whole life long is a provincial town.» She held up a hand. «You're going to tell me that, if I go, I can't come back. I don't care. I never set foot outside Vryetion till I came to Videssos the city. If I'm in Prista with my husband, that will be company enough.»
Maniakes spoke even more carefully than he had before: «Parsmanios will have been in exile some little while by the time you arrive, sister-in-law of mine.»
«He'll be the gladder to see me, then, and to see his son,» Zenonis replied.
She didn't see what Maniakes was aiming at. Having been several years in Prista, Parsmanios was liable to have found another partner. Why not? He could hardly have expected his wife to join him, not when, up till this past summer, Vryetion had been in Makuraner hands. Maniakes got reports on his banished brother's doings, but those had to do with politics, not with whom Parsmanios was taking to bed. Maniakes expected he could find out whom, if anyone, Parsmanios was taking to bed, but that would have to wait till spring, too.
He said, «Don't burn your boats yet. If, when sailing season comes, you still want to do this, we can talk about it then. Meanwhile, you and your son are welcome here, whether you believe me or not.»
«Thank you, your Majesty,» Zenonis said, «but I do not think my mind will change.»
«All right,» he answered, though it wasn't all right. He was settled into being Avtokrator, too, and taken aback when anyone met his will with steady resistance. «Only remember, you truly can't decide now. If, come spring, you want to go to Prista, I will give you and your son a ship, and to Prista you shall go, and to… to my brother. But you and little Maniakes and Parsmanios will never come back here again. I tell you this once more, to make certain you understand it.»
«I understand it,» she said. «It gave me pause for a while, but no more. I am going to be with my husband. Little Maniakes is going to be with his father.»
«If that is what you want, that is what you shall have,» Maniakes answered formally. «I do not think you are making the wisest choice, but I will not rob you of making it.»
«Thank you, your Majesty,» Zenonis told him, and prostrated herself once more, and went away. Maniakes stared at her back. He sighed. He thought—he was as near sure as made no difference– she was making a bad mistake. Did he have the right to save his subjects from themselves, even when they wouldn't thank him for it? That was one of the more intriguing questions he'd asked himself since he took the throne. He couldn't come up with a good answer for it. Well, as Zenonis had time to think on her choice, so did he.
Courtiers, functionaries, bureaucrats, soldiers, and, for all Maniakes knew, utter nonentities who chanced to look good in fancy robes packed the Grand Courtroom. The Avtokrator sat on the throne and stared down the long colonnaded hall to the entranceway through which the ambassador from Makuran would come and make obeisance before him.
When Makuran and Videssos changed sovereigns, they went through a ritual, as set as the figures in a dance, of notifying each other. In the scheme of things, that was necessary, as each recognized only the other as an equal. What the barbarians around them did was one thing. What they did with each other was something else again, and could—and had—set the civilized world on its ear.
No hum of anticipation ran through the assembled Videssian dignitaries when the ambassador appeared in the doorway. On the contrary: the courtiers grew still and silent. They looked straight ahead. No—their heads pointed straight ahead. But their eyes all slid toward that small, slim figure silhouetted against the cool winter sunshine outside.
The ambassador came gliding toward Maniakes, moving almost as smoothly—no, a miracle: moving as smoothly—as Kameas. At the proper spot in front of the throne, he prostrated himself. While he lay with his forehead pressed against the polished marble, the throne rose with a squeal of gearing till it was several feet higher off the ground than it had been. The effect sometimes greatly impressed embassies from among the barbarians. Maniakes did not expect the Makuraner to be overawed, but custom was custom.
From his new altitude, the Avtokrator said, «Rise.»
«I obey,» Abivard's envoy said, coming to his feet in one smooth motion. His face was beardless, and beautiful as a woman's. When he spoke, in good Videssian, his voice was silver bells. He must have been gelded early in life, for it never to have cracked and changed.
«Name yourself,» Maniakes said, continuing the ritual, though the ambassador had already been introduced to him in private.
