Like Fire Through Bone

by E. E. Ottoman

  “And get some sleep,” she told him. “You look like Damianos worked you to the bone today. Did he have you kneeling the whole time on that tile floor in his office?”

  Vasilios was torn between not wanting to imply Damianos had done something wrong and not wanting to ignore a direct question from Eudoxia. He finally bit his lip and nodded a little.

  Eudoxia shook her head. “I’ve told him to get a rug. It just doesn’t occur to him that his eunuchs, not to mention you, are going to have to be kneeling on it. But I suppose being aware of these things and thinking ahead comes with the experience of age.” She turned back to Panagiotis, reached forward, pulled from his hand the square of linen he still clutched, and used it to dab at the corners of his mouth. “My women tell me that there was quite a commotion in the kitchen this morning.”

  Vasilios wanted to sigh deeply, but instead looked down at the floor. “I had to go to General Markos’s house early this morning, and some of the kitchen staff decided because I was not there, they were not going to run to you or one of your women to ask for permission to go to market and instead didn’t go to market at all. I gave them a talking to when I got back and cut off their wine shares for a week.”

  Eudoxia frowned at that. “What did General Markos want?”

  Vasilios’s heart began beating so fast he was afraid she might be able to hear it, and he swallowed dryly. “He wanted to tell me that he’d read over the papers I had delivered to him, and wanted us to put an offer on the land parcel for him.” To his great relief Eudoxia nodded.

  “You may go.”

  Without a second glance, Vasilios bowed again, ducked out of the room, and headed toward his own. When he got there, he found someone kind had left him a tray of food from the evening meal. He drank some wine and ate a little cheese and bread, but his stomach heaved and almost rebelled at the mere smell of the meat on the tray.

  Finally he pulled off his clothes, discarded them on the floor, and slid into bed. He never slept naked or left costly clothes on the floor, but this time he was too tired to care. For a long time after he’d blown out the lamp, he stared unseeingly at the ceiling. He was tired, it had been a long, emotionally challenging day, and he hadn’t slept well for several nights. He was also terrified that if he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he would have the dreams again. As he lay there, his mind began to present him with every image, every horrible, sickening detail of the three dreams. His hands shook, and Vasilios wondered if he’d do his eyes harm by staring fixedly at the ceiling above his bed without blinking.

  Eventually, though, his mind lost the fight against his body, and he did sleep. Luckily he did not dream.

  3

  THE message from Markos came several days later, while Vasilios was overseeing the sorting and storing of a new batch of linen that Eudoxia had ordered for the women’s quarter. Some of the linen would be made into pillows, curtains, and other household items, and part would be made into new tunics, trousers, and drapes for the concubines and their daughters.

  “A message from General Markos’s household for you, Vasilios.” One of the concubines’ eunuchs bowed deeply to him. Vasilios turned away from where another eunuch was holding up each piece of linen and then putting it into the household or garment pile, depending on what Vasilios instructed.

  “Oh yes? Give it here.” He held out the hand not holding the wax tablet with the inventory list on it.

  With another little bow, the eunuch handed him a folded piece of paper. Taking the paper, Vasilios felt a twinge of guilt over the fact that after he’d had the young eunuch lashed, most of the eunuchs acted as if they were afraid of him.

  He unfolded the paper.

  Requesting your presence a quarter past the evening meal. I have already sent word to Panagiotis.

  Vasilios cast about for his pen before realizing he had a stylus. He glared balefully at it for a moment, then turned back to the eunuch. “Is the servant who brought this note still here?”

  The man’s gaze was firmly fixed on the ground. “Yes, Vasilios.”

  “Look at me,” Vasilios snapped and then regretted it immediately when the man paled, his gaze jerking to Vasilios’s face. “Run back and tell that servant that I will be there.”

  The eunuch nodded, bowed again, and then ran. With a sigh, Vasilios turned back to the task at hand.

