The Fireseed Wars

Prince Kestophes of Ulthor was holed up in one of his duke's castles, like an ostrich with its head in the sand. He was sending dispatches to Kalvan saying that he would undertake the command of the reserve force that would hold the Port from the Styphoni-as if Kalvan was going to leave a single Hostigi soldier behind. Ever since his outburst at their temporary headquarters, Kalvan didn't trust Prince Ketophes to turn out the lights. He suspected that if he allowed Kestophes to stay behind, he would attempt to broker a deal with either Lysandros or Demistophon the moment the last of Kalvan's troops departed Ulthor Port. Not that Kalvan was about to let that happen.

In Nyklos, one of the three Hostigi princedoms that edged Hos-Agrys, a new prince reigned. With Prince Armanes dead from a halberd blow, his son-with Kalvan's tacit approval-was the new Prince of Nyklos. Prince Carvros had some previous experience, after his father took a serious gut wound at the Battle of Chothros Heights, as pro-tem ruler of Nyklos. At that time his voice had just changed and, without his father's behind the scene coaching, he would have made a terrible mess of things. Kalvan didn't suppose the last couple of years had matured Carvros much; Armanes had kept him off the battlefield as the boy was his only male offspring. He would bet dollars to doughnuts that the young Prince would attempt to come to terms with the Styphoni the moment Kalvan left Ulthor.

Klestreus' spies had told him that Prince Carvros was trying to build a power base in Nyklos Town (Port Allegany), by openly criticizing Kalvan's scorched-earth policy along the Nyklos Trail to Port Ulthor. They may not have realized it yet, but times had changed for the western Hostigi princes. Their Great King was here in force. And would be until he figured how the hell he was going to get out of the mess they were in-

Kalvan heard the jangle of armor and thwunking of boots on the wooden planks of the pier. He turned to see Chancellor Chartiphon, with Highpriest Mytron and Captain Nathros of the Royal Engineering Corps in tow, heading his way. Behind Kalvan were Vanar Halgoth and three huge specimens of Kalvan's Tymannian Guard. Captain Halgoth wouldn't let him leave Kestophes' former palace without at least four guardsmen, and was unhappy with less than two score. His Bodyguard had twice foiled Styphoni assassination attempts, one a primitive grenade that killed one of the big Tymannians and wounded several others. Halgoth had come off with a dent in his breastplate and ringing in his ears that hadn't stopped for a moon quarter.

The last attack had convinced Rylla that he should stay at the palace and not roam around Ulthor Port, but Kalvan had too much nervous energy to remain a hostage in a cage, even a gilded one like Kestophes' palace. His mind was ablaze with plans and counterplans to re-take Hos-Hostigos, or find a place of refuge for his people.

But first, he needed some answers so he could formulate some kind of escape plan before the Grand Host came riding over the horizon. And with over half a million refugees in his wake, such an arrival would be a disaster of horrendous proportion. If only he could have held onto Hostigos for another year or two; by then the political situation would have changed with the fireseed monopoly broken and Styphon's House on the defensive, but it was not to be.

"Here we are, Your Majesty," Chancellor Chartiphon said, as though he were tired of chasing around town at His Majesty's beck and call. The former Captain-General looked as if he'd been sucking on limes. The old general thought retreat was ignoble and the only honorable thing was to fight off the invading Grand Host until they either turned and fled, or the Hostigi had died to the last man. He'd told Kalvan that so many times that Chartiphon had been forbidden to discuss the subject. It was this kind of backward thinking-typical for here-and-now-that had kept him off the Royal Army muster list as a commander.

Regardless, old Chartiphon was one of former Prince Ptosphes' most loyal and trusted commanders and such loyalty demanded a worthy sinecure.

"Highpriest Mytron," Kalvan said, "What are the latest census figures?"

Now that they were at rest, Mytron had regained some of his body fat and didn't look like a concentration camp version of himself. It turned out that for the first week after they'd left Hostigos, he hadn't eaten a thing; instead he'd given his rations to the children-of which there were no end. That is, until Rylla caught on to what he was doing and practically force-fed him for the rest of the journey.