Arch-Stratego Zarphu made room on the cluttered table for a freshly scraped deerskin parchment. He dipped his quill into the inkpot, making a notation that two hundred barrels of salt fish would be arriving from Helios within the moon half. Zarphu knew that most soldiers considered provisioning and buying victuals scribes' work, but he knew that an army marched on its belly, as well as on its feet; and woe to any Stratego who forgot that fact.
The sea journey from Andiphon to Mythrene had taken over a moon quarter, as the ships had been forced to go against the current and prevailing winds. Even with rowers it was a long, arduous trip and, praise to the weather god, they had only lost one ship to foul winds and none to pirates. Best of all, his stomach was once again his own and not leaping at every lurch of the ship.
Their greeting from the Lord Tyrant of Mythrene had been gracious, befitting an ally who came at the head of an army. The Lord Tyrant had offered him rooms at the palace, but Zarphu had refused. As long as he was in Mythrene, the local Tyrant's spies would be weighing their every move. Still there was no gain in making their job an easy one. Instead Zarphu had hired the Black Horn Tavern as his headquarters.
The army was garrisoned outside the city wall, although keeping them outside the city was a major headache. It would not be wise to have half of them mugged by cutpurses and the other half given the pox by local tarts before they left the coast. In truth, Zarphu could hardly wait until they were on their way. He was going to have to wait for another moon-at the earliest-before he could gather up enough foodstuffs for the initial leg of their journey. If the stories about great herds of bison and cattle moving across the Sea of Grass, like schools of tuna and albacore, were true there would be no end of food. In case it was the stuff of legend, he intended to send several large pack trains out ahead of the army to set up depots, since there was no conceivable way they could take enough victuals along with them over the entire passage.
A hearty knock at the plank door told him his Eastern visitors had arrived. "Enter."
A big priest, with a shaved head and hard eyes, wearing a yellow robe-raiment of the god the barbarians called Styphon-was the first to enter. After him came another priest in yellow robes and several lesser priests in black robes. Next came the merchants, led by a portly man with a solid-metal breastplate that Zarphu would have traded his favorite horse for. The portly man had a wine seller's smile pasted on his face. Zarphu wondered which, if any, of these foreigners he could trust.
The big priest, whom he'd met before and called himself Highpriest Arkemanes, was the first to speak. "My fellow priests, except for two, will return on your galleys to Andiphon as agreed by your Lord Tyrant. I will accompany your army to the Five Kingdoms as advisor and priest to those who need me."
Arkemanes spoke to him as if he were a lesser form of animal; the high-priest reminded him of Dyzar's Immortal Bodyguards. Zarphu didn't trust him the width of a lady's dagger. He would like to know more about the 'fireseed' that the priest had shown him the day before. Still, the priest had already crossed the Sea of Grass and, along with the portly merchant and the other priests, had survived the journey, so he might prove helpful in their passage.
"Who will we be fighting when we reach the Five Kingdoms?" Zarphu asked.
"An Usurper and blasphemer who goes by the name of Kalvan," the smaller priest said. He was the priest who had convinced the Tyrant Dyzar to sell the Army to the Temple of Styphon. "I have been sent to aid you in bringing your army to join the Holy Host. You will have your part in what will be a great victory."
Zarphu could tell by his tone that the priest didn't think much of that part or his mission. Good, the priests of Styphon's House underestimated him. That would make his job easier. He was sure that once they arrived in the Five Kingdoms an opportunity would arise where he could return this fool's disdain. He wasn't so sure about the big priest; he didn't look like any priest Zarphu had ever known. The Zarthani, as they now called themselves, might have better weapons, but he was certain they didn't have any better soldiers than his own-even this so-called Usurper Kalvan. If they did, they wouldn't be riding the width of the continent for troops to buy.
One thing that he was certain of, not much good would come of an alliance with these priests of the false god Styphon. What Zarphu really wanted to know was why the other priests were returning to Andiphon. Just what kind of deal had the Styphon worshippers struck with Lord Tyrant Dyzar?