"Theovacar should be worried," Phrames said. "If Kalvan decides to move into this area, he'll be bringing better than thirty thousand soldiers, all of them hardened veterans. I wouldn't want to be in Theovacar's boots."
"Actually, from what King Kalvan told me," Tortha added, "he'd much rather work with Theovacar than against him."
Phrames nodded his agreement. "The Great King always prefers the path of peace, although he's not often allowed to walk that path."
Tortha took a minute to empty his pipe bowl and fill it with fresh tobacco. "Kostran, what's on our agenda for today?"
"King Theovacar told me-well, ordered me-to arrange a meeting with you as soon as you arrived, and before he met with the Hostigi Ambassador." Kostran nodded at Phrames.
"What's your take on that?" Tortha asked.
"He wants to pump you, as a successful Xiphlon trader and potential ally, to find out what he can about what the Hostigi are up to. He's also desperate for information on King Kalvan. Like most merchants of his acquaintance, Theovacar suspects that you'd be more than willing to sell Kalvan out for future tariff concessions and a few sweetheart trading opportunities."
Tortha leaned back in his chair, and made washing motions with his hands. "Let's go trade some crowns!"
Kostran turned to Prince Phrames. "Your Grace, while we're gone, Zinna will take you on a tour of the capital. You can look at it as either a pleasant afternoon ride or a reconnaissance of a future enemy city. Your choice."
Tortha noted that Theovacar had already scheduled him for an early morning audience. It had taken Verkan several ten-days to arrange one two years ago, but that had been before the fall of Hos-Hostigos and the mass migration to Ulthor, which bordered the Saltless Seas-Theovacar's own ponds, as he saw them. Thus, no surprise there. Tortha's own cover was as good as gold since Xiphlon had been under Mexicotal siege for years.
As they left the house and went back to the stables, Tortha asked, "Kostran, is there anything more I need to know before I meet with Theovacar?"
"Nothing, other than to guard your tongue. King Theovacar's volatile and mercurial in his moods, although the dominant theme is megalomania. I've been interrogated by several of his agents-inquisitory-read spies. They're desperate to learn what King Kalvan is up to. As if I would know Kalvan's innermost thoughts, stationed some thousand miles away from him in Greffa.
"There are only a few mercantile houses in Grefftscharr that have set up trading operations in Hos-Hostigos. The House of Verkan is by far the biggest; between the fireseed works and our imports of Ermut's Best-we've made a big splash. Speaking of Ermut's Best, no one is going to be happy when our stocks run out. Is there any way that we can replenish them on Home Time Line? It's a real moneymaker."
Tortha shook his head. "That brandy is one of Kalvan's innovations. While it wouldn't be hard to duplicate, it might be difficult to explain where it came from if Kalvan were to suddenly appear in Greffa City. Maybe we can arrange for some Grefftscharrer vintners to meet with Ermut and set up a local distillery. I could put up the purse."
"I'll talk to my workers and see if we can find the right party," Kostran said as they entered the stables where two saddled and bridled horses were waiting. Tortha needed a hand up from one of the stable boys, but once mounted on the saddle he settled in comfortably. He trailed Kostran and the lead guard, an undercover Paracop whose flintlock pistol contained a needler charge, into the muddy street. Three more guards followed behind. Greffa, for a pre-industrial city, was relatively safe, but much less so during the chaotic post-storm period.
They both slowed their horses to a walk as they came to a flooded intersection where the side street they'd been navigating met with one of the main avenues. There was a bloated corpse bobbing up and down where the water pooled up near the wooden walkways. Two young boys were poking it with sticks until a city watchman chased them away. It took a few minutes to navigate the horses around an overturned wagon that had spilled several dozen crates of broken pottery.
Kostran leaned in close when they were back on firm ground. "Is there any chance we'll see Verkan this season? I know he's got his problems on Home Time Line, but we could use some guidance here. Every day I'm half-way expecting Theovacar to arrest us and the Grerfan Study Team on trumped-up charges as agents of a foreign kingdom."
Tortha smiled indulgently; sometimes he forgot that Kostran was still a youngster, not a day over sixty. "Don't worry so much. Theovacar needs us even more than we need him. The House of Verkan is his only window into Hostigos as well as his only contact with King Kalvan. He'd have to go from seriously worried to raving idiot to forget that-not that it hasn't happened outtime before, mind you. Still, I think all is well for the moment. Use some of Verkan's financial reserves and buy some better ears at the palace; there's always someone in every palace who can use a quick cash transfusion. I know Verkan planted some micro transmitters the last time he was in Theovacar's private audience chamber. I'll try to place some more today.
"However, if you even get a hint that he's about to arrest the Greffan Study Team, get them the Styphon out of here! Chief Verkan doesn't need another fracas with Dhergabar University about the Paratime Police not protecting its professors-even if they are complete idiots, like the former Hostigos Study Team."
"Thanks, Tortha. The Greffan Study Team has been here since we started the Verkan Fireseed Works. Being around those professors all day at the trading house is worse than being stuck in a chicken coop. After a while, you stop thinking like a cop and start thinking like a civilian. I can't wait until Verkan gets back and can spell me for a couple of ten-days."
"Don't hold your breath. Vail still has to explain to Kalvan by which god's miracle he survived a sucking chest wound. But, before that, he'll have to convince the Executive Committee why he should be allowed to return to Kalvan's Time-Line at all. Frankly, I'm surprised the Paratime Commission hasn't already grounded him from traveling outtime-probably because they're afraid it will put another arrow into the Opposition Party's quiver."
The storm had loosened more than tiles, as Tortha discovered as they approached the center of the city. They had to let their horses pick a slow path around shutters, doors, dead dogs, barrels and barrel staves, and what had once been a set of scaffolding three stories high, with all the masons' tools but apparently none of the masons themselves.
Fortunately the main or "royal" streets of Greffa were wide. The city had been laid out as the permanent camp of a tribal confederation of mounted warriors, and it was still an offense to narrow a royal street so that two large wagons could not pass in either direction. The route to the palace lay mostly along the royal streets, which were not only wider but mostly paved either with granite blocks, or at least with split logs. Some of the logs had sunk out of sight overnight, but they were still better than the side streets which had mostly turned into quagmires.
Tortha passed one spot where half-a-dozen small boys were swimming back and forth in a sinkhole before a leaning tenement building.
A brisk wind was still blowing, driving away the reek of curing leather in the Street of the Tanners and the smell of tar in the Street of the Coopers. At the far end of that street a small temple had collapsed completely except for part of one wall. Rubble as high as a man's waist blocked half the street and lay scattered across the other half, leaving only a narrow meandering path for mounted traffic. A gang of men had already dug out the votive image and were setting it upright. He recognized Lytris-or Lystris as the Weather Goddess was called in the Middle Kingdoms-carved with a woman's head (not a falcon's as the Zarthani carved her) with a mocking, even cruel expression on her face.