The Thousand Cities

XII

Mashiz grew nearer with every clop of the horses' hooves, with every squealing revolution of the wagon's wheels. «Summoned to the capital,» Abivard said to Roshnani. «Nice to hear that without fearing it's going to mean the end of your freedom, maybe the end of your life.»

«About time you've been summoned back to Mashiz to be praised for all the good things you've done, not blamed for things that mostly weren't your fault,» Roshnani said, loyal as a principal wife should be.

«Anything that goes wrong is your fault Anything that goes right is credited to the King of Kings.» Abivard held up a hand. «I'm not saying a word against Sharbaraz.»

«I'll say a word. I'll say several words,» Roshnani replied.

He shook his head. «Don't. As much as I've complained about it, that's not his fault… well, not altogether his fault. It comes with being King of Kings. If someone besides the ruler gets too much credit, too much applause, the man on the throne feels he'll be thrown off it It's been like that in Makuran for a long, long time, and it's like that in Videssos, too, though maybe not so bad.»

«It isn't right,» Roshnani insisted.

«I didn't say it was right. I said it was real. There's a difference,» Abivard said. Because Roshnani still looked mutinous, he added, «I expect you'll agree with me that it's not right to lock up noblemen's wives in the women's quarters of a stronghold. But the custom of doing that is real. You can't pretend it's not there and expect all those wives to come out at once, can you?»

«No,» Roshnani said unwillingly. «But it's so much easier and more enjoyable to dislike Sharbaraz the man doing as he pleases than Sharbaraz the King of Kings acting like a King of Kings.»

«So it is,» Abivard said. «Don't get me wrong: I'm not happy with him. But I'm not as angry as I was, either. The God approves of giving those who wrong you the benefit of the doubt.»

«Like Tzikas?» Roshnani asked, and Abivard winced. She went on, «The God also approves of revenge when those who wrong you won't change their ways. She understands there will be times when you have to protect yourself.»

«He'd better understand that,» Abivard answered. They both smiled, as Makuraners often did when crossing genders of the God.

With the wind coming off the Dilbat Mountains from the west, Mashiz announced itself to the nose as well as to the eye. Abivard had grown thoroughly familiar with the city stink of latrines, moke, horses, and unwashed humanity. It was the same coming from the capital of Makuran as it was in the land of the Thousand Cities and the same there as in Videssos.

For that matter, it was the same in Vek Rud stronghold and the town at the base of the high ground atop which the stronghold sat. Whenever people gathered together, other people downwind knew about it.

Once the wagon got into Mashiz, Pashang drove it through the city market on the way to the palace of the King of Kings. The going was slow in the market district. Hawkers and customers clogged the square, shouting and arguing and calling one another names. They cursed Pashang with great panache for driving past without buying anything.

«Madness,» Abivard said to Roshnani. «So many strangers, all packed together and trying to cheat other strangers. I wonder how many of them have ever before seen the people from whom they buy and how many will ever see them again.» His principal wife nodded. «There are advantages to living in a stronghold,» she said. «You know everyone around you. It can get poisonous sometimes-the God knows that's so-but it's for the good, too. A lot of people who would cheat a stranger in a heartbeat will go out of their way to do something nice for someone they know.»

They rode through the open square surrounding the walls of the palace of the King of Kings. The courtiers within those walls led lives as ingrown in their own way as those of the inhabitants of the most isolated stronghold of Makuran. And very few of them, Abivard thought, were likely to go out of their way to do anything nice for anyone they knew.

The guards at the gate saluted Abivard and threw wide the valves to let him and his family come inside. Servitors took charge of the wagon-and of Pashang. The driver went with them with less fear and hesitation that he'd shown the winter before. Abivard was glad to see that, though he still wondered what sort of reception he himself was likely to get.

His heart sank when Yeliif came out to greet him; the only people he would have been less glad to see in the palace were, for different reasons, Tzikas and Maniakes. But the beautiful eunuch remained so civil, Abivard wondered whether something was wrong with him, saying only, «Welcome, Abivard son of Godarz, in the name of Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase. Come with me and I shall show you to the quarters you have been assigned. If they prove unsatisfactory in any way, by all means tell me, that I may arrange a replacement.»

He'd never said anything like that the past couple of years. Then Abivard's stays in the palace had been in essence house arrest. Now, as he and his family walked through the hallways of the palace, servants bowed low before them. So did most nobles he saw, acknowledging his rank as being far higher than theirs. A few high nobles from the Seven Clans kissed him on the cheek, claiming status only a little lower than his. He accepted that. Had he not done what he'd done, he would have been the one bowing before them.

No. Had he not done what he'd done, the nobles from the Seven Clans would either have fled up into the plateau country west of the Dilbat Mountains or would be trying to figure out what rank they had among Maniakes' courtiers. He'd earned their respect.

The suite of rooms to which Yeliif led him had two great advantages over those in which he'd stayed in the past two years. First was their size and luxury. Second, and better by far, was the complete absence of sentries, guards, keepers, what have you in front of the door.

«Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, will allow us to come and go as we please and to receive visitors likewise?» Abivard asked. Only after he'd spoken did he realize how great a capacity for irony he'd acquired in his years in Videssos.

Yeliif had never been to Videssos but was formidably armored against irony. «Of course,» he replied, his limpid black eyes as wide and candid as if Abivard had enjoyed those privileges on his previous visits to the palace… and as if he had never urged drastic punishment for the disloyalty of which Sharbaraz so often suspected Abivard.

Abivard's tone swung from sardonic to bland: «Perhaps you could help me arrange a meeting with my sister Denak and even arrange for me to see my nephew, Peroz son of Sharbaraz.»

«I shall bend every effort toward achieving your desire in that regard,» the beautiful eunuch said, sounding as if he meant it. Abivard studied him in some bemusement; cooperation from Yeliif was so new and strange, he had trouble taking the idea seriously. And then, as politely as ever but with a certain amount of relish nonetheless, the eunuch asked, «And would you also like me to arrange for you a meeting with Tzikas?»

Abivard stared at him. So did Roshnani. So even did Varaz. Yeliif's small smile exposed white, even, sharply pointed teeth. «Tzikas is here-in the palace?» Abivard asked.

«Indeed he is. He arrived a fortnight before you,» Yeliif answered. «Would you like me to arrange a meeting?»

«Not right now, thank you,» Abivard said. If Tzikas had been there two weeks and had still kept his head on his shoulders, he was liable to keep it a good deal longer. Somehow or other he'd managed to talk Sharbaraz out of giving him over to the torturers.

That meant he'd be getting ready to give Abivard another riding boot between the legs the first chance he saw.

