Krispos Rising

'Let it burn,' Krispos said. 'If anyone sees it or gets close enough to hear noise like that, I suppose he'll try and put it out, not that he'll have much luck. But the grove is so thick that odds are no one will notice a thing, and we certainly don't have time to mess about here. Or do you feel otherwise?'

Mavros shook his head. 'No indeed. We'll be plenty busy between now and dawn.'

'Aye.' As he walked back toward the imperial residence, Krispos tried to think of all the things he'd have to do before the sun came up again. If he forgot anything of any importance, he knew, he would not keep the throne he'd claimed.

The Halogai standing guard in front of the imperial residence grew alert when they saw three men approaching. When Krispos and his companions got close enough for torchlight to reveal the state they were in, one of the northerners shouted, 'What happened to you?'

Krispos looked down at himself. His robe was torn and scorched and stained with smoke. He glanced over at Mavros, whose face was streaked from soot and sweat. His own, he was sure, could be no cleaner. 'The Avtokrator is dead,' he said simply. The Halogai cried out and came dashing down the stairs, their huge axes at the ready. 'Did you slay him?' one of them demanded, his voice fierce.

'No, by Phos, I did not,' Krispos said. As he had for Geirrod, he sketched the sun-sign over his breast. 'You know he and I had a falling out these past few days.' He waited for the northerners to nod, then went on, 'This evening I learned—' Never mind where now, he thought. '—I learned he'd not forgiven me as he wanted me to believe, but was going to use the wizardry he'd studied to kill me.'

He touched the sword that swung on his hip. 'I went to defend myself, yes, but I did not kill him. Because I was there, he hurried his magic, and rather than striking me, it ate him up instead. In the name of the Lord with the great and good mind, I tell you I speak the truth.'

Geirrod suddenly started talking to the northerners in their own language. They listened for a moment, then began asking questions and talking—sometimes shouting—among themselves. Geirrod turned to Krispos, shifting back to Videssian. 'I tell them it be only justice now for you to be Emperor, since he who was Emperor try to slay you but end up killing self instead. I also tell them I fight for you if they say no.'

While the Halogai argued, Mavros sidled close to Krispos and whispered, 'Well, I admit you did that better than I would have.'

Krispos nodded, watching the guards—and their captain. Sometimes, he had read, usurpers gained the imperial guards' backing with promises of gold. He did not think gold would sway Thvari, save only to make him feel contempt. He waited for the guard captain to speak. At last Thvari did. 'Majesty.' One by one, the Halogai echoed him.

Now Krispos could give rewards. 'Half a pound of gold to each of you, a pound to Thvari, and two pounds to Geirrod for being first among you to acknowledge me.' The northerners cheered and gathered round him to clasp his hand between their two.

'What do I get?' Mavros asked, mock-plaintively.

'You get to go to the stables, saddle up Progress and a horse for you, and get back here fast as you can,' Krispos told him.

'Aye, that's right, give me all the work,' Mavros said—but over his shoulder, for he was already heading for the stables at a fast trot.

Krispos climbed the steps to the imperial residence—his residence now and for as long as he could keep it, he realized suddenly. He could feel that he was running on nervous energy; if he slowed down even for a moment, he might not get moving again easily. He laughed at himself—when would he find the chance to slow down any time soon?

Barsymes and Tyrovitzes stood waiting a couple of paces inside the entrance. As with the Halogai before, Krispos' dishevelment made the eunuchs stare. Barsymes pointed out toward the guardsmen. 'They called you Majesty,' he said. Was that accusation in his voice? Krispos could not tell. The chamberlain had long practice in dissimulation.

'Yes, they called me Majesty—Anthimos is dead,' Krispos answered bluntly, hoping to startle some more definite reaction from the eunuchs. But for making the sun-circle over their hearts, they gave him none. Their silence compelled him to go on to explain once more how the Emperor had perished. When he was through, Barsymes nodded; he seemed far from startled. 'I did not think Anthimos could destroy you so,' he remarked.

Krispos started to take that as a simple compliment, then stopped, his eyes going wide. 'You knew,' he ground out. Barsymes nodded again. Krispos drew his sword. 'You knew, and you did not warn me. How shall I pay you back for that?' Barsymes did not flinch from the naked blade. 'Perhaps while you consider, you should let the Empress Dara know you survived. I am certain she will be even more relieved to hear of it than we are.'

Again Krispos started to miss something, again he caught himself. 'You knew that, too?' he asked in a small voice. This time both eunuchs nodded back. He looked at his sword, then returned it to its sheath. 'How long have you known?' Now he was whispering.

Barsymes and Tyrovitzes looked at each other. 'No secret in the palaces is a secret long,' Barsymes said with the slightest trace of smugness.

Dizzily, Krispos shook his head. 'And you didn't tell Anthimos?'

'If we had, esteemed and—no, forgive me, I beg—your Majesty, would you be holding this conversation with us now?' Barsymes asked.

Krispos shook his head again. 'How shall I pay you back for that?' he said, then musingly answered himself: 'If I'm to be Emperor, I'll need a vestiarios. The post is yours, Barsymes.'

The eunuch's long, thin face was not made for showing pleasure, but his smile was less doleful than most Krispos had seen from him. 'You honor me, your Majesty. I am delighted to accept, and shall seek to give satisfaction.'

'I'm sure you will,' Krispos said. He hurried past the two eunuchs and down the hall. He passed the doorway that had been his and paused in front of the one he had entered so many times but that only now belonged to him. He raised a hand to knock softly, then stopped. He did not knock at his own door. He opened it.

He heard Dara's sharp intake of breath—she had to have been wondering who would come through that door. When she saw Krispos, she said, 'Oh, Phos be praised, it's you!' and threw herself into his arms. Even as he held her, though, he thought that her words would have done for Anthimos' return just as well—no chance of making a