Lysia shook her head. «No, not really. It means I paid no attention to this Phosia when we were here before.» Now she sank a barb of her own, aimed not so much at Maniakes in particular as at his half of the human race: «A pretty face is less likely to distract me.»
«Less likely to distract you than what?» he asked, and then held up a hasty hand. «Don't answer that. I don't think I want to know.» By the dangerous gleam that had come into his wife's eye, he knew he'd changed course in the nick of time.
Sure enough, gossip about Phosia, about Broios, and about Broios' wife—whose name was Zosime—began pouring in. A lot of it had to do with the way Broios ran his business. Vetranios had been able to cheat him, but he'd evidently managed to be on the giving as opposed to the receiving end of that a good many times himself. Maniakes didn't quite know how much weight to give such reports. A lot of merchants thought first of themselves and then, if at all, of those with whom they dealt. He couldn't gauge whether Broios was typical of the breed or typical of the breed at its worst.
His men and Lysia's serving women also brought in a lot of reports claiming Broios had been hand in glove with the Makuraners while they held Serrhes. Again, he had trouble deciding what those meant. If Broios hadn't cooperated with the occupiers to a certain degree, he wouldn't have been able to stay afloat. No one said he'd betrayed any of his fellows, and the Avtokrator had consistently forgiven those who'd done nothing worse than get on with their lives regardless of who ruled the westlands. But did that mean he wanted such people in his family? That was a different question.
No one seemed to say anything bad about Phosia. People who disliked her father thought she was nice enough. People who liked her father—there were some—thought she was… nice enough.
Everyone agreed her mother talked too much. «If that's a vicious sin, Skotos' ice will be even more crowded than the gloomiest priests claim,» Lysia said.
«True enough,» Maniakes said. «Er, true.» His wife laughed at him for editing his own remarks.
Once he was back in Serrhes, he naturally started judging cases again. His first stay in the city had scratched the surface of what had gone on in better than a decade of Makuraner rule, but had not done much more than that. As he lingered in the westlands waiting for word from Abivard, he had time to look at cases he had not considered before. And, seeing him do that, others who had not presented matters to him in his earlier stay now hauled them out, dusted them off, and brought them to his notice.
Enough new cases and accusations and suits came before him to make him hand some of them over to Rhegorios. His cousin, instead of making his usual protests about doing anything resembling work, accepted the assignment with an alacrity Maniakes found surprising. After a little thought, it wasn't so surprising any more. When Rhegorios was fighting his way through the intricacies of a case involving fine points of both Videssian and Makuraner law, he wasn't thinking about Phosia.
His decisions were good, too: as thoughtful as the ones Maniakes handed down. As day followed day, the Avtokrator grew more and more pleased with the Sevastos. Rhegorios had been a good second man in the Empire even when he grumbled about having to do his job. Now that he was doing it without the grumbling, he was as fine a second man as anyone could have wanted.
As day followed day, he also grew more confident in his decisions and made ever more of them on his own, without checking with Maniakes till after the fact. Thus he startled the Avtokrator when he came in one afternoon and said, «Your Majesty, a matter has come to my notice that I think you should handle in my place.»
«It will have to wait a bit,» Maniakes said. «I'm in the middle of an argument here myself.» He nodded at the petitioner standing before him. «As soon as I'm done, I'll deal with whatever perplexes you. You ought to know, though, that I think you're up to fixing it, whatever it happens to be.»
«Your Majesty, it would be better in your hands,» Rhegorios said with unwonted firmness. Maniakes shrugged and spread those hands, palms up, in token of puzzled acquiescence.
Having disposed of the petitioner—and having annoyed him by denying his request for land that had belonged to a monastery till the Makuraners razed it to the ground and slaughtered most of the monks—Maniakes sent a secretary to Rhegorios to let him know he could bring his unusual case, whatever it was, up into the chamber the Avtokrator was using.