Yeliif said, «The King of Kings was inclined toward severity in the matter of Tzikas until the Videssian enlightened him as to how, after a daring escape from Maniakes' forces, he saved your entire army from destruction at the hands of vicious Videssian sorcery.»

«Did he?» Abivard said, unsure whether he meant Tzikas' «enlightenment» of Sharbaraz or his alleged salvation of the Makuraner force. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered whether Maniakes hadn't known perfectly well that Tzikas would flee back to the Makuraners and thus had given him something juicy with which to flee. Maybe the magical preparations had looked worse than they were, to impress the renegade, just as the sorcerous «fog bank» had impressed Abivard's wizards till they had discovered that nothing lay behind it.

And maybe, too, Tzikas had known perfectly well that the Videssians' magecraft was harmless and had gone back with the specific intention of delaying Abivard's army as long as he could and giving Maniakes a chance to get away. He'd certainly done that whether he had intended to or not. And Tzikas, from what Abivard had seen, seldom did things inadvertently.

«These quarters care satisfactory?» Yeliif asked.

«Satisfactory in every way,» Abivard told him, that being the closest he could come to applauding the lack of keepers. Roshnani nodded. So did their children, who would have more room now than they had enjoyed in some time. Of course, after slow travel in the wagon, any chamber larger than belt-pouch size felt commodious to them.

«Excellent,» the beautiful eunuch said, and bowed low, the first such acknowledgment of superiority he'd ever granted Abivard. «And rest assured I shall not forget to make arrangements for you to see your sister and nephew.» He slipped from the suite and was gone.

Abivard stared after him. «Was that really the Yeliif we've known and loathed the past couple of years?» he said to no one in particular.

«It really was,» Roshnani said, sounding as dazed as he was. «Do you know what I wish we could borrow right now?»

«What's that?» Abivard asked.

«Sharbaraz' food taster, if he has one,» his principal wife answered. «And he probably does.» Abivard thought about that, then nodded, agreeing with both the need and the likelihood.

Yeliif used a suave and tasteful gesture to point out the door through which Abivard was to enter. «Denak and young Peroz await you within,» he said. «I shall await you here in the hall and return with you to your chamber.»

«I can probably find my way back by myself,» Abivard said.

«It is the custom,» the eunuch answered, a sentence from which there could be no possible appeal.

Shrugging, Abivard opened the door and went inside. He didn't shut it in Yeliif's face, as he would have done before. Since the beautiful eunuch was not actively hostile, Abivard didn't want to turn him that way.

Inside the room waited not only his sister and her new baby but also the woman Ksorane. Not even her brother could be alone with the principal wife of the King of Kings, and tiny Peroz didn't count in such matters.

«Congratulations,» he said to Denak. He wanted to run to his sister and take her in his arms but knew the serving woman would interpret that as uncouth familiarity no matter how closely they were related. He did the next best thing by adding, «Let me see the baby, please.»

Denak smiled and nodded, but even that proved complicated. She could not simply hand Peroz to Abivard, for the two of them would touch each other if she did. Instead, she gave the baby to Ksorane, who in turn passed him to Abivard, asking as she did so, «You know how to hold them?»

«Oh, yes,» he assured her. «My eldest will start sprouting his beard before many years go by.» She nodded, satisfied. Abivard held Peroz in the crook of his elbow, making sure he kept the baby's head well supported. His nephew stared up at him with the confused look babies so often give the large, confusing world.

Their eyes met. Peroz' blank stare was swallowed by a large, enthusiastic, toothless smile. Abivard smiled back, and that made the baby's smile get even wider. Peroz jerked and waved his arms around, not seeming quite sure they belonged to him

«Don't let him grab your beard,» Denak warned. «He's already pulled my hair a couple of times.»

«I know about that, too,» Abivard said. He held the baby for a while, then handed it back to the serving woman, who returned it to his sister. «An heir to the throne,» he murmured, adding for Ksorane's benefit, «Though I hope Sharbaraz keeps it for many years to come.» He remained unsure whether the woman's first loyalty lay with Denak or with the King of Kings.

«As do I, of course,» Denak said; maybe she wasn't perfectly sure, either. But then she went on, «Yes, now I've had my foal. And now I'm put back in the stable again and forgotten.» She did not bother to disguise her bitterness.

«I'm sure the King of Kings gives you every honor,» Abivard said.

«Honor? Yes, though I'd be worse than forgotten if Peroz had turned out to be a girl.» Denak's mouth twisted. «I have everything I want-except about three quarters of my freedom.» She held up a hand to keep Abivard from saying anything. «I know, I know. If I'd stayed married to Pradtak, I'd still be stuck away in the women's quarters, but I would rule his domain in spite of that. Here I can go about more freely, which looks well, but no one listens to me-no one.» The lines new on her face these past few years grew deep and harsh.

«Do you want freedom,» Abivard asked, «or do you want influence?»

«Both,» Denak answered at once. «Why shouldn't I have both? If I were a man, I could easily have both. Because I'm not, I'm supposed to be amazed to have one. That's not the way I work.»

Abivard knew as much. It had never been the way his sister worked. He pointed to Peroz, who was falling asleep in her arms. «You have influence there-and you'll have more as time goes by.»

«Influence because I'm his mother,» Denak said, looking down at the baby. «Not influence because I am who I am. Influence through a baby, influence through a man. It's not enough. I have wit enough to be a counselor to the King of Kings or even to rule in my own right. Will I ever have the chance? You know the answer as well as I do.»

«What would you have me do?» Abivard said. «Shall I ask the God to remake the world so it pleases you better?

«I've asked her that myself often enough,» Denak said, «but I don't think she'll ever grant my prayer. Maybe, in spite of what we women call her, the God is a man, after all. Otherwise, how could she treat women so badly?»

Sitting off in a corner of the room, the serving woman yawned. Denak's complaints meant nothing to her. In some ways she was freer than the principal wife of the King of Kings.

Changing the subject seemed a good idea to Abivard. «What did Sharbaraz say when he learned you'd had a son?» he asked.

«He said all the right things,» Denak answered: «that he was glad, that he was proud of me, that Peroz was a splendid little fellow and hung like a horse, to boot» She laughed at the expression on Abivard's face. «It was true at the time.»

«Yes, I suppose it would have been,» Abivard agreed, remembering how the genitals of his newborn sons had been disproportionately large for the first few days of their lives. «It surprised me.»

«It certainly did-you should have seen your jaw drop,» Denak said. She went on, «And how have you been? How has life been outside the walls of this palace?»

