Krispos the Emperor

In Videssos the city, they would have been nothing out of the ordinary: a young man and a young woman happy with each other and not paying much attention to anything else. Even in Etchmiadzin, a few people on the street smiled as they walked by. Others, though, glowered in pious indignation at such a public display of affection. Crabs, he thought.

After a few steps, though, Olyvria pulled away. He thought she'd seen the disapproving faces, too. But she said, 'Strolling with you like this is very pleasant, but I can't feel happy about pleasure, if you know what I mean, just after we've come away from the celebration of the Last Meal.'

'Oh. That.' As it has a way of doing, the wider world intruded itself on Phostis' thoughts. He remembered the joy Laonikos and Siderina had shown when they swallowed the last wine and bread they would taste on earth. 'It's still hard to imagine that impinging on me. Like Syagrios, if in lesser measure, I fear I'm a creature of this world.'

'In lesser measure,' Olyvria agreed. 'Well, so am I, if the truth be told. Maybe when I'm older the world will repel me enough to make me want to leave it, but for now, even if everything Thanasios says about it is true, I can't force my flesh to turn altogether away from it.'

'Nor I,' Phostis said. The fleshly world intruded again, in a different way this time: He stepped up to Olyvria and kissed her. Her lips were for a moment still and startled under his; he was a little startled himself, because he hadn't planned to do it. But then her arms enfolded him as his did her. Her tongue touched his, just for a couple of heartbeats.

At that, they broke apart from each other, so fast Phostis couldn't tell which of them drew back first. 'Why did you do that?' Olyvria asked in a voice that was all breath.

'Why? Because—' Phostis stopped. He didn't know why, not in the way he knew how mulberries tasted or where in Videssos the city the High Temple stood. He tried again: 'Because—' Another stumble. Once more: 'Because of all the folk in Etchmiadzin, you're the only one who's shown me any true kindness.' That was indeed part of the truth. The rest Phostis did not care to examine quite so closely; it was as filled with carnality as the upper part of his mind was with the notion that carnality and sinfulness were one and the same.

Olyvria considered what he'd said. Slowly she nodded. 'Kindness is a virtue that moves you forward on the gleaming path, a reaching out from one soul to another,' she said. But her eyes slipped away from his as she spoke. He watched her lips. They seemed slightly softer, slightly fuller than they had before his touched them. He wondered if she, too, was having trouble reconciling what she believed with what she felt.

They walked on aimlessly for a while, not touching, both of them thoughtful. Then, over a low rooftop, Phostis saw the bulk of the fortress. 'We'd better get back,' he said. Olyvria nodded, as if relieved to have a definite goal for her feet.

As if he were a conjured demon, Syagrios popped out of a wineshop not far outside the fortress' walls. He might have started shirking his watchdog duties, but he didn't want Livanios finding out about that. The ruffian glanced mockingly at the two of them. 'Well, have you settled all the doings of the lord with the great and good mind?'

'That's for Phos to do with us, not we with him,' Phostis said.

Syagrios liked that; his laugh blew grapey fumes into Phostis' face. He pointed toward the gates. 'Back to your cage now, and you can see how Phos settles you there.'

Phostis kept walking toward the fortress. He'd learned that giving any sign Syagrios' jabs hurt guaranteed he'd keep getting them. As he went through the gates, he also noticed how much like home the fortress was becoming in his mind. Just because it's familiar doesn't mean they can make you belong here, he told himself.

But were they making him? He still hadn't settled that question in his own mind. If he followed Thanasios' gleaming path, oughtn't he be here of his own free will?

In the inner yard, Livanios was watching some of his recruits throw javelins. The light spears thumped into bales of hay propped against the far wall. Some missed and bounced back.

Ever alert, Livanios turned his head to see who the newcomers were. 'Ah, the young Majesty,' he said. Phostis didn't care for the way he used the title; it was devoid even of scornful courtesy. The heresiarch sounded as if he wondered whether Phostis, instead of proving useful, might be turning into a liability. That made Phostis nervous. If he wasn't useful to Livanios, how long would he last?

'Take him up to his chamber, Syagrios,' Livanios said; he might have been speaking of a dog, or of a sack of flour.

As the door to his little cell closed behind him, Phostis realized that, if he didn't care to abandon his fleshly form as the Thanasioi advocated for their most pious folk, he might have to take some most un-Thanasiot actions. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he remembered Olyvria's lips sweet against his. The Thanasioi would not have approved of that, not even a little.

He also remembered whose daughter Olyvria was. If he tried to escape, would she betray him? Or might she help? He stamped on the cold floor. He just did not know.

VIII

Krispos was wading through changes in a law that dealt with tariffs on tallow imported from the northeastern land of Thatagush when Barsymes tapped at the open door of his study with one knuckle. He looked up. The vestiarios said, 'May it please your Majesty, a messenger from the mage Zaidas at the government office building.'

'Maybe it will please me, by the good god,' Krispos said. 'Send him in.'

The messenger quickly prostrated himself, then said, 'Your Majesty, Zaidas bids me tell you that he has at last succeeded in commencing a sorcerous interrogation of the rebel priest Digenis.'

'Has he? Well, to the ice with tallow.'

'Your Majesty?'

'Never mind.' The less the messenger knew about the dickering with Thatagush, the happier he'd be. Krispos got up and accompanied him out of the study and out of the imperial residence. Haloga guards fell in with him as he went down the broad steps outside. He felt a childish delight in having caught his parasol bearers napping, as if he'd put one over on Barsymes.

He hadn't gone to listen to Digenis since the day of Iakovitzes' return. He'd seen no point to it: he'd already