Krispos of Videssos

XIII

The great valves of the Silver Gate swung open. Trumpeters on the wall above blared out a fanfare. Krispos flicked Progress' reins. Along with his victorious army, he rode into Videssos the city.

As he passed through the covered way between the outer and inner walls, his mind went back to the day, now more than a decade behind him, when he'd first walked into the great imperial capital. Then no one had known—or cared—he was arriving. Now the whole city waited for him.

He came out of the shadow of the covered way and into the city. Another fanfare blew. Ahead of him in the procession, a marching chorus began to chant. "Behold, Krispos comes in triumph, who subjected Kubrat! Once he served the folk north of the mountains, but now they serve him!"

People packed both sides of Middle Street. They jeered the chained Haloga prisoners who dejectedly clanked along in front of Krispos. When they saw him, the jeers turned to cheers. "Thou conquerest, Krispos!" they shouted. "Thou conquerest!"

In his two years as Avtokrator, he'd heard that acclamation many times. As often as not, it was as much for form's sake as a cobbler's giving his neighbor good morning. Every once in a while, though, people sounded as if they truly meant it. This was one of those times.

He smiled and waved as he rode up the city's main thoroughfare. Protocol demanded that an Emperor stare straight ahead, looking neither to the left nor to the right, to emphasize how far above the people he was. Barsymes would probably scold him when he got back back to the palaces, but he didn't care. He wanted to feel the moment, not to pretend it wasn't happening.

On either side of Progress marched more Halogai, members of the imperial guards. Some wore crimson surcoats that matched Krispos' boots, others blue ones that went along with the banner of Videssos. The guardsmen seemed to ignore the people they strode past, but the axes they carried were not just for show.

Behind Krispos clattered the iron-shod hooves of Sarkis' unit of scouts. The scouts were looking into the crowd, all right, and didn't pretend otherwise. They knew what they were looking for, too. "Hey, pretty lass, I hope I find you tonight!" one of them called.

Hearing that, Krispos made a note to himself to make sure extra watchmen were on the street after the procession was done. Wine shops and joyhouses would both be jumping, and he wanted no trouble to mar the day. His smile turned ironic for a moment. Automatically thinking of such things was part of what it meant to be Avtokrator.

Then he thought of Dara and how good it was not to be just one more man prowling the city for whatever he could find for a night. When he came to the palaces, he was coming home. He wondered what Evripos looked like. Soon enough he'd find out. He even wondered how Phostis was doing. About time his heir got to know him.

"Kubrat is ours again!" the people shouted. Some of them, he was certain, had no idea in which direction Kubrat lay or how long it had been out of Videssian hands. They shouted anyway. If he'd got himself killed in the campaign, they would have shouted just as hard for whichever general seized the throne. Some of them would have shouted just as loud for Harvas Black-Robe, were he riding down Middle Street in triumph.

Krispos' smile disappeared altogether. Ruling over the Empire was making him expect the worst in men, because the consequences of misfortune were so often what he saw and had to try to repair. Folk who led good and quiet lives seldom came to his notice. But he needed to remember the good still existed; if he forgot that, he began to walk the path Harvas had followed. And if he needed to remember the good, he had only to think of Tanilis.

The procession moved on along Middle Street, past the dogleg where it bent more nearly due west, through the Forum of the Ox, and on toward the plaza of Palamas. After a while Krispos grew bored. Even adulation staled, when it was the same adulation again and again. He did his best to keep smiling and waving anyhow. While he heard the same praise, the same chorus over and over, the parade was fresh and new to each person he passed. He tried to make it as fine as he could for all of them.

The sun was a good deal higher in the sky by the time he finally reached the plaza of Palamas. Much of the big square was packed as tight with people as the sidewalks of Middle Street had been. A thin line of watchmen and soldiers held the crowd back from its center, to give all the units in the parade room to assemble.

A temporary wooden platform stood close to the Milestone. Atop it paced a shaven-headed, gray-bearded man in a robe of blue and cloth-of-gold. Krispos guided Progress toward the platform. He caught the eye of the man on it and nodded slightly. Savianos nodded back. He looked most patriarchal. Of course, so had Pyrrhos and Gnatios. As Savianos himself had said, how well he would wear remained to be learned. All the same, seeing his new patriarch in full regalia for the first time sent hope through Krispos.

He rode up to the stairs on the side of the platform nearest the red granite obelisk that was the center of distance measure throughout the Empire. Geirrod stepped forward with him and held Progress' head while he dismounted.

"Thanks," he said to the Haloga guard. He started for the stairway, then stopped. Gnatios' severed head was still displayed on the base of the Milestone, along with a placard that detailed his treacheries. After some weeks exposed to the elements, the head was unrecognizable without the placard. Your own fault, Krispos said to himself. He went up the steps with firm, untroubled stride.

"Thou conquerest, Majesty!" Savianos said loudly as Krispos reached the top of the platform.

"Thou conquerest!" the crowd echoed.

Savianos prostrated himself before Krispos, his forehead pressed against rough boards.

"Rise, most holy sir," Krispos said.

Savianos got to his feet. He turned half away from Krispos to face the crowd. His hands rose in benediction. He recited Phos' creed: "We bless thee, Phos, lord with the great and good mind, watchful beforehand that the great test of life may be decided in our favor."

Krispos spoke the creed with him. So did the great throng who watched them both. Their voices fell like rolling surf with the rhythms of the prayer. Krispos thought that if he listened to that oceanic creed a few times, he might discover for himself how healer-priests and mages used the holy words to sink into a trance.

But instead of repeating the creed, Savianos addressed the people who packed the plaza of Palamas. "We call our Avtokrator the vice-regent of Phos on earth. Most often this strikes us as but a pleasant conceit, a compliment, even a flattery, to the man who sits on the high throne in the Grand Courtroom. For we know that, while he does rule us, he is but a man, with a man's failings.

"But sometimes, people of the city, sometimes we find the fulsome title enfolds far more than fulsomeness. I submit to you, people of the city, that we have just passed through such a time. For great evil threatened from the north, and only through the good god's grace could his champion have overcome it."