As soon as the Sevastos and the man who had come before him walked into the room, Maniakes understood. Broios walked up to the high-backed chair Maniakes was using as a throne and prostrated himself before his sovereign. «Rise,» the Avtokrator said, at the same time sending his cousin an apologetic look. Had he been assorted of Broios' daughter, he wouldn't have wanted to deal with a case involving the merchant, either. He asked Broios, «Well, sir, how may I help you today? Not more clipped arkets, I hope.»
«No, your Majesty,» Broios said. «I don't fancy another week with a sore fundament, thank you very kindly all the same.»
«Good,» Maniakes said. «What can I do for you, then?»
«Your Majesty, I beg your pardon if I give you great offense, but I hear from a lot of people that you've set men and women to asking questions about me and my family,» Broios said. «You can say whatever you like about me, Emperor; Phos knows you have the right. But if you're going to say I have treason in mind, it isn't so, and that's all there is to it. All the men and women you sent out won't find it when it's not there. Remember, your Majesty, Vetranios is the one who took a shine to that Tzikas item, not me.»
Maniakes turned to Rhegorios. «Well, cousin of mine, you had the right of it after all: this one wasn't for you to judge.» He gave his attention back to Broios. «I wasn't trying to find out about you because I think you're a traitor. I'm trying to make certain you aren't.»
«I don't understand, your Majesty,» Broios said.
Sighing, Maniakes found himself explaining what he would rather have kept dark a while longer. «My cousin here, his highness the Sevastos Rhegorios, has… conceived an interest in your daughter, Phosia. I need to know if there are any scandals in your family that would keep it from being joined to mine.»
Broios wobbled on his feet. For a moment, Maniakes feared he would faint. The merchant coughed a couple of times, then found words: «Your Majesty. I crave your pardon in a different way. I know his Highness has seen my daughter, but—» His voice broke like that of a youth whose beard was beginning to sprout. What he was probably thinking was something like, I knew Rhegorios wanted to dally with her, but… «—I had no idea that—that—» He ran down again.
«Since you are here, since you have come to me,» Maniakes said, «I want you to tell me anything that might be an impediment to this union. If you tell me here and now, no penalty and no blame will come to you, even if we decide not to make the match. But if you conceal anything and I learn of it for myself, not only is the match forfeit, you will regret the day you were born for having lied to me. Do you understand, Broios?»
«Yes, your Majesty.» Broios drew himself to his full unimpressive height. «Your Majesty, to the ice with me if I can think of any reason—except the late kick in the arse, of course—for you not to take my tender chick under your wing.» His voice rang with sincerity.
His voice had also rung with sincerity when he denied having mixed in some arkets Vetranios hadn't given him before taking the coins to the Avtokrator. He'd been lying then. Was he lying now? Maniakes couldn't tell. A successful merchant got to the point where he could dissemble well enough to deceive anyone who didn't have a sorcerer at his side.
The Avtokrator wondered if he should summon Bagdasares. For the moment, he decided against it. He'd given Broios the warning. «Remember what I said,» he told the merchant. «If you don't speak now—»
«I have nothing to say,» Broios answered, a statement normally so improbable that Maniakes thought it stood some chance of being true.
He dismissed the merchant and then asked Rhegorios, «And what do you think of your prospective f
ather-in-law?»
«Not bloody much,» his cousin replied at once. «But I'm not interested in marrying him, the lord with the great and good mind be praised. He's Zosime's problem, which suits me down to the ground.»
«Only shows you've never been married,» Maniakes said. «Your wife's family is your problem.» He grinned at Rhegorios. «Take my brother-in-law, for instance.»
«Who, him? He's a prince among men,» Rhegorios said, laughing. «Why, he's even a prince among princes.» The reference to the Vaspurakaner blood the two of them shared made Maniakes laugh, too.
But he did not laugh long. He said, «Do we really want Broios in the family with us?»
«No, that's not the question,» Rhegorios said. «The question is, is Broios so revolting, we can't stand to have him in the family no matter how much I want Phosia in it?»
As far as Maniakes could tell, the question wasn't how much Rhegorios wanted Phosia in it, the question was how much he wanted it in Phosia, the it being different in the two cases. He didn't say that, for fear of angering his cousin instead of amusing him. Taken on its own terms, what Rhegorios asked was reasonable. Recognizing that, Maniakes said, «We shall see, cousin of mine. We shall see.»
