"The Grand Host will be leaving for Ulthor Port, where our agents-inquisitory say Kalvan is hiding under his bed, tomorrow at dawn. You can leave as soon as you prepare your Beshtan army. Now that you are no longer with the Host, you will not lose any of your mercenaries to the Ban of Galzar. Prince Sthentros has asked Us to allow him to borrow some of your mercenaries, as he has no troops of his own."
It's interesting, Phidestros thought to himself, how my Great King steps so carefully around my name to avoid calling me Prince. If I did not have such a large army and were he not oath-sworn, I would worry that upon his return my patent would be revoked.
"Tell Sthentros to hire his own mercenaries," Phidestros answered. As far as the arrogant traitor was concerned, he'd like to leave him in a pool of blood with his throat slit. The Hostigi betrayer would have more than that to fear if Great Queen Rylla ever got her hands on him. Everyone had heard tales of how she'd punished King Araxes of Phaxos and all his family and personal retainers! And Araxes' sins were minor ones when compared to those of Sthentros.
The King looked like he'd just swallowed his tongue. He could command many things from his vassals, but not the disposition of troops that were not considered part of the King's levy. Not yet, anyway. And, if Phidestros had his way-not ever.
The new Queen, Prince Sthentros' daughter, who had just arrived from Harphax City, was another firebrand. She'd let her displeasure about their tumbledown palace be known loudly throughout Hostigos Town-or what was left of it. King Lysandros was welcome to her, too; as far as Phidestros was concerned, they deserved each other.
Suddenly the Great King looked discomfited; Phidestros unconsciously put his hand over his purse.
"I do have a favor to ask."
"Yes, Your Majesty." What now, do you want me to swamp the Royal Privy?
"We would like your healer, the Lady Sirna, to accompany my new wife, Queen Lavena, back to Harphax City. It would be unsafe for her to follow the Host in her condition."
Was Lysandros a cuckold after only a moon quarter of marriage? Or had this seed been planted before he left Harphax City?
"Congratulations, Your Majesty. I will pray to Styphon that your child is a boy."
"Thank you, Prince Phidestros." Lysandros actually smiled. "I entrust you with the future of Our House."
"I will ask the Lady Sirna to do as you ask. Her work with the Iron Band is just about done." Of course, he would miss her company, but they would share many nights together upon his return to Besh Town.
"And, before you are dismissed, I would like to inform you that before leaving Harphax City I met with Prince Soligon of Argros."
Phidestros nodded, wondering what this had to do with him. As he understood it, when he was last in Harphax City, Soligon was one of the few Princes of Hos-Harphax who was rumored to belong to the League of Dralm.
"Soligon is a cousin, on my mother's side, and we decided that his daughter, Princess Arminta, might make you a good wife."
Phidestros tried to keep his jaw from hitting the table. "M… m… m my wife?"
"Yes, it would not only fill your bedchamber, but bring us closer in blood."
It was all he could do to keep from disgorging his last meal. Suddenly, he understood why Lysandros wanted Sirna to accompany Queen Lavena, and it wasn't just for her company. He was the main course on the plate of matrimony. Politically, it would prove to be a good match for the both of them. He would soon be Lysandros' kinsman and much less likely to misbehave while Lysandros was off haring after Kalvan. On the other hand, a princess for a wife would go a long way to legitimizing a commoner and a bastard. Maybe Lysandros was a lot deeper than he'd thought.
FIFTEEN
It was over a moon quarter since Rylla and the Army of the Trygath had left Port Ulthor. There hadn't been a word about the Nythrosi fleet until this morning at sunrise, when Cleon had awakened Kalvan with the news of its arrival. He'd had to stop himself, in a total loss of royal dignity, from throwing on some rumpled breeches and a doublet and dashing down to the wharves to see for himself. He'd decided to wait until he was officially notified of their arrival.
Instead, he forced himself to work with Colonel Ralthos, another of his up-and-coming young officers, on the gunboat situation. With General Alkides off with the Army of the Trygath, Ralthos was the ranking artillery commander. So far they had twelve finished gunboats with half a dozen more in various stages of production.
"We have three more boats that are worth shipping to Thagnor, but the rest aren't far enough along to bother taking them out of the work sheds. It would be easier to build them anew, with some of the improvements Your Majesty suggested."
"Good, Colonel. I want them put aboard our own ships. I don't want the Nythrosi to even hear a whisper about the gunboats. Make sure you burn and destroy everything, including the sheds, before we leave."
"Yes, Sire. We wouldn't want those Styphoni curs getting their paws on our work!"
"We've got outriders waiting to burn every farm and field around Ulthor Port. Once they're finished, they'll blow up all the buildings in town and torch whatever is left before we depart."
Colonel Ralthos' nodded grimly, as it would be his men who would be responsible for laying the charges.
His subjects were still learning the meaning of total war. Kalvan didn't intend to leave anything behind except charcoal and stone. His Ulthori subjects had been warned; over half the town had left with Rylla's baggage train. The rest had left for the hills, leaving Ulthor Port as empty as an Old West ghost town. Those who had the money to buy passage had left half a moon ago for Glarth Town or the Middle Kingdoms.
Kalvan knew he was not a popular figure in westernmost Hos-Hostigos. Still, refugees from the Investigation were arriving daily. Now that they had no more room for extra cargo, the DPs were being turned back at the outskirts of town. They were given as much food as the town's quickly dwindling foodstocks-Rylla and the Army of the Trygath had taken the lion's share-would allow, pointed in the direction of the Trygath and firmly told to depart.
He doubted many of the late arrivals would survive the coming winter, but their survival was out of his hands for now. Someday, he promised himself, Styphon's House would pay for every single death.
He heard Prince Phrames' voice in the hallway.
"Come in, Phrames."
"Your Majesty, the Nythrosi fleet has arrived. Boarding has already commenced."
"Excellent."
Phrames came in wearing a heavy cloak. "Dress warmly, Your Majesty. There's a chill wind blowing off the sea." Trader Tortha and Uncle Wolf Tharses trailed behind, followed by a large dog that looked like a Roman wolfhound.
"Trader Tortha, how long will it take to load all our men and supplies aboard the ships?"
Tortha looked upward, as though asking help from the gods, then said, "Two or three days at most, Your Majesty."
"Good. Colonel Ralthos, I want you to see that the palace is completely destroyed. We've got almost ten tons of Styphon's fireseed that's not worth transporting, not even for trading. Put it where it will do the most good."
Ralthos looked appalled, but nodded his accord. "There's not going to be a lot to return to, Sire."
"I don't intend to leave anything to aid and comfort the enemy!" Kalvan snapped back, no longer able to restrain his temper. He didn't relish torching Ulthor Port the way General Sherman had fired Atlanta, but it had to be done.
Ralthos looked as if he'd been struck. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
Phrames looked at him with hurt eyes.
Kalvan shook his head. "I'm not angry with any of you, so don't take my bad mood personally. I can't tell you how much I hate having to pull our own house down just to discomfort the enemy, but there is no other path. We've lost our home-maybe for good."