You're a stubborn crank was what he meant. No matter how smoothly he phrased it, that would have offended many men. Not Rhavas. The prelate bowed once more. "Good is good and evil is evil," he said. "I will cling to the stronger one with all my might, and do that which I see as good in the sight of Phos. All men—and all women—should do the same. If they do less, they put themselves in peril of meeting the eternal ice when their days on earth are done."
"I think we all try to do right as we see it," Himerios said. "Not everyone sees it the same way, though."
"There is only one right path," Rhavas said stubbornly. "It always lies ahead of us. We must find it and travel it, for in the end it leads over the Bridge of the Separator and into Phos' eternal light. Choose the wrong path, and you will never cross the bridge. You will fall down into damnation instead."
For a moment, Himerios looked frightened. Rhavas was a more effective speaker talking to one man than he was from the pulpit. The garrison commander visibly gathered himself. "You're not talking about me in particular, eh, very holy sir? You mean any man who falls off the straight path."
"Yes, of course," Rhavas said impatiently, not seeing that it had been anything but of course to Himerios. "Do that which is right, and the good god will reward you. Do otherwise, and Skotos will see to it that you pay the price." He spat in rejection of Phos' dark rival.
So did Himerios. The Videssian soldier said, "I hope to come home to Skopentzana soon. If I do, that will mean the Avtokrator Maleinos has won and the rebellion is over."
"If you do, it will mean Phos has triumphed and Skotos is defeated," Rhavas said. "May the blessings of the lord with the great and good mind go with you."
"Thanks. That means a lot to me." Himerios turned to leave. "And if by some mischance things should go wrong, please . . . remember Ingegerd."
"What I can do, I will," Rhavas said again. "As I told you, though, if things go wrong, she would be better off with some other protector than me."
Three days later, he watched the garrison commander ride out of Skopentzana through the south gate at the head of his men. Videssos' banner, a gold sunburst on blue, fluttered over the soldiers. Rhavas wondered how much good that banner would do during a civil war. Both sides would fly it then, and neither would be able to use it to tell friend from foe.
The soldiers setting forth from Skopentzana didn't seem worried about who their foes would be. The foot soldiers tramped along with shouldered pikes. They had swords on their hips to protect themselves in case their main weapons broke. Some of the cavalry were lancers, others archers. Foot soldiers and horsemen alike waved to friends—usually pretty friends—they were leaving behind. Ingegerd stood not far from Rhavas, her fair hair shining in the sun. Her face stayed stern as a warrior's till Himerios rode past. Then warmth flooded into it. She blew him a kiss. He took off his helmet and bowed in the saddle. It made a pretty picture . . . until Rhavas saw the tears on her cheeks.
Zautzes was also there to watch the garrison depart. The eparch looked like a very unhappy frog. Catching Rhavas' eye, he beckoned him over. The prelate elbowed his way through the crowd.
"What do we do now, very holy sir, if the Halogai swoop down on us?" the eparch inquired.
"Well, most honorable sir, I presume we do the best we can," Rhavas replied.
"Faugh!" Zautzes said, and Rhavas had never heard a more disgusted noise. Zautzes went on, "I can raise up a city militia, and I suppose I will, but asking militiamen to fight without soldiers to stiffen them is like taking a bunch of ropemakers, giving them a dead sheep, and expecting them to cook a tasty supper.
You know what the Halogai are like."
Rhavas looked over toward where he'd last seen Ingegerd, but he couldn't spot her now; she must have gone home after her husband rode out of Skopentzana. Only after that half-involuntary glance did the prelate nod. The northern raiders were indeed very ferocious and very dangerous.
"We just have to hope they hold off till we sort through our own troubles," he said. "If Stylianos had stayed loyal, we wouldn't need to worry about any of this. The lord with the great and good mind will remember his treason."
"It's only treason if he loses," Zautzes said. Not for the first time, he was devastatingly cynical. Rhavas started to give back an irate reply, but before he could loose it Zautzes continued, "If Phaos didn't want him to win, he'd lose, right?"
That took things out of the realm of politics and into the realm of theology. Rhavas' anger faded; now he had the chance to teach. "It's not so simple, most honorable sir. We all believe Phos will finally prove stronger than Skotos, and will prevail at the end of days. Light will drive out darkness." He sketched the sun-sign. So did Zautzes. Rhavas plowed ahead: "But Skotos is also a god, and the end of days is not yet. Wickedness may triumph—for a while."
Zautzes stayed cynical, saying, "You do realize, very holy sir, that priests loyal to Stylianos will say it's his Majesty who's Skotos' tool? I do not say this, mind you, for I am loyal to Maleinos, but it's an argument with two edges, and it can cut both ways."
"They may say it, yes, but they will be mistaken." Rhavas spoke