  The rest of the day crawled. Vasilios seemed hyperaware of every second as it slowly slid by. He cataloged the rest of the linen and helped Leimeiê, the eldest of Panagiotis’s three concubines, make a list of items and supplies needed in the women’s quarter. He transcribed some notes Damianos had sent him and began putting them together in the form of an actual contract. By the time he finished, it was almost time for the evening meal. Down in the kitchens, he oversaw the preparation and serving of the food.

  “Markos sent word he wants to see you this evening,” Panagiotis said to Vasilios, who knelt in the dining room in case Panagiotis or Eudoxia needed him to do anything for them during their meal. “I see that land deal is moving forward.”

  Vasilios kept his eyes on the floor. “Yes, Master.”

  “Good.” Panagiotis reached for his wineglass. “Markos is rich and extremely well placed. Doing favors for him can only be a gain.”

  “Master, do I have your leave to go to him tonight?” Vasilios asked, and Panagiotis waved his hand at him.

  “Of course. As soon as the meal is over. I’m sure one of the other servants can oversee the cleanup.”

  “Thank you.” Vasilios bowed low where he knelt, and Panagiotis reached for the pitcher of wine.

  Vasilios wondered what Markos wanted. Did he want Vasilios to meet with this friend Markos took counsel with? Vasilios felt a pang of unease at that thought. He had not dreamed since the night before he had gone to Markos. He didn’t know what use he could be.

  The kitchen servants began to clear away the leftover food and dishes. Vasilios remained kneeling until Eudoxia had been escorted out by her women and Panagiotis had been helped up and supported out of the room by two of his bodyguards.

  Finally Vasilios stood, feeling his knees pop and crack. He smoothed down his tunic and then headed up to his room. He collected the contracts and paperwork for the purchase of the property, even though he knew full well that was not why Markos wished to see him. He headed out of his room and toward the front entrance but stopped at the gate to pull his scarf up over his head.

  The street was not as busy in the evenings as it was at midday, but it was by no means deserted. Vasilios wove between the servants from other well-placed families as well as noblemen and soldiers on horseback.

  The same soldier who’d let him in last time recognized him when he arrived at Markos’s house.

  “Vasilios Eleni?” The soldier smiled as he swung open the gate. “Then the General is expecting you.”

  “Thank you.” Vasilios nodded to him, then crossed the courtyard and used the door knocker to tap on the door.

  Phyllis opened it and gave him a pinched, disapproving look. “Come in. The General and the other guests are through in the back garden.” She turned without giving him the time to respond, and headed down the hall.

  Vasilios pulled his scarf off his head and draped it around his shoulders as he followed her. She led him past the room he’d been in before. There were several other doors on either side of the hall, but Phyllis didn’t stop at any of those. She turned right before the hall passed into an arched doorway, through which Vasilios glimpsed a small but tidy kitchen. The door stood open, Vasilios saw, as Phyllis pushed open the ornate gate that led into a small garden with a paved walk all around the edge, herbs and vegetables on one side, and flowers on the other.

  “Vasilios Eleni,” she announced, and Markos turned from where he’d been standing by a small table that had been set up on the walk.

  “Vasilios. I am so glad you could join us.” Markos made his way down the path, smiling broadly, and Vasilios knelt, then bowed to him.
<
br />   “General Markos, thank you for inviting me,” Vasilios said and then straightened, feeling irrationally pleased that he’d stood before Markos had asked him to.

  “Come.” Markos waved at him, and Vasilios might have been able to stand instead of kneel, but he still couldn’t meet Markos’s eyes. “There are a couple of people I want to introduce you to.”

  “So this is Vasilios Eleni,” a high, sweet voice said, and Vasilios’s gaze flicked up to see two people sitting at the little table.

  One of the men had dark hair, streaked through with gray. He was dressed conservatively in a long green tunic without trim and a dark leather belt around his waist that matched his boots. He was also small, small enough to be considered a dwarf, Vasilios thought. He should know who this was, he felt almost certain. The man was distinctive looking enough to jog a memory, but Vasilios was having a hard time grasping at the details of where he’d seen the man before.

