Kalvan felt a sudden chill, rose up from his desk, and went over to the large fireplace in what had formerly been the baron's bedchambers and tossed several small logs into the hearth. He rubbed his hands briskly over the fire. It was going to be a cold winter this year and he'd better get used to the chill, as well as sleeping alone. Rylla had forcibly ejected him from their chambers at Tarr-Hostigos when he had returned from the Sastragath and they had had their big blow up.
Kalvan had elected to move to the University of Hos-Hostigos and into the former baron's living quarters. At the time he was pleased not to have to pretend to an intimacy he no longer felt-at least, for now. Rylla's precipitous attack on the Princedom of Phaxos and the atrocities she'd committed in their name had darkened their relationship almost as much as it had their good name in the Seven Kingdoms. After two weeks of sleeping alone, Kalvan missed Rylla a lot and was regretting the words he'd thrown at her like poisoned darts in the heat of his return.
Back at his desk he turned up the light on his primitive Coleman lantern. The glass still had more green than he liked, but the local glass-blower had done a good job with the glass chimney. A new industry was growing up now in Hostigos Town around the new Glass Works and he was going to have to charter a Royal Glassblowers Guild before long; he was already getting complaints from the Council of Guilds about unregulated guildwork. The wicks had been a bit of a problem but they were getting better. The new lamps burned coal oil, which was easier to get than whale oil this far from the Eastern Ocean. The glass lantern threw off more light than three of the primitive whale oil lamps used here-and-now.
Kalvan opened the next packet; inside was a letter from Colonel Simodes reporting progress on the Semaphore Project. Simodes was making good progress building a series of semaphore stations that would link Hostigos Town to the Royal Army of Observation along the Beshtan border with Hos-Harphax. The first semaphore station to be built on Beshtan territory was half completed; the Colonel expected to reach Tarr-Beshta before first snow. The semaphore stations, using a combination of mirrors and flags, would save valuable time for communications between the Harphaxi border and Tarr-Hostigos. Kalvan was sure the stations would be worth their weight in gold once the Army of Hos-Hostigos began its advance into Hos-Harphax.
Captain Waklos, who was in charge of teaching Morse code to future semaphore signalers, had informed him yesterday that he had enough graduates to post two signalers at each semaphore station between Hostigos and Beshta. By this time next year, there would be semaphore lines into neighboring Sask and Nostor, too.
The next dispatch contained disturbing news from Duke Skranga, Chief of Intelligence, about the continuing troop build-up at Tarr-Veblos, Tarr-Harphax and other military centers throughout the kingdom of Hos-Harphax. Maybe Kalvan should have followed his instincts last year and taken his army into Hos-Harphax, while the Harphaxi Army was still in shock from the losses at Tenabra and Chothros Heights. This past spring the Harphaxi could have been routed with ease. The troop build-up, sponsored by Styphon's House, was getting worrisome. Still, the nomad invasion into the Trygath had been a major problem, one he was able to turn around and spring back upon the Zarthani Knights who'd tried to use the tribesmen as a cat's paw against Hostigos.
Dividing his army might have led to a great victory in Hos-Harphax, but it would have come with a steep cost-a very possible defeat in the west by the Sastragathi horde. The truth was that Hos-Hostigos could not afford a defeat anywhere; the minute he stopped winning battles the people of Hos-Hostigos would stop believing in the Gods'-Sent-Kalvan- then his problems would really begin. His insurmountable problem was that he was surrounded by enemies who out-gunned him, out-numbered him and everything but out-generaled him-at least, not yet!
This new Harphaxi Captain-General showed every sign of being a first rate commander, unless his capture of Tarr-Veblos was a fluke. Kalvan knew that pigs might grow wings before fate sent him any more incompetent generals like those who'd led the last Harphaxi invasion force. This Phidestros, from Skranga's reports, was either a fast learner, or a first rate tactician; he doubted he'd face any more witlings like the late Prince what's-his-name who'd led the Harphaxi lancers into a deadly hail storm of lead.
There was a timid knock at the door, which sounded particularly feminine-for a moment his heart hammered like a vibrating drumhead. Is it Rylla? Then he heard an unfamiliar voice ask, "May I come in, Your Majesty?"
Where's Cleon when I need him, thought Kalvan to himself. What's the use of having a body servant if he's never where he's needed. Then he realized what he was really feeling was disappointment; not anger, disappointment that it wasn't Rylla coming to his chamber to ask forgiveness. Well, now that he thought it out, that didn't seem very likely, but one could hope…
"Your Majesty? Are you there?"
"Come in, please."
A very attractive young lady, of obvious noble birth-her dress and carriage were proof of that-entered the room. "I don't believe we've met before, Your Majesty."
Kalvan shook his head; her he would have remembered. "Sorry, I kept you waiting, but I was tending the fire." He turned to stir some coals.
"I don't mean to intrude, Your Majesty, but Prince Phrames asked me to intercede."
Ahhh. This must be the Lady Eutare that Harmakros mentioned the other night, the future Mrs. Phrames. Her father was that rarity on both here-and-now and on his home world; a noble with good business sense. According to Harmakros, he was one of Beshta's richest grain merchants; an important faction that Phrames would need on his side if his attempt to re-build Beshta were to be successful. Now, having seen Lady Eutare, he suspected that Phrames' interests were more than political. For not the first time, he wanted to hear Rylla's take on Lady Eutare and Prince Phrames; it was becoming increasingly more difficult to rule wisely with his best advisor giving him the cold shoulder.
"Intercede in what? Is Phrames having trouble with your parents? If so, I will certainly stand at his right hand-"
"No, Your Majesty," Lady Eutare said, blushing. "I'm Great Queen Rylla's new Lady-in-Waiting. We weren't introduced when you returned. The Queen has sent me to remind you, which I'm sure you haven't forgotten…" She paused to blush an even deeper red. "The Allmother Festival is coming soon-in a moon-quarter."
Kalvan slapped his thigh-he had forgotten. It was almost time for the harvest festival and, with the kingdom-wide bumper crops, their subjects would expect him and Rylla to lead the festivities held in the name of the Goddess Yirtta.
"What does she want now?" he asked too sharply, and Eutare drew back from him as if expecting a slap.
"Excuse me, but I'm not myself these days." He turned to the fire, rubbing his hands vigorously. When he was breathing in measured breaths once again, he turned back to Lady Eutare. "What does the Great Queen have planned for Harvest Festival?"
"A party at her father's palace."
Prince Ptosphes' summer palace, that's good, he thought, neutral ground.
"She thought you might want to spend some time with your daughter, since you missed her Name Day."
Yes, I was off killing Zarthani Knights in the Sastragath! Kalvan fought to keep his temper in check. Don't blame the messenger! "Of course, I do," he answered. He wanted to spend all of his time with his little girl, but not with her mother standing over Demia shooting daggers at him with her eyes. "Tell her I'll be there."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Lady Eutare answered, curtsying. She turned and all but fled the room. That had been happening a lot lately, and not just with the ladies. His being out of sorts with Rylla was not only bad for them, for Princess Demia and for their friends, but hard on the other people around them too. If only there were some way they could turn back the clock, but he might as well wish for another cross-time flying saucer to land, or Styphon's House to declare peace-