Davros continued, "We have already sent a formal letter of complaint to Great King Demistophon. Their hair is cut short in the style of Hos-Ktemnos so we believe they were dispatched from Balph. Maybe this will awaken our Great King from his slumber."
Xentos shook his head. "No, Davros. Only the destruction of the High Temple and all our deaths might accomplish such a miracle. The Great King does not want to see the truth, but only what his heart desires. He wants territory and Styphon's gold. He cares nothing about our struggle against the One-God fanatics. But it is my duty to speak to him anyway; it is always possible that the spirit of Dralm may enter his heart."
IV
What is that, Aristocles thought, as he woke up and felt around for the hideaway pistol that he kept next to his bedding. His oath-brother, Shelawa, was already sparking a flint to light a beeswax candle. There were more knocking noises at the door of the room inside the large farmhouse he was using as a temporary billet and headquarters. When the pistol was safely in the his hand and cocked, he asked, "Who is it?"
"Sergeant Machias, sir, I've got an urgent message for you."
Aristocles got up off the straw tick, laying his pistol down. In the Sastragath it wasn't unusual for an enemy to slip into a Knight's tent and slit this throat. Even though it wasn't necessary here, keeping a pistol handy was a lifelong habit; one that had saved his life on two occasions.
Shelawa had the candle lit by the time he had his cloak on and the Sergeant was in the room. The Sergeant used his tinderbox to start a fire in the hearth, as it was close to freezing. None of them were accustomed to this chill weather; in Hos-Ktemnos it was only this cold in the middle of winter.
"One of Styphon's Couriers just arrived, sir. He said it was urgent. Since his horse was half-dead and he was suffering from frostbite, I took him at his word."
Aristocles checked the seal in the flickering light; it was the Seal of Styphon's Own Voice. He whistled. "Give me your knife."
He used the blade to open the seal, then removed the letter. It took him an eighth of a candle to decipher. "By Styphon's Brass Balls!"
"What is it, sir?"
"Go get Great King Lysandros! Tell him to meet me downstairs."
"Yes, sir. Shall I wake the cooks?"
"No, it's too early."
Almost a half of a candle had passed by the time Aristocles heard King Lysandros' party arrive. He'd had more than enough time to decipher the code again and write out a decipherment in runes, dress and put on his weapons. He was crunching the stale end of a loaf of bread when the Great King entered the Knights' command quarters.
Machias had on a hot cauldron of cider and offered the King's party cups as they arrived.
Lysandros looked unsettled and half-asleep. He started to say something, but thought better of it and instead took a cup of hot cider.
"Lysandros, you'd better come with me."
The King raised his eyebrows. "Is it that important?"
Aristocles nodded. Lysandros took him at his word and walked to the back briefing room by himself. He shut the thick plank door.
Inside, the King asked, "What is it, man? I hadn't gotten two candles of sleep when your messenger arrived!"
"A secret message from Styphon's Own Voice."
That silenced Lysandros.
"Do you want to read it?" Aristocles asked.
"Yes."The King poured over the parchment, then read it twice again. He sputtered: "Are you sure this is real? I don't see Anaxthenes' seal."
He showed him the original message with Styphon's Own Seal. "It was in code and I translated it for your eyes."
Lysandros nodded, "What are we going to do? I like the Prince. He and I shared a cask of beer last night."
"We don't have any choice, Lysandros. If Anaxon leaves with the Ktemnoi contingent, we don't have a Grand Host anymore; by Ormaz… we'll barely have an army."
Lysandros nodded. "By Galzar's Mace, that's the truth. We've already lost Soton's Lances, Phidestros and the Iron Band and most of the former mercenaries, and most recently the Temple Bands of Styphon's Own Guard that escorted Roxthar. Without the Sacred Squares and the Ktemnoi Army, all we'd have left are the Royal Harphaxi Army, six Temple Bands under Marshal Albides, ten Lances of Knights, your levy, some riffraff that call themselves Styphon's Warriors and the Ros-Zarthani, who are trying to weasel out of their contract. We must be hard."
"I know, Your Majesty. We have to do this deed and do it quickly before word arrives from Hos-Ktemnos that the old King is dead."
"How?"
"It's too late to arrange an accident, not with Anaxon billeted with the Sacred Squares. He'll have to die leading one of the attacks into Nythros. We'll move up the final breakthrough."
"I hope you have men you can trust to do this job, because I don't," Lysandros said, shaking his head. "This is Phidestros' kind of work."
"I have some old comrades who will do whatever I ask without any questions. It's hard to keep your hands clean in the border wars."
"Good," Lysandros said, pulling his pipe out of his tobacco pouch. "We'll set a trap. First, we'll give Anaxon the glory of being the first one of us through the breach. Meanwhile, you can have your 'comrades' enter the city by one of the underground tunnels we just finished. We need to get them into the palace before Anaxon arrives. It might be good if they changed uniforms inside the palace to match the Nythrosi. Inside they can set up an ambush."
Aristocles grimaced as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.
TWENTY-SIX
Verkan followed Kostran into the Chief's Projection Room, just around the corner from his office, where his deputy had set up a three-dimensional view of the Northern Continent, Minor Land Mass. The focus was set just above the big inland seas that Kalvan called the Great Lakes. This view was provided by three camouflaged anti-grav cameras hovering over the Nythros City States. With their Second Level optics, these sky-eyes could count the freckles on a redhead's face.
"Before you tune this viewer, what do you have to report?" Verkan asked. "Last I heard, it was none too healthy in Greffa for ex-employees of the Verkan Fireseed Works."
"You're right, Chief. Things went straight to Regwarn after we blew up the Fireseed Works, but what a fireworks show! They're still talking about it in Greffa. Since we used timers, everyone on the Team had a good alibi. However, Theovacar doesn't trust anything he hasn't seen with his own eyes. He had us all grilled unmercifully."
Verkan's chin was rigid, forcing his pipe to jut out. "Any torture?"
"No, Theovacar wasn't that sure of his suspicions. But things have been getting worse. He nationalized all of your property two ten-days later. Zinna and I got out with the rest of the Study Team in plenty of time. Right now we're supposed to be on a galley on our way to Ragyath, which is the Yaddstrung Equivalent-right above Thagnor and Gytha. It's centered around a town called Algonac on Europo-American. We figure from there we can keep an eye on things and maybe help Kalvan out with the Ragyathi, who are not overly fond of Greffa."
"Good choice, Kostran. The Ragyathi weren't fond of Prince Varrack, either. I'll make sure we get a conveyer-head setup going there within a ten-day."
"Thanks, Chief. Now, let me show you what's going on south of Kalvan's new base."