Phostis, however, listened without joy. He knew he was no Thanasiot. All the same, the countless wealth lavished on the High Temple still struck him as excessive. And when Oxeites lifted up his hands to beseech Phos' favor, all Phostis could think of was the ecumenical patriarch's cloth-of-gold sleeves and the pearls and precious gems mounted on them.
Only because of the peace he'd made with Krispos had he come here. He recognized that celebrating his safe return to Videssos the city at the most holy shrine of the Empire's faith was politically and theologically valuable, so he endured it. That did not mean he liked it.
Beside him, though, awe turned Olyvria's face almost into that of a stranger. Her eyes flew like butterflies, landing now here, now there, marveling at the patriarch's regalia, at the moss-agate and marble columns, at the altar, at the rich woods of the pews, and most of all, inevitably, at the mosaic image of Phos, stern in judgment, that looked down on his worshipers from the dome.
'It's so marvelous,' she whispered to Phostis for the third time since the -service began. 'Every city in the provinces says its main temple is modeled after this one. What none of them says is that all their models are toys.'
Phostis grunted softly, back in his throat. What she found wondrous was cloying to him. Then, of themselves, his eyes too went up to the dome. No man could be easy meeting the gaze of that Phos: the image seemed to see inside his head, to know and note every stain on his soul. Even Thanasios would have quailed under that inspection. For the sake of the image in the dome, Phostis forgave the rest of the temple.
The choirmaster brought down his hands. The boys fell silent. Their blue silk robes shimmered in the lamplight as the echoes of their music slowly faded. Oxeites recited Phos' creed. The notables who filled the temple joined him at prayer. Those echoes also reverberated from the dome.
The patriarch said, 'Not only do we seek thy blessing, Phos, we also humbly send up to thee our thanks for returning to us Phostis son of Krispos, heir to the throne of Videssos, and granting him thine aid through all the troubles he has so bravely endured.'
'He's never been humble in his life, surely not since he donned the blue boots,' Phostis murmured to Olyvria.
'Hush,' she murmured back; the Temple had her in its spell.
Oxeites went on, 'Surely, lord with the great and good mind, thou also viewest with favor the ending of the Empire's trial of heresy, and the way in which its passing was symbolized by the recent union of the young Majesty and his lovely bride.'
A spattering of applause rose from the assembled worshipers, vigorously led by Krispos. Phostis was convinced Oxeites would not know a symbol if it reached up and yanked him by the beard; he suspected the Avtokrator of putting words in his patriarch's mouth.
'We thank thee. Phos, for thy blessings of peace and prosperity, and once more for the restoration of the young Majesty to the bosom of his family and to Videssos the city,' Oxeites said in ringing tones.
The choir burst into song again. When the hymn was finished, the patriarch dismissed the congregation: the thanksgiving service was not a full and formal liturgy. Phostis blinked against the late summer sun as he walked down the broad, wide stairs outside the High Temple. Katakolon poked him in the ribs and said, 'The only bosom you care about in your family is Olyvria's.'
'By the good god, you're shameless,' Phostis said. He couldn't help laughing, even so. Because Katakolon had no malice in him, he could get away with outrages that would have landed either of his brothers in trouble.
In the courtyard outside the High Temple, people of rank insufficient to get them into the thanksgiving service cheered as Phostis came down from the steps and walked over to his horse. He waved to them, all the while wondering how many had shouted for the gleaming path not long before.
The Haloga guard who held the horse's head said, 'You talk to your god only a little while today.' He sounded approving, or at least relieved.
Phostis handed Olyvria up onto her mount, then swung into the saddle himself. The Halogai formed up around the imperial party for the return to the palaces. Olyvria rode at Phostis' left.
To his right was Evripos. His older younger brother curled his lip and said, 'You're back. Hurrah.' Then he looked straight ahead and seemed to concentrate solely on his horsemanship.
'Wait a minute,' Phostis said harshly. 'I'm sick of cracks like that from you. If you wanted me to be gone and stay gone, you had your chance to do something about it.'
'I told you then, I don't have that kind of butchery in me.' Evripos answered.
'Well then, quit talking to me as if you wish you did.'
That made Evripos look his way again, though still without anything that could be called friendliness. 'Brother of mine, just because I won't shed blood of my blood, that doesn't mean I want to clasp you to my bosom, if I can steal the patriarch's phrase.'
'That's not enough,' Phostis said.
'It's all I care, to make it,' Evripos answered.
'It's not enough, I tell you,' Phostis said, which succeeded in gaining Evripos' undivided attention. Phostis went on, 'One of these days, if I live, I'm going to wear the red boots. Unless Olyvria and I have a son of our own, you'll be next in line for them. Even if we do, he'd be small for a long time. The day may come when you decide blood doesn't matter, or maybe you'll think you can just shave my head and pack me off to a monastery: you'd get the throne and salve your tender conscience at the same time.'
Evripos scowled. 'I wouldn't do that. As you said, I had my chance.'
'You wouldn't do it now,' Phostis returned. 'What about ten years from now, or twenty, when you feel you can't stand being second in line for another heartbeat? Or what happens if I decide I can't trust you to stay in your proper place? I might strike first, little brother. Did you ever think of that?'
Evripos was good at using his face to mask his thoughts. But Phostis had watched him all his life, and saw he'd succeeded in surprising him. The surprise faded quickly. Evripos studied Phostis as closely as he was studied in turn. Slowly, he said, 'You've changed.' It sounded like an accusation.
