King Kalvan sat down on the Fireseed Throne, the name given to the magnificent walnut throne with two silver armrests in the shape of musketoon barrels. On the headboard was a gold and mother-of-pearl inlay depicting his first military success at Tarr-Dombra, a border castle he'd captured shortly after arriving in the Princedom of Hostigos. The Fireseed Throne had been commissioned by Rylla as the official throne of the new Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos and had been two years in the making by the kingdom's best artificers. Kalvan was waiting in the great audience chamber as Chancellor Chartiphon arranged those supplicants who would be permitted an audience and in what order.
Last night Kalvan had spent several hours with his daughter and her nursemaid at the Allmother Festival, but Rylla had refused to see him. Kalvan had returned by himself for another lonely evening at the University talking with Master Ermut and Chartiphon. Now that they had glass suitable for vases and other decorative items, Ermut was attempting to devise a way to get the glass to cool in sheets for window panes. The making of sheet glass was a secret held by the Glassmakers Guild of Hos-Agrys, which kept the price of sheet glass as high as that of gold.
While Kalvan was pleased by Ermut's success, he missed Rylla most of all; her absence was like that of a missing limb. Nor did he like being kept away from his daughter as she learned her way about the world. Already he'd missed Demia's first words and halting steps.
The Royal Bodyguard marched into the Audience Chamber, holding their ceremonial double-headed poleaxes, followed by Aspasthar, the Royal Page, Harmakros' illegitimate issue. After the Bodyguard had taken their place besides the throne and at the front entrance, Chancellor Chartiphon entered followed by a good-sized crowd, including Rylla's second cousin, Baron Sthentros, who was strutting at the head of the party. He had never liked Sthentros, an arrogant ne'er-do-well who blamed others for his own incompetence. Kalvan attempted to look regal, while searching the crowd for possible assassins and agents of Styphon's House.
Kalvan's crown was solid gold, a simple circlet with a magnificent ruby of forty or fifty carats, set at the front. Kalvan had designed the crown himself in an attempt to avoid the traditional ornate and heavy crowns worn by Great Kings.
The Royal Bodyguard stamped their poleaxes twice as the Royal Page announced: "Baron Sthentros, for an audience with Great King Kalvan, overlord of the Princedoms of Hostigos, Sask, Ulthor, Beshta, Kyblos and Sashta and His Royal Majesty of the Great Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos. You may approach the throne."
Kalvan had finally grown accustomed to the pomp and circumstance that accompanied the position of Great King, but he disliked watching supplicants bowing and scraping as they approached the throne. Still, it was part of the Great King job description and he was stuck with it. However, Baron Sthentros managed to put outrage and injustice into every bow and scrape. Old Chartiphon couldn't keep his hand away from his sword hilt, and the look in his eyes was positively murderous. Kalvan would have to be careful not to show any of the displeasure he felt at dealing with Rylla's slimy second cousin; otherwise, the Baron might 'accidentally' trip and fall down a castle stairway some dark night.
It would have been easy for him to believe that Sthentros was someone's bastard and not related to Ptosphes' deceased wife except for the fact that his daughter was almost the spitting image of Rylla, only with flaming red hair and her father's arrogance. Sthentros, who wore a mink-lined dark-red bathrobe, looked nothing like Rylla-Dralm be praised. He was tall and thin, with a red goatee and long narrow face, his mouth set in a permanent sneer. Kalvan hadn't liked him the first time they'd met at Tarr-Hostigos, when he had to be ordered by Ptosphes to bring his levy to the Battle of Fyk. Admittedly he'd fought well at Fyk, although with little enthusiasm.
Sthentros hadn't served in the army since Fyk. His oldest son had led the family retainers. Then he remembered that the youngest son, his father's favorite, had died at Tenabra, and Sthentros had blamed Rylla's father. He wondered if this was another attempt to pry guilt money out of the Hostigi moneybox. Kalvan would publicly push Sthentros down the stairs from the highest tower in Tarr-Hostigos if he attempted to play on Ptosphes' guilt again!
It was well known that Sthentros was a spendthrift-his summer palace was more ornate than the Prince's-and it was also known that he'd only supported the war against Styphon's House because he owed the Sask regional branch of Styphon's Great Bank something on the order of twenty thousand ounces of gold. Not that he was the only one in Hostigos-or the Seven Kingdoms for that matter!-who was a debtor to Styphon's House. At least, it was a guarantee of his loyalty. Styphon's House was far less forgiving of debtors than non-believers!
Chancellor Chartiphon, looking regal in his own blue velvet robe, stared the Baron right in the eye and intoned, in a reasonable voice that little matched the sparks in his eyes, "You may present your petition to His Majesty, Great King Kalvan."
Sthentros gave a pained little bow to Chartiphon before clearing his throat. "Your Majesty, I have a complaint to file about my new neighbor, the Baron Hestophes."
