The Fireseed Wars

III

For their mid-day repast, Phidestros was eating roast pork with succotash and sweet potatoes in his private audience chamber with Lady Sirna. Despite the good food and blazing fire in the fireplace, the air was so chilly he felt as if he was in danger of getting frostbite. This had been going on for some time. Even the musicians felt the chill and as a result were playing music more appropriate to a funeral than an afternoon meal.

"Have you been outside today, Sirna?"

She shook her head. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought maybe you'd brought the early winter chill into the castle with you. What's wrong?"

"You can't be that oblivious, or can you?" she asked, with a piercing stare.

Suddenly, Phidestros got it. "You're angry because of the coming visit by Princess Arminta."

She nodded, her lips tight.

"Dearest, you know it's not of my choice."

Sirna stood up as if to leave, then shook her head and sat back down. "Of course not, nothing is ever your choice. Did you think your upcoming nuptials would please me?"

Phidestros almost said, "But you're my mistress, Sirna, so why should it bother you?" but wisely thought better of it. He was learning, although slowly it appeared, because he really hadn't thought of Sirna in regards to his upcoming union with Princess Arminta, whom he'd never met. This marriage had been plotted by his sovereign before Lysandros had left Harphax City to join the Grand Host; he hadn't learned of it until Lysandros was about to depart with the Grand Host. He suspected it was the King's clumsy attempt to guarantee his loyalty through a dynastic marriage.

Not that he had a lot of choice in the matter. He could refuse and upon Lysandros' return he'd find himself in hot water. Although, if sword came to shield, his army outnumbered the King's, soldier for soldier, and he would have the advantage of a more rested and better trained army. However, that would make him an outlaw, like Kalvan before him, and he might soon find himself in a war against Lysandros, Grand Master Soton and Styphon's House's Treasury. That was not a fight he'd welcome.

These Grefftscharrer women were more independent and concerned with fidelity than the Zarthani women he'd known. On the other hand, most of the women he'd known had been serving wenches or paid companions. Sirna was neither; she was a Lady. Until recently, he hadn't had the social position to spend much time with real Ladies, but he was getting a quick education.

"Sirna, I knew nothing about this until just before we left Hostigos Town. Lysandros sprung this marriage upon me. I've never even met the Princess."

"Just because Lysandros sprung it on you didn't mean you had to spring it on me. If the Queen hadn't told me, I bet you still wouldn't have broached the subject. If you'd have said something before we left Hostigos Town, well-"

Phidestros knew women enough to understand that that "well" covered a lot of territory. He hadn't brought it up back in Hostigos Town because at the time it seemed far in the future, and because he didn't want to start the fight they were having now. He'd grown quite fond of Sirna; she wasn't frivolous like most of the women he'd known. She had a firm head on her shoulders and a good heart, and he could reason with her like a man. It also didn't hurt that she was the best lover he'd ever encountered. However, while she might be the perfect mistress, Sirna would not bring a large dowry or the political connections that Princess Arminta would bring to their marriage bed.

"Maybe this Princess will be as disinterested in Lysandros' proposed union as I am," he said. "That would settle the whole affair nicely."

"And, maybe Great King Lysandros won't be interested in capturing Kalvan and beheading him," Sirna rejoined.

"All right, you win, Sirna. I'm probably stuck with Arminta. But that doesn't mean anything, really. It's just a dynastic marriage; we'll have a few brats and live separate lives. Meanwhile, you and I can do as we wish."

From the storm clouds gathering on her face, he rather welcomed the interruption when Mynos, his manservant, opened the door carefully and stuck his head inside. "Your Highness, I have an urgent message for you from Baron Ranthos."

"Bring him in," he ordered, thinking: This interruption couldn't have happened at a better time.

Sirna, meanwhile, crossed her arms and gave him a look that would freeze a pigeon in mid-flight.

Ranthos, still in a wet cloak with his breeches dripping water, came into the room, blowing heartily on his bent fingers. "Your Highness, Lady Sirna. Please excuse me while I warm myself a bit before your fire."

"Of course, Baron. What brings you to my quarters in such haste?"

The Baron turned from the fire with a big grin, rubbing his hands briskly. "Can I speak freely before the Lady Sirna?"

"Of course," Phidestros replied, "I trust her implicitly." Surprising even himself, his words were truthful; he trusted Sirna as much as his confidants Geblon and Kyblannos.

"We captured one of Styphon's messengers."

"And what makes this one so important?" It was standard practice to detain every Styphon's House messenger at the Shastan border and give them a sleeping potion along with a tankard of winter wine. The messages they were carrying were opened and read, while the courier was sleeping off the potion at the way station. General Kyblannos had engineered a way to open Styphon's Great Seal and then reseal it so the messengers never knew that their letters had been compromised. So far it had given them valuable insight to what was going on between Balph and the Grand Host of Styphon.

It was interesting that so far Investigator Roxthar had received only a single message; it was from Lord High Marshal Xenophes of Styphon's Own Guard, informing Roxthar that he was joining Grand Master Soton at Thebra City in preparation for the invasion of Hos-Agrys next spring. Phidestros was still trying to figure out how he could make the best use of that knowledge. The truth was he had no love for King Demistophon, nor did he know any of the Agrysi Princes, so he would have to wait and see what Lytris, Goddess of Chance, turned up. He knew there was some way he might yet profit from this information.

