The Thousand Cities ttot-3
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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»
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.