«I've been fairly well-not perfect but fairly well. We even beat the Videssians this year, not so thoroughly as I would have liked, but we beat them.» Abivard shrugged. «That's how life works. You don't get everything you want. If you can get most of it, you're ahead of the game. Maybe Sharbaraz is starting to see hat, too: I didn't know how he'd take it when we beat the Videssians without smashing them to bits, but he hardly complained about that.»

«He has some sort of scheme afoot,» Denak answered. «I don't know what it is.» The set of her jaw said what she thought about not knowing. «Whatever it is, he thought it up himself, and he's doubly proud of it on account of that. When he turns it loose he says, Videssos the city will tremble and fall.»

«That would be wonderful,» Abivard answered. «For a while there a couple of springs ago, I was afraid Mashiz would tremble and fall.»

«He says he's taken a lesson from the Videssians,» Denak added, «and they'll pay for having taught him.»

«What's that supposed to mean?» Abivard asked.

«I don't know,» Denak told him. «That's all he's said to me; that's all he will say to me.» Her thinned lips showed how much she cared for her husband's silence. «When he talks about this lesson, whatever it is, he has the look on his face he puts on when he thinks he's been clever.»

«Does he?» Abivard said. «All right.» He wouldn't say more with Ksorane listening. Sharbaraz was not stupid. He knew that. Sometimes the schemes the King of Kings thought up were very clever indeed. And sometimes the only person Sharbaraz' schemes fooled was Sharbaraz himself. Worst of all was the impossibility of figuring out in advance which was which.

«I'm glad he's-content with you,» Denak said. «That's much better than the way things have been.»

«Isn't it?» Abivard agreed. He smiled at his sister. «And I'm glad for you-and for little Peroz there.»

She looked down at the baby. Her expression softened. «I do love him,» she said quietly. «Babies are a lot of fun, especially with so many servants around to help when they're cranky or sick. But… it's hard sometimes to think of him as just a baby and not as a new piece of the palace puzzle, if you know what I mean. And that takes away from letting myself enjoy him.»

«Nothing is simple,» Abivard said with great conviction. «Nothing is ever simple. If living up by the nomads hadn't taught me that, the civil war would have, that or living among Videssians for a while.» He rolled his eyes. «You live among Videssians for while, by the end of that time you'll have trouble remembering your own name, let alone anything else.» Ksorane began to fidget. Abivard took that as a sign that he'd as much time with his sister as had been allotted to him He said his good-byes. The serving woman got up and served a conduit so Denak could pass him Peroz once more and he, after holding the baby for a little while, could pass it back again. He reached out his arms toward Denak, and she stretched the one not holding Peroz out to him. They couldn't touch. Custom forbade it. Custom was very hard. He felt defeated as he went out into the corridor.

Yeliif was waiting for him. Custom again, he thought-the beautiful eunuch had said as much. Abivard could have walked back alone, but having Yeliif with him now was more a mark of his status than a sign that he was something close to a prisoner.

As the two of them fell into stride, Abivard asked quite casually, «What sort of lessons has Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase, taken from the Videssians?»

«Ah, you heard about that, did you?» Yeliif said. «From the lady your sister, no doubt.»

«No doubt,» Abivard agreed. They walked on a few steps, neither of them saying anything. Abivard poked a little harder: «You do know the answer?»

«Yes, I know it,» the beautiful eunuch said, and said no more.

«Well?»

Yeliif didn't answer right away. Abivard had the pleasure of seeing him highly uncomfortable. At last the beautiful eunuch said, «While I do know the answer, I do not know whether I should be the one to reveal it to you. The King of Kings would be better to that role, I believe.»

«Ah.» They walked along a little farther. By way of experiment Abivard shifted into Videssian: «Does the eminent Tzikas know this answer, whatever it may be?»

«No, I don't believe he does,» Yeliif answered in the same tongue, and then glared at him for being found out.

«That's something, anyhow,» Abivard said in relief.

«Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, considered it, but I dissuaded him,» Yeliif said.

«Did you? Good for you,» Abivard said; the beautiful eunuch's action met with his complete approval. Something else occurred to Abivard: «Did he by any chance tell Hosios Avtokrator?» He kept all irony from his voice, as one had to do when speaking of «Hosios»; though the King of Kings had gone through several puppet Avtokrators of the Videssians without finding any of them effective in bringing Videssians over to Makuran, he kept on trying.

Or he had kept on trying, anyhow. Matching Abivard in keeping emotion from his voice, Yeliif said, «Hosios Avtokrator-» He did not say, the most recent Hosios Avtokrator, either."-had the misfortune of suddenly departing this world late this past summer. The King of Kings ordered him mourned and buried with the pomp and circumstances he deserved.»

«Died suddenly, you say?» Abivard murmured, and Yeliif nodded a bland nod in return. «How unfortunate.» Yeliif nodded again. Abivard wondered whether the latest «Hosios,» like at least one of his predecessors, had shown an unwonted and unwanted independence that had worried Sharbaraz or whether the King of Kings had simply decided to give up serving as puppet-master.

Then a really horrid thought struck him. «The King of Kings isn't planning on naming Tzikas Avtokrator if we ever do conquer Videssos the city, is he? Please tell me no.» For once he spoke to the beautiful eunuch with complete sincerity.

«If he is, I have no knowledge of it,» Yeliif answered. That relieved Abivard, but less than he would have liked. The eunuch said, «Myself, I do not believe that policy would yield good results.» His doelike black eyes widened as he realized he'd agreed with Abivard.

«When can I hope for an audience with the King of Kings?» Abivard asked, hoping to take advantage of such unusual amiability from Yeliif.

«I do not know,» the beautiful eunuch answered. «I shall pass on your request to him. It should not be an excessively long period. Better he should talk to you than to the Videssian.»

«When I came to Mashiz, didn't you mock me with the news that Tzikas had gotten here first?» Abivard said.

«So I did,» Yeliif admitted. «Well, we all make mistakes. Next to Tzikas, you are a pillar supporting Sharbaraz' every enterprise.» He glanced toward Abivard. Those black eyes suddenly were not doelike but cold and hard and shiny as polished jet. «This should by no means be construed as a compliment, you understand.»

«Oh, yes, I understand that,» Abivard said, his voice as dry as the summer wind that blew dust into Vek Rud stronghold. «You loathe me as much as you ever did; it's just that you've discovered you loathe Tzikas even more.»

«Precisely,» the eunuch said. As far as Abivard could tell, he loathed everyone to some degree, save perhaps the King of Kings. Did that mean he loathed himself, too? No sooner had the question crossed Abivard's mind than he realized it was foolish. Being what he was, any hope of manhood taken from him by a knife, how could Yeliif help loathing himself? And from that, no doubt, all else sprang.