"Thou conquerest, Krispos!" The shout filled the square. Savianos kept facing the crowd, but his eyes slid to Krispos. Krispos waved to the people. The shouts redoubled. Krispos waved again, this time for quiet. Slowly, slowly, the noise faded.

The patriarch resumed his speech. Krispos listened with half an ear; the opening had been enough to tell him Savianos was indeed the man he wanted wearing the blue boots: intelligent, pious, yet mindful that only the Emperor was the chief power of Videssos.

Instead of listening, Krispos watched the people who were watching him. He also finally got to watch his parade, as unit after unit entered the plaza. After the imperial guards and the scouts came the northerners who had chosen to serve Videssos rather than returning to Halogaland. After them rode Bagradas' company, which had routed the Halogai who tried to fight on horseback. A contingent of Kanaris' marines marched behind them; without the grand drungarios' dromons, the northerners could have crossed the Astris in safety and lingered near Kubrat, ready to swoop down again at any moment. A unit of military musicians had played all the way up Middle Street. The men fell silent as they came into the plaza of Palamas, so as not to drown out Savianos.

The patriarch finished just as the last troop of horsemen entered the square. He waved his hand toward Krispos and said, "Now let the Avtokrator himself tell you of his dangers, and of his triumphs." With a deep bow, he urged Krispos to the forward edge of the platform.

Krispos' attitude toward speeches was the same as his attitude toward combat: they were a part of being Avtokrator he wished he could do without. Along with the people, polished courtiers would be weighing his words, smiling at his unsophisticated phrases. Too bad for them, he thought. He attacked speeches as if they were armored foes and went straight at them. The approach was less than elegant, but it worked.

"People of the city, brave soldiers of Videssos, we have won a great victory," he began. "The Halogai are bold warriors. No one would say otherwise, or we would not want them as the Emperor's guards. We should applaud the Halogai who fought for me and for the Empire. They served as loyally as any of our men, though they fought their own countrymen. Without their courage, I would not be talking to you today."

He pointed down at his guardsmen and clapped his hands together. The assembled units of the army were the first to join him in paying tribute to the Halogai; they'd seen the northerners in action. More slowly, cheers filled the rest of the plaza of Palamas. Some of the imperial guards grinned. Others, not used to such plaudits, looked at their boots and shuffled half a step this way and that.

Krispos went on, "We should also cheer our own brave soldiers, who made the fierce men from the north yield for the first time in history. Some of the Halogai you see now are their captives. Some joined Videssos' army of their own free will after their chief Ikmor surrendered Pliskavos to us—we'd shown them we were the better soldiers."

The soldiers cheered first again. Many of them cried, "Hurrah for us!" The rest of the crowd joined in more quickly this time; cheering their fellow Videssians made the people of the city happier than applauding foreigners, even foreigners in imperial service.

"We did not face danger from the Halogai alone," Krispos said when something not far from quiet returned once more. "We also faced a wizard who worshiped Skotos." As always in Videssos, the dark god's name brought forth first shocked gasps, then complete, attentive, almost fearful silence. Into that silence, Krispos continued, "Truth to tell, the accursed one did us more harm than the Halogai. But in the end, the mages of the Sorcerers' Collegium were able to stymie his wicked attacks, and one, the brave sorceress Tanilis of Opsikion, broke his power, though she herself died in that combat."

People sighed when they heard that. Krispos heard a few women weep. Some of the soldiers called out Tanilis' name. All of that was as it should be. None of it was close to what she deserved.

"What we've won is important," he said. "Kubrat is ours again; wild horsemen will raid south of the mountains no more. And the Astris is a broad, swift river. The nomads will not easily slip over it to steal away the land we've regained. With this victory, Videssos is truly stronger. It's no sham triumph, unlike some you may have seen in the past." He could not resist the dig at Petronas, who had celebrated his undistinguished campaign against Makuran as if he'd overthrown Mashiz.

"People of the city, you deserve more than a parade to mark what we have done," Krispos proclaimed. "That's why I declare the next three days holidays throughout the city. Enjoy them!"

This time the ordinary people in the plaza of Palamas cheered faster and louder than the soldiers. "May Phos be with us all!" Krispos shouted through the din.

"May Phos be with you, your Majesty!" the people shouted back.

Savianos stepped close to Krispos. "You've made them like you, your Majesty,'" he said, too quietly for anyone but Krispos to hear in the turmoil.

Krispos eyed him curiously. "Not 'love,' most holy sir? Most men would say that, if they aimed to pay a compliment."

"Let most men say what they will and curry favors as they will," Savianos answered. "Wouldn't you like to have at least one man around who tells you what he thinks to be the truth?"

"Now I have two," Krispos said. It was Savianos' turn to look curious. Krispos went on, "Or has Iakovitzes died in the last quarter of an hour?" He knew perfectly well that Iakovitzes hadn't died. Were the Sevastos still able to speak, he'd have been on the platform with Krispos and the patriarch.

Savianos dipped his head. "There you have me, your Majesty." One of his bushy eyebrows lifted. "At least I won't envenom it before I give it to you."

"Ha! I ought to tell him you said that, just to see some venom come your way. But since the good god knows you're not altogether wrong, I'll let you get away with it."

"Your Majesty is merciful," Savianos said. His eyebrow went up again.

"Oh, hogwash," Krispos said with a snort. He and his patriarch smiled at each other. Then he turned to face the crowd once more. He raised his hands. A few at a time, people noticed him, pointed. The plaza of Palamas grew if not quiet, quieter. "People of the city, soldiers of the Empire, as far as I'm concerned, this gathering is done," he said. "Go on and celebrate!"

One last cheer, louder than the rest, filled the square and reverberated from the Milestone and the outer wall of the Amphitheater. Krispos waved to the crowd, then started for the stairs that led down from the platform. "And how will you celebrate, your Majesty?" Savianos called after him.

"Not with revels like the ones Anthimos enjoyed," Krispos answered. "Me, I'm just another man with a family, coming back from the war. All I want to do right now is see my new baby and my wife."

