It had been Kalvan's idea for the entire party to retire, less any ladies, to the Crossed Halberds tavern for some of Ermut's new brandy. He'd been spending way too much time in the audience chambers of late, dealing with guildmasters, merchants and landlords. Everyone else, but Prince Ptosphes-who didn't know what fun was anymore since Tenabra-was having a good time. Today the delegation from the League of Dralm had arrived, in the person of Duke Mnestros, eldest son of Prince Thykarses of Ubros.
Kalvan had taken an instant liking to the straight-talking big duke, probably the tallest Zarthani-other than Rylla's bodyguard Xykos-he had seen here-and-now. Mnestros would have made a good prospect for the NBA back home in otherwhen. The only thing Kalvan missed back in Pennsylvania, besides hot showers, was baseball season. While he'd never had much truck with the Phillies, he'd been a big Pirates fan-even on occasion traveling to Three Rivers Stadium when they had a weekend home game.
Kalvan had also noticed the Duke's stolen glances at Rylla-not that he could blame the prince-to-be; he would have done the same had their positions been reversed! However, they hadn't heard any good news from Hos-Agrys since Highpriest Xentos had left for the Council of Dralm and Kalvan wanted to hear what the Duke had to say, minus any distractions.
He took a drink of Ermut's brandy, now called Ermut's Best. The University brandy was now appearing in inns and taverns all through Hosti-gos, soon to go kingdom-wide, he suspected if the harried barmaids at the Crossed Halberds were any indication of its popularity. Which was fine with him, since it was turning into a blessed source of revenue for the exchequer-and without any taxation, either! Once production was up, they'd start exporting Ermut's Best to Hos-Agrys and Hos-Zygros.
"As I was saying," Duke Mnestros paused to take another drink from his goblet. "By the way, King Kalvan if this "brandy" is any example of your demonic talents, why I'd like to take your Ermut back to Ubros with me as the Prince's Distiller." That got a few laughs and another round of drinks. "Seriously, the highpriests of Dralm have chewed their jaws for moons: Praise, Dralm, I mean no disrespect to the Father God, but his priests do not know how to use one word when ten will do. And, after all this babble, they still refuse to bless the crusade against Styphon! Priests, what do they know?"-Mnestros nodded his respect to Tharses, priest of Galzar, indicating that the priests of the Wargod were not included in what he was about to say. "To these highpriests of Dralm, life's biggest headache is how much corn, beans and squash the peasants will bring for the fall offerings. And, while they ponder these weighty matters, Styphon's Archpriests are planning on how to cut off their heads and stick them on poles upon Tarr-Agrys battlements!"
There was a big "Hear, hear," from Prince Sarrask, who was already half in the bag and, if possible, even more bored than Kalvan with the endless rounds of parchment shuffling. "Another round, for Duke Mnestros. A man destined to go far in the Six Kingdoms!"
Kalvan was already feeling a little light-headed, but if a man couldn't have a few drinks with good friends, what did it all mean anyway? Kalvan cleared his head long enough to ask the question he'd wanted to ask all afternoon. "Do you think the Council of Dralm will bless Hos-Hostigos and lend us their support?"
The Dukes arrival with a cavalry band of around five hundred troopers had been heartening indeed.
Duke Mnestros sobered right up. "It's still too early to tell, but I wouldn't be anticipating much in the way of gold or guns from the League of Dralm or Hos-Agrys. Great King Demistophon, who has become the
Great King Whom No One Has Seen-ever since Prince Ptosphes' victory over his forces at the at the Battle of Lycostt-has been trying to walk a tightrope between his Styphoni creditors and his Princes' exhortations of support for Hostigos. He has even called upon the Electors to disband the League of Dralm. Of course, we have pretended not to understand his emissaries, since we know that he is still in hiding. Since when has Demistophon heeded our cries of troops or a portion of the royal treasury!"
"All Great Kings are skinflints," Sarrask slurred, "present company excluded." He bowed in Kalvan's direction. "Duke, you appear to be a man of soldierly virtues. I will tell you this, By Galzar, you will not find a better ruler to serve than our Great King Kalvan." He sat down his goblet and held up a scarred and callused hand, the size of a baseball mitt. "He has given us a hand's count of great battles, with more to come. What more can a Prince ask for in this life?" Sarrask paused long enough to pat the rear of a busy barmaid, then winked. "This war has made me so popular among the wenches I haven't had to pay for their favors in a year! Is Kalvan a great king or what? Another round, Sysis."
"A toast to a real Great King!" Mnestros ordered. This time Sysis brought two rounds of Ermut's Best.
"If it's not impolite," Chartiphon interjected, "has Hos-Agrys become so dangerous that her princes have to bring along four troops of cavalry just to bring a diplomatic pouch?" The Captain General appeared uncomfortable in the present company. Kalvan figured it was probably some remaining animosity with Sarrask; after all, when Calvin Morrison had been dropped off here by that cross-time flying saucer, they had been mortal enemies.
"Not at all, Grand Captain-General. I was unable to bring the charter of support I had hoped to win from the League so instead I got myself appointed League advisor. Of course, along with such a prestigious appointment, comes the necessity of a proper guard. So I brought with me two companies of the Ubros Household Guard and two companies of my own pistoleers. Truth be told, I'm hoping that King Kalvan will make his long-awaited advance into Hos-Harphax this spring and allow me to accompany him," he paused to wink at Kalvan and Chartiphon, "as League advisor. Of course, my troopers will not be bound by the same rules."
Now it was Kalvan's turn to make a toast. "To Duke Mnestros, who-for once-brings us deeds, not hot air from Hos-Agrys!" A chorus of voices echoed his words. "Five hundred horse are welcome indeed. I welcome your support, Duke." Even Chartiphon had a smile, instead of his usual grimace. "And, I promise, by all the gods, you will get more fighting than you ever dreamed!"
"By Galzar's Mace," Sarrask shouted, rising to lean over the table and give Kalvan a bear hug, "Is this not a great life?"