Abivard said, «If I were a danger to Sharbaraz, I would have shown as much a long time ago, wouldn't I? Tzikas, now…» A mutual loathing was as good a reason for an alliance as any, he thought, and better than most.

Yeliif eyed him with a look as close to approval as he'd ever won from him. «Those last two words, I believe, with their accompanying ellipsis, are the first sensible thing I have ever heard you say.»

As compliments went, it wasn't much. Abivard was glad of it all the same.

Courtiers with elaborately curled hair and beards, with rouged cheeks, with caftans bound by heavy gold belts and shot through with gold and silver thread drew down their eyebrows-those whose eyebrows were gray or white had a way of drawing them down harder than did those whose brows remained dark-when Abivard and Roshnani came into the banquet hall arm in arm.

Custom died hard. Sharbaraz King of Kings had kept his word about allowing Denak to leave the women's quarters, a liberty the wives of nobles had not enjoyed till then. And for a while a good many nobles had followed their sovereign's lead. Evidently, though, the old ways were reasserting themselves, for only a couple of other women besides Roshnani were in the hall. Abivard looked around to see if his sister was among them. He didn't see her, but then, Sharbaraz hadn't yet entered, so that didn't signify anything.

He stiffened. Denak wasn't there, and neither was Sharbaraz, but there sat Tzikas, talking amiably with a Makuraner noble from the Seven Clans. To look at the Videssian renegade, he hadn't a care in the world. His gestured were animated; his face showed nothing but sincerity. Abivard knew, to his cost, how much that sincerity was worth. The noble, though, seemed altogether entranced. Abivard had seen that before, too.

To his dismay, the servant who led Roshnani and him to their places seated them not far from Tzikas. Brawling in the palace was unseemly, so Abivard ignored the Videssian renegade. He poured wine first for Roshnani, then for himself.

Sharbaraz came into the hall. Everyone rose and bowed low. The King of Kings entered alone. Sadness smote Abivard. He hoped Denak was not at Sharbaraz' side because little Peroz needed her. He doubted it, though. The King of Kings had given his principal wife more freedom than was customary, but custom pulled even on him. If he wasn't wholehearted about keeping such changes alive, they would perish.

Roshnani noted Denak's absence, too. «I would have liked to see my sister-in-law without having to go into the women's quarters to do it,» she said. She didn't raise her voice but didn't go to any trouble to keep it down, either. A couple of courtiers gave her sidelong looks. She looked back unabashed, which seemed to disconcert them. They muttered back and forth to each other but did not turn their eyes her way again.

A soup of meatballs and pomegranate seeds started the feast. For amusement Abivard and Roshnani counted the seeds in their bowl; pomegranate seeds were supposed to bring good luck. When they both turned out to have seventeen, they laughed: neither one got to tease the other.

After the soup came a salad of beets in yogurt enlivened with mint Abivard had never been fond of beets They were far more tolerable here than in most of the dishes where they appeared.

Rice gorgeously stained and flavored with sour cherries and saffron followed the beets. Accompanying it was mutton cooked with onions and raisins. Roshnani mixed hers together with the rice. Abivard, who preferred to savor flavors separately, didn't.

The food, as usual in the palace, was splendid. He gave it less attention than was his habit, and he was moderate with his wine, calling for quince and rhubarb sherbets more often than he did for the captured Videssian vintages Sharbaraz served his grandees. He directed more attention to his ears than to his tongue, trying to catch what Tzikas was saying behind his back.

Tzikas had been saying things behind his back since not long after the Videssian had fled the Avtokrator he had formerly served. He hadn't thought Abivard knew about that-and indeed, Abivard hadn't known about it till almost too late. Now, though, he had to think Abivard would hear him, and that, to Abivard's way of thinking, would have been the best possible reason for him to keep his mouth shut.

Maybe Tzikas didn't know how to keep his mouth shut Maybe he could no more stop intriguing than he could stop breathing: he might claim to worship the God, but he remained Videssian to the core. Or maybe he just did not really believe Abivard could overhear. Whatever the reason, his tongue rolled on without the least hesitation.

Abivard could not make out everything he said, but what he caught was plenty: "-my victory over Maniakes by the banks of the Tib-» Tzikas was saying to someone who hadn't been there and couldn't contradict him. He sounded most convincing, but then, he always did.

When Abivard turned toward Tzikas, Roshnani set a warning hand on his arm. He usually took her warnings more seriously than he did now. Smiling a smile that had little to do with amiability, he said, «When you came to Mashiz, Tzikas, you should have set up shop in the bazaar, not the palace.»

«Oh?» Tzikas said, staring at him as if he'd just crawled out from under a flat stone. «And why is that?» No matter how he aped Makuraner ways, the renegade kept all his Videssian arrogance, remaining convinced that he was and had to be the cleverest man around.

Smiling, Abivard sank his barb: «Because then you could have sold your lies wholesale instead of doling them out one by one the way you do here.»

Tzikas glowered at him. «I am not the one who handed my subordinate to the enemy,» he said.

«True enough-you don't do things like that,» Abivard agreed. «Your subordinates are safe from you. It's your superiors who have to have eyes in the backs of their heads. What would you have done if you had killed Maniakes by magic and made yourself Avtokrator of the Videssians?»

«Beaten you,» Tzikas said. Yes, he had his own full measure and to spare of the overweening pride that singularly failed to endear the imperials to the men of Makuran.

But when Abivard said «I doubt it,» that didn't merely spring from his angry reaction to the renegade's words. However skilled an intriguer Tzikas was, Abivard was convinced he had his measure in the field. Lightly, casually, he went on, «That wasn't what I meant, anyhow.»

«What did you mean?» Now Tzikas sounded ominous, beginning to realize Abivard was scoring off him.

Abivard scored again: «I meant you'd be bored sitting on the throne with no one in Videssos to betray.»

Tzikas glared at him; that had gotten to the renegade, even though the odds were good that it wasn't true. An intriguer would hardly stop intriguing because he'd schemed his way to the top. He'd sit up there and scheme against all those-and there would surely be some-who'd try to follow him and pull him down. And even if he saw no one who looked dangerous, he would probably destroy a courtier every now and then for the sport of it and to keep rivals wary.

«If you want me to prove what sort of liar you are, I will meet you when and where you like, with the weapons you like,» Tzikas said.

Abivard beamed at him. «The first generous offer you've made! We've tried to kill each other before; now I can do it properly.»