The palm of Dara's hand cracked against Krispos' cheek. He caught her wrist before she could hit him again. "Let me go, you bastard!" she screamed. "You think you can pull off your robe as soon as you go on campaign, do you? And with Mavros' mother, of all people? By the good god, she must be old enough to be your mother, too."

Hardly, Krispos thought, but he knew better than to say that out loud. What he did say was, "Will you listen to me, please?" He was more than a little appalled. He'd thought of so much on the campaign just past; he hadn't thought that rumors about Tanilis and him would get back to Videssos the city so fast.

"What's there to listen to, curse you?" Dara tried to kick him in the shins. "Did you take her to bed with you or not?"

"Yes, but—" She punctuated the sentence by trying to kick him again. This time she succeeded.

"Aii!" he said. The pain roused his own anger. When she started screaming at him again, he outyelled her. "If it weren't for Tanilis, I'd be dead now, and the whole army with me."

"Bugger the army, and bugger you, too."

"Why are you so furious at me?" he demanded. "Anthimos was unfaithful to you twice a day—three or four times, when he could manage that many—and you put up with him for years."

Dara opened her mouth to screech more abuse at him but hesitated. He enjoyed a moment of relief—the first moment he'd enjoyed since he walked into the imperial residence. In slightly softer tones than she'd used thus far, she said, "I expected it from Anthimos. I didn't expect it from you."

Krispos heard the hurt in her voice along with the outrage. "I didn't expect it from me, either, not exactly," he said. "It's just that, well, Tanilis and I knew each other a long time ago, before I ever came to the palaces."

"Knew each other?" Now it was all outrage again. "That makes it worse, not better. If you missed her so much, why didn't you just send for her when you got the urge?"

"It wasn't like that," Krispos protested. "And it wasn't as if I set out to seduce her for the first time. It was just—" The more he talked, the deeper in trouble he found himself. He gave up and spread his hands in defeat. "I made a mistake. What can I say? The only thing I can think of is that it's not the sort of mistake I'm likely to make again."

Dara twisted the knife. "There aren't another threescore women you knew in those long-lost and forgotten days out there pining for you now?" But then she hesitated again. "I don't think I ever heard Anthimos say he made a mistake."

One of the things Krispos had learned from repeated meetings with his officers was to change the subject when he didn't have all the answers. He said, "Dara, could I please see my new son?"

He'd hoped that would further soften her. It didn't work. Instead, she flared up again. "Your new son? And what were you doing while I was panting like a dog and screaming like a man on the rack to make your son come into the world? You don't need to tell me with whom you were doing it. I already know that."

"By the letter you sent, on the day Evripos was born, the army was fighting its way north from the mountains into Kubrat. And I wasn't doing anything more with Tanilis then than traveling in the same army." What he'd been doing when her letter arrived ... but she hadn't asked him that.

"Then," she said, a word that spoke volumes all by itself. She went on bitterly, "You even had the brass to acclaim her to the people today."

He wondered how she'd learned that. Nothing in Videssos the city flew faster than gossip. He said, "Whatever you think of me, whatever you think of her, she deserved to be acclaimed to them. I told you once, you'd be a widow now if not for her."

Dara gave him a long, cold, measuring stare. "That might be better. I warned you not to trifle with me."

Krispos remembered what Rhisoulphos had asked him—how would he dare fall asleep beside her? He said, "Careful, there. You'd have had no joy bargaining with Harvas Black-Robe over the fate of the Empire."

"I would have bargained with someone besides Harvas." She was angry enough to add one thing more: "I still may. I brought you the throne, after all."

"And you think you can take it away again, is that what you're saying? That the only reason I belong on it is because I married you?" He shook his head. "Maybe that was so two years ago. I don't think it is anymore. I beat Petronas, I beat Harvas. People are used to me with a crown on my head, and they see I can manage well enough." Now he glared coldly at her. "And so, if I wanted to, I expect I could send you to a convent, go on about my affairs here, and get away with it quite handily. Do you doubt me?"

"You wouldn't."

"To save myself, I would. But I don't want to. If we only had a marriage of convenience—" As he groped for the phrase, he remembered Tanilis using it. He shook his head, wishing he hadn't come up with the memory at exactly this moment. "—I think I could put you aside now and not have much trouble over it. I just told you that. I could have arranged it as I was on the way home from Kubrat. I came back here, though, because I love you, curse it."

Dara was not ready to give in, or to let him down easy. "I suppose you'd say the same thing if Tanilis had come back with you."

He winced, as if from a low blow. For all his wishing that Tanilis had lived, he hadn't thought about how he would handle her and Dara both. Badly was the answer that sprang to mind; between the two of them, they'd have made mincemeat of him in short order. Dara was doing a good job by herself.

He answered as best he could: "Might-have-beens don't matter. They aren't real, so how can you tell what's true about them? That just makes for more arguments. We don't need more arguments right now."

"Don't we? I trusted you, Krispos. How am I ever supposed to trust you again, now that I know you've been unfaithful?"

"It comes in time, if you give it a chance," he said. "I grew to trust you, for instance."

"Me? What about me?" Dara's eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't go twisting things. I've never been unfaithful to you, by the good god, and you'd better know it, too."

"I'm not twisting things, and I do know that," Krispos said. "But you were unfaithful to Anthimos with me, so I've known all along that you could be unfaithful to me, too. It used to worry me. It used to worry me a lot. It took a long time for me to decide I didn't need to worry about it anymore."

"You never let on," Dara said slowly. She looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. "You never let on at all."

"What would have been the point? I always figured that showing I was worried would have made things worse, not better, so I just kept quiet."

"Yes, that's like you, isn't it? You would have just kept quiet about Tanilis, too, and gone about your business." But some of the heat finally left Dara's voice. She kept studying Krispos. In spite of her temper—and in spite of the good reason he'd given her for losing it—she was thoroughly practical down deep. Krispos waited. At last she said, "Well, you may as well have a look at Evripos."

