After the Royal Herald summoned him forward through the left-hand door, Tortha noted five more armed Companions in the room beyond. King Theovacar was seated on a carved and gilded wooden throne. The famed Iron Throne of Grefftscharr was used only for ceremonial occasions or to greet visitors of great importance. No one else was in the chamber but the guards. Theovacar's ruddy face was framed by a blond beard; it didn't appear that he spent much time out-of-doors. Still, the sturdy arms coming out of his mink robe showed serious blade scarring, probably from weapons practice. It had been a long time since the King had needed to lead his troops in battle. He wore doeskin trousers covered with complex embroidered symbols and snakeskin boots. On his left arm was a wide gold armlet with more of Thanor's thunderbolts etched into its surface and on his head he wore a wolverine fur cap-of-state sewn with gold wire and pearls. It was designed to impress and it did.
Prowling next to the throne was a full grown jaguar with a golden chain attached to a metal loop in the floor. No one had told Tortha about the big cat. Is this something new?
Tortha went down on one knee, Kostran on both. "In obedience to Your Majesty's will, the Trader Tortha is here to answer your questions."
"The Trader Tortha is welcome."Then Theovacar signaled the Trader's party to rise.
One of the Companions brought up a silver platter with three gold goblets and offered them to the King. He took one, then nodded. Next, the Companion presented the other two to Tortha and Kostran.
Tortha nodded his thanks and carefully let his signet ring brush the liquid. It absorbed a micro-sample, analyzed it against all known poisons and toxins; the blue stone briefly turned a deeper shade of blue, indicating it was safe to drink. He took a deep sip of ale-a very strong brew, to say the least. Until it entered his mouth, he hadn't realized how dry it had gotten. I'm getting too blasted old for this business!
Theovacar emptied about half his goblet in one deep swallow, then leaned back in his chair and ordered: "Tell me what you know about the situation in Hos-Hostigos."
"Your Majesty does us great honor by gracing us with his presence. Your humble servant has just returned from Ulthor where King Kalvan and his people are regrouping to face the soldiers of the false god Styphon. King Kalvan has been driven from his capital of Hostigos Town by the minions of Styphon and forced to flee his Kingdom." Tortha had been warned not to call Kalvan, "Great King," as Theovacar considered himself the only true Great King and the east coast Great Kings upstart barbarians. Unfortunately, Theovacar didn't dare call himself Great King, even though he ruled over more territory than any two "Great Kings," because his nobles would rise up in arms if he did. But that didn't mean he didn't want to, or wasn't planning to do so in the future.
"We have heard word of the great victory of Styphon's House," Theovacar said, barely holding back the grin that tugged at his lips. He reached over to scratch the ears of the jaguar, which was-in Tortha's opinion-uncomfortably close to the throne. "What are King Kalvan's plans to deal with this calamity that has befallen him and Hos-Hostigos?"
"Your Majesty, Kalvan is regrouping his forces in Ulthor. I do not know of his future plans beyond keeping his people alive. I suspect it is his intention to someday win back his kingdom and destroy the False Temple of Styphon."
"A laudable ambition, Trader Tortha. Do you believe he can win back in the future what he has lost in the past?"
Tortha paused to drink deeply from the golden goblet before speaking. "I do not know the answer to that question, Your Majesty; only the gods can foresee the future. I am but a simple merchant and know little of the ways of war."
This time there was no mistaking the frustration in Theovacar's voice. "I know that you are not a soldier, but as a trader you have traveled many places and seen many things. What is your informed view of the Hostigi situation?"
Theovacar's voice was loud enough that the jaguar reared off its haunches and prowled back and forth with its jaws stretched wide.
"I think Kalvan will be indeed fortunate to keep his head on his shoulders should the Grand Host of Styphon follow him into Ulthor." He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead but didn't dare wipe it off with the sleeve of his robe. It provided additional verisimilitude to his answers. The last thing he wanted to do was provide any indication that Kalvan was thinking of migrating into Grefftscharrer territory-even if he was.
"See Trader, with a little prompting, you have found out that you indeed do know more than you suspected."
Tortha nodded in agreement.
"Has Kalvan talked about moving his troops into Our lands?"
"Not in my presence, Your Majesty. Of course, I am a lowly trader, not one of the King's confidants. Nor do I know what his lips speak in his innermost councils."
"A quick response, Trader. How many ships does Kalvan have in Ulthor?"
"Not counting the fishing fleets, there were no more than forty ships, many of them merchant vessels, at Port Ulthor, Sire." A figure that had the benefit of being both true and absolutely no threat to Greffan naval hegemony.
Theovacar practically beamed; his prize student had given him the answer he wanted to hear. "How many soldiers can King Kalvan muster now?"
Tortha had expected this question and thought out his answer in detail during the sea voyage to Greffa. His decision was to be truthful. In all probability, Theovacar's spies had already determined the size of the Hostigi Army and it was a trick question to test his veracity. "Your Majesty, more soldiers were rejoining the Hostigos Army almost every day, many of them recovering from their injuries. Of course, as you know, I am not privy to Kalvan's councils, but rumors and gossip lead me to believe the Hostigi Army could muster some thirty to thirty-five thousand men."
Theovacar might have already known this answer, but it still did not please him in the least, gauging by the frown creasing his forehead-and for good reason. An army that strong in the Upper Middle Kingdoms could just about write its own ticket, as they said on Fourth Level Europo-American. The standing Grefftscharrer Army stood at less than ten thousand men, counting the King's Companions. And only elite troops carried fireseed arms. If they were of a mind to, the Army of Hos-Hostigos could tear apart Grefftscharr like a wolf pack ravaging an elk. Armies this large were only good as distant allies, and the Hostigi army man for man was the best army Styphon's House Subsector had ever known.
"So it is your conclusion that Kalvan will fight his battles in Ulthor, Trader Tortha?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, Kalvan does not want to abandon his people. And, he has nowhere else to go except into the Trygath where the traitor who calls himself Great King Nestros hides." That was a nice piece of misdirection, thought Tortha, knowing that Theovacar did not like upstart neighbors who pronounced themselves "Great Kings."
"Nestros!" Theovacar almost spit out the name. "I have long considered clipping the wings of that fat turkey myself. That the Pretender Nestros sold his honor to the dung-eating priests of the False God Styphon only makes me loathe him more. I wonder if they would spare a single soldier or gold piece to save his kingdom?" In his anger, Theovacar banged his hands down hard on the armrests of his throne.
The jaguar screamed in response.
This question Tortha had no problem answering. "Styphon's priests do not honor their word, nor their god. They only honor their own purses."
"Disbelieving swine!" Theovacar had a bit of drool running down his chin. "Kalvan is welcome to feast on Nestros' flesh and clean his teeth with the Pretender's bones. If he undertakes such a boon, I will provide him with troops and gold."