Krispos the Emperor

'You found a way to make Digenis talk?' Krispos demanded eagerly.

'Not that either, your Majesty,' the mage said. 'As you know, till now I've had no success even learning the possible source of the magic that conceals the young Majesty from my search. This has not been from want of effort or diligence, I assure you. Till now, I would have described the trouble as want of skill.'

'Till now?' Krispos prompted.

'As you know, your Majesty, my wife Aulissa is a very determined lady.' Zaidas gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. 'She has, in fact, determination to spare for herself and me both.'

Iakovitzes reached for the stylus, but forbore. Krispos admired Aulissa's beauty and her strength of purpose while remaining content she was his mage's wife, not his own. The two of them had been happy together for many years, though. Now Krispos just said, 'Go on, pray.'

'Yes, your Majesty. In any case, Aulissa, seeing my discontent at failing to penetrate the shield the Thanasiot sorcerers have thrown up to disguise Phostis' whereabouts, suggested I test that screen at odd times and in odd ways, in the hope of ascertaining its nature while it might be weakest. Having no more likely profitable notions of my own, I fell in with her plan, and this evening I saw it crowned with success.'

'There's good news indeed,' Krispos said. 'I'm in your debt, and in Aulissa's. Tell her when you go home that I'll show I'm grateful with more than words. But for now, by the good god, tell me what you know before I get up and tear it from you.'

Iakovitzes let out his gobbling laugh. 'It's an idle threat, sorcerous sir,' he wrote. 'Neither Krispos nor I could rise for anything right now, in any sense of the word.'

Zaidas' smile was nervous. 'You must understand, your Majesty, I've not broken the screen, merely peeked behind one lifted corner of it, if I may use ordinary words to describe sorcerous operations. But this I can tell you with some confidence: the magic behind the screen is of the school inspired by the Prophets Four.'

'Is it?' Krispos said. Iakovitzes' eyebrows were eloquent of surprise. The Avtokrator added, 'So the wind blows from that quarter, does it? It's not what I expected. I'll say that. Knowing how the screen was made, can you now pierce it?'

'That remains to be seen,' Zaidas said, 'but I can essay such piercing with more hope than previously was mine.'

'Good for you!' Krispos lifted the latest wine jar from its bed of snow. It was distressingly light. 'Barsymes!' he called. 'I'd intended to make an end of things here, but I find we need more wine after all. Fetch us another, and a cup for Zaidas and one for yourself. Tonight the news is good.'

'I shall attend to it directly, your Majesty,' Barsymes said, and he did.

Occasional sleet rode the wind outside the little stone house with the thatched roof. Inside, a small fire burned on the hearth, but the chill remained. Phostis chafed his hands one against the other to keep feeling in them.

The priest who had presided over the Midwinter's Day liturgy at the main temple in Etchmiadzin bowed to the middle-age couple who sat side by side at the table where they'd no doubt eaten together for many years. On the table rested a small loaf of black bread and two cups of wine.

'We are met here today with Laonikos and Siderina to celebrate their last meal, their last partaking of the gross substance of the world and their commencement of a new journey on Phos' gleaming path,' the priest proclaimed.

Along with Phostis, Olyvria, and Syagrios. the little house was crowded with friends and relatives; the couple's son and daughter and two of Laonikos' brothers were easy to pick out by looks. Everyone, including Laonikos and Siderina, seemed happy and proud of what was about to happen. Phostis looked happy himself, but he'd learned in the palaces how to assume an expression at will. In fact, he didn't know what to think. The man and woman at that table were obviously of sound mind and as obviously eager to begin with what they thought of as the last step of their earthly existence and their first steps toward heaven. How should I feel about that. Phostis wondered, when it's not a choice I'd ever make for myself?

'Let us pray.' the priest said. Phostis bent his head, sketched the sun-circle over his heart. Everyone recited Phos' creed. As he had at Etchmiadzin's temple, Phostis found the creed more moving, more sincere, here than he ever had in the High Temple. These people meant their prayers.

They put fervor into a round of Thanasiot hymns, too. Phostis did not know those as well as the rest of the folk gathered here; he kept stumbling over the words and then coming in again a line and a half later. The hymns had different tunes—some borrowed from the orthodox liturgy—but the same message: that loving the good god was all-important, that the next world meant more than this one, and that every earthly pleasure was from Skotos and to be shunned.

The priest turned to Laonikos and Siderina and asked, 'Are you now prepared to abandon the wickedness in this world, the dark god's vessel, and to seek the light in the realm beyond the sun?'

They looked at each other, then touched hands. It was a loving gesture, but in no way a sensual one: with it they affirmed that what they did, they did together. Without hesitation, they said, 'We are.' Phostis could not have told which of them spoke first.

'It's so beautiful,' Olyvria whispered, and Phostis had to nod. Dropping her voice still further, so only he heard, she added. 'And so frightening.' He nodded again.

'Take up the knife,' the priest said. 'Divide the bread and eat it. Take the wine and drink. Never again shall the stuff of Skotos pass your lips. Soon the bodies that are themselves sinful shall be no more and pass away; soon your souls shall know the true joy of union with the lord with the great and good mind.'

Laonikos was a sturdy man with a proud hooked nose and distinctive eyebrows, tufted and bushy. Siderina might have been pretty as a girl; her face was still sweet and strong. Soon, Phostis thought, they'll both look like Strabon. The idea horrified him. It didn't seem to bother Laonikos and Siderina at all.

Laonikos cut the little loaf in half and gave one piece to his wife. The other he kept himself. He ate it in three or four bites, then tilted back the wine cup until the last drop was gone. His smile lit up the house. 'It's done,' he said proudly. 'Phos be praised.'

'Phos be praised,' everyone echoed. 'May the gleaming path lead you to him!'

Siderina finished her final meal a few seconds after Laonikos. She dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin. Her