Sthentros managed to spit out Hestophes' name in a manner that made it sound as if it were a term used to describe something found in an outhouse; little matter that Captain-General Hestophes was the Hero of Narza Gap and one of Kalvan's most valued lieutenants. Hestophes' first offense was his common origins; his father owned a public tavern. The second, and probably more important, was that he was now the Baron of Eython, a neighboring domain-just outside Boalsburg, or Hyllos Town- and a barony that Sthentros had long coveted.
When the last scion of the family had died without heirs during the Year of the Locust, Kalvan had presented the Barony of Eython to Hestophes, who had long suffered from an inferiority complex over his humble origins. That the title had given one of his best generals happiness had enabled Kalvan to enjoy one of the perks of his own position. He was not about to let this pipsqueak turn that pleasure to ashes.
"And what is your complaint, Baron?"
"This Hestophes has been trying to make suit with my daughter Lavena-despite my objections. I have told him repeatedly that she will never be betrothed to a former commoner. He has refused to heed my words and has accosted her in the streets of Hyllos Town. I want an end to his harassment!"
Kalvan found it hard to imagine General Hestophes acting in a manner that would offend any reasonable person, not that anyone who knew Sthentros would ever accuse him of reasonable behavior. In the Zarthani lands nobles, for property or dynastic reasons, arranged their children's marriages. This prohibited him from reading Sthentros the riot act as he wanted to do; instead he swallowed his bile and said, "Baron, Captain-General Hestophes is about to be re-assigned to an important post on the Beshtan border so I doubt he will be in a position to continue his suit-if in fact, there is such a suit."
Sthentros' body went rigid and his face turned the color of chalk. However, he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut; two years ago he wouldn't have been able to stop his tongue.
"If you have nothing to add, Baron, you may leave. I have other important matters to attend to this day."
The Baron leaned back as if slapped, and then wheeled around and stomped out of the audience chamber. Kalvan wished the Baron had been stupid enough to give him cause for complaint; he would have loved an excuse to have Sthentros put in chains and left to rot in the dungeons of Tarr-Hostigos for a month or two-preferably on short rations!
While he was woolgathering Chancellor Chartiphon brought up the next petitioner, announcing, "Guildmaster Dyag, for an audience with Great King Kalvan, overlord of the Princedoms of Hostigos, Sask, Ulthor, Beshta, Kyblos and Sashta and His Royal Majesty of the Great Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos. You may approach the throne."
Dyag was a man with an impressive spade-shaped black beard. He wore a black velvet robe that a prince might envy, and carried himself like a baron instead of a Guildmaster of the Goldsmiths Guild. Kalvan had crossed verbal swords with him before and wasn't looking forward to this audience.
The Guildmaster made the slightest of bows and said, "The Hostigos Town Council of Guilds has appointed me as its spokesman." He bowed again and removed a folded parchment from the inside of his robe. "Here is a list of items we would like Your Majesty to address."
Guildmaster Dyag's presumptuous use of the royal we made Kalvan glad Rylla was not seated at her throne, a smaller version of his own. Rylla was still unwilling to appear in public with her husband; Kalvan wondered how long her stubborn streak could last-probably until the rest of Mrs. O'Leary's cows came home.
"Present your list," he said.
"First, there is the matter of the Royal Guilds appointed by Your Majesty. The Council of Guilds would like to see them disbanded or given to the Council for reform."
Fortunately, Count Rogos, a member of the Council of Guilds and friend of the Ptosphes, had warned them about the proclamation; but it didn't make it any easier to swallow. "That's not a reasonable demand, Guildmaster. Those Royal guilds were created in the first place because the Council of Guilds refused to grant them charters. They are now Royal Guilds chartered by Ourselves, as Great King of Hos-Hostigos, and they will remain under Royal protection until We decree otherwise. This is not negotiable."
Dyag's face contorted as though he were passing a kidney stone. "That is within your prerogative, Your Majesty. But the Council will not sit quietly while its time-honored rights are disregarded and usurped. In the future, you may find that the Council is not as cooperative as it has been in the past upon consideration of items Your Majesty views as important."
Remembering how cooperative the Council had been when he had tried to gain their help to force the gunsmiths to standardize musket bores, Kalvan wanted to laugh in Dyag's face. Instead he reined his temper in, saying, "Are you trying to threaten Us, Guildmaster Dyag? Because if you are, We may find it necessary to sequester the entire Council of Guilds for the duration of the War on charges of treason." In actuality it wasn't a bad idea, since it would probably double the production of masters and apprentices kingdom-wide. He could then appoint Count Rogos as Royal Guildmaster, or some such position. Rogos was mild-mannered on the outside, but could make metal weep in a forge. He was also the only nobleman in the Guilds, since Rogos' father had been granted a patent of nobility by Ptosphes' grandfather for designing the molds for the first Hostigos gold Crowns.
