He read Videssian, but haltingly; he moved his lips, sounding out every word. «Maniakes Avtokrator to Sharbaraz King of Kings: Greetings,» the letter began. A string of florid salutations and boasts followed, showing that the Videssians could match the men of Makuran in such excess as well as in war.
After that, though, Maniakes got down to cases faster than most Makuraners would have. In his own hand—which Abivard recognized—he wrote, «I have the honor to inform you that I am holding as a captive and condemned criminal a certain Tzikas, a renegade formerly in your service, whom I had previously condemned. For the capture of this wretch I am indebted to your general Abivard son of Godarz, who, being as vexed by Tzikas' treacheries as I have been myself, arranged to have me capture him and dispose of him. He shall not be missed when he goes, I assure you. He—»
Maniakes went on at some length to explain Tzikas' iniquities.
Abivard didn't read all of them; he knew them too well. He crumpled up the parchment and threw it on the ground, then stared at it in genuine, if grudging, admiration. Maniakes had more gall than even he'd expected. The Avtokrator had used him to help get rid of Tzikas and now was using Sharbaraz to help get rid of him because of Tzikas! If that wasn't effrontery, Abivard didn't know what was.
And only luck had kept the plan from working or at least had delayed it. If the Videssian courier had ridden more like a local—
Abivard picked up the sheet of parchment, unfolded it as well as he could, and summoned Turan. He translated the Videssian for his lieutenant, who did not read the language. When he was through, Turan scowled and said, «May he fall into the Void! What a sneaky thing to do! He—»
«Is Avtokrator of the Videssians,» Abivard interrupted. «If he weren't sneaky, he wouldn't have the job. My father could go on for hours at a time about how devious and underhanded the Videssians were, and he—» He stopped and began to laugh. «Do you know, I can't say whether he ever had anything more to do with them than skirmishing against them. But however he knew or heard, he was right. You can't trust the Videssians when your eye's not on them, nor sometimes when it is.»
«You're too right there.» Now Turan laughed, though hardly in a way that showed much mirth. «I wish Maniakes were out of the land of the Thousand Cities. Then my eye wouldn't be on him.»
Later that evening Roshnani found a new question to ask: «Did Maniakes' letter to the King of Kings actually come out and say he was going to put Tzikas to death?»
«It said he wouldn't be missed when he went,» Abivard answered after a little thought. «If that doesn't mean the Avtokrator is going to kill him, I don't know what it does mean.»
«You're right about that,» Roshnani admitted, sounding for all the world like Turan. «The only trouble is, I keep remembering the Videssian board game.»
«What has that got to do with—?» Abivard stopped. While he'd liked that game well enough during the time he had lived in Across, he'd hardly thought of it since leaving Videssian soil. One salient feature—a feature that made the game far more complex and difficult than it would have been otherwise—was that captured pieces could return to the board, fighting under the banner of the player who had taken them.
Abivard had used Tzikas exactly as if he were a board-game piece. For as long as the Videssian renegade had been useful to Makuran after failing to assassinate Maniakes, Abivard had hurled him against the Empire he'd once served. Once Tzikas was no longer useful, Abivard had not only acquiesced in but arranged his capture. But that didn't necessarily mean he was gone for good, only that Videssos had recaptured him.
«You don't suppose,» Abivard said uneasily, «Maniakes would give him a chance to redeem himself, do you? He'd have to be crazy, not just foolish, to take a chance like that.»
«So he would,» Roshnani said. «Which doesn't mean he wouldn't try it if he thought he could put sand in the axles of our wagon.»
«If Tzikas does fight us, he'll fight as if he thinks the Void is a short step behind him—and he'll be right,» Abivard said. «If he's not useful to Maniakes, he's dead.» He rubbed his chin. «I'm still more worried about Sharbaraz.»
IX
«Lord,» the messenger said with a bow as he presented the message tube, «I bring you a letter from Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase.»
«Thank you,» Abivard lied, taking the tube. As he opened it, he reflected on what he'd said to Roshnani a few days before. When you were more worried about what your own sovereign would do to hamstring your campaign than you were about the enemy, things weren't going as you had hoped when you'd embarked on that campaign.
He broke the seal, unrolled the parchment, and began to read. The familiar characters and turns of phrase of his own language were a pleasant relief after struggling through the Videssian intricacies of the dispatch from Maniakes he'd intercepted before it could get to Sharbaraz.
He waded through the list of Sharbaraz' titles and pretensions with amused resignation. With every letter, the list got longer and the pretensions more pretentious. He wondered when the King of Kings would simply declare he was the God come down to earth and let it go at that. It would save parchment, if nothing else.
After the bombast Sharbaraz got down to the meat: «Know that we are displeased you have presumed to summon our good and loyal servant Romezan from his appointed duties so that he might serve under you in the campaign against the usurper Maniakes. Know further that we have sent under our seal orders to Romezan, commanding him in no way to heed your summons but to continue on the duties upon which he had been engaged prior to your illegal, rash, and foolish communication.»
«Is there a reply, lord?» the messenger asked when Abivard looked up from the parchment.
«Hmm? Oh.» Abivard shook his head. «Not yet, anyhow. I have the feeling Sharbaraz King of Kings has a good deal more to say to me than I can answer right at this moment.»
He read on. The next chunk of the letter complained about his failure to drive the Videssians out of the land of the Thousand Cities and keep them from ravaging the floodplain between the Tutub and the Tib. He wished he were in a building of brick or sturdy stone, not a tent. That would have let him pound his head against a wall. Sharbaraz didn't care for what was going on now but didn't want him to do anything about it, either. Lovely, he thought. No matter what I do, I end up getting blamed. He'd seen that before, too, more times than he cared to remember.
«Know also,» Sharbaraz wrote, «that we are informed you not only let the general Tzikas fall into the hands of the foe but also connived at, aided, and abetted his capture. We deem this an act both wretched and contemptible and one for which only a single justification and extenuation may be claimed: which is to say, your success against the Videssians without Tzikas where you failed with him. Absent such success during this campaigning season, you shall be judged most harshly for your base act of betrayal.»
Abivard let out a sour laugh there. He was being blamed for betraying Tzikas, oh yes, but had Tzikas ever been blamed betraying him? On the contrary—Tzikas had found nothing but favor with the King of Kings. And Sharbaraz had ordered him to go out and win victories or face the consequences, all without releasing Romezan's men, who might have made such victory possible.
«Have you a reply, lord?» the messenger asked again. The one that came to mind was scatological. Abivard suppressed it. With Maniakes in the field against him, he had no time for fueling a feud with the King of Kings, especially since in such a feud he was automatically the loser unless he rebelled, and if he started a civil war in Makuran, he handed not only the land of the Thousand Cities but also Vaspurakan to the Empire of Videssos. He understood that from direct experience: Makuran held the Videssian westlands because of the Empire's descent into civil war during Genesios' reign. «Lord?» the messenger repeated.
«Yes, I do have a reply,» Abivard said. He called for a servant to fetch parchment, pen, and ink. When he got them, he wrote his own name and Sharbaraz', then meticulously copied all the titles with which the King of Kings adorned himself—he didn't want Yeliif or someone like him imputing disloyalty because of disrespect. When that was finally done, halfway down the sheet, he got to his real message: Majesty, I will give you the victory you