«Majesty, I am called Yeliif,» the beautiful eunuch answered. «I am come to announce to Maniakes Avtokrator, his brother in might, the accession of Abivard King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase: divine, good, peaceful, to whom the God has given great fortune and great empire, the giant of giants, who is formed in the image of the God.»
«We, Maniakes, Avtokrator of the Videssians, vicegerent of Phos on earth, greet with joy and hope the accession of Abivard King of Kings, our brother,» Maniakes said, granting Abivard the recognition Sharbaraz—who had claimed the Makuraner God was formed in his image—had consistently refused to grant him. «Many years to Abivard King of Kings.»
«Many years to Abivard King of Kings!» the assembled courtiers echoed.
«Majesty, you are gracious to grant Abivard King of Kings the boon of your shining countenance,» Yeliif said. However lovely and well modulated his voice, it held no great warmth. He spoke, not with Kameas' impassivity, but with what struck Maniakes as well-concealed bitterness. He was, of course, a eunuch, which certainly entitled any man—or half man—to be bitter. And his features, however beautiful, had the cold perfection of statuary, not the warmth of flesh.
«May we live in peace, Abivard King of Kings and I.» That was also part of the ritual, but Maniakes spoke the words with great sincerity. Videssos and Makuran both needed peace. He dared hope they might find some small space of it.
Abivard King of Kings, he thought. The man who was, or could have been, his friend, the warrior who had made such a deadly foe, and now the ruler who had in the end chosen to reign in his own name, not that of his nephew, his sister's son by Sharbaraz.
That brought to mind another question: «What has befallen Sharbaraz the former King of Kings, esteemed sir?» the Avtokrator asked, giving Yeliif the title a high-ranking eunuch in Videssos would have had.
«Majesty, the God judges him now, not mortal men,» Yeliif answered. «Not long before I set out for this city, his successor had his head stricken from his body.» Was that regret? Yeliif had presumably been at court throughout Sharbaraz's reign. However little use most Makuraners might have had for Sharbaraz at the end, he might have been sorry to see his sovereign overthrown.
Well, Maniakes thought, that's not my worry. Aloud, he said, «I have gifts for you to take to Abivard King of Kings on your return to Makuran.» That, too, was ritual.
But then affairs in Makuran became Maniakes' worry, for Yeliif broke with ritual by prostrating himself again. «Majesty, may it please you, I cannot return to Makuran, save only that my head should answer for it, as Sharbaraz's did for him,» the beautiful eunuch said. «Abivard King of Kings sent me here not only as embassy but also as exile.» He sighed, a wintry sound. «He was, in his way, merciful, having had it in his power to slay me out of hand.»
«I won't slay you out of hand,» Maniakes promised. «I'm sure I'll be able to learn a great deal about Makuran from you.» I'll squeeze you dry, was what he meant. Yeliif nodded to show he understood and assented— not that he had much choice. Maniakes went on, «For now, esteemed sir, you may reckon yourself enrolled among the eunuchs of the palaces.»
«Majesty, you are gracious to an exile,» Yeliif said. «I shall have a great deal to say about everyone I know, I assure you.»
«I'm sure you will,» Maniakes said. «I'm sure you will.» Betrayal was the coin with which the beautiful eunuch would buy his welcome in Videssos the city. Abivard must have known as much and exiled him anyhow, which was… interesting. And Yeliif did not have to have it spelled out for him. Maniakes studied the limpid dark eyes, the elegant cheekbones, the sculptured line of jaw. Though a man only for women himself, he recognized the danger in that loveliness. Yes, Yeliif would know about betrayal. And, of course, someone in Yeliif's early days had given him over to be castrated. What worse betrayal than that?
The Avtokrator bowed his head, signifying the audience was ended. Yeliif prostrated himself, rose, and backed away from the throne till he could turn around without showing disrespect. A great many eyes followed him as he withdrew from the Grand Courtroom.
