage. Nor can he move by sea as the Grefftscharrer Navy holds the straits of Thagnor in the north and we have sacked Baltor Town. Our alliance guarantees that the docks of Morthron Town will soon be ours. Kalvan will have no haven for his Navy; they will be tied up at Thagnor City until we torch every ship and boat. Like Port Ulthor, Thagnor City will be burned to the ground."
"Do not count the Usurper out, Your Majesty. He has made pacts before with barbarians and with the aid of one of their great warlords almost sacked the Order's headquarters, Tarr-Ceros. What if Kalvan returns with a barbarian horde of half a million or more? Such things have happened in the past."
Lysandros sneered. "We will scythe them down like weeds in a garden with our guns and muskets. Once we have his City in thrall we shall destroy it and kill everyone inside. The memory of their terrible deaths shall be a warning to usurpers for all of time."
FORTY
But, Your Majesty, how could you refuse these poor wretches sanctuary behind our walls?" Prince Phrames pleaded. "You must know how badly this will end for most of them."
Queen Rylla fought the tears that welled up in her eyes. Of course she knew what would happen; most of the refugees would die of starvation, murder, or rape from soldiers and bandits. Or from others who had lost their way in the madness that often came after a city was sacked, families were killed and other horrors witnessed. Once, before becoming a mother, she would have brushed Phrames' fears away and not thought of them again. Now she knew a mother's torments and only fear for her own people and family had allowed her to turn the Nythrosi and Baltori peoples away.
"I will say prayers for them to Yirtta Allmother and Allfather Dralm that they may guide and protect them."
"But we can't?"
"No, Phrames. We have over half a million of our own subjects to house and feed inside these walls already. Already the Grefftscharr Navy is blockading our port and word has come that Theovacar's Army will arrive in a few days. Soon the Grand Host of Styphon will be planted before our walls. Other than those farms inside the outer walls, there has been no spring planting; thus, there will be only a small harvest. We have grain and fish coming from as far away as Glarth Town, bought at much expense in gold. Praise be to Allfather Dralm that most of it has arrived before the Grand Host.
"If we don't find provisions, our own subjects will starve. Adding another hundred thousand mouths to feed would be complete folly, and playing into the hands of our diabolical enemies. Remember, these poor people are not running from us, but to us. It is Styphon's House who has destroyed their homes and villages."
"What would Kalvan do?"
Rylla felt her blood start to boil and a pounding in her ears. She forced herself to rein in her temper. "That's not a fair question, Phrames. It is this mercy of my husband's that King Lysandros is counting on to weaken our City. Before the disastrous Battle of Ardros and our own Trail of Blood from Hostigos, Kalvan would have welcomed these refugees into our City with open arms. Now, I'm not so sure. The Great King has had to harden his own heart or face our annihilation at the hands of Styphon's fiends."
Phrames shook his head. "I'll never believe that. Maybe turning away those people was the necessary thing to do, but it was wrong in the eyes of the gods."
"When the gods put loaves of bread and potatoes on our tables, we will be more merciful and thereby look good in the eyes of the True Gods. Until then we must do as we see fit for our subjects. Now, let us speak of more urgent matters. How far away is King Theovacar's Army?"
"Two days at most, Your Majesty."
"So it appears they will strike at the same time as the Grand Host. Are we prepared?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, in all ways that we can be. The walls are strong enough to hold back ten times their number and we have our own surprises for the Styphoni devils."
II
Prince Phidestros was sitting before his worktable in Tarr-Dodra, frowning in concentration. This latest dispatch from Great King Lysandros didn't portend well for himself; he resented being given a job that was not only messy, but might drag behind it a cartload of other problems. He knew things would only get worse when Lysandros returned to Harphax City, which appeared to be sooner rather than later if the King's latest letter truly reflected the unfolding of events in the Upper Middle Kingdoms.
"What is bothering you, my husband?" Arminta asked.
Phidestros sighed. "Lysandros has given me guarded orders to murder his nephew, Prince Selestros. Why can't he leave the boy to wallow in his own filth until he drowns?"
"Exactly what does he say?"
He brought the parchment up close. '"I would consider it a personal favor should my late brother's remaining kin be removed from all future worldly harm and be free to visit his father before my return in the Moon of the Great Harvest.'"
"Your reading is much improved, my husband."
Phidestros bowed his head. "Thanks to your wifely instruction. Did I read his words correctly?"