«It is forbidden,» Yeliif said. Abivard and Tzikas both stared in startlement at the beautiful eunuch. Yeliif went on, «Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase, has let me know he requires both of you for the enterprise he contemplates beginning next spring.»

«What is this fabled enterprise?» Tzikas demanded. Good, Abivard thought. Yeliif wasn't lying to me-Tzikas doesn't know, either. He would have been offended to the core had Sharbaraz enlightened the Videssian renegade while leaving him in the dark.

Yeliif sniffed. «When the proper time for you to gain that knowledge comes, rest assured it shall be provided to you. Until such time cherish the fact that you will be preserved alive to acquire the knowledge when the time comes.»

«He certainly doesn't deserve to live to find out,» Abivard said.

«At one time or another a good many have expressed the opinion that you yourself did not merit remaining among the living,» the beautiful eunuch replied coldly. Abivard knew full well he had been among the leaders of those expressing that opinion.

Injustice still stung him. «Some people thought I was too successful, and so I had to be a traitor on account of that. But everyone knows Tzikas is a traitor. He doesn't even bother pretending not to be.»

«So he doesn't,» Yeliif said, favoring Tzikas with a glance as icy as any with which he had ever chilled Abivard. «But a known traitor has his uses, provided he is watched at all times. The King of Kings intends to get such use as he can from the renegade.»

Abivard nodded. Where Tzikas was concerned, Sharbaraz had less to worry about than did Maniakes. Tzikas had already tried to steal the Videssian throne. Whatever else he might do, he could not set himself up as King of Kings of Makuran.

That didn't mean he could not aspire to any number of lesser but still prominent offices in Makuran, such as the one Abivard had. He'd already aspired to that office and done his best to throw Abivard out of it. He'd do the same again if he saw a chance and thought Sharbaraz would look the other way.

Abivard made a solemn resolution: regardless of whether Sharbaraz intended using Tzikas in this grand scheme of his, whatever it was, he was going to take out the Videssian renegade if he saw even the slightest chance of doing so. He could always apologize to the King of Kings afterward, and had no intention of granting Tzikas the same chance.

Winter dragged on. The children got to go out into the courtyard now, as they hadn't in years gone by. Even Gulshahr was old enough now to pack snow into a ball and throw it at her brothers. Doing that left her squealing with glee.

Videssian captives tutored Varaz and Shahin. Abivard's sons took to lessons with the same enthusiasm they would have shown taking poison. He walloped them on the backside and kept them at it.

«We already know how to speak Videssian,» Varaz protested. «Why do we have to know how to make speeches in it?»

«And all these numbers, too,» Shahin added. «It's like they're all pieces of a puzzle, and they're all scrambled up, and the Videssians expect us to be able to put them together as easy as anything.» He stuck out his lower tip. «It's not fair.» That was the worst condemnation he could give to anything not to his liking.

«Being able to count past ten without having to take off your shoes won't kill you,» Abivard said. He rounded on Varaz. «You'll be dealing with Videssians your whole life, most likely. Knowing how to impress them when you talk won't do you any lasting harm.»

«When you first went into Videssos, did you know how to speak the language there?» Varaz asked.

«Not so you'd notice,» Abivard answered. «But remember, I grew up in the far Northwest, and I never expected to go into Videssos at all, except maybe as a soldier in an invading army.» He folded his arms across his chest. «You'll keep on with your lessons,» he declared as firmly as Sharbaraz promulgating a decree. The King of Kings could make the whole of Makuran heed him. Abivard's authority was less than that but did extend to his two boys.

They studied more than mathematics and rhetoric. They rode ponies, shot bows suited to their strength, and began to learn swordplay. They would acquire a Videssian veneer-Abivard was convinced it would prove useful-but beneath it would have the accomplishments of a proper Makuraner noble.

«The more different things you know how to do, the better off you'll be,» Abivard told them.

The man that thought called to mind, unfortunately, was Tzikas. The Videssian renegade knew not only his own tongue but that of Makuran as well. He could tell convincing stories in either one. He was a talented soldier to boot. If he'd been only a little luckier, he would have been Avtokrator of the Videssians or perhaps commander of the Makuraner field army. No one had ever come closer to meeting both of those seemingly incompatible goals.

He was missing one thing, though. Abivard wasn't sure it had a name. Steadfastness was as close as he could come, that or integrity. Neither word felt quite right. Without the quality, though, Tzikas' manifold talents brought him less than they might have otherwise.

Yeliif said the same thing a different way a few days later. «He is a Videssian,» the beautiful eunuch intoned, as if to say that alone irremediably spoiled Tzikas.

Abivard eyed Yeliif with speculation of a sort different from that which he usually gave the eunuch. In the matter of Tzikas, for once, they shared an interest. «I'd be happier if we never had to speak of him again,» Abivard said, an oblique message but not so oblique that the beautiful eunuch couldn't follow up on it if he so desired.

Yeliif also looked thoughtful. If the notion of being on the same side as Abivard pleased him, he didn't let his face know about it. After a little while he said, «Didn't you tell me Tzikas has wavered back and forth between the God and the false faith of Phos?»

«I did. He has,» Abivard answered. «In the next world he will surely fall into the Void and be forgotten. I wish he would be forgotten here and now, too.»

«I wonder,» Yeliif said in musing tones, «yes, I wonder what the Mobedhan Mobedh would say on hearing that Tzikas has wavered between the true faith and the false.»

«That is an… intriguing question,» Abivard answered after a moment's pause to weigh just how intriguing it was. «Sharbaraz has forbidden the two of us to quarrel, but if the chief servant of the God comes to him with a complaint that Tzikas is an apostate, he may have to listen.»

«So he may,» Yeliif agreed. «On the other hand, he may not. Dhegmussa is his servant in all things. But a man who will not notice his servants is less than perfectly wise.»

Not a word passed Abivard's lips. For all he knew, the beautiful eunuch was playing a game different from the one that showed on the surface of his words. He might be hoping to get Abivard to call the King of Kings a fool and then report what Abivard had said to Sharbaraz. Abivard did think the King of Kings a fool, but he himself was not so foolish as to say so where any potential foe could hear him.

But Yeliif's idea was far from the worst he'd ever heard. Maybe Dhegmussa wouldn't be able to do anything; the Mobedhan Mobedh was far more the creature of the King of Kings than the Videssians' ecumenical patriarch was the Avtokrator's creature. Apostasy, though, was nothing to take lightly. And making Tzikas sweat was nearly as good as making him suffer.

«I'll talk with Dhegmussa,» Abivard said. Something glinted in Yeliif's black, black eyes. Was it approval? Abivard hadn't seen it there often enough to be sure he recognized it.

