«I don't know what you're talking about,» Varaz said. Abivard had heard that tone of voice before. His son meant every word of the indignant proclamation, no matter how unlikely it sounded to Abivard. Varaz wasn't old enough—and was too irked—to be able to put himself in his brother's shoes. But he also knew Abivard would wallop him if he disobeyed, and so desisted.
Worry over Roshnani also made Abivard more likely to wallop Varaz than he would have been were he calm. Abivard, knowing that, tried to hold his temper in check. It wasn't easy, not when he trusted Yeliif not at all. But he could no more have kept Roshnani from going to see Denak than he could have held some impetuous young man out of battle. He sighed, wishing relations between husband and wife could be managed by orders given and received as they were on the battlefield.
Then he wished he hadn't thought of the battlefield. Time seemed elastic now, as it did in the middle of a hot fight An hour or two seemed to go by; then he looked at a shadow on the floor and realized that only a few minutes had passed. A little later an hour did slide past without his even noticing. Servants startled him when they brought in smoked meats and saffron rice for his luncheon; he'd thought it still midmorning. Roshnani came back not long after the servitors had cleared away the dishes. «I wouldn't have minded eating more, though they fed me there,» she said, and then, «Ah, they left the wine. Good. Pour me a cup, would you, while I use the pot. Not something you do in the company of the principal wife of the King of Kings, even if she is your sister-in-law.» She undid the buckles on her sandals and kicked the shoes across the room, then sighed with pleasure as her toes dug into the rug.
Abivard poured the wine and waited patiently till she got a chance to drink it. Along with wanting to ease herself, she also had to prove to her children that she hadn't fallen off the edge of the world while she had been gone. But finally, wine in hand, she sat down on the floor pillows and got the chance to talk with her husband.
«She looks well,» she said at once. «In fact, she looks better than well. She looks smug. The wizards have made the same test with her that Tanshar did with me. They think she'll bear a boy.»
«By the God,» Abivard said softly, and then, «May it be so.»
«May it be so, indeed,» Roshnani agreed, «though there are some here at court who would sing a different song. I name no names, mind you.»
«Names?» Abivard's voice was the definition of innocence. «I have no idea who you could mean.» Off in a corner of the room the children were quarreling again. Instead of shouting for them to keep quiet as he usually would have, Abivard was grateful. He used their racket to cover his own quiet question: «So her bitterness is salved, is it?»
«Some,» Roshnani answered. «Not all. She wishes—and who could blame her?—this moment had come years before.» She spoke so softly, Abivard had to bend so his head was close to hers.
«No one could blame her,» he said as softly. But he had a harder time than usual blaming Sharbaraz here. The King of Kings could pick and choose among the most beautiful women of Makuran. Given that chance, should anyone have been surprised he took advantage of it?
Roshnani might have been thinking along with him, for she said, «The King of Kings needs to get an heir for the realm on his principal wife if he can, just as a dihqan needs to get an heir for his domain. Failing in this is neglecting your plain duty.»
«It's more enjoyable carrying out some duties than others,» Abivard observed, which won him a snort from Roshnani. He went on, «What news besides that of the coming boy?» The wizards' predictions weren't always right, but maybe speaking as if they were would help persuade the God to let this one be.
«Denak notes she will have more influence over the King of Kings for the next few months than she has enjoyed lately,» Roshnani said; in her voice Abivard could hear echoes of his sister's weary, disappointed tones. «How long this lasts afterward will depend on how wise the wizards prove to be. May the lady Shivini prove them so.»
Now Abivard echoed her: «Aye, may that be so.» Then he remembered the six squabbling sorcerers he'd assembled in Nashvar. If he'd needed a curative for the notion that mages were always preternaturally wise and patient, they'd given him one.
Roshnani said, «Your sister thinks Sharbaraz will soon give you leave to go back to your command in the land of the Thousand Cities.»
