The Fireseed Wars

"Woo!" Zemnos cried out. "This is like the old days before the Usurper Kalvan, when Styphon's House had the run of the Five Kingdoms."

"But what will the Holy Investigator think of this stratagem?" Euriphocles asked, his high-pitched voice quivering with anxiety.

Once I have consolidated my power, thought Anaxthenes, this coward should be one of the first to go. On the other hand, he is a useful fool.

"Who cares," Archpriest Zemnos answered. "Roxthar is too busy Investigating the Hostigi poor to pay any attention to what we do. Even if he does, his support has eroded. Soon we will have a new Styphon's Voice to stiffen our spines."

"Finally, our power base will be secure from even this butcher of innocents," Archpriest Heraclestros added.

"It's unfortunate, that the Temple Guardsmen continue to support this madman," Archpriest Zemnos said, echoing Anaxthenes own thoughts. "Still," he continued, "in time their support will wither, especially after they realize there's little gold left in Hostigos. Speaker, how about this: What if, after you've been Elected Styphon's Voice, you were to order Styphon's Own Guard into Hos-Harphax to protect it against future heresy? That way we could keep that meddler Xenophes out of Balph and shunted off to where he has no say in how we run the Temple. Let him hunt down shopkeepers and peasant boys."

"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant idea, Zemnos!"This was as good as any plan he'd ever spun; he'd have to make sure that this one did not rise too high. If Zemnos was younger, he might have made a good protege. "Won't High Marshal Xenophes be surprised when he receives his new orders!"

"But what will Roxthar say?" Euriphocles asked.

"Again, who cares?" Zemnos growled. "Once Kalvan is dead everyone in the Inner Circle should take their daggers and carve Roxthar up like a Feast Day boar on the Great Triangle Table."

Half the room broke out in laughter; the other half showed gaping mouths.

Anaxthenes purposely kept his expression neutral. It was a great idea, but one whose time had not quite yet arrived. Meanwhile, he had Archpriest Grythos busy building up his own personal guard. Someday, though- Roxthar, watch out!

FIVE

A brothel might not be the ideal military headquarters for the commander of the Five Kingdoms' largest army, but Captain-General Phidestros was attempting to make the best of it. At least the Gull's Nest's stoutly barred door and armed guards gave his command privacy from the white-robed priests of the Holy Investigation that had overrun Hostigos Town like ants over a broken crock of molasses. Nor did they have to suffer Archpriest Roxthar's daily harangues as he tried to bully the Grand Host into running down every errant Hostigi for the Investigation. Menandra's "parlor" didn't offer much in the way of furniture, but the chairs were comfortable and the ladies pleasant.

He finished tamping down the tobacco in his bowl, lit it with a splinter of wood and puffed on his pipe until the tobacco was burning. After exhaling a small cloud of smoke, he turned to his most trusted advisors, saying, "Soton and Great King Lysandros had another big meeting yesterday but I still don't know what they talked about." He threw his arms apart. "I'm supposed to be the commander of the Grand Host, but no one's bothered to tell me a thing. Does anyone else know what's going on between Soton and Lysandros?"

General Geblon, Phidestros' former second-in-command of his old mercenary unit, the Iron Band, shook his head.

Kyblannos, head of the Harphaxi Royal Artillery, spoke up. "From the scuttlebutt I've heard, Grand Master Soton is attempting to talk Roxthar into leaving his Investigators in Hos-Hostigos. Roxthar, who smells the blood of wounded prey, wants to dog Kalvan all the way to the Middle Kingdoms and put him to the Investigation. Maybe Soton's enlisted Great King Lysandros to help him thwart the Investigator?"

Phidestros studied the gray-haired artillery general carefully. Kyblannos had served in a score of mercenary units before joining the Iron Band, or Iron Company as it was called in those days. It was hard to find a company of mercenaries in the Northern Kingdoms in which he didn't know somebody. "That's a better story than the rumor I heard, the one in which Lysandros wants to take over command of the Grand Host himself and send us packing."

Geblon leaned his head back and barked out a laugh. "Not Dralm-damned likely! Who are they going to replace you with: Prince Anaxon, the late Captain-General Anaphon or General Tythos, who's been taking credit for every action-within a day's ride-that ended in success?"

"Well, how about Tythos' latest fiasco!" Kyblannos answered. "He came back into camp like a whipped dog, with his tail dragging. After two nights of running scared, he left behind two to three thousand troopers dead or captured. Now, according to him, it was all Captain-General Anaphon's fault for falling for the Hostigi wagon ruse!"