«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 sai
d. «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.
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