"Thank you." The two words took in much more than her last sentence alone. He'd known her a long time. He counted on her to hear that.

Not a servant was in sight when Krispos and Dara emerged from the imperial bedchamber. His mouth twisted wryly. He said, "All the eunuchs and women must be afraid to get anywhere near us. What with the row we were having, I can't blame them."

"Neither can I," Dara said, with the first half smile she'd given him. "They're probably waiting to find out which one of us comes out of there alive—if either of us does."

The nursery was around a couple of corners from the bedchamber. Only when Krispos and Dara rounded the last corner did they encounter Barsymes in the hallway. The vestiarios bowed. "Your Majesties," he said. With the subtle shifts of tone of which he was a master, he managed to make the innocuous greeting mean something like, Are your majesties done sticking knives in each other yet?

"It's—" Krispos started to say it was all right, but it wasn't. Maybe in time it would be. "It's better, esteemed sir." He glanced toward Dara, wondering if she would make a liar of him.

"It's some better, esteemed sir," she said carefully. Krispos clicked his tongue between his teeth. That would have to do.

"I'm pleased to hear it, your Majesties." Barsymes actually did sound pleased. He had to see the palm-size patch of red on Krispos' cheek, but he made sure he did not notice it. He bowed again. "If you will excuse me—" He walked past Krispos and Dara. Palace servants had a magic all their own. Within minutes everyone in the imperial residence would know what the vestiarios knew.

Krispos opened the nursery door and let Dara precede him through it. The woman sitting inside quickly got up and started to prostrate herself. "Nevermind, Iliana," Krispos said. The wet nurse smiled, pleased he remembered her name. He went on, "Everything's quiet, so Evripos must be asleep."

"So he is, your Majesty," Iliana said. She smiled again, in a different way this time: the haggard smile of anyone who takes care of a baby. She pointed to the cradle against one wall.

Krispos walked over to it and peered in. Evripos lay on his stomach. His right thumb was in his mouth. His odor, the peculiar mix of inborn baby sweetness and stale milk, wafted up to Krispos. Krispos said the first thing that came into his mind. "He doesn't have as much hair as Phostis did."

"No, he doesn't," Dara agreed.

"I think he's going to look like you, your Majesty," Iliana said to Krispos. She seemed oblivious to the fight he and Dara had just had. If she'd been here by herself with Evripos all the while, maybe she was. If so, she had to be the only person in the imperial residence who was. She continued, "His face is longer than Phostis' was at the same age, and I think he'll have your nose."

Krispos examined Evripos again. He found himself shrugging. For one thing, he'd been in the field when Phostis was this age, so comparing the two little boys was hard for him. For another, he didn't think Evripos' button of a nose looked anything like his own formidable beak. He asked, "How old is he now?"

"Six weeks, a couple of days more," Dara answered. "He's a bigger baby than Phostis was."

"Second babes often are," Iliana put in.

"Maybe he does look like me," Krispos said. "We'll have to train him to be always at his brother's right hand when the time comes for Phostis to rule." That won him a genuinely grateful look from Dara: here with a son surely his, he said nothing of removing Phostis from the succession.

The nursery door opened. Phostis came in, accompanied by Longinos the eunuch. The little boy was much more confident on his feet than he had been when Krispos set out on campaign. He looked at Krispos, as much at his robes as at his face. "Dada?" he said, tentatively.

Maybe he's not sure, either, Krispos thought. He scowled at himself, then smiled his biggest smile at Phostis. "Dada," he said. Phostis ran to him and hugged him around the legs. He reached down to ruffle Phostis' hair. "How does he know who I am?" he asked Dara. "Do you suppose he remembers? I've been gone a long time, and he's not very big."

"Maybe he does. He's clever," Dara said. "But I've also shown him the pictures of old-time Avtokrators in their regalia and said 'Emperor' and 'dada.' If he didn't recognize you, I wanted to be sure he recognized the robes."

"Oh ... That was thoughtful of you," Krispos said. Dara didn't answer. Just as well, Krispos thought. If she had answered, she'd have been only too likely to come back with something like, Yes, and look what you were doing while I was busy reminding him who you were.

"Up," Phostis said. Krispos picked him up and held him out at arm's length so he could look him over. Phostis kicked and giggled. Krispos had no idea whom Evripos looked like. Phostis looked like Dara: his coloring, the shape of his face, that unusual small fold of skin at the inner corner of each eyelid all recalled her.

Krispos tossed him a couple of feet into the air, caught him, then gently shook him. Phostis squealed with glee. Krispos wanted to shake him harder, to shake out of him once and for all who his father was.

"Dada," Phostis said again. He stretched out his own little arms to Krispos. When Krispos drew him close, he wrapped them around Krispos' neck. Krispos hugged him, too. From whosever seed he sprang, he was a fine little boy.

"Thank you for helping him to keep me in mind," Krispos said to Dara. "He seems happy to see me."

"Yes, so he does." Dara's voice softened, most likely because she was talking about Phostis.

Longinos handed Krispos an apricot candied in honey. "The young Majesty is especially fond of these."

"Is he?" Krispos held the fruit where Phostis could see it.

The toddler wiggled in delight and opened his mouth wide. Krispos popped in the apricot. Phostis made small nyum-nyum-nyum noises as he chewed. Krispos said, "I think he has more teeth than he did when I left the city."

"They do keep growing them," Dara said.

Phostis finished the candied apricot. "More?" he said hopefully. Laughing, Krispos held out his hand to Longinos. The chamberlain produced another apricot. Krispos gave it to Phostis. "Nyum-nyum-nyum."

"You'll spoil his supper," Iliana said. Then she remembered to whom she was speaking, and hastily added, "Your Majesty."

"One spoiled supper won't matter," Krispos said. He knew that was true, but also wondered how often it was wise to say such things. He suspected no one had ever said no to Anthimos about anything. He didn't want Phostis to grow up that way.

Barsymes stuck his head into the nursery. "As the afternoon is drawing on, your Majesty, Phestos the cook wishes to know how you care to dine this evening."