"This dispatch is from Styphon's Own Voice Anaxthenes informing Grand Commander Aristocles of Great King Cleitharses' impending death."

"Is it in the usual code?" Ranthos' value had increased tenfold when he'd demonstrated the ability to decipher Styphon's secret messages.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Please, read it for us, Baron."

Ranthos pulled out a parchment with a decipherment of Anaxthenes' words. Phidestros could read quite well for a former commoner who'd learned to read late in life. But he was still a hesitant and slow reader.

Grand Commander Aristocles of the Order of Zarthani Knights,

It is our pleasure to inform you that Great King Cleitharses has less than half a moon to live among us. He is dying from a black tumor in his nether parts. We are allowing his healer to inform the King's subjects of his grave illness.

Before his death, Cleitharses dictated a will appointing Prince Anaxon as his successor. We were able to intercept his missive to the Prince informing him of his decision. We are trying to contain the news of his impending death to within the borders of Hos-Ktemnos. It is both Our and Styphon's Will that the Prince remain with the Grand Host until the Daemon Kalvan is captured and killed.

However, once word of his uncle's death reaches the Prince's ears, it is probable that Anaxon, having unnatural enmity for Styphon's House, will return with his troops to Ktemnos City. It is your duty to use all powers at your hand, including death, to prevent the Prince from leaving the Grand Host of Styphon's House. It would be best that his soldiers thought that this demise was either accidental or by natural means. I have included a few potions in this pouch to simulate death by seizure of the heart.

If possible, it would be to Our best advantage that the Prince be placed at the head of any attacks upon Kalvan, or any other hostiles, that might prove perilous to his health. We have found an older and more malleable cousin who will act as regent until Anaxoris return, and whom we will seat on the Golden Throne upon his death.

Your friend in Styphon's Will, Styphon's Own Voice Anaxthenes

"This letter is priceless!" Phidestros crowed. "In the wrong hands, it would doom Styphon's House's control of Hos-Ktemnos." He paused to stroke his beard. "It could spark open rebellion throughout the Five Kingdoms. Anaxon is young and well-loved by his subjects. One could buy a princedom with the gold this note would purchase from Anaxon, or even Great King Demistophon!"

"Couldn't we use this to bring down Styphon's House?" Sirna asked. "Surely the Great Kings would be most distressed to learn that Styphon's Own Voice is plotting the murder of the next Great King of Hos-Ktemnos."

"Let's not be hasty, Sirna," Phidestros said softly. "There is little to be gained at this moment in time by poking a stick in Styphon's eye. This missive is much more valuable if no one knows that it exists. With this letter, I can bribe Styphon's Own Voice to do my will." Or have them support my claims, he thought. There are some things that are best kept secret from everyone.

"Ranthos, you will be well-rewarded for your loyalty. Five thousand ounces of gold and ten square marches of good farmland to add to your barony."

"You are too kind, Your Highness. But I'll take it!"

The two men laughed.

"You both know how evil and corrupt Styphon's House is. Why don't you use this letter as a lever to bring them down?" It was obvious from her tone that Sirna was holding her anger at bay.

Phidestros shook his head: Women! "It's not that easy, Lady Sirna. First, we'd have to authenticate the missive, which would tell the world that we have broken Styphon's code. However, some princes would choose not to believe that we can do this and instead claim we are inventing these words to cause the Temple trouble. This would give Styphon's House the opportunity to tell everyone that it is a plot against the Temple instigated by myself. Their reply will be to invade Greater Beshta with Soton's Army. I would much rather watch from afar as Soton dismembers Hos-Agrys one limb at a time."

"Furthermore," Ranthos added, "releasing this letter would bring an end to our reading Styphon's House's secret communications. They would switch codes or stop sending them altogether. Then the Prince would lose his biggest advantage against the Temple."

"Exactly, Baron. No, this missive and its contents will stay in my hands only. Is that agreed?"

Ranthos nodded his acceptance.

Sirna's shoulders slumped. Phidestros realized he was losing her, but didn't know what to do about it. He certainly couldn't rebuff Lysandros' offer of a bride; after all, no woman was worth a crown.

"Now, we must decide what portions of this letter we will send to the Grand Commander."

Ranthos spoke. "Your Highness, leave it as it is, only we'll substitute my forgery for the original parchment. That way we will have Anaxthenes' code on Styphon's specially marked parchment should the need ever arise to publicly display this document."

"You're hanging a death sentence on a good man," Sirna said.

Phidestros shrugged his shoulders. "It's not our death sentence; it comes from Styphon's Own Voice. Maybe the gods will spare Prince Anaxon, or maybe he will die in battle anyway. Besides, this Prince is no friend of ours. Many good men die in wars. Is this just, maybe? Maybe not? Ask Galzar the Judge, not me."

"Yes, Your Highness," Ranthos added, "Anaxon's death will be our proof that this missive was not only written by Styphon's Voice, but carried out by his orders. Someday this letter might destroy a kingdom…"

Or create a new one, Phidestros thought to himself.