Accompanied by Xykos and his aide, Colonel Krynos, Kalvan rode his horse through the mild winter snow to the University. Xykos knocked at the plank door and announced his presence. Ramakros, the big Hostigi Uncle Wolf, with dark brown hair and Indian skin-tone-evidence that Erasthames the Great had not killed all the Indians, or Ruthani as they were called here-and-now, in the northeast-opened the portal. "Come in, Your Majesty."
There was a roaring fire in the big stone hearth and Kalvan greeted it like a long lost lover. It was near freezing outside and an hour horseback ride had left him chilled, despite his silver-fox fur cloak and warm undergarments.
"Your Majesty, I'm sorry, but Rector Mytron is no longer here to greet you. He is in Hostigos Town at the Temple. He left several days ago. He is studying under Patriarch Xentos for his position as Highpriest of the Hos-Hostigos Temple of Dralm."
"I know Ramakros. Bring Master Ermut, unless he's asleep."
"Ermut sleep-that one! No, he says he still has three years of slavery to make up for before he spends more than a few hours a night in his bed. I'll get him. Is it about the glass?"
"No. We have other matters to discuss." It was amazing how scientific and scholarly thought brought out the egalitarian instinct in people who formerly hadn't even known the meaning of the word. The hierarchy of the University was really quite simple; those with knowledge and learning were the aristocrats. And anyone with brains, who aspired to find truth and the mysteries of the universe, could join the faculty and reach their own level of excellence. He wondered when it was that universities back on otherwhen stopped operating on that level, and instead became hotbeds of academic intrigue.
While he was waiting for Ermut, Artillery Captain Waklos came over to the hearth and started talking enthusiastically about his attempts to master and teach Morse Code. "It's not all that difficult, Your Majesty, it's just that it requires a new way of seeing words."
"Yes, it's called substitution. As the runes form written words, the dots and dashes form traveling words."
"Traveling words-I like that, Your Majesty. I will use that with my next class."
"Oh, Thalmoth has you teaching now?" Captain Waklos had been one of Brigadier-General Alkides under officers before he'd surrendered to the army of Hostigos last year-or was it the year before last.
Note: reform the Zarthani calendar.
"Oh yes, Master Thalmoth says his most important job is to be there at the birthing of new guns at the Royal Foundry."
"How does he get along with the Zygrosi foundry workers, Waklos?" Kalvan asked, wondering if Thalmoth was becoming a nuisance. He couldn't afford to alienate his Zygrosi specialists, until he'd trained several more crews; one of the reasons he wanted the Nostor Royal Foundry started right away.
"Quite well. They appear not to enjoy firing the guns and are quite happy to let Master Thalmoth shoot them to his heart's content. I fear he's not as impressed with the Zygrosi workers themselves; he says they argue in their tongue all the time. The women, too, take liberties with the male servants and treat men of lower class as lesser beings. He thinks they all need a good beating! Well, not all of them, he speaks fondly of the red-haired lady-Sirna, I believe she is called. And the other one that rides horses all the time."
"I hope he keeps this to himself, as all those ladies are part of the Royal Household."
"Oh, yes. When they talk loudly to him, Thalmoth pretends not to understand. Now, they treat him as a dumb beast, who has listened to too many guns, which he much prefers to their full attention and bad humor!"
They both laughed. "Thalmoth must have a wife somewhere."
"Oh, yes. He married late, a few years ago. His wife lived in Hostigos Town. She ran off with a cavalry officer during one of his terms of service. Master Thalmoth still says it was the best thing that ever happened to him, saying she only married him for a trip to Agrys City!"
"Fortunately, he does love his guns. I suspect he would court a Sastragathi fire-walker, if she brought him a brass twenty-pounder!"
"Oh yes," Waklos said, laughing. "They would both have much in common!
"How is the semaphore project coming along?"
"Captain Nathros is still out in Beshta scouting out where to locate the signal towers. He left me in charge, while he's away," Waklos said proudly. "He would love to perform miracles and have the towers built before spring, but the early snowfall has made this impossible. And we will need at least fifteen hands worth of signalmen, and I'm still training the second class. I have two students who are already proficient in the code and I will use them for the next round of classes."
"Good. I knew it would have taken Dralm's Own Miracle to have the semaphore to the Harphaxi border ready before the beginning of campaign season, but we should have at least the branch to Beshta complete by next winter." Kalvan had meant to build the semaphore posts the year before, but didn't have the trained men to oversee the prisoners-of-war building the Great Kings Road, teach the codes and build the semaphore stations.
Waklos looked at the ground as if not having it finished was his fault. "We will have it done, by then. The Sask branch as well."
"That is more than I have any right to ask for. When it is done, we will be able to pass messages from General Hestophes' Army of Observation to Hostigos Town in a matter of a few candles!"
"Truly, a miracle. Praise Dralm." Waklos was about to say more, but was interrupted by the arrival of Master Ermut.
"You Majesty, why aren't you at the palace? Have Styphon's dogs found a way to travel through snow?"
"No. I came to tell you that Rector Mytron has resigned from the University faculty. He will be the new Highpriest at the Hostigos Temple."
Ermut rocked back and forth nervously. "He's been troubled of late, by spiritual matters. With Xentos moving to Agrys City in the spring, he is the senior priest. None of my business; I got more than enough of gods and priests at Styphon's temple farm! I was not aware he was leaving the University-we will miss him."
"We all will," echoed Kalvan. "But, I bring good news as well. It is Our wish that you become the new Rector. This was Mytron's wish as well."
"Please, Your Majesty, you have already honored me enough for one lifetime. Just being able to do this 'work' makes my life complete. Please, I must ask you to find another director. My 'experiments' take up all my time; there are others who can tend schedules and fill slates better than myself."
Kalvan was taken aback. Not many people turned down prestigious appointments, either in otherwhen or here-and-now. He could tell by the set of Ermut's mouth and body that this decision was not subject to further consideration. "I accept your decision, although I am disappointed. You would have made a good Rector, but you would have had little time to experiment-that much is true. Who do you suggest for the post?"
"Highpriest Uncle Wolf Tharses. His hospice is now running itself and he's been spending his nights at the Crossed Halberds with old companions, drinking too much of my Brandy!"
He's not the only one, thought Kalvan pensively.
"Good choice. I will inform him in the morning. I've got some suggestions on how we might improve the glass, but it can wait until later."
"Why wait? I'm getting ready to make a new batch, which was why I was so long in obeying your summons. What do you suggest, Your Majesty?"
Kalvan was secretly pleased; he didn't want to return to the palace right away. The endless talk of war and great kingdom politics was giving him a headache. This great kings' game was awful dirty at times, and the burden resting on his shoulders was getting as heavy as the nearby Bald Eagle Mountains.
Kalvan took out his pipe and refilled the barrel. "It's the lime-we might be using to much. And maybe a touch more potash."
Ermut nodded thoughtfully. "We could try less. Come into my laboratory, and we'll work up several new test batches."