Phidestros brushed the sleep out of his eyes and stared through the valley's early-morning shadows at the Grand Host's encampment. A splendid sight with its thousands of campfires-until one remembered that all these tens of thousands of men were chained to this desolate valley by a castle held by three or four hundred old men and walking wounded. Meanwhile, the Usurper Kalvan fled into the wilderness.
As it was, he was chief over the Grand Host only in name. In truth, he was first among equals, all of them hamstrung by Archpriest Roxthar-including Great King Lysandros who was in debt to Styphon's House up to his eyebrows. The Investigator was utterly convinced that the root of Kalvan's heresy was to be found in the Princedom of Hostigos and equally determined to extricate it if he had to Investigate every man, woman and child still remaining in the Princedom. Roxthar would not allow any stone to be left unturned, including that mother-of-all-stones, Tarr-Hostigos. Against that particular stone the Grand Host had bruised its foot for the best part of a moon, while Kalvan's real army slipped away. But, with Galzar's blessing, today that was about to change!
A small forest of poles already held the bodies of about a fifth of Hostigos Town's townspeople, those who had failed the Investigation. Add to that number those who fled with Kalvan, and by spring there would hardly be enough Hostigi left to bury their dead.
If the Investigation came to his lands again, Phidestros resolved it would not be his new subjects who decorated the gallows. He doubted the Investigators would do as well with their hot irons and boning knives against soldiers as they did against women and children. It might cost his own head to take Roxthar's, but at least he would have the pleasure of harvesting the madman's first!
The shadows began to fade. From his vantage point, Phidestros saw the camps coming to life, like kicked anthills. He'd wanted to lead the Iron Band in the first assault himself, but Soton insisted that Phidestros keep himself safely in the rear. Captain-Generals, Soton stated emphatically, were not meant to be fired off like Kalvan's rockets.
Soton was right, of course. Had Phidestros been in the vanguard during the first storming attempt, he might be dead along with so many others from Ptosphes' exploding cannonballs.
It still rankled, though, to be leading from behind. One more thing he would have to get used to, he supposed, along with asking who had married whom before he swore unquestioning obedience. Great King Lysandros' support was reluctant because the Great King owed his throne to Styphon's House and knew that Roxthar and the Inner Circle had to be placated before he could allow his commanders to do their jobs. At least Lysandros had shown the good judgment to forestall Galzar's Ban and ride to Hostigos Town to recast the Grand Host in such a manner than when the Ban was made public it would have already lost much of its force.
Phidestros cupped his hands around his pipe bowl and used the tinder-box to get a spark. When the pipe was drawing, he blew out a long plume of smoke, watching the rising morning breeze chase it away.
"Please, Captain-General," Geblon said. "Would you get down? Otherwise the Hostigi will aim at your smoke."
Phidestros doubted that in this breeze even a Hostigi rifleman could hit a man at this distance, but obeyed anyway. He could see as well, and make Geblon happy to boot.
The guns newly emplaced in the battery at the foot of the draw thumped. Their shots tore masonry from a gate tower. Another salvo followed, and white smoke rose in place of the morning mist.
Phidestros puffed on his pipe and prayed to all the true gods that today the butcher's bill would be a light one.