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"How much truth is behind these rumors?" Aristocles asked.

"Enough. We know that Kalvan sacked scores of our temples and melted the gold leaf off their roofs and looted all the valuables they contained. He also confiscated the estates of our allies in those lands he conquered. He killed Balthar the Black and claimed his hoard. He also did a lively trade with the Agrysi in contraband fireseed and Ermut's brandy, and sold a lot of older ordnance to Nestros, who calls himself Great King of Rathon. There were tens of thousands of large and small wagons, carts and carriages in Kalvan's baggage, but I'd estimate that maybe three hundred to five hundred carried his Treasury-some three to five million rakmars of gold. I wouldn't want to guess how much silver they took away."

"By Styphon's Whiskers! That's enough treasure to make even the Inner Circle Archpriests burn with envy. And you know how much gold there is in the Temple Treasury."

"True, but it's also lit a bonfire under the breeches of our Great King Lysandros. Now, he's under the impression that he can both be a great captain and win a treasure big enough to rebuild his Kingdom."

"It will not be easy to dissuade him from his folly," Aristocles said, drawing deeply on his pipe and then releasing a small cloud of tobacco smoke.

"I agree. I don't know what I can do to clear up this mess since Styphon's House has publicly acclaimed King Lysandros as Styphon's Champion to the rest of the Five Kingdoms. Phidestros, for all his vainglory and other faults, is the proven captain of choice, but I don't know if I can convince King Lysandros of this and make it stick. And, with Roxthar giving his blessing to Lysandros' cause, I don't have a lot of room to maneuver."

"Nothing has been the same since this Daemon Kalvan's arrival."

"Right again, old son. But this is a new kind of war, a war of the gods rather than a war between men: Dralm against Styphon. With the Wargod in the middle. And anything goes, including treachery, burning towns and the wholesale butchery of civilians. I never thought I would live to see such ignoble times."

"Maybe we should find an excuse to return to Tarr-Ceros and leave the fools here to sort it all out."

"No, it is our duty to win this war for the God of Gods, as you yourself well know. We will fight this war until Kalvan is vanquished or we are dead. Now, speaking of home, were you able to bring any reinforcements with you, and what is the situation in the Sastragath and Sea of Grass?"

Aristocles smiled. "Ever since Warlord Sargos left to 'punish' the Mexicotal, the Sea of Grass has been tranquil, which thus means the Sastragath has been more peaceful than any time in living memory. There hasn't been a single battle since last year. Just the usual border thievery, murder and mischief. Therefore, I was able to bring four Lances of Knights to accompany me."

"Won't that leave us vulnerable next spring?" With auxiliaries, Soton couldn't help computing: four Lances would add another three to four thousand troops to the Host.

"No. Since your great victory we have had thousands of new recruits to the Order, some from as far away as Hos-Zygros-even a few from the Middle Kingdoms." Aristocles shook his head. "I've never seen anything like it. Many of them are veterans of the border wars."

Soton smiled. "Nothing beats success for recruiting. That's the best news I've heard in a moon half. We can use more good troops; I expect we'll be losing some men shortly."

"Do you think that Lysandros will remove the Harphaxi Army if he doesn't get his way?" Aristocles asked.

"It wouldn't surprise me. However, if he takes over Phidestros' captaincy, I expect Phidestros will leave-taking with him all of his Beshtans."

Aristocles looked up. "Just the troops he has under his personal command, right? Two or three thousand Beshtans will hardly be noticed."

Soton took out his pipe and laughed. "I wish it were so. I don't know if you heard or not, but the Grand Host-thanks to Roxthar's Investigation- was put under the Ban of Galzar."

"What! That news hasn't reached Ktemnos City yet. That's terrible. What a blow to morale. How many troops did you lose?"

"The troops don't know of it, yet. It's a big secret, although some of the mercenaries suspect and probably everyone else and their cats. To combat wholesale desertion among the mercenaries, we were forced to have them swear allegiance to Phidestros and Greater Beshta-"

"By Yirtta's Dugs, why would you elevate that miserable son-of-a-she-wolf?"

"At the time of the Conclave of Galzar's High Temple in Hos-Agrys, Beshta was one of Kalvan's princedoms and therefore was not on the list of proscribed princedoms and territories named in the Ban. By swearing the mercenaries to Prince Phidestros, we stopped the wholesale desertion of the mercenary companies. Some of the captains were already preparing to bolt. You should have heard King Lysandros gnash his teeth when it was suggested by Captain-General Anaphon."

"Anaphon, I remember him. He was the general that Lysandros made head of the Harphaxi Army after Phidestros was raised to Grand Captain-General of the Host."

"Yes, and as Phidestros' principal rival in the Harphaxi Army, we had to take Anaphon's words seriously. It's obvious there's no love between the two. After much jawing, Lysandros and I agreed it was the only way to save the Host from losing most of its free companies. Phidestros lapped it up like a kitten drinking spilled cream!"

Aristocles laughed. "Oh, I bet he did. How many arrows did he add to his quiver?"

"The men of some eighty companies and bands. Roughly eight or nine thousand men. The men sworn to Greater Beshta now outnumber those sworn to his Great King!"

"Now that's a howl!"

"Yes, but now if we lose him, we lose a lot of good soldiers, most of them veterans of the Fireseed Wars. And, who knows when we'll have to fight them ourselves, since Phidestros' loyalty to Styphon is as thin as a spider's thread."

Aristocles tugged his beard. "Or as long as Prince Sarrask is still alive. He hasn't left for Galzar's Hall yet, has he?"

"No, the Prince leads a charmed life; our outriders saw Sarrask's bodyguard leave with Kalvan before the siege."

"Well, then let's hope that he lives a long time and that his bounty on Captain-General Phidestros only grows with the telling."

"By Styphon's Beard, may it be so."

III

"Verkan, what do you mean you're going outtime again?" Dalla cried, "Going to Kalvan's Time-Line at this time is irrational, irresponsible and political suicide, considering the political crisis brewing here on Home Time Line. Remember, you are the Paratime Police Chief now, not Tortha Karf's Special Assistant free to roam the time-lines as you please. You have responsibilities now: to the Force, to the Paratime Commission, to the Executive Council, to Management Party-to me!"

Verkan used several First Level mental techniques to keep both his blood pressure and temper in check. Dalla lecturing him on irresponsibility reminded him of the Fourth Level, Europo-American aphorism: "the pot calling the kettle black."

"I have to," he said. "Our friends, Kalvan and Rylla, think I'm dead! My outfit needs to be reorganized and re-outfitted-"

"Verkan, for your information, your outfit is the Paratime Police, not the Hos-Hostigos Mounted Rifles!"

"Our friends need me."

Dalla's eyes turned icy cold. This was a new Dalla; not one he knew how to counter. "If you leave our home for another dangerous jaunt to Kalvan's Time-Line to play soldier with Kalvan, Tortha, Phrames, Harmakros and the rest of your buddies-"

"Harmakros was killed in the Siege of Tarr-Hostigos, remember?"

"Yes, I remember that, and just how close you came to dying with a bloody big hole in your chest!"

"But I didn't die. In a couple of days I was back on my feet."