  His companion was also short, although a good head taller than the first man. His body was soft and voluptuously round, his skin slightly darker than that of his companion. His hair, completely gray, was cut close to his head. He was dressed in a dark-gray silk tunic with a wide fine-leather belt and matching tiny silver studs, one in each ear, which marked him as a eunuch. It was his eyes that struck Vasilios the most, though—they were a brown that looked nearly gold in the sunlight. Vasilios thought of paintings and murals. He knew both these men. He had seen them before. He frowned, trying to think.

  “Markos has told us a lot about you,” the second man said with a smile full of humor.

  Something inside of Vasilios’s head clicked, and he took a long careful breath. This could not be who he thought it was. They both could not be who he thought they were.

  “Ilkay…,” Markos said, warning in his voice.

  Vasilios froze for a moment before his brain started working again. Ilkay Zoe was the most famous eunuch in the Empire, maybe the most famous eunuch who ever lived. A brilliant strategist and most trusted advisor to the previous Emperor, he’d been given his freedom when the late Emperor had been on his deathbed.

  Vasilios’s gaze flicked from Ilkay to the other man at the table. He must be Theofilos, renowned theologian and Ilkay’s lover.

  “Vasilios,” Markos said, “this is Ilkay Zoe and Theofilos Yalim.”

  Finally remembering his manners, Vasilios bowed deeply. “It is truly an honor to meet both of you,” he said, and Ilkay laughed.

  “Oh, and I’ve been excited about meeting you as well.” Markos threw Ilkay another warning look, and Ilkay waved them over. “Come, sit down and have some tea, and tell us about these seeings that Markos says you’ve had about the children who’ve gone missing.”

  Vasilios felt a wave of panic wash over him. Finally he forced his body to move and sit on one of the chairs at the table. Ilkay poured tea into a small cup and held it out to him, while Theofilos nodded in greeting. Markos settled on the other side of the table.

  “I would not consider them actually prophetic,” Vasilios said. After taking a small sip of his tea, he launched into a recitation of what he’d told Markos. He kept his eyes fixed on the table and felt his stomach flip and the bile rise as he described the last one. When he was done, he glanced up to find Ilkay and Markos sharing a look across the table.

  “Interesting.” Ilkay’s tone was more serious now, and he leaned his elbows on the table and looked down into his cup of tea.

  “What you describe sounds very much like an Old Evil.” Theofilos spoke for the first time, his tone soft and his voice a pleasant, deep rumble. All three of them turned to look at him.

  “An Old Evil?” Vasilios asked, before realizing he really should not speak unless spoken to. He pressed his lips shut.

  Theofilos gave him a small smile. “Yes, older creatures that walked the world before the coming of the Church or the True Faith, and who then became demons.” He took a sip of his tea. “Because of their age, they tend to be powerful demons. The Bishop may not be able to exorcise this one.”

  “Maybe,” Ilkay said, “but I’m sure he’ll want to try.”

  “And if he can’t?” Markos’s expression was grim. “I’m not going forward without a backup plan.”

  “Have any more children gone missing?” Vasilios asked and then silently swore at himself. When Markos was around, he seemed to forget every scrap of training he’d ever had.

  “No,” Markos said, “but the Bishop has ordered cleansings for every place in the city we could think of that matched what you saw in your dream.”

  “We may not have that much time, though,” Ilkay said. “If this demon or creature eats children, how much longer until it gets hungry?”

  Vasilios didn’t even want to think about that.

  “Where would an Old Evil normally live?” Ilkay asked, turning to Theofilos.

  “That really depends,” Theofilos said. “I’d have to do research about what exactly this might be.”

  “And I’ll need to take a look at when the children started disappearing and the time between disappearances to see if I can get a good idea about how much time we have before the next one,” Ilkay said, not really to anyone in particular but more as if thinking aloud.

  “What about a backup plan if the Bishop is not strong enough to exorcise this thing?” Markos asked. “Where would we possibly find a stronger exorcist?”