Excitement on his face, a Videssian trooper led one of Abivard's boiler boys before Maniakes. «He's got news for you, your Majesty,» the imperial exclaimed as the Makuraner went down on his belly in a proskynesis.
«Rise, sir, rise,» Maniakes said. «Whatever you tell me, I am certain it will be more interesting than the endless arguments I've been hearing here in Serrhes.»
«I think this is small praise, not great,» the Makuraner said, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement above the chain-mail veil he wore. «But yes, Majesty, I have news indeed. Know that Abivard son of Godarz, the new sun of Makuran, now holds Mashiz in the hollow of his hand, and know further that he also holds in the hollow of his hand Sharbaraz Pimp of Pimps, and awaits only the decree of the Mobedhan-Mobhed concerning the said Sharbaraz's infamous and impious practices in regard to religion before ending his life and consigning him to the Void forevermore.» The Mobedhan-Mobhed, the leading servant of the God, held a place in the Makuraner hierarchy close to that of the ecumenical patriarch in Videssos.
Maniakes clapped his hands together. «He has the capital and he has his foe, eh?» The Makuraner messenger nodded. Maniakes went on, «That's very wise, getting your chief cleric to condemn him. Taking his head won't seem so much like murder then: more as if he's getting his desserts.»
«Majesty, he is,» the Makuraner said angrily. «To start so great a war and then to lose it, to leave us with nothing to show for so much blood and treasure spent—how can a man who fails so greatly deserve to live?»
Again, none of the Makuraners blamed Sharbaraz for starting the war against Videssos. They blamed him for losing it. Had Videssos the city fallen, no one would have lifted a finger against the victorious, all-conquering figure Sharbaraz would have become. He would have ruled out his span of years with unending praise from his subjects, who might even have come to think he deserved deification as much as he did. He probably would have found some convenient excuse to get rid of Abivard so no one shared the praise. Success would have concealed a multitude of sins; failure made even virtues vanish.
«It's over, then,» Maniakes said in wondering tones. He would still have to see if and how he could live at peace with Abivard. But even if they did fight, they wouldn't go to war right away. The struggle that had begun when Sharbaraz used Genesios' overthrow of Likinios as an excuse to invade and seek to conquer Videssos was done at last.
Abivard's messenger construed Maniakes' three words in the sense in which he'd meant them. «Majesty, it is,» he said solemnly, giving back three words of his own.
«I presume your master is tying up loose ends now,» Maniakes said, and the messenger nodded. The Avtokrator asked, «What of Abivard's sister—Denak, was that her name? She was Sharbaraz's wife, not so?»
«His principal wife, yes,» the messenger answered, making a distinction about which the monogamous Videssians did not need to bother.
«What does she think of the changes in Mashiz?» Maniakes chose his words with care, not wanting to offend either the messenger or Abivard, to whom what he said would surely get back.
The Makuraner boiler boy replied with equal caution: «Majesty, as pledges have been given that no harm shall come to her children, and as these past years she had not always been on the best of terms with him who was King of Kings, she is said to be well enough pleased by those changes.»
Maniakes nodded. Abivard, then, was not inclined simply to dispose of his little nephew. Maniakes liked him better for that.
Still, he wondered how happy Denak would be when she fully realized the child of her flesh would not succeed to the throne. But that was Abivard's worry, not his own. He had plenty that were his, and chose to air one: «Any sign of Tzikas in Mashiz?»
«The Videssian traitor?» The Makuraner spoke with unconscious contempt that would have wounded Tzikas had he been there to hear it. «No. I am told he was in Mashiz at some earlier time, but Abivard the new sun of Makuran—"Abivard the man with a new fancy title, Maniakes thought wryly."—finds no trace of him there at present, despite diligent searching.»
«What a pity.» Maniakes sighed. «It can't be helped, I suppose. For the good news you do bring—and it's very good news indeed—I'll give you a pound of gold.»
«May the God and the Prophets Four bless you, Majesty!» the Makuraner exclaimed. Coming from a nation that coined mostly in silver, he, like most of his countrymen, held Videssian gold in great esteem.