The shrine in which Dhegmussa, chief servant of the God, performed his duties was the most splendid of its kind in all Makuran. That said, it was nowhere near so fine as several of the temples to Phos Abivard had seen in Videssian provincial towns and not worth mentioning in the same breath as the High Temple in Videssos the city. The Makuraners said, The God lives in your heart, not on the wall.

Dhegmussa lived in a small home next to the shrine, a home like that which a moderately successful shoemaker might have inhabited: whitewashed mud bricks forming an unimpressive facade but a fair amount of comfort inside.

«You honor me, marshal of Makuran,» the Mobedhan Mobedh said, leading Abivard along a dim, gloomy hall at the end of which light from the courtyard shone. When they got there, Dhegmussa waved a regretful hand. «You must imagine how it looks in spring and summer, all green and full of sweet-smelling, bright-colored flowers. This brown, dreary mess is not what it should be.»

«Of course not,» Abivard said soothingly. Dhegmussa guided him across the court to a room heated by a couple of charcoal braziers. A servant brought wine and sweet cakes. Abivard studied the Mobedhan Mobedh as they refreshed themselves. Dhegmussa was about sixty, with a closely trimmed gray beard and a loud voice that suggested he was a trifle deaf.

He waited till Abivard had eaten and drunk, then left off the polite small talk and asked, «How may I serve you, marshal of Makuran?

«We have a problem, holy one, with a man who, while claiming to worship the God, abandoned in time of danger the faith he had professed, only to return to it when that seemed safer than the worship for which he had given it up,» Abivard answered.

«This sounds dolorous indeed,» Dhegmussa said. «A man who blows whichever way the winds of expediency take him is not one to hold a position of trust nor one who has any great hope of escaping the Void once his life on earth is done.»

«I have feared as much myself, holy one,» Abivard said, calling up a sadness he did not truly feel.

They went back and forth a while longer. The servant brought more cakes, more wine. At last the Mobedhan Mobedh put the question he had studiously avoided up till then: «Who is this man for whose spiritual well-being you so justly fear?»

«I speak of Tzikas, the Videssian renegade,» Abivard said, a reply that could not have surprised Dhegmussa in the least by then. «Can any man who dons and doffs religions as if they were caftans possibly be a reliable servant to Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase?»

«It seems difficult,» Dhegmussa said, and then said no more for a time.

When he remained silent, Abivard pressed the matter: «Can a man who chooses whether to swear by the God or by false Phos by who is listening to him at any given moment be believed when he swears by either one?»

«It seems difficult,» Dhegmussa said again.

That was as far as he would go on his own. Abivard prodded him to go further: «Would you want such a man close to the King of Kings? He might corrupt him with his own heedlessness, or, on the other hand, failing to corrupt the King of Kings, he might be moved to violence against him.»

«Fraortish eldest of all, prevent it,» the Mobedhan Mobedh said, his fingers twisting in a sign to avert the evil omen. Abivard imitated the gesture. But then, to his disappointment, Dhegmussa went on: «But surely the King of Kings is aware of the risks entailed in having this Videssian close by him.»

«There are risks, holy one, and then there are risks,» Abivard said. «You do know, of course, that Tzikas once tried to murder the Videssian Avtokrator by magic.» One of the advantages of telling the truth was the casual ease with which he could bring out such horrors.

Dhegmussa suffered a coughing fit. When he could finally speak again, he said, «I had heard such a thing, yes, but discounted it as a scurrilous rumor put about by his enemies.» He looked sidelong at Abivard, who was certainly no friend to Tzikas.

«It certainly is scurrilous,» Abivard agreed cheerfully, «but rumor it is not I was the one who received him in Across after he fled in a rowboat over the strait called the Cattle Crossing after his conjuration couldn't kill Maniakes. If he'd stayed in Videssos the city another hour, Maniakes' men would have had him.» And that would have made life simpler for both the Avtokrator and me, Abivard thought. Ever since he'd rescued Sharbaraz from Nalgis Crag stronghold, though, it had become more and more obvious that his life, whatever else it might hold, would not contain much simplicity.

«You swear this to me?» Dhegmussa asked

«By the God and the Prophets Four,» Abivard declared, raising first the thumb and then the fingers of his left hand.

Still Dhegmussa hesitated. Abivard wanted to kick him to see if direct stimulation would make his wits work faster. The only reason he could conceive for Sharbaraz' having named this man Mobedhan Mobedh was the assurance of having an amiable nonentity in the position. So long as everything went well, having a nonentity in an important place held advantages, chief among them that he was not likely to be dangerous to the King of Kings. But sometimes a man who would not or could not act was more dangerous than one who could and would.

Trying to avoid action, Dhegmussa repeated, «Surely Sharbaraz is familiar with the problems the Videssian represents.»

«The problems, yes,» Abivard said. «My concern is that he has not fully thought through the religious import of all these things. That's why I came to you, holy one.» Do I have to color the picture as well as draw it?

Maybe he didn't. Dhegmussa said, «I shall suggest to the King of Kings the possible consequences of keeping near his person a man of such, ah, ambiguous qualities and the benefits to be gained by removing him from a position where he might influence not only the affairs of Makuran but also the spiritual life of the King of Kings.»

That was less than Abivard had hoped to get from the Mobedhan Mobedh. He'd wanted Dhegmussa to rear up on his hind legs and bellow something like Get rid of this man or put your soul in peril of falling into the Void.

Abivard chuckled. Any Videssian priest who deserved his blue robe would have said something like that, or else something worse. The Videssian patriarch had come out and publicly condemned Maniakes for marrying his own first cousin. That wasn't so offensive to Makuraner morality as it was in Videssos, but even if it had been, the Mobedhan Mobedh would not-could not- have taken such an active role in opposing it. A Mobedhan Mobedh who criticized his sovereign too vigorously wasn't just packed off to a monastery. He was liable to be a dead man.

Mild reproof, then, Abivard supposed, was as much as he could reasonably have expected to get. He bowed and said, «Thank you, holy one.» The novelty of having Dhegmussa express anything but complete and glowing approval of everything Sharbaraz did might make the King of Kings sit up and take notice.

If it didn't… Abivard had tried direct methods of getting rid of Tzikas before. He'd been too late the last time. If he had to try again, he wouldn't be.

This winter a knock on the door to Abivard's suite of rooms did not provoke the alarm it had the past two years, even if it came at an hour when Abivard wasn't particularly looking for visitors. But when he opened the door and found Yeliif standing there, a memory of that alarm stirred in him. The beautiful eunuch might join him in despising Tzikas, but that did not make him a friend.