«It's not really the command I want,» Abivard said. «I want to be back at the head of the field force and take it into the Videssian westlands again. If we're on the move there, maybe we can keep Maniakes from attacking the Thousand Cities this year.» He paused and laughed at himself. «I'm trying to spin moonshine into thread, aren't I? I'll be lucky to have any command at all; getting the one I particularly want is too much to ask.»
«You deserve it,» Roshnani said, her voice suddenly fierce.
«I know I do,» he answered without false modesty. «But that has only so much to do with the price of wine. What does Tzikas deserve? To have his mouth pried open and molten lead poured down his gullet by us and the Videssians both. What will he get? The way to bet is that he'll get to die old and happy and rich, even if nobody on whichever side of the border on which he ends up trusts him as far as I could throw him. Where's the justice there?»
«He will drop into the Void and be gone forever while you spend eternity in the bosom of the God,» Roshnani said.
«That's so—or I hope that's so,» Abivard said. It did give him some satisfaction, too; the God was as real to him as the pillow on which he sat. But– «I won't see him drop into the Void, and where's the justice there, after what he's done to me?»
«That I can't answer,» his principal wife said with a smile. She held up a forefinger. «But Denak said to tell you to remember your prophecy whenever you feel too downhearted.»
Abivard bowed low as he sat, bending almost double. He would never see a silver shield shining across a narrow sea if he remained commander in the land of the Thousand Cities. «I may have been wrong,» he said humbly. «There may be some use to foretelling, after all. Knowing I will see what was foretold lets me bear up under insults meanwhile.»
«Under some insults, for some time, certainly,» Roshnani replied. «But Tanshar didn't say when you would see these things. You're a young man still; it might be thirty years from now.»
«It might be,» Abivard agreed. «I don't think it is, though. I think it's connected to the war between Makuran and Videssos. That's what everything about it has seemed to mean. When it comes, whatever it ends up meaning, it will decide the war, one way or the other.» He held up a hand, palm out «I don't know that for a fact, but I think it's true even so.»
«All right,» Roshnani said. «You should also know you're going back to the land of the Thousand Cities for a while, because you didn't see the battle Bogorz' scrying showed you.»
«That's true; I didn't,» Abivard admitted. «Or I don't think I did, anyhow. I don't remember seeing it» The frown gave way to a sheepish laugh. «Is it a true prophecy if it happens but no one notices?»
«Take that one to the Videssians,» Roshnani said. «They'll spend so much time arguing over it, they won't be ready to invade us when the campaigning season starts.»
By her tone of voice, she was only half joking. From his time spent among the Videssians, Abivard thoroughly understood that If a problem admitted of two points of view, some Videssians would take the one and some the other, as far as he could tell for the sake of disputation. And if a problem admitted of only one point of view, some Videssians would take that and some the other, again for the sake of disputation.
Roshnani said, «If we understand the prophecies rightly, you'll beat Maniakes in the land of the Thousand Cities. If you don't beat him there, you won't have the chance to go back into the Videssian westlands and draw near Videssos the city, now, will you?»
«I don't see how I would, anyhow,» Abivard said. «But then, I don't see everything there is to see, either.»
«Do you see that for once you worry too much?» Rosh
nani said. «Do you see that?»
Abivard held up his hand again, and she stopped. Genuine curiosity in his voice, he said, «Could Sharbaraz have ordered me slain last winter? Could I have died with the prophecies unfulfilled? What would have happened if he'd given the order? Could the headsman have carried it out?»
«There's another question the Videssians would exercise themselves over for years,» Roshnani answered. «All I can tell you is that I not only don't know, I'm glad we didn't have to find out. If you have to hope for a miracle to save yourself, you may not get it.»
«That's true enough,» Abivard said. The children's game broke down in a multisided squabble raucous enough to make him get up and restore order. He kept on wondering, though, all the rest of the day.
VIII
If you were going to be in the land of the Thousand Cities, the very beginning of spring was the time to do it. The weather hadn't yet grown unbearably hot, the flies and mosquitoes weren't too bad, and a steady breeze from the northwest helped blow smoke away from the cities instead of letting it accumulate in foglike drifts, as could happen in the still air of summer.
