Demnos, who was covered in pale dust, rode up and stopped to beat the dust from his clothes before he approached his overlord. "Your Majesty, a small party of Hostigi are approaching. From the banners, it appears to be the Prince of Nyklos."
"Didn't he die at Ardros Field? Or is this new Prince another of the Usurper's commoner friends who has been elevated to Prince?"
"I do not know, Your Majesty. His banner is unfamiliar, three silver moons over a stag's head. I will approach them and identify this man who proclaims himself Prince of Nyklos."
Demnos and his guards rode off and returned a quarter candle later.
"Your Majesty, the Prince is the legitimate son of the late Prince Armanes of Nyklos, who was once your brother's vassal."
"Armanes, I remember him. He had the graces of a plowman. I'm glad the traitor is dead. I only rue that it was not at my hand!"
"It is just as well. The heir appears quite tractable. He told me that his Great King has abandoned him to us."
Lysandros set back his head and roared, "Well, there is truth in that. But not by any choice of his former Great King. Quick, he is approaching! What of his family?"
"He has three sisters, no living brothers and his mother, Princess Nicla."
"Good. I shall make them all hostages to his loyalty."
The boy rode up on a magnificent white stallion, which was lathered and panting like a bellows. Prince Carvros appeared to be in the middle of a growth spurt, his legs and arms jutting out from his body; his face was unbearded and unlined. His small party of retainers had grim expressions and appeared prepared for the worst.
After introductions by Captain-General Demnos, Prince Carvros blurted out, "Your Majesty, I would ask your leave in sparing my poor Princedom any more damage. We have suffered greatly at the hands of our unlawful and former self-proclaimed Great King."
Lysandros nodded, making an effort to keep a smile from breaking out. This is as easy as spearing fish in a barrel! "So far I've seen nothing that your former overlord has not already destroyed."
The boy nodded, his eyes welling up. "There was no need to despoil our land, driving the farmers and serfs away. I begged him…" He appeared to gain some dignity, as if his father's memory had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "Your Majesty, I would like to swear fealty to my rightful Great King of Hos-Harphax as your loyal vassal."
Lysandros gave the appearance of great thought. After a proper wait, he said, "Your father has tried Our patience, swearing homage to an outlaw and raising up in arms against his truly-Elected King."
Carvros had the presence of mind to appear shamed. His companions were eying the boy with contempt and murderous intent.
Lysandros suspected they had come unaware of the boy's motives and still held loyalties to their deposed Great King. Why do I not command such loyalties?, he wondered. Why do men of lesser birth, like this outlaw Kalvan and that jumped-up mercenary., Prince Phidestros, command such loyalty? He suspected this was something he would never understand. However, it was his duty to protect this boy, since he was his first conquest in Hostigos.
"I shall accept your fealty, Carvros and crown you Prince of Nyklos. We shall do it here in the presence of my sworn men." Before taking the boy's oath, he directed Demnos to have General Tythos brought to him at once.
"To guarantee your loyalty, you will send your mother and three sisters to Us as hostages."
The boy turned as pale as the white ash that covered everything still above ground and clung to the blackened branches of the trees like dirty snow.
"They will not be harmed. I will have them escorted under guard to Harphax City where they will be treated as the loyal vassals I'm certain they are. I am certain that you, as their protector, will never do anything to cause their harm."
The boy shook his head, as if that would be the last thing he would ever do. "You have my oath, Your Majesty."
"Good." He needed a few loyal vassals if he was to hold this formerly lost land. Prince Sthentros, the new Prince of Hostigos, was full of complaints and a turncoat. He could never be trusted. However, his daughter was the most desirable woman he'd ever seen and would make a proper Queen for Hos-Harphax, so he tolerated her father-just barely.
"Look out!" cried Demnos. "Trouble's coming."
It was Archpriest Roxthar beating his horse's flanks in an effort to reach them before the Nykosi party left. What now? Lysandros wondered.
"Your Majesty, I understand we have some Hostigi-those blasphemers!" He pointed to the Nyklosi delegation. "Have them sent to my party!"
Demnos put his palm on the Investigator's chest to keep him from lunging off his horse and onto Prince Carvros' mount.
The young Prince and his retainers were deathly still, their faces pale and trembling.
"Investigator!" Lysandros shouted, "Control yourself. These are not Hostigi, but Harphaxi subjects. This is Prince Carvros of Nyklos, my loyal vassal."
Roxthar's eyes tried to bore a hole into his skull. "I can smell the taint of heresy upon them! Boy, do you make obsequies to Dralm?"
"Don't answer him, Prince," Lysandros ordered. "Archpriest, you are here at Our sufferance. Do not make a nuisance of yourself, or you will find your freedom curtailed."
"I am here by Styphon's Will-not man's. I will do what I have been told to do by the highest authority. These are former Hostigi subjects-let them deny it!"
"What they have been is of no importance. They are now loyal subjects of Hos-Harphax and myself, their Great King. My subjects still have the right to choose their own gods. As long as they do, you and your Investigation will stay out of my realm-or you can argue with my Guard's swords."
Roxthar was at a complete loss for words; a sight Lysandros had not seen before and one he wished would continue for the rest of the campaign. Finally, Roxthar gave him a menacing glare, then turned and rode away on his horse.
Demnos leaned over and said, "I applaud your courage, King, but you have made a bad enemy this day."
Lysandros nodded. "I'll not let priests give orders to me in my Kingdom!"
After Roxthar had left, Lysandros motioned General Tythos over. "General, this is the new Prince of Nyklos. I want you to escort him back to the palace with a suitable guard."
"Yes, Your Majesty." In a low voice, he said, "The lad's men do not look trustworthy."
"No, they don't. Take a company of soldiers and a commander you trust and leave them with the Prince as a bodyguard. Then return with Princess Nicla and her children and see they are escorted back to Hostigos Town. From there, I want them sent to Harphax City. They are to be billeted at my palace; give orders that they are to be treated as guests."
Lysandros turned to the Nyklosi delegation. "If anything should happen to my new Prince, I will see that all of you are brought before Archpriest Roxthar. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the spokesman replied, his voice quaking.
"You are all dismissed."
SEVENTEEN
Verkan's eyes ran wearily over the stacks of paper, visidisks, data cylinders and memory cubes piled high on his horseshoe desk. I was not, he decided, cut out to be a politician. Unfortunately, that was the nature of the job of Paratime Police Chief.
With almost half a million officers in the field at any one time, reading Code Red reports, making policy decisions, answering requests from important industrialists and politicos and preparing briefings to give to the Paratime Commission for the next budget cycle were all more important than any individual case-or person. Overseeing all that took time and energy. As Czar Nicholas of Russia had said before his untimely death: "I do not rule Russia, ten thousand clerks do."
Despite the fact that Chief Verkan had more than ten thousand clerks to deal with running and maintaining the Department of Paratime Police, there were always those items that had urgent policy or political implications and could only be dealt with by the man in charge. Especially now that it was budget time and once again he would have to fight tooth and nail to keep the Executive Council from eviscerating the Department's budget.