This was obviously one possibility of the interview that Dyag had not anticipated; his face blanched. "That is not at all what I meant, Your Majesty. Perhaps I should advance to the next matter."
"An excellent idea. Tell your Council that the Royal Guilds are not taking away jobs or traditional guild privileges. The Royal Guild of Papermakers, the Royal Riflemakers Guild, the Royal Alchemists, the Royal Glassblowers and the other Royal Guilds are making more jobs and work for the other guilds, since much of their materials are made by the Carpenters Guild, the Smiths Guild, the Gunsmiths Guild and others. What we have here is an increasing pie with bigger slices for everyone."
"There is much truth to Your Majesty's words; however, this is not the major complaint. These new guilds do not pay their Council dues, nor are their Masters put to the same rigorous training as provided by our Guilds. After all, it is the people of Hostigos Town we are trying to protect."
Horsefeathers! thought Kalvan. "Are you saying that the Great King of Hos-Hostigos would let unqualified craftsmen work in the Royal Guilds?"
"No, no. Of course not, Your Majesty. It is just that there are certain precedents here and time-tested methods of training, as well as proper observances to Tranth-"
"Balderdash. You can't train people in the traditional time-lengthy matter to do new tasks such as papermaking, soap making or rifle smithing. But enough of this, my time is not endless-nor is my patience! What is your next point?"
"There have been complaints by the Carpenters and Fitters and Joiners Guilds that their traditional rights are being usurped by the teachers at the Royal University of Hos-Hostigos. They believe that some of their Masters should be made Masters of the University faculty and that the students be subject to Guild-sponsored apprenticeships."
Kalvan shook his head. What had happened to those halcyon days when Great King Kalvan could do no wrong? First it was Chartiphon questioning his military decisions, now the Council of Guilds. Next it would be the midwives going on strike to protest antisepsis. Is the separation between Rylla and myself, with all the attendant rumors, undermining our rule and lowering morale?
"We are going to make this quick and very clear, because We have more important matters to attend to, Guildmaster Dyag. The Royal University, the same as the Royal Guilds, is under Royal Charter and therefore is under complete jurisdiction of the Throne. We will not tolerate any interference in their operation from either you or the Council of Guilds. If you have a suggested list of Masters for faculty positions, send it to the Rector. He will give it serious consideration. That is all We can do, or will do on the matter. This audience is at an end."
The Guildmaster blew himself up as though he were about to launch himself into a harangue, then thought better of it, spun around and stomped out of the room. Kalvan turned to one of his scribes. "Make a note to have Duke Skranga conduct an investigation of Guildmaster Dyag and see if it's possible that he harbors Styphoni sympathies. Also, suggest that the Duke make a listing of reliable persons in the eventuality that we have to make some changes in the leadership of the Council of Guilds. Inform him that he can expect Count Rogos' complete support and that the Count would make an excellent candidate as Guildmaster should Guildmaster Dyag unexpectedly decide to retire." Remembering Thomas a Beckett, Kalvan added, "In good health, of course-at this time."
If Dyag turned out to be in the employ of either Styphon's House or any foreign overlord, his health be damned!
Kalvan was about to tell Chartiphon to announce the next supplicant, when Uncle Wolf Tharses and a bearded man in a wet traveler's cloak came into the audience chamber. As he drew closer, Kalvan could see that it was one of Harmakros' outriders. More bad news, thought Kalvan, it's that kind of day.
"What is it?" Chartiphon asked waspishly. The Chancellor was probably miffed because he was not allowed to filter the news for his Great King. Old Chartiphon is getting positively womanish since his promotion. Unfortunately, since he'd already been promoted out of the Royal Army, there was no longer any other place left for the old family retainer, whose talents had been more appropriate to the rural princedom of Hostigos than the new Great Kingdom.
"Your Majesty, Colonel Eastross wanted you to know that we just got word that a large party of Sastragathi have entered Kyblos and appear to be traveling to Hostigos Town."
"Do they appear hostile?"
"No, although they are led by a fearsome giant of a man, who wears two horns on his helmet. Eastross said you would be familiar with him as you once saved his life at the Battle of Spirit Grove."
Vanar Halgoth, thought Kalvan with interest. What brings Warlord Sargos' top henchman all the way from the Sastragath to Hos-Hostigos? Halgoth was the leader of Sargos' Raven Band, his personal bodyguard of berserkers. It must be important or Sargos would have chosen a different envoy. Maybe he had news from the frontier? Was it possible the Zarthani Knights were planning to hit Hostigos from the rear, while Kalvan's forces attacked Hos-Harphax in the spring? Well, he'd have to rein his questions for a few days. A large party would have trouble making better time than that during the rains, even if they were led by the single most formidable fighting-machine Kalvan had ever encountered.