"By the good god, one big, fine supper won't spoil me either, not after eating camp food ever since I left the city," Krispos said. "Tell Phestos to let himself go."

"He'll be pleased to hear that, your Majesty," Barsymes said. "He told me that if you asked him to do up a pot of army stew, he'd leave the palaces."

"He'd better not," Krispos exclaimed, laughing. "I like good food all the time, and I've come to enjoy fancy meals now and again, too. This one will be the more welcome after eating plain for so long."

The vestiarios hurried away to carry his word back to the kitchens. Krispos tossed Phostis in the air again. "And what do you want to eat tonight, your Majesty?"

Phostis pointed to the pocket where Longinos kept the candied apricots. With a frown of regret, Longinos turned the pocket inside out. "I'm dreadfully sorry, young Majesty," he said. "I have no more." Phostis started to cry. Krispos tried cuddling him. Against the tragedy of no more candied fruit, cuddling did no good. Krispos turned him upside down. He decided that was funny. Krispos did it again. Phostis chortled.

"I wish we could so easily forget the things that hurt us," Dara said.

Krispos thought that we was really an I. He said, "We can't forget. The best we can do is not let them rankle."

"I suppose so," Dara said, "though vindictiveness has a bittersweet savor in which so many Videssians delight. Many nobles would sooner forget their names than a slight." Krispos knew some small measure of relief that she did not include herself in that number.

Just then Evripos woke up with a whimper. Phostis pointed to the cradle. "Baby."

"That's your baby brother," Krispos said.

"Baby," Phostis repeated.

Evripos cried louder. Diana picked him up. Krispos turned Phostis upside down again, lowered him to the floor, and set him down. "Let me hold Evripos," he said.

Iliana passed him the baby. He took a gingerly grip on his son. "Put one hand behind his head, your Majesty," Iliana said. "His neck still wobbles."

Krispos obeyed. He examined Evripos anew. The cheek on which the baby had been sleeping was bright red. Evripos' eyes would be brown; already they were several shades darker than the blue-gray of a newborn's. He looked at Krispos. Krispos wondered if he'd ever seen anyone with a beard before. Then he wondered if the baby was old enough even to notice it.

Evripos' eyes opened wide, as if he was really waking up now. His face worked— "He smiled at me!" Krispos said.

"He's done it a few times," Dara said.

"Give him to me, if you please, your Majesty," Iliana said. "He'll be hungry." Krispos returned the baby to her. He averted his eyes as she undid her smock. He did not want Dara to see him look at another woman's breasts, not now of all times. Evripos seized the wet nurse's nipple and started making sucking and gulping noises.

"Milk," Phostis said. "Baby." He stuck out his tongue.

"You were fond of it till not so long ago," Iliana told him, a smile in her voice. Phostis paid no attention to her. With such delicious things as candied apricots in the world, he cared for the breast no more.

"Well, what do you think of your son?" Dara asked.

"I think well of both my sons," Krispos said.

"Good." Dara sounded truly pleased. Maybe she knew the words were an offer of truce, but they were the right one to make. She went on, "Evripos should stay awake for a while. Do you want to play with him a bit longer when he's done nursing?"

"Yes, I'll do that," Krispos said.

Soon Iliana presented him with the baby. "See if you can get him to burp," she said. He patted Evripos on the back. At the same time as Iliana said, "Not so hard, your Majesty," Evripos let out a surprisingly deep belch. Krispos grinned a vindicated grin.

He held the baby for a while. Evripos was still too small to give back very much. Every so often his eyes would focus intently on Krispos' face. Once, when Krispos smiled at him, he smiled back, but his attention drifted away again before long.

Phostis tugged at Krispos' robe. "Up," he demanded. Krispos passed Evripos back to Iliana and lifted Phostis. After the baby, the older boy seemed to weigh quite a lot. He threw himself backward to show he wanted to play the upside-down game again.

Krispos lowered him to the floor, then picked him up so they were nose to upside-down nose. "You trusted me there, didn't you?" he said.

"Why shouldn't he?" Dara said. "You never dropped him on his head." Krispos clicked tongue between teeth, hearing her unspoken as you did me.

Before long Phostis got bored with going upside down. Krispos returned him to solid ground. He ran over to a toy chest, where he drew out a carved and painted wooden horse, dog, and wagon. He neighed, barked, and did an alarmingly realistic impression of the squeak of a big wagon's ungreased wheels.

Krispos bent down. He barked and neighed, too. He made the dog chase the horse, then made the horse jump into the wagon. Phostis laughed. He laughed louder when Krispos made loud wheel-squeaks and had the toy dog run off in pretended terror.

He played with Phostis a bit longer, then held Evripos again until the baby started to fuss. Iliana took him back and gave him her breast. He fell asleep while he was nursing. She set him in the cradle. By then Krispos was playing with Phostis again.

Dara said, "This must be your most domestic afternoon in a longtime."

"This is my most domestic afternoon ever," Krispos said. "It has to be. I never had two sons to play with before." He thought for a few seconds. "I like it."

"I see that," Dara said quietly.

Barsymes came into the nursery. "Your Majesty, Phestos is ready for you and your lady."

"Is it that time already?" Krispos said, startled. He looked at where the sunlight stood on the nursery wall, considered his stomach. "By the good god, so it is. All right, esteemed sir, we'll come with you." Dara nodded.

Phostis started to wail when Krispos and Dara walked to the door. "He's tired, your Majesties," Longinos said apologetically. "He should have had a nap some time ago, but he was too excited playing with his father."

Dara's eyes flickered to Krispos. All he said was, "I enjoyed it, too." No matter who Phostis' father was, he was a delightful little boy. Krispos realized he should have noticed that long ago. In the end, it was what counted.

Barsymes took Krispos and Dara to the smallest of the several dining chambers in the imperial residence. Lamps already burned there against the coming of evening. A jar of wine stood in the center of the table, a silver goblet before each place. As he sat, Krispos glanced down into his. "White wine," he observed.