  Everyone was silent for a long moment. Vasilios watched the cup of tea slowly cool in front of him, feeling completely lost. He had nothing beyond the most basic understanding of how the Church was structured.

  “There is an ascetic,” Theofilos said finally, voice still soft and thoughtful, “who lives alone in the desert except for a woman who brings food and helps her bathe once a week. She is an extremely learned holy woman. The power of the Lord burns almost palpably within her. I have seen her heal a leper and cast out a demon. I believe she may be more powerful than our esteemed Bishop.”

  “So there is your second plan.” Ilkay turned to Markos. “If the Bishop cannot get rid of the creature, then we will just have to go out into the desert and convince this hermit to help us.”

  Markos snorted, rolling his eyes, and Theofilos smiled into his teacup.

  “In all seriousness, though, I think I just might do that,” Markos said, refilling his own cup. “If this holy woman can help us, then I have no problem trekking out into the desert and doing whatever it is I need to do to convince her.”

  “I think you’d better speak to the Bishop about this first,” Ilkay said, also smiling slightly. “I don’t think he’d take it—or anything really—as well from either me or Theo.”

  Markos nodded, then stood and walked across the garden to the doorway Vasilios had been led through, and went back into the house.

  “So,” Ilkay said, once Markos had disappeared, “you are part of Panagiotis Xarchakos’s house, am I right?”

  “Yes.” Vasilios didn’t know how to address Ilkay respectfully. Usually eunuchs referred to each other by their male names, but usually eunuchs weren’t free or as well-thought-of as Ilkay. Should he use both his male and female names? Every eunuch was stripped of their male birth name and given a new male and female name when they were cut. The double name signified the fact that they were no longer male but not female either. To use both would be to show the greatest amount of respect yet even that seemed somehow not enough. Vasilios tried to remember if there was another even more formal title he should be using. He didn’t know if Ilkay had a title anymore.

  Ilkay tilted his head to one side. “And do you work often with Markos?”

  Vasilios took a careful sip of tea “No, I—we…. General Markos is a business associate of my master’s, and I didn’t know who else to go to after I had the dreams.” He looked away and through sheer willpower did not bite fretfully at his lip.

  “Hmm.” Ilkay made a thoughtful noise. “Well, you are quite fond of Markos, aren’t you?”

  Vasilios almost choke
d on his tea, wondering frantically if he had done or said something to have given himself away.

  “Ilkay…,” Theofilos began, sounding both exasperated and amused. “Do not frighten poor Vasilios. Besides, Markos will have your head if you do.”

  “Nonsense.” Ilkay waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not frightening him. Vasilios is made of stronger stuff than that.”

  “He’s been too long away from court,” Theofilos said, turning to Vasilios with a slight smile, as if that explained everything.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Ilkay raised one eyebrow at Theofilos.

  “That you miss the intrigue and the danger in your life, so instead go prying into other people’s business, whether they like it or not,” Theofilos said, voice calm as if he was commenting politely on the weather.

  Vasilios wondered if they were about to have a fight. His mind flashed on the few times Panagiotis and Eudoxia had disagreed in his presence.

  Instead, though, Ilkay laughed, startling brown eyes crinkling even more at the corners with mirth. For a moment, Vasilios saw in Ilkay’s features, now fuller and more refined with age, the resemblance to the stunning court jewel. Ilkay was always depicted in the many frescos, sculptures, and mosaics as incredibly beautiful.

  “Well, maybe you’re right,” Ilkay said, reaching across the table to squeeze Theofilos’s hand briefly.

  Vasilios looked away. Markos came back out of the house and headed toward them.

  “What have you been getting up to while I was away?” he asked, sitting back down and eyeing them all a little wearily.

  “Nothing.” Ilkay arched an eyebrow at him. “Just about to ask Vasilios how long he’s known you.”

  “I’ve seen the General on and off for many years,” Vasilios said, keeping his voice low and his eyes down, “whenever he was back in the capital and had business with my master.”