«You live among Videssians for while, by the end of that time you'll have trouble remembering your own name, let alone anything else.» Ksorane began to fidget. Abivard took that as a sign that he'd as much time with his sister as had been allotted to him He said his good-byes. The serving woman got up and served a conduit so Denak could pass him Peroz once more and he, after holding the baby for a little while, could pass it back again. He reached out his arms toward Denak, and she stretched the one not holding Peroz out to him. They couldn't touch. Custom forbade it. Custom was very hard. He felt defeated as he went out into the corridor.
Yeliif was waiting for him. Custom again, he thought—the beautiful eunuch had said as much. Abivard could have walked back alone, but having Yeliif with him now was more a mark of his status than a sign that he was something close to a prisoner.
As the two of them fell into stride, Abivard asked quite casually, «What sort of lessons has Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase, taken from the Videssians?»
«Ah, you heard about that, did you?» Yeliif said. «From the lady your sister, no doubt.»
«No doubt,» Abivard agreed. They walked on a few steps, neither of them saying anything. Abivard poked a little harder: «You do know the answer?»
«Yes, I know it,» the beautiful eunuch said, and said no more.
«Well?»
Yeliif didn't answer right away. Abivard had the pleasure of seeing him highly uncomfortable. At last the beautiful eunuch said, «While I do know the answer, I do not know whether I should be the one to reveal it to you. The King of Kings would be better to that role, I believe.»
«Ah.» They walked along a little farther. By way of experiment Abivard shifted into Videssian: «Does the eminent Tzikas know this answer, whatever it may be?»
«No, I don't believe he does,» Yeliif answered in the same tongue, and then glared at him for being found out.
«That's something, anyhow,» Abivard said in relief.
«Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, considered it, but I dissuaded him,» Yeliif said.
«Did you? Good for you,» Abivard said; the beautiful eunuch's action met with his complete approval. Something else occurred to Abivard: «Did he by any chance tell Hosios Avtokrator?» He kept all irony from his voice, as one had to do when speaking of «Hosios»; though the King of Kings had gone through several puppet Avtokrators of the Videssians without finding any of them effective in bringing Videssians over to Makuran, he kept on trying.
Or he had kept on trying, anyhow. Matching Abivard in keeping emotion from his voice, Yeliif said, «Hosios Avtokrator—» He did not say, the most recent Hosios Avtokrator, either.'—had the misfortune of suddenly departing this world late this past summer. The King of Kings ordered him mourned and buried with the pomp and circumstances he deserved.»
«Died suddenly, you say?» Abivard murmured, and Yeliif nodded a bland nod in return. «How unfortunate.» Yeliif nodded again. Abivard wondered whether the latest «Hosios,» like at least one of his predecessors, had shown an unwonted and unwanted independence that had worried Sharbaraz or whether the King of Kings had simply decided to give up serving as puppet-master.
Then a really horrid thought struck him. «The King of Kings isn't planning on naming Tzikas Avtokrator if we ever do conquer Videssos the city, is he? Please tell me no.» For once he spoke to the beautiful eunuch with complete sincerity.
«If he is, I have no knowledge of it,» Yeliif answered. That relieved Abivard, but less than he would have liked. The eunuch said, «Myself, I do not believe that policy would yield good results.» His doelike black eyes widened as he realized he'd agreed with Abivard.
«When can I hope for an audience with the King of Kings?» Abivard asked, hoping to take advantage of such unusual amiability from Yeliif.
«I do not know,» the beautiful eunuch answered. «I shall pass on your request to him. It should not be an excessively long period. Better he should talk to you than to the Videssian.»
«When I came to Mashiz, didn't you mock me with the news that Tzikas had gotten here first?» Abivard said.
«So I did,» Yeliif admitted. «Well, we all make mistakes. Next to Tzikas, you are a pillar supporting Sharbaraz' every enterprise.» He glanced toward Abivard. Those black eyes suddenly were not doelike but cold and hard and shiny as polished jet. «This should by no means be construed as a compliment, you understand.»
«Oh, yes, I understand that,» Abivard said, his voice as dry as the summer wind that blew dust into Vek Rud stronghold. «You loathe me as much as you ever did; it's just that you've discovered you loathe Tzikas even more.»
«Precisely,» the eunuch said. As far as Abivard could tell, he loathed everyone to some degree, save perhaps the King of Kings. Did that mean he loathed himself, too? No sooner had the question crossed Abivard's mind than he realized it was foolish. Being what he was, any hope of manhood taken from him by a knife, how could Yeliif help loathing himself? And from that, no doubt, all else sprang.
Abivard said, «If I were a danger to Sharbaraz, I would have shown as much a long time ago, wouldn't I? Tzikas, now…» A mutual loathing was as good a reason for an alliance as any, he thought, and better than most.
Yeliif eyed him with a look as close to approval as he'd ever won from him. «Those last two words, I believe, with their accompanying ellipsis, are the first sensible thing I have ever heard you say.»
As compliments went, it wasn't much. Abivard was glad of it all the same.
Courtiers with elaborately curled hair and beards, with rouged cheeks, with caftans bound by heavy gold belts and shot through with gold and silver thread drew down their eyebrows—those whose eyebrows were gray or white had a way of drawing them down harder than did those whose brows remained dark—when Abivard and Roshnani came into the banquet hall arm in arm.
Custom died hard. Sharbaraz King of Kings had kept his word about allowing Denak to leave the women's quarters, a liberty the wives of nobles had not enjoyed till then. And for a while a good many nobles had followed their sovereign's lead. Evidently, though, the old ways were reasserting themselves, for only a couple of other women besides Roshnani were in the hall. Abivard looked around to see if his sister was among them. He didn't see her, but then, Sharbaraz hadn't yet entered, so that didn't signify anything.
He stiffened. Denak wasn't there, and neither was Sharbaraz, but there sat Tzikas, talking amiably with a Makuraner noble from the Seven Clans. To look at the Videssian renegade, he hadn't a care in the world. His gestured were animated; his face showed nothing but sincerity. Abivard knew, to his cost, how much that sincerity was worth. The noble, though, seemed altogether entranced. Abivard had seen that before, too.
To his dismay, the servant who led Roshnani and him to their places seated them not far from Tzikas. Brawling in the palace was unseemly, so Abivard ignored the Videssian renegade. He poured wine first for Roshnani, then for himself.
Sharbaraz came into the hall. Everyone rose and bowed low. The King of Kings entered alone. Sadness smote Abivard. He hoped Denak was not at Sharbaraz' side because little Peroz needed her. He doubted it, though. The King of Kings had given his principal wife more freedom than was customary, but custom pulled even on him. If he wasn't wholehearted about keeping such changes alive, they would perish.
Roshnani noted Denak's absence, too. «I would have liked to see my sister-in-law without having to go into the women's quarters to do it,» she said. She didn't raise her voice but didn't go to any trouble to keep it down, either. A couple of courtiers gave her sidelong looks. She looked back unabashed, which seemed to disconcert them. They muttered back and forth to each other but did not turn their eyes her way again.
A soup of meatballs and pomegranate seeds started the feast. For amusement Abivard and Roshnani counted the seeds in their bowl; pomegranate seeds were supposed to bring good luck. When they both turned out to have seventeen, they laughed: neither one got to tease the other.
After the soup came a salad of beets in yogurt enlivened with mint Abivard had never been fond of beets They were far more tolerable here than in most of the dishes where they appeared.
Rice gorgeously stained and flavored with sour cherries and saffron followed the beets. Accompanying it was mutton cooked with onions and raisins. Roshnani mixed hers together with the rice. Abivard, who preferred to savor flavors separately, didn't.
