The Fireseed Wars

"You have echoed many of my concerns, Tymnos. Maybe they misuse us because they would rather spend our blood than their own. After all, we are bought and paid for. Or because they are too stupid to realize our value."

"Truth. The men are wondering, sir, just how long we will let this continue. Arch-Stratego, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I thought you might want to know."

"This is why I'm talking with you instead of my Stratagi. I'm thinking of leaving en masse as soon as spring arrives. But first I have a few questions."

"Yes, Arch-Stratego. But we'd best leave soon while we have enough men to exercise our will on the Host."

"I agree, Tymos. We have already lost half the soldiers who crossed the Sea of Grass with us. I promise you this, and you can tell the men, we will not fight for the godless Styphoni anymore. They are not worthy of our blood."

Tymos saluted. "Praise the Lord Tyrant and the True Gods, All-Father Dralmnos and War Bringer Galthar. Your questions, Arch-Stratego?"

"How many of the arquebusiers have we managed to 'find?'"

"We have taken as battlefield booty several hundred smoothbores and two secret captive gunsmiths. They will expedite the making of arquebuses when we arrive back in Antiphon. We also have stolen twenty-five barrels and kegs of fireseed. We also have the fireseed formula and one Hostigi captive who used to work at one of Kalvan's fireseed works. Unfortunately, their guns are too well-protected to steal. But under the knife one of our captured gunsmiths admitted that he knew the secrets of their manufacture."

"Excellent. You've done well, Tymos. I will see you are well-rewarded when we return to Antiphon, even if I have to reward you myself." He left unspoken that the Lord Tyrant Dyzar was more inclined to punish than reward, regardless of the service done. Sometimes he appeared to heap more punishment upon those who succeeded than those who failed. The whims of Tyrants and Gods are answerable to no man, he decided.

"Let the men know that when the roads are passable again, we will depart this depraved land. If anyone attempts to stop us, let them taste our blades!"

Tymos laughed. "These Zarthani pretenders don't have the guts to put it to the sword. But I hope they do. I'd like to see their faces when we open our wagon, like Kalvan does, and our firearms thunder. It's too bad we couldn't obtain one of their guns."

III

Great King Demistophon wriggled uncomfortably as he struggled to seat himself upon the Throne of Lights. Underneath an iron frame, the throne was layered with the clearest of quartz crystals, while the outer surfaces were topped with a crust of cut diamonds. The seat had considerable padding, but the diamonds on the armrests cut into his gown often enough that he had to wear a special leather lining underneath his arms. Unfortunately, the throne had been designed at a time when men were demonstrably smaller so he was forced to wedge himself onto the throne.

For about the thousandth time, Demistophon reminded himself that it was time to have a new and more comfortable throne built, but every time he brought it up, his Chancellor and advisors recoiled in horror at the idea of such heresy. The Throne of Lights was an integral symbol of the kingship of Hos-Agrys and designed by the gods themselves, or so the legend went. "Tamper with it at your peril," they advised.

Do they secretly enjoy seeing me struggle to seat myself? he wondered.

It was also unfortunate that he had no friends to advise him; kingship was a lonely position and everyone wanted something from him, no matter how much they dissembled. Now, he was about to meet with the ecclesiastical head of the High Temple of Dralm, Primate Xentos and two of his minions. Fortunately, this was a private audience and he would not have to suffer the presence of Highpriest Haltor; they opposed each other at every step and he had grown weary of refereeing their disputes.

He disliked the pushy Primate from Hostigos, but absolutely hated Highpriest Haltor, who treated him like some underling that Haltor could bark orders to. Now that the Usurper Kalvan was displaced, Styphon's House acted as if they ruled the Great Kingdoms. If he'd had half the power his ancestors had held, both of the priests would be rotting in the palace dungeon. He neither believed in gods nor their temples. If there were truly gods, they would have made his life less vexing and more comfortable, as was his due. Since the so-called gods didn't, they were a sham and a means of conniving gold from him and his subjects.

He watched as the white-robed Primate with an eight-pointed blue star on the chest, Highpriest Davros and a younger man unfamiliar to him walked down the Path of Light of the Great Audience Chamber to the Throne of Light. Xentos' countenance was grim, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.