When Maniakes went to tell Rhegorios that Sharbaraz had been cast down, he discovered his cousin already knew. He was flabbergasted for a moment, but then remembered the grinning Videssian soldier who had brought the messenger into his presence. That grin said the Videssian had already heard the news—and what one Videssian knew, a hundred would know an hour later, given the imperials' unabashed love for gossip. By sunset tomorrow, all of Serrhes would have all the details of Abivard's entry into Mashiz. Some of the people might even have the right details.
«It doesn't matter that I heard it from other lips than yours,» Rhegorios said soothingly. «What matters is that it's so. Now we can start putting the pieces back together again.»
«True,» Maniakes said. With more than a little reluctance, he added, «I still haven't heard anything out-of-the-way about Phosia.»
«Neither have I,» Rhegorios said. «I don't expect to hear anything bad about her, either. What I do worry about is hearing something so bad about Broios that I wouldn't want him in the family if he had ten pretty daughters.»
«Ten pretty daughters!» Maniakes exclaimed. «What would you do with ten pretty daughters? No, wait, don't tell me—I see the gleam in your eye. Remember, cousin of mine, the Makuraners are trying to get away from the custom of the women's quarters. What would your sister say if she found out you'd started that custom on Videssian soil?»
«Something I'd rather not hear, I'm sure,» Rhegorios answered, laughing. «But you needn't worry. Having a whole raft of wives may sound like great fun, but how is any man above the age of eighteen—twenty-one at the outside—supposed to keep them all happy? And if he doesn't keep them all happy, they'll be unhappy, and whom will they be unhappy about? Him, that's whom. No, thank you.»
The grammar in there was shaky. The logic, Maniakes thought, was excellent. Idly, he said, «I wonder what will happen to all of Sharbaraz's wives now that he isn't King of Kings anymore. For that matter, if I remember rightly, Abivard has a women's quarters of his own, up at Vek Rud domain, somewhere off in the far northwest of Makuran.»
«Yes, he does, doesn't he?» Rhegorios said. «He never talks about his other wives back there, though. He and Roshnani might as well be married the way any two Videssians are.»
«Which is all very well for the two of them, no doubt,» Maniakes said. «But Abivard has spent most of his time the past ten
years and more here in Videssos, and none of it, so far as I know, up in Vek Rud domain. I wonder what the other wives have to say about him, yes, I do.»
«That could be intriguing.» Rhegorios got a faraway look in his eyes. «He's not in Videssos any more. He's not going to come back here, either, not if Phos is kind. Now that he's the new lead horse in Makuran, wouldn't you say he's likely to be going through the plateau country, to make himself known to the dihqans and such up there? Wouldn't you guess he'll probably find his way back to his own domain one day?»
«I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall when he did.» Maniakes wondered if Bagdasares could make magic stretch that far. After a moment, he realized it didn't matter: he would have no way of knowing exactly when Abivard returned to his old domain. Too bad, he thought. Too bad.
Fat and sweating with nervousness as well as heat, Vetranios prostrated himself before Maniakes. «I pray that you hear me out,» he said to the Avtokrator after he had risen. «It is true, your Majesty, isn't it, that you've been trying to find out what sort of games Broios has been playing with his daughter?»
«Yes, that is true,» Maniakes said, «and what's also true is that I'll land on you like an avalanche if you're lying to score points off your rival. If you know something I should hear, why didn't I hear it two weeks ago?»
«I got back into Serrhes only day before yesterday,» Vetranios answered with some dignity. «I went over to Amorion to see if I could collect on a debt owed me since before the Makuraners took the town.»
«Any luck?» Maniakes asked, genuinely curious.
«Alas, no. The merchant who owed me the payment walked the narrow bridge of the separator during the years of the Makuraner occupation, and is now settling up accounts with either Phos or Skotos.» Vetranios sounded sad, not so much because his debtor had died but because he'd died without paying him back. As if to prove that, the merchant went on, «I was unable to locate any of his heirs or assigns, either. Most distressing, and a most slipshod way of doing business, too.»
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