No matter how hard he tried Count Sestembar couldn't remove the smile of satisfaction from his face. He had just finished questioning the last of the brass-founders in the dungeon of Tarr-Zygros and the stink of the man's fear still clung to his clothes like bad perfume. What he had learned from the founder was worth far more than all the whale ambergris in the kingdom.
"What are you smiling about, Sestembar?" Prince Eudocles asked.
"Here we went all the way to Hos-Harphax for a treasure that was resting in our own backyard," he answered smugly.
"Enough of your riddles, old friend. I just returned from a lengthy visit with my brother's latest charlatan, a self-proclaimed wizard dressed all in black, topped with a pointed hat, who claims the voice of the dead Prince speaks through his tongue. My brother had me sitting in a dark chamber for the entire afternoon while this man threw his voice about the room, an instrument that sounded to these ears no more like Prince Pariphon's voice than my own!
"His obsession with the deceased Prince grows so desperate that it's bandied about all the wineshops on the waterfront! He will make us all a laughingstock!"
Not all, thought Sestembar. No subject who valued his life would ever consider joking about Eudocles, who was notorious for both his quick temper and his lack of humor, especially about his own person.
"Your brother will grow tired of his weeping, maybe sire another child. Your sister-in-law is still fertile, is she not?"
"Who knows, she's so ugly no other man will look at her. Now she cries both day and night with such emotion one would think the Daemon Kalvan was perched on the city gates!"
"More evidence that the kingdom needs a new ruler."
Eudocles frowned. "Be careful where you speak such thoughts. Although I will admit there is a great deal of truth to your words. Now, what is this about a treasure?"
"When I talked to the ungrateful one."
"Spit it out, Sestembar!" he growled. "I know the ungrateful whelp of whom you speak."
"During our meeting at the brothel he frequents, he asked me to have you send some of our brass-founders like those employed by the Usurper Kalvan in his Royal Foundry. The other day it struck me that if Kalvan is using our founders, he may have actually visited Zygros Town before or after his sudden appearance in Hostigos. Since so little is known about this Kalvan, I decided to visit all the foundries in the area and talk to the founders myself. It was a most enlightening visit."
Eudocles leaned forward. "Go on, old friend."
"I visited six different foundries, all of which are most busy. It was not always such before Kalvan's arrival."
Eudocles spat a string of curses. "These Dralm-blasted dogs of Styphon never let us have enough of their fireseed." He laughed maniacally. "Now their Fireseed Mystery is known to every woodcutter and charcoal burner in the Five Kingdoms!"
"We do owe Kalvan a debt of thanks for removing Styphon's chains," Sestembar added, careful not to offend his lord. When the First Prince was in his dark place, his moods could spin like a coin! And one never knew what side would land face up.
"I will thank him even more if he leaves us in peace."
"I may have uncovered the means to ensure that he does just that."
"Enough mystery, Count. Talk on!"
Sestembar nodded. "Three of the founders remember a tall stranger, who may or may not prove to be Kalvan, who called himself Verkan the Grefftscharrer."
"I've not heard of any Verkan. But we get visits all the time from Grefftscharrer merchants."
"I talked to some former mercenaries who took wounds while fighting for Kalvan, and several of them recognized the name-one called him Colonel Verkan of the Mounted Rifles."
"Then there is such a man. How is this important to Us?"
"I wanted to learn more about his visit and what he asked for. Memories differ on the facts-after all, this visit occurred over three winters ago-but two casters remember this Verkan well; he was quite generous with his purse and paid in gold. It was said that he left town with five brass-founders and some patternmakers."
"Yes, yes!"
"Before leaving he taught two of these gunsmiths the secret of rifling!"
"Rifles! Kalvan's far-shooting muskets? The ones we've been searching high and low for?"
"Yes."
"Why has this not come to our attention?"
"Because, Your Highness, we were looking in all the wrong places, and certainly not right under our noses. Two gunsmiths have been selling these rifles as fowling pieces for hunters. One, a Master Ptoythos, showed me his rifling bench and explained that it takes considerable effort to carve the inside of the barrel with the right grooves. Far too expensive a piece to waste on the battlefield, he said! The other gunsmith was most reluctant to tell me of his secrets until I talked with him in our dungeon. He's now anxious to cooperate and share his knowledge."
"You have taught him wisdom and saved his head. To keep secrets from the Throne is a capital offense. He can teach the rest of the Gunsmiths Guild the secrets of making rifles. Inform Master Ptoythos that We have found a new place for his talents. He will be elevated to Royal Gunsmith, and if he can makes us rifles we will elevate his station as well."
"Ptoythos will be most pleased, Prince. He is a master artisan and has the arrogance of the best of that breed. He will be a suitable tool to provide us with our own rifles?
"Sestembar, I must say I am most pleased about your part in this discovery. It is time you received a proper reward."
Sestembar felt his heart hammer, as he contemplated how many ounces of gold he would be gifted.
"I need more faithful retainers and you are a good example for them. I will raise you to duke-yes, that would be a proper payment for all your services."
Sestembar felt light on his feet and had to sit down, or risk stumbling. This wonderful a reward he had never expected.
"You are a little rough in the graces, but too many of the Zygrosi nobility are too fine for the kind of work that may lie ahead. There are no suitable positions for your rank at present; however, Duke Phremnos has no heirs and is approaching sixty winters. Sadly, he and his wife are both in good health. A stout fire might not only cleanse that ruin of a tarr they inhabit, but solve your problem as well."
"It will be done," Sestembar said with a big smile. "But isn't Phremnos close to Great King Sopharar?"
"True, one of his biggest supporters. Unfortunately, my brother's grief is such that this will be as little noticed a passing as one of the palace pigeons caught in a stableboy's trap."
Sestembar nodded eagerly. Arson was an art he'd perfected during his days as a mercenary captain.
Eudocles rose up and put his hand on Sestembar's shoulder. "Once the King has finished grieving for his friend I will place your patent before him. Then the Throne will build you a new castle, one worthy of your station. You will need an emblem."
"A rifle, Your Highness."
The Prince laughed. "A most appropriate choice! With our own riflemen the Zygrosi Royal Army will be a force to be reckoned with."