The Fireseed Wars

II

Soton was in his tent going over the parchment that had just arrived from Balph when he heard the sounds of a carriage arriving-then raised voices. The barking orders coming out of the unseen mouth could be no other than that of Archpriest Roxthar. He had just had a nocturnal visit from him a quarter moon ago, after the first of the whipped curs from the Battle of Librox Ford came straggling into camp. Roxthar had implied that it was his fault for allowing King Lysandros to put the now deceased incompetent Harphaxi Captain-General in charge of the Army of Pursuit. Had Roxthar some new charge to throw at his feet? By Galzar's Mace, keep this madman from my presence before I dash out his brains with my warhammer!

The Holy Investigator charged through the tent flap, pushing his way past Sergeant Sarmoth. Roxthar was waving a rolled-up parchment, similar to the one Soton had been reading, as if it were a broadsword. "Have you read this?" the Archpriest screeched, fire and brimstone all but streaming through his nostrils.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this priest-"

"Enough, Sergeant. Please leave. I will see to the Archpriest."

Soton pointed to a wooden stool. "Please have a seat, Your Holiness."

"Fahhh! I don't need a seat; I need a rack big enough to stretch the limbs of every Archpriest in the Inner Council! Have you read this drivel?"

Soton nodded. "Yes, Styphon's Voice has gone to Styphon's Sky-Palace. Poor old Sesklos died before we could give him Kalvan's head on a silver platter."

"Who cares about that old fraud. Let Hadron's Hounds feast on his bones! If it had been up to Sesklos, we would still be in Balph and Kalvan's troopers would be roasting turkeys in the ruins of Harphax City. He should have had the dignity to die years ago when the seizure addled his wits."

Soton held his temper in check. It was true that Styphon's Voice Sesklos had never been a pious priest; however, he deserved the dignity of his seat and the fact he'd done everything in his power to increase Styphon's hegemony here on earth. He doubted that even Sesklos in his prime could have dealt decisively with the Usurper. It had taken the full might of two Great Kingdoms and all of Styphon's House's power to bring Kalvan to his knees, and the Usurper's head was still attached to his body.

"Now those devious clerks want us to leave the False Kingdom of Hostigos and return to Balph. The Election is already determined-why do we have to be there?"

If it were just the Holy Investigator who would be inconvenienced by this journey, Soton would have jumped for joy. However, as an Archpriest of Inner Circle, his own presence was also demanded. "We are Archpriests. The Election of Styphon's Voice cannot take place unless all thirty-six Archpriests are in attendance."

Roxthar all but snarled. "Ridiculous! I will send them a note with my vote for Archpriest Dracar."

"Attendance, as you well know, is compulsory. The Election will not be held until we arrive, or they receive word that one of us is dead."

He could hear the noise of Roxthar's teeth grinding. "If we must go, go we will. I will have a carriage prepared immediately. Will you be leaving with me, Grand Master?"

"No. First, I will have to take counsel with the generals of the Grand Host. Have a speedy journey, Your Holiness."

Roxthar spun on his heels, his white robe trailing behind.

Shortly after the Investigator left, Sarmoth came through the tent with his second-in-command, Knight Commander Aristocles. Sarmoth was showing superior initiative; he had great plans for the lad. "Sergeant, thank you. You may stay; I want you to hear my words."

"Yes, sir. Would you like something to quench your thirst?"

"Yes," he said with a smile. "Bring a small cask of ale and tankards for the three of us."

By the time Sarmoth had returned, Aristocles was finishing a report on camp morale. "The men are getting restless; they're anxious to be off against the Usurper. The death cries and sights of the Investigation are having a bad effect on morale, too."

Soton paused to remove his tinderbox and light a splinter of wood, then his corncob pipe. "One of these days Roxthar is going to go too far with his Investigation and when the uprising happens, we may not be able to stop it."

"Agreed," Aristocles said, as he wiped ale foam from his mustache. "And we may not want to stop it. Some of the mercenaries are already talking about slipping out at night and sacking his headquarters. If it weren't for the two bands of Styphon's Own Guard outside the Investigation headquarters, it would have already been done."

"It's bad enough they torture civilians day and night," Soton said bitterly, "but the women and children, too? How in Styphon's name can this Investigation be anything but Ormaz's work?"

Aristocles grimaced. "The Investigator is a mad dog. He should have his throat slit and body burned."

Sarmoth intoned quietly, "Should we be speaking of this matter at all? I hear that he has Styphon's Own Ears all over the camp."

"Thank you, for your concern, Sergeant," Aristocles said. "However, I have seen fit to surround the Grand Master's tent with our most loyal veterans. Even if we spoke thus before the tent, not a word would leave this camp. Our men have orders to strangle any would-be intelligencers that attempt to enter our camp, regardless of Roxthar's threats."

"Enough!" Soton snapped. "We have plans to make. Sesklos' death couldn't have come at a worse time. Right in the middle of our preparations to chase and destroy the Usurper."

Aristocles nodded. "We could not have given the Usurper Kalvan a better gift."

"True. With Phidestros leaving with most of the Host's mercenaries, Lysandros demanding to be Grand Captain-General of the Host and High Marshal Anaxon dragging his feet and squawking about the will of Great King Cleitharses, I'll be lucky to find anything left of this Host by the time I return from Balph."

"We will not leave until you return, Grand Master."

"I know. I gave my support to Lysandros in good faith and Styphon's House cannot afford to estrange its closest-maybe only-ally in the Northern Kingdoms."

"Do not stay too long, or we'll have to fight our way into the Trygath through rain and mud."

Soton groaned. "We should have left over a moon and half ago. The Host would be in Ulthor nipping at Kalvan's heels today, but for the vanity of Lysandros and the excesses of Roxthar."

Knight Commander Aristocles paused to refill his tankard with more ale. "It is also true that we needed time after the Siege to rebuild our supplies of fireseed. I will drill the men until they drop to make the best of this delay. The Grand Host should be like a hungry panther by the time of your return. I will do everything in my power to keep their spirits and blood thirst high."

"I expect no less, old friend."