Ceremony nonetheless had to be observed. Abivard offered his cheek for the eunuch to kiss: Yeliif had influence but, because of his mutilation, not rank. Then Abivard stepped aside, saying, «Enter. Use these my rooms as your own while you are here.»

«You are gracious,» Yeliif said without sardonic overtones but also without warmth. «I have the honor to bring you a message from Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase.»

«I am always glad to bask in the wisdom of the King of Kings,» Abivard answered. «What clever thought would he impart to me today?»

«The same thought he imparted to me not long ago,» Yeliif said; by his expression, he would sooner not have had that thought, whatever it was, thus imparted.

«Enlighten me, then, by all means,» Abivard said. He glanced over to Roshnani, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor by a window, quietly embroidering. Had she raised an eyebrow, he would have know he'd sounded sarcastic. Since she didn't, he supposed he'd gotten by with that.

«Very well,» the beautiful eunuch said. «Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, bade me tell you-and incidentally bade me bear in mind myself-that he requires Tzikas' service in the enterprise he has planned for the next campaigning season and that he forbids you either to harm Tzikas' person or to seek the Videssian's condemnation for any of the malfeasances he either has committed or may commit in future.»

«Of course I obey the King of Kings,» Abivard replied. Better than he deserves, too. «But Tzikas' obedience in such matters must be questionable at best. If he attacks me, am I to ignore it?»

«If he attacks you, his head shall answer for it,» Yeliif said. «So the King of Kings has ordered. So shall it be.»

«So shall it be,» Abivard echoed. If Sharbaraz really meant that-more to the point, if Sharbaraz convinced Tzikas he really meant that-all would be well. If not, the Videssian was already trying to find a way out of the order. Abivard would have bet on the latter.

«The King of Kings is most determined in this matter,» the eunuch said, perhaps thinking along with him, «and has made his determination perfectly clear to Tzikas.»

«Tzikas listens to Tzikas, no one else.» Abivard held up his hand before Yeliif could reply. «Never mind. He hasn't managed to kill me yet, no matter how often he's betrayed me. I expect I can survive him a while longer. What seems to matter here, though, is why Sharbaraz is insisting we both stay alive and don't try to do each other in. You've said you know.»

«I do,» Yeliif agreed. «And as I have also said before, it is not my place to enlighten you as to the intentions of the King of Kings. He shall do that himself when he judges the time ripe. Since I have delivered his message and been assured you understand it, I shall take my leave.» He did exactly that, sliding away as gracefully as an eel.

Abivard closed the door after him and turned to Roshnani. «So much for Dhegmussa,» he said with a shrug.

«Yeliif was right: the idea was worth trying,» she answered. They both paused in some surprise at the idea of admitting that the beautiful eunuch had been right about anything. Roshnani went on: «I wonder as much as you do about what's important enough to be worth keeping Tzikas alive. I can't think of anything that important.»

«This side of taking Videssos the city, neither can I,» Abivard said.

«If you couldn't take Videssos the city, Sharbaraz has to be mad to think Tzikas will be able to do it,» Roshnani said indignantly. Abivard pointed to the walls of their suite and then to the ceiling. He didn't know if Sharbaraz had placed listeners by the suite, but the King of Kings surely had done that the past two winters, so taking chances was foolish. Roshnani nodded, following what he'd meant. She went on, «The Videssians hate Tzikas, too, though, so I don't see how he'd be a help in taking their capital.»

«Neither do I,» Abivard said. Even if Sharbaraz wouldn't listen to Dhegmussa, his spies were going to get an earful of what Abivard thought of the renegade. Sooner or later, he kept telling himself, some dirt would have to stick to Tzikas. «They'd sooner kill him than me. I'm just an enemy, while he's a traitor.»

«A traitor to them, a traitor to us, a traitor to them again,» Roshnani said, getting into the spirit of the game. «I wonder when he'll betray us again.»

«First chance he gets, or I miss my bet,» Abivard answered. «Or maybe not-who knows? Maybe he'll wait till he can do us the most harm instead.»

They spent the next little while contentedly running down Tzikas. If the listeners in the walls were paying any attention, they could have brought Sharbaraz enough dirt for him to order Tzikas executed five or six times over. After a while, though, Abivard gave up. No matter what the listeners told Sharbaraz, he wasn't going to send Tzikas to the chopping block. He already had all the dirt he needed to order Tzikas executed. The trouble was, the King of Kings wanted the renegade alive so he could figure in his scheme, whatever it was.

Abivard sat down beside Roshnani and slipped an arm around her. He liked that for its own sake. It also gave him the chance to put his head close to hers and whisper, «Whatever plan Sharbaraz has, if it's for taking Videssos the city, it won't work. He can't make ships sprout from thin air, and he can't make Makuraners into sailors, either.»

«You don't need to tell me that,» she answered, also whispering. «Do you think you were the only one who looked out over the Cattle Crossing from Across at the city-» She dropped into Videssian for those words; to the imperials, their capital was the city, incomparably grander than all others."-on the far side?"

«I never caught you doing that,» he said.

She smiled. «Women do all sorts of things their husbands don't catch them doing. Maybe it comes from having spent so much time in the women's quarters-they're as much for breeding secrets as for breeding babies.»

«You've been out of the women's quarters since not long after we wed,» he said. «You needn't blame that for being sneaky.»

«I didn't intend 'blaming' it on anything,» Roshnani answered. «I'm proud of it. It's saved us a good deal of trouble over the years.»

«That's true.» Abivard lowered his voice even further. «If it weren't for you, Sharbaraz wouldn't be King of Kings now. He never would have thought of taking refuge in Videssos for himself-his pride ran too deep for that, even so long ago.»

«I know.» Roshnani let out a small, almost silent sigh. «Did I save us trouble there or cost us trouble?» The listeners, if there were any, could not have heard her; Abivard scarcely heard her himself, and his ear was close to her mouth. And having heard her, he had no idea what the answer to her question was. Time would tell, he supposed.

Sharbaraz King of Kings had enjoined Abivard from trying to dispose of Tzikas. From what Yeliif had said, Sharbaraz had also enjoined Tzikas from trying to get rid of him. He wouldn't have given a counterfeit copper for the strength of that last prohibition, though.

After that one near disaster at the feast the palace servitors did their best to ensure that Abivard and Tzikas did not come close to occupying the same space at the same time. Insofar as that meant keeping them far apart at ceremonial meals, the servitors' diligence was rewarded. But Abivard was free to roam the corridors of the palace. And so, however regrettable Abivard found the prospect, was Tzikas.