"Yes, your Majesty," Barsymes said. "As you've been so long inland, Phestos thought all the courses tonight should come from the sea, to welcome you back to the fare of Videssos the city."

When the vestiarios had gone, Krispos raised his goblet to Dara. "To our sons," he said, and drank.

"To our sons." She also held the cup to her lips. She looked at Krispos over it. "Thank you for picking a toast I can drink to."

He nodded back. "I did try." He was glad to have any truce between them, no matter how fragile.

Barsymes brought in a crystal bowl. "A salad with small squid sliced into it," he announced. "Phestos bids me tell you it is dressed with olive oil, vinegar, garlic, oregano, and some of the squids' own ink: thus the dark color." He served a portion to Krispos, another to Dara, and bowed his way out.

Krispos picked up his fork and smiled, trying to remember the last time he'd used any utensil but spoon or belt knife. The last time he'd been in the city, he decided. He ate a forkful of salad. "That's very good."

Dara tasted hers, too. "So it is." As long as they talked about something safe like the food, they were all right together.

At precisely the proper moment, Barsymes reappeared to clear away the salad. He came back with soup bowls and a gold tureen and ladle. A wonderful odor rose from the tureen. "Prawns, leeks, and mushrooms," he said, ladling out the soup.

"If this tastes as good as it smells, tell Phestos I've just raised his pay," Krispos said. He dipped his spoon and brought it to his lips. "It does. I have. Tell him, Barsymes."

"I shall, your Majesty," the vestiarios promised. The sharp taste of leeks, though lessened by their being boiled, made a perfect contrast to the prawns' delicate flavor. The mushrooms added the earthy savor of the woods where they'd been picked. Krispos used the ladle himself, until the tureen was empty. When Barsymes returned to take it away, Krispos held out his bowl to him. "Take this back to the kitchens and fill it up again first, if you please, esteemed sir."

"Of course, your Majesty. If I may make so bold, though, do not linger with it overlong. The other courses advance apace."

Sure enough, as soon as that last bowl was done, Barsymes brought in a covered tray. "What now, esteemed sir?" Krispos asked him.

"Roast lampreys stuffed with sea urchin paste, served on a bed of cracked wheat and pickled grape leaves."

"I expect I'll grow fins by the time I'm done," Krispos said with a laugh. "What's that old saying? 'When in Videssos the city, eat fish,' that's it. Well, no one could hope to eat better fish than I am tonight." He raised his cup to salute Phestos. When he set it down, it was empty. He reached for the jar. That was empty, too.

"I'll fetch more directly, your Majesty," Barsymes said. "Can't go through a feast like this without wine," Krispos said to Dara.

"Indeed not." She drained her own cup, put it down, then stared across the table at Krispos. "As well I hadn't had any to drink earlier this afternoon, though. I'd have tried to put a knife in you, I think." He eyes fell to the one with which she'd been cutting her lamprey.

"You—didn't do badly as it was," he said cautiously. He looked at her knife, too. "You're not trying to carve me now. Does that mean—I hope that means—you forgive me?"

"No," she said at once, so sharply that he grimaced. She went on, "It does mean I don't want to kill you just this minute. Will that do?"

"It will have to. If we had some wine, I'd drink to it. Ah, Barsymes!" The vestiarios brought in a new jar and used a knife to slice through the pitch that held the stopper in place. He poured the wine. Krispos said, "Here's to letting knives cut up fish and not people."

He and Dara both drank. Barsymes said, "That, your Majesty, is an excellent toast."

"Isn't it?" Krispos said expansively. He touched the end of his nose. It was getting numb. He smiled. "I can feel that wine." He took another sip.

Barsymes cleared the table. "I shall return shortly with the main course," he said. As usual, he was as good as his word. He set down the latest tray with a flourish. "Tuna, your majesties, poached in resinated wine with spices."

"I will grow fins," Krispos declared. "I'll enjoy every bit of it, too." He let Barsymes serve him a large piece of flaky, pinkish-white fish. He tasted it. "Phestos has outdone himself this time." Dara was busy chewing, but made a wordless noise of agreement.

"He will be pleased to know he has pleased you, your Majesties," Barsymes said. "Now, would you care for some boiled chickpeas, or beets, or perhaps the parsnips in creamy onion sauce?"

After the tuna, Barsymes brought in a bowl of red and white mulberries. Krispos was normally fond of them. Now he rolled his eyes and looked over at Dara. She was looking at him with a similarly overwhelmed expression. They both started to laugh. In an act of conscious—and conscientious—bravery, Krispos reached for the bowl. "Have to eat a few, to keep from hurting Phestos' feelings."

"I suppose so. Here, let me have some, too." Dara washed them down with another swallow of wine. She set down her cup harder than she might. "Strange you worry about the cook's feelings more than mine."

Krispos grunted, looking down at the mulberries. "It wasn't something I made a habit of."

"Bad enough once," she said.

Being without a good answer to that, Krispos kept quiet. Barsymes came in and took away the bowl of fruit. He seemed willing not to see that it had hardly been touched. "Would you care for anything else, your Majesties?" he asked.

Dara shook her head. "No, thank you, esteemed sir," Krispos said. The vestiarios bowed to him and Dara, then strode silently out of the dining chamber. Krispos hefted the wine jar. "Would you like some more?" he asked Dara.

She pushed her cup toward him. He filled it, then poured what was left in the jar into his own. They drank together. Only the lamps lit the dining chamber; the sun was long down.

"What now?" Krispos asked when the wine was gone.

Now Dara would not look at him. "I don't know."

"Let's go to bed," he said. Seeing her scowl, he amended, "To sleep, I mean. I'm too full and too worn to think about anything else tonight anyway."

"All right." She pushed her chair back from the table and got up. Krispos wondered if he ought to check the cutlery to make sure she hadn't secreted a knife up her sleeve. You're being foolish, he told himself as he, too, rose from the table. He hoped he was right.