Beroshesh, the city governor of Nashvar, did a magnificent job of concealing his delight at Abivard's return. «Are you going to flood us out again?» he demanded, and then, remembering his manners, added, «Lord?»
«I'll do whatever needs doing to drive the Videssians from the domain of Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase,» Abivard answered. Casually, he asked, «Have you heard the news? Sharbaraz' principal wife is with child, and the wizards believe it will be a boy.»
«Congratulations are due her, I'm sure, but why do you—?» Beroshesh stopped the rather offhanded question as he remembered who Sharbaraz' principal wife was and what relation she held to Abivard. When he spoke again, his tone was more conciliatory: «Of course, lord, I shall endeavor to conform to any requirements you may have of me.»
«I knew you would,» Abivard lied politely. Then, finding a truth he could tell, he went on, «Turan and Tzikas both tell me you have done well in keeping the army supplied through the winter.»
«Even with the ravages of the Videssians, the land of the Thousand Cities remains rich and fertile,» Beroshesh said. «We had no trouble supplying the army's wants.»
«So I heard, and as I say, I'm glad of it,» Abivard told him. The floodplain was indeed rich and fertile if, even after all the damage it had suffered through the previous year, it still yielded surplus enough to feed the army on top of the peasantry.
«What do you expect Maniakes to do this season?» Beroshesh asked. «Will he come here at all? Will he come from north or south or straight out of the east?»
«Good question,» Abivard said enthusiastically, making as if to applaud. «If you should have a good answer for it, please let me know. Whichever way he comes, though, I'll fight him. Of that I'm sure.» He hesitated. «Fairly sure.» He couldn't know for certain the scrying Bogorz had shown him would come to pass in this campaigning season, but that did seem to be the way to bet.
Beroshesh said, «Lord, you have been fighting this Maniakes for many years. Do you not know in your mind what will be in bis?»
That was a legitimate question. In fact, it was better than a legitimate question; it was a downright clever question. Abivard gave it the careful thought it deserved before answering, «My best guess is that he'll do whatever he doesn't think we'll expect him to do. Whether that means setting out from Lyssaion again or picking a new way to get at us, I can't really tell, I fear. Trying to fathom the way Videssians think is like looking into several mirrors reflecting one from another, so that after a while what's reflection and what's real blur together.»
«If the God be kind, the barbarians who infest his—southern—frontier, is it?» Beroshesh hesitated.
«Northern frontier,» Abivard said, not unkindly. There was no reason for a city governor to have any clear notion of Videssian geography, especially for the lands on the far side of the imperial capital.
«Yes, the northern frontier. Thank you, lord. If they were to attack Maniakes, he could hardly assail us here and defend against them at the same time, could he?»
«It's not something I'd want to try, I'll tell you that,» Abivard said. «Yes, the God would be kind if he turned the Kubratoi—that's what the barbarians call themselves—loose on Videssos again. The only trouble is, Maniakes beat them badly enough to make them thoughtful about having another go at him.»
«Pity,» Beroshesh murmured. He clapped his hands loudly. «How much you know about these distant peoples! Surely you and they must have worked together closely when you forced your way to the very end of the Videssian westlands.»
«I wish we would have,» Abivard said. No, Beroshesh didn't know much about how the Empire of Videssos was made and how it operated. «But Videssos the city, you see, kept the Kubratoi from crossing over to join us, and the Videssian navy not only kept us from going over the Cattle Crossing to lay siege to the city, it also kept the Kubratoi from going over to the westlands in the boats they make. Together, we might have crushed Videssos, but Maniakes and his forces and fortress held us apart.»
«Pity,» Beroshesh said again. He pointed to a silver flagon. «More wine?»
It was date wine. «No, thank you,» Abivard said. He would drink a cup for politeness' sake but had never been fond of the cloying stuff.
Quite seriously Beroshesh asked, «Could you not put your soldiers on barges and in skin boats and cross this Cattle Crossing without the Videssians' being the wiser till you appeared on the far shore?»