They bumped into each other three or four days after Yeliif had delivered the message from Sharbaraz ordering Abivard not to run down the Videssian renegade. Message or not, that was almost literally what happened. Abivard was hurrying down a passageway not far from his suite of rooms when Tzikas crossed his path. He stopped in a hurry. «I'm sor-» Tzikas began, and then recognized him. «You!»

«Yes, me.» Abivard's hand fell, as if of its own accord, to the hilt of his sword.

Tzikas did not flinch from him and was also armed. No one had ever accused the Videssian of cowardice in battle. Plenty of other things had been charged against him, but never that one. He said, «A lot of men have lodged accusations against me-all lies, of course. Not one of those men came to a good end.»

«Oh, I don't know,» Abivard answered. «Maniakes still seems to be flourishing nicely, however much I wish he weren't»

«His time approaches.» For a man who had been condemned to death by both sides, who switched gods as readily as a stylish woman switched necklaces, his confidence was infuriating. «For that matter, so does yours.»

Abivard's sword leapt halfway out of its scabbard. «Whatever else happens, I'll outlive you. By the God I swear it-and he's likely to remember me, because I worship him all the time.»

Videssian skin being fairer than the Makuraner norm, Tzikas' flush was quite visible to Abivard, who skinned his lips back from his teeth, pleased at having made a hit. The renegade said, «My heart knows where the truth lies.»

He was speaking the Makuraner tongue; he wouldn't have given Abivard that kind of opening in Videssian. And Abivard took advantage of it, saying, «Your heart knows all about lies, doesn't it, Tzikas?»

Now the Videssian snarled. His graying beard gave him the aspect of an angry wolf. He said, «Jeer all you like. I am a constant man.»

«I should say so-you're false all the time.» Abivard pointed rudely at Tzikas' face. «Even your beard is changeable. When you first fled to us, you wore it trimmed close, the way most

Videssians do. Then you grew it out to look more like a Makuraner. But when I fought you down in the land of the Thousand Cities, after Maniakes got hold of you, you'd cut it short and shaved around the edges again. And now it's getting longer and bushier.»

Tzikas brought a hand up to his chin. Maybe he hadn't noticed what he was doing with his beard, or maybe he was angry someone else had noticed. «After Maniakes got hold of me, you say?» His voice went ugly. «You gave me to him, intending that he kill me.»

«He has even better reason to love you than I do,» Abivard replied, «but I have to say I'm gaining on him fast. You're like a sock, Tzikas-you fit either foot. But whoever made you wove you with a dye that burns like fire. Whatever you touch goes up in flames.»

«I'll send you up in flames-or down to the ice,» Tzikas said, and snatched out his sword.

Abivard's sword cleared the scabbard at about the same instant The clash of metal on metal brought shouts from around corners-people knew what that sound was even if they couldn't tell whence it came. Abivard knew what it was, too: the answer to his prayers. Tzikas had drawn on him first. He could kill the renegade and truthfully claim self-defense.

He was bigger and younger than Tzikas. All he had to do, he thought, was cut the Videssian down. He soon discovered it wouldn't be so easy. For one thing, Tzikas was smooth and strong and quick. For another, the corridor was narrow and the ceiling low, cutting into his size advantage: He had no room to make the full-armed cuts that might have beaten their way through Tzikas' guard. And for a third, neither he nor the renegade was used to fighting on foot in any surroundings, let alone such cramped ones. They were both horsemen by choice and by experience.

Tzikas had a strong wrist and tried to twist the sword out of Abivard's hand. Abivard held on to his blade and cut at his foe's head. Tzikas got his sword up in time to block the blow. As they had been on horseback, they were well matched here.

«Stop this at once!» someone shouted from behind Abivard. He took no notice; had he taken any notice, he would have been spitted the next instant. Nor did Tzikas show any signs of trusting him to show restraint-and the renegade had reason, for once two enemies began to fight, getting them to stop before one was bleeding or dead was among the hardest things for individuals and empires both.

A servant behind Tzikas shouted for him to give over. He kept slashing away at Abivard nonetheless, his fencing style afoot taking on more and more of the manner in which he would have fought while horsed as he went on battling his foe. Abivard found himself making more thrusts than cuts, doing his best to adapt to the different circumstances in which he now found himself. But whatever he did, Tzikas kept beating aside his blade. Whatever else anyone said about the Videssian, he could fight.

None of the palace servitors was so unwise as to try to break up the fight by grabbing one of the contestants. If someone did try tackling Tzikas, Abivard was ready to run the renegade through, however unsporting that was. He had no doubt Tzikas would give him the same treatment if he got the chance.

One thing that would stop two parties from fighting each other was overwhelming outside force directed at them both. A shout of «Drop your sword or neither one of you comes out alive!» got Abivard's undivided attention. A squadron of palace guards, bows drawn, were rushing up behind Tzikas.

Abivard sprang back from Tzikas and lowered his sword, though he did not drop it. He hoped Tzikas might pursue the fight without checking and thus get himself pincushioned. To his disappointment, the Videssian looked over his shoulder instead. He also let his arm drop but still kept hold of his sword. «I'll kill you yet,» he told Abivard.

«Only in your dreams,» Abivard retorted, and started to raise his blade again.

By then, though, the guardsmen had gotten between them. «That will be enough of that,» the squadron leader said as if talking to a couple of fractious boys rather than a pair of men far outranking him.

Very much like a fractious boy, Tzikas said, «He started it.»

«Liar!» Abivard snapped.

The squadron leader held up a hand. «I don't care who started it. All I know is that Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, doesn't want the two of you brawling, no matter what. I'm going to split my men in two. Half of them will take one of you back to his lodging; the other half will take the other noble gentleman back to his. That way nothing can go wrong.»

«Hold!» That ringing voice could have belonged to only one man-or, rather, not quite man-in the palace. Yeliif strode through the guards, disgust manifest not only on his face but in every line of his body. He looked from Abivard to Tzikas. His eyes flashed contempt. «You fools,» he said, making it sound like a revelation from the God.

«But-» Abivard and Tzikas said in the same breath. They glared at each other, angry at agreeing even in protest.

«Fools,» Yeliif repeated. He shook his head. «How the King of Kings expects to accomplish anything working through such tools as you is beyond me, but he does, so long as you do not break each other before he can take you in hand.»

Abivard pointed at Tzikas. «That tool will cut his hand if he tries to wield it.»

«You know not whereof you speak,» the beautiful eunuch snapped. «Now more than ever the King of Kings prepares to gather the fruits of what his wisdom long ago set in motion, and you seek in your ignorance to trifle with his design? You do not understand, either one of you. All is changed now. The ambassadors have returned.»