In the bedchamber, he pulled off the imperial boots, then let out a long sigh of relief as he clenched and unclenched his toes. He took off his robe and noticed he hadn't spilled anything on it at dinner—Barsymes would be pleased. He lay down on the bed, sighing again as the mattress enfolded him in softness.

Dara was also undressing, a little more slowly; she'd always had the habit of sleeping without clothes. Krispos remembered the first time he'd been her, the first time he'd come into this chamber as Anthimos' vestiarios. Her body had been perfect then. It wasn't quite perfect anymore. After two births, her waist was thicker than it had been. And with the second one so recently past, the skin on her belly hung a little loose, while her breasts drooped softly.

Krispos shrugged. She was still Dara. He still found himself wanting her. As he'd told Tanilis, it was rather more than a marriage of convenience. If he wanted it to remain so, he suspected he ought to stop thinking about what he'd told Tanilis. That seemed dreadfully unfair, but he'd learned a good deal of life was unfair. He shrugged again. Unfair or not, you went on anyway.

"Get up, please," Dara said. When Krispos did, she pulled back the spread, leaving just the sheet and a light coverlet. "It's a warm night."

"All right." He slid under the sheet and blew out the lamp that stood on the night table. A moment later Dara got into bed with him. She blew out her lamp. The bedchamber plunged into darkness. "Good night," Krispos said.

"Good night," she answered coolly.

The bed was big enough to leave a good deal of space between them. Here I am, returned in triumph, and I might as well be sleeping alone, Krispos thought. He yawned enormously. His eyes slid shut. He slept.

He woke at sunrise the next morning with a bladder full to bursting. He glanced over at Dara. She'd kicked off the covers some time during the night, but was still peacefully asleep. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he got out of bed and used the chamber pot. He lay down again. Dara did not wake.

He slid toward her. Very, very gently, his tongue began to tease her right nipple. It crinkled erect. She smiled in her sleep. All at once her eyes opened. She stiffened, then twisted away from him. "What are you trying to do?" she snapped.

"I thought that would be plain enough," he said. "Your body answered mine, or started to, even if you're angry with me."

"Bodies are fools," Dara said scornfully.

"Aye, they are," Krispos said. "Mine was, too."

She'd opened her mouth to say something, and likely something harsh. That made her shut it. Even so, she shook her head. "You think that if I lie with you, we'll be fools together and I'll forget about what you did."

"I don't think you'll forget." Krispos sighed. "I wish you could, but I know better. Not even the mages have a magic to make things as if they'd never happened. But if we do lie together, I hope you will remember I love you." He nearly finished that sentence I love you, too. One hastily swallowed syllable stood between him and disaster, a nearer brush than in any fight against the Halogai.

"If we are to live as man and wife, I suppose we'll have to be man and wife," Dara said, as much to herself as to Krispos. Her lip curled. "Otherwise, you'd surely take your nets and go trolling for other women. Very well, Krispos; as you will." She lay back and stared up at the ceiling.

He did not go to her. Sucking in a deep, irritated breath, he said, "I don't want you just to be having you, curse it. That was Anthimos' sport. I don't care for it. If we can't meet halfway, better not to bother when we're angry at each other."

She lifted her head from the mattress to study him. "You mean that," she said slowly.

"Yes, by the good god, I do. Let's just ring for the servants and start the new day." He reached for the crimson bell pull by his side of the bed.

"Wait," Dara said. His hand stopped. He raised a questioning eyebrow. After a moment she went on, "Let it be a—a peace-offering between us, then. I can't promise to enjoy it, Krispos. I will do more than endure it."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure ... Be gentle, if you can. I'm not that long out of childbed."

"I will," he promised. Now he reached out to clasp her breast. Her hand closed on his.

Their lovemaking was, perhaps, the strangest he'd known— certainly the most self-conscious. Both her physical frailty and knowing she remained just this side of furious at him constrained him until he was almost afraid to touch her. Despite her pledge, she lay still and unstirred under his caresses.

Her jaw was clamped with apprehension when he entered her. "Is it all right?" he asked. She hesitated, considering. Finally she nodded. He went on, as carefully as he could. At last he gasped and jerked, even then cautiously. He realized he was lying with all his weight on her. He slid out of her, then away from her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'd hoped to please you better."

"Never mind—don't worry about it," she answered. He looked at her in some surprise, for she sounded serious. Then she nodded to show she was. She went on, "I told you I doubted I was happy enough with you to take full part in it now. But I noticed how you did what you did, how you were careful with me. Maybe I even noticed that more because I wasn't swept away. You wouldn't have been so ... regardful if I were just so much convenient flesh to you."

"I've never thought of you like that," Krispos protested.

"A woman often wonders," Dara said bleakly, "especially a woman who has known Anthimos, and most especially a woman who, when her husband goes away while she must stay behind, learns he's found some other convenient flesh with which to dally for a while. Me, I mean."

Krispos started to say, "It wasn't like that." But knowing when to hold his tongue had served him well through the years. This was as good a time as any, and better than most. He knew he was right—what he and Tanilis had done together was far more than dallying with convenient flesh. At the moment, though, being right mattered little; if he pressed it, being right was indeed liable to be worse than being wrong. Peace with Dara was worth giving her the last word.

What he did say, not even a beat late, was, "I'm no Anthimos. I hope you've noticed."

"I have," she said. "I was quite sure of it till you went on campaign. Then—" She shook her head. "Then I doubted everything. But maybe, just maybe, we can go on after all."

"I want us to," Krispos said. "I've packed a lifetime's worth of upheavals into the last two years. I don't need any more."

Suddenly Dara made a wry face. She quickly sat, then looked down between her legs. Krispos took a few seconds to be sure the snort she let out was laughter. She said, "The maidservant who changes the bed linen will be sure we've reconciled. I suppose we may as well."

"Good," Krispos said. "I'm glad."

"I... think I am, too."

With that Krispos had to be content. Considering how Dara had greeted him the day before, it was as much as he could have hoped for. Now he did yank at the bell pull. Barsymes appeared as promptly and silently as if he'd been conjured up. "Good morning, your Majesty. I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, thank you, esteemed sir."