Beroshesh had never seen the sea, never seen a Videssian war galley. Abivard remembered that as he visualized a fleet of those swift, maneuverable, deadly galleys descending on rafts and round skin boats trying to make their way over the Cattle Crossing. He saw in his mind's eye rams sending some of them to the bottom and dart-throwers and fire-throwers wrecking many more. He might get a few men across alive, but even fewer in any condition to fight; he was all too sure of that.
Out of respect for Beroshesh's naivete, he didn't laugh in the city governor's face. All he said was, «That has been discussed, but no one seems to think it would turn out well.»
«Ah,» Beroshesh said «Well, I didn't want to take the chance that you'd overlooked something important.» Abivard sighed.
«Lord!» A member of the city garrison of Nashvar came running up to Abivard. «Lord, a messenger comes with news of the Videssians.»
«Thank you,» Abivard said. «Bring him to me at once.» The guardsman bowed and hurried away.
Waiting for his return, Abivard paced back and forth in the room Beroshesh had returned to him when he had come back to Nashvar. Soon, instead of having to guess, he would know how Maniakes intended to play the game this year and how he would have to respond.
The soldier came back more slowly than he'd hoped, leading the messenger's horse. The messenger probably would have gotten there sooner without the escort, but after so long a wait, a few minutes mattered little, and the member of the garrison got to enjoy his moment in the light.
Bowing low to Abivard, the messenger cried, «Lord, the Videssians come down from the north, from the land of Erzerum, where treacherous local nobles let them land and guided them through the mountains so they could descend on the land of the Thousand Cities!»
«Down from the north,» Abivard breathed. Had he bet on which course Maniakes would take, he would have expected the Avtokrator to land in the south and move up from Lyssaion once more. He knew nothing but relief that he'd committed no troops to backing his hunch. He wouldn't have to double back against his foe's move.
«I have only one order for the city governors in the north,» he told the messenger, who poised himself to hear and remember it. «That order is, Stand fast! We will drive the invaders from our soil.»
«Aye, lord!» the messenger said, and dashed off, his face glowing with inspiration at Abivard's ringing declaration. Behind him Abivard stood scratching his he
ad, wondering how he was going to turn that declaration into reality. Words were easy. Deeds mattered more but were harder to produce on the spur of the moment.
The first thing that needed doing was reassembling the army. He sent messengers to the nearby cities where he'd billeted portions of his infantry. The move would undoubtedly delight the governors of those cities and just as undoubtedly dismay Beroshesh, for it would mean Nashvar would have to feed all his forces till they moved against Maniakes.
As the soldiers from the city garrisons whom Abivard had hastily gathered together the spring before began returning to Nashvar, they found ways to let him know they were glad he was back to command them. It wasn't that they obeyed him without grumbling; the next army to do that for its leader would be the first. But whether they grumbled or not, they did everything he asked of them and did it promptly and well.
And they kept bringing tidbits here and tidbits there to the cook who made the meals for him and Roshnani and their children, so that they ended up eating better than they had at the palace in Mashiz. «It's almost embarrassing when they do things like this,» Abivard said, using a slender dagger to spear from its shell a snail the cook had delicately seasoned with garlic and ginger.
«They're fond of you,» Roshnani said indignantly. «They ought to be fond of you. Before you got hold of them, they were just a bunch of tavern toughs—hardly anything better. You made an army out of them. They know it, and so do you.»
«Well, put that way, maybe,» Abivard said. A general whom his men hated wouldn't be able to accomplish anything. That much was plain. A general whom his men loved… was liable to draw the watchful attention of the King of Kings. Abivard supposed that was less an impediment for him than it might have been for some other marshals of Makuran. He already enjoyed—if that was the word—Sharbaraz' watchful attention.
Seeing how much better at their tasks the soldiers were than they had been the spring before gratified Abivard as much as their affection did. He'd done his job and given mem the idea that they could go out and risk maiming and death for the good of a cause they didn't really think about. He sometimes wondered whether to be proud or ashamed of that.
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