I need a wizard. I thought of you.'
Trokoundos laughed. 'Are you in such peril that it won't wait till morning?'
'Yes,' Krispos said.
Trokoundos held the lamp high and peered at him. 'You'd better come in,' he said. As Krispos walked inside, the wizard turned his head and called, 'I'm sorry, Phostina, but I'm afraid I have business.' A woman's voice said something querulous. 'Yes, I'll be as quiet as I can,' Trokoundus promised. To Krispos, he explained, 'My wife. Sit here, if you care to, and tell me of this peril of yours.'
Krispos did. By the time he finished, Trokoundos was nodding and rubbing his chin in calculation. 'You've made a powerful enemy, esteemed and eminent sir. Presumably he will have in his employment a powerful and dangerous mage. You know no more than you are to be assailed?'
'No,' Krispos said, 'and I'm lucky to know that.'
'So you are, so you are, but it will make my task more difficult, for I will be unable to ward against any specific spells, but will have to try to protect you from all magics. Such a stretching will naturally weaken my own efforts, but I will do what I may. Honor will not let me do less, not after your gracious warning of his Majesty's wrath. Come along to my study, if you please.'
The chamber where Trokoundos worked his magics was one part library, one part jeweler's stall, one part herbarium, and one part zoo. It smelled close and moist and rather fetid; Krispos' stomach flipflopped. Holding down his gorge with grim determination, he sat across from Trokoundos while the wizard consulted his books.
Trokoundos slammed a codex shut, rolled up a scroll, tied it with a ribbon, and put it back in its pigeonhole. 'Since I do not know what form the attack upon you will take, I will use all three kingdoms—animal, vegetable, and mineral—in your defense.' He went over to a large covered bowl and lifted the lid. 'Here is a snail fed on oregano, a sovereign against poisonings and other noxiousnesses of all sorts. Eat it, if you would.'
Krispos gulped. 'I'd sooner have it broiled, with butter and garlic.'
'No doubt, but prepared thus its virtue aims only at the tongue. Do as I say now: crack the shell and peel it, as if it were a hard-cooked egg, then swallow the creature down.'
Trying not to think about what he was doing, Krispos obeyed. The snail was cold and wet on his tongue. He gulped convulsively before he could notice what it tasted like. Gagging, he wondered whether it would still protect him if he threw it up again.
'Very good,' Trokoundos said, ignoring his distress. 'Now then, the juice of the narcissus or asphodel will also aid you. Here is some, mixed with honey to make it palatable.' Krispos got it down. After the snail, it was palatable. Trokoundos went on, 'I will also wrap a dried asphodel in clean linen and give it to you. Carry it next to your skin; it will repel demons and other evil spirits.'
'May the good god grant it be so,' Krispos said. When Trokoundos gave him the plant, he tucked it under his tunic.
'Mineral, mineral, mineral,' Trokoundos muttered. He snapped his fingers. 'The very thing!' He rummaged among the stones on a table by his desk, held up a dark-brown one.
'Here I have chalcedony, which, if pierced by an emery stone and hung round the neck, is proof against all fantastical illusions and protects the body against one's adversaries and their evil machinations. This is known as the counsel of chalcedony. Now where did that emery go?' He rummaged some more, until he finally found the hard stone he sought.
He clamped the chalcedony to the table and began to bore through it with the pointed end of the emery stone. As he worked, he chanted a wordless little song. 'The power we seek lies within the chalcedony itself,' the mage explained. 'My chant is but to hasten the process that would otherwise be boring in two senses of the word. Ahh, here we are!' He worked a bit longer to enlarge the hole he had made, then held out the chalcedony to Krispos. 'Have you a chain on which to wear it?'
'Yes.' Krispos drew the chain on which he kept the goldpiece Omurtag had given him up over his head.
Trokoundos stared at the coin as it gleamed in the lamplight. 'My, my,' he said slowly. 'What company my little stone will keep.' He seemed about to ask Krispos about the goldpiece, then shook his head. 'No time for my curiosity now. May the stone, the plant, and the snail keep you safe, that's all.'
'Thank you.' Krispos put the stone onto the chain, closed the catch, and slid the chain back onto his neck. 'Now then, what do I owe you for your services?'
'Not a copper, seeing as I'd likely not be here to render those services had you not warned me the city would be unhealthy for a few weeks. No, I insist—this won't bankrupt me, I assure you.'
'Thank you,' Krispos repeated, bowing. 'I had better get back to the imperial residence.' He turned to go, then had another thought. 'Not that I fail to trust your charms, but can I do anything to make them work even better?' He hoped the question would not offend Trokoundos.
Evidently it didn't, for the mage answered promptly. 'Pray. The Lord with the great and good mind opposes all wicked efforts, and may well hear your sincere words and grant you his protection. Having a priest pray for you may also do some good; as Phos' holy men are sworn against evil, the good god naturally holds them in high regard.'
'I'll do both those things,' Krispos promised. As soon as he could he thought with wine-fueled intensity, he'd see Gnatios and ask for his prayers; who could be holier than the ecumenical patriarch?
'Good. I will pray for you as well,' Trokoundos said. He yawned enormously. Whether that was a real yawn or a hint, Krispos knew it was time to go. He thanked the wizard one last time and took his leave. Dawn had already begun to pink the eastern sky. Krispos murmured two prayers to Phos, one for his own safety and the other that Anthimos would sleep late.
'You were a busy lad last night,' Anthimos said roguishly as Krispos held up a robe for his approval. The Emperor had slept late, but not late enough. Krispos' head ached. Anthimos went on, 'You weren't in your chamber when I got back. Did you go off with one of the wenches? Was she good?'
Without looking her way, Krispos sensed Dara listening closely for his reply. 'Not a wench, your Majesty,' he said. 'An old friend came to pay me a bet he owed, and afterward he and I went off and did a little more drinking.'