The vestiarios brought him a pair of drawers and pointed to a robe in the closet. Krispos nodded at his choice. Barsymes drew out the robe. Krispos let the eunuch dress him. Dara must have used her bell pull, too, for a serving maid came in while Barsymes was fussing over Krispos. She helped Dara into her clothes and combed out her shining black hair.

"And how would you care to break your fast this morning, your Majesty?" Barsymes asked.

Krispos slapped his belly with the flat of his hand. "Seeing that I ate enough for three starving men last night, I hope Phestos won't be put out if I just ask for a small bowl of porridge and half a stewed melon."

"I trust he will be able to restrain his chagrin, yes," the vestiarios agreed blandly. Krispos gave him a sharp look—Barsymes' wit was drought-dry. The chamberlain turned to Dara. "And you, your Majesty?"

"The same as for Krispos, I think," she said. "I shall so inform Phestos. No doubt he will be pleased to find the two of you in accord." With that oblique comment on yesterday's fight, Barsymes strode out of the imperial bedchamber.

When the vestiarios cleared away the few breakfast dishes, Krispos knew he ought to start in on all the scrolls and parchments that had piled up at the palaces while he was on campaign. The most pressing business had followed him even to Pliskavos, but much that was not pressing remained important—and would swiftly become urgent if he neglected it. But he could not make himself get up and attend to business, not on his first full day back in Videssos the city. Hadn't he earned at least one day of rest?

He was still arguing with himself when Longinos brought Phostis into the dining room. "Dada!" Phostis exclaimed, and ran to him. Krispos decided the parchments could wait. He scooped up Phostis and gave him a noisy kiss.

Phostis scrubbed at his cheek with the palm of his hand. After a moment, Krispos realized the boy was not used to being kissed by anyone who wore a beard. He kissed him again. Phostis rubbed again.

"You're doing that on purpose, just to confuse him with your whiskers," Dara said.

"If he gets to know me, he has to get to know my beard, too," Krispos answered. "The lord with the great and good mind willing, I'll be able to stay in the city long enough now to keep him from forgetting me."

Dara yielded. "May Phos hear that prayer." Phostis stood up on Krispos' lap. He wrapped his arms around Krispos' neck and made a loud kissing noise. Krispos found himself grinning. Dara smiled a mother's smile. She said, "He seems fond of you."

"He does, doesn't he? That's good." Krispos glanced to Longinos, then to the doorway. The eunuch, trained to the nuances of palace service, gave a half bow that turned his plump cheeks pink, then stepped into the hall. Krispos lowered his voice and said to Dara, "You know, at last I find I don't care who his father really was. He's a fine little boy, that's all."

"I've thought so all along," she answered. "I never wanted to say it very often, though, for fear of making you worry more about that than you would have otherwise." She studied him, nodding thoughtfully as if he'd passed a test.

He wondered if he had. Was he showing maturity about Phostis' lineage, or merely resignation? He didn't know himself. Whatever it was, it seemed to please Dara. That practical consideration carried more weight with him than any fine-spun point of philosophy.

He chuckled. "What?" Dara asked.

"Only that I'd never make a good sorcerer or theologian," he said.

"You're probably right," she replied. "On the other hand, precious few sorcerers or theologians would make a good Avtokrator, and you're shaping pretty well for that."

He dipped his head to her in silent thanks. Then, all unbidden, Harvas rose to the surface of his mind. Harvas had been theologian and sorcerer both, and wanted to rule the Empire of Videssos. What sort of Avtokrator would he have made? Krispos knew the answer to that and shuddered at the knowledge.

But Harvas was menace no more, thanks to Tanilis; even if he could not speak of her to Dara, Krispos reflected, how could he erase her from his memory? Maybe one day the sorcerer would arise and threaten Videssos again, but Krispos did not think it would be any year soon. If it did happen, he would deal with it as best he could, or Phostis would, or Phostis' son, or whoever wore the Avtokrator's crown in some distant time.

With the infallible instinct palace servants develop, Longinos knew he could come back into the dining room. "Shall I take charge of the young Majesty again?" he asked Krispos.

Krispos expected Phostis to go to the eunuch, with whom he was far more familiar. But Phostis stayed close by. "I'll keep him awhile, if it's all right with you, Longinos," Krispos said. "He's mine, after all."

"Indeed, your Majesty. Phos has blessed you—blessed you twice now." The chamberlain's voice, not quite tenor, not quite alto, was wistful. Phos would not bless him, not that way.

When Krispos got up from the table and went out into the hall, Phostis toddled after him. He slowed his steps to let the little boy keep up. Phostis walked over to a carved marble display stand and tried to climb up it. Krispos didn't think he was strong enough to knock it over, but took no chances. He lifted Phostis into his arms.

Displayed on the marble stand was a conical helm once worn by a Makuraner King of Kings, part of the spoil from a Videssian triumph of long ago. On the wall above the helmet hung a portrait of the fierce-looking Avtokrator Stavrakios, who had beaten the Halogai in their own country. Every time Krispos saw it, he wondered how he would measure up in Stavrakios' uncompromising eyes.

Phostis pointed to the portrait and frowned in intense concentration. "Emp'ror," he said at last.

"Yes, that's true," Krispos said. "He was Emperor, a long time ago."

Phostis wasn't finished. He pointed to Krispos, almost sticking a finger in his eye. "Emp'ror," he said again, adding a moment later, "Dada."

Krispos hugged the little boy. "That's true, too," he agreed gravely. "I am the Emperor, and your dada. Come to think of it, young Majesty, you're an emperor yourself." Now he pointed at Phostis. "Emperor."

"Emp'ror?" Phostis laughed, as if that were the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Krispos laughed, too. It was a preposterously unlikely notion, when you got right down to it. But it was also true.

Krispos hugged Phostis tighter, till the boy squirmed. Every year, so many, many peasants left their farms and came to Videssos the city to seek their fortunes. Unlike almost all of them, he'd found his.

"Emperor," he said wonderingly. He lowered Phostis to the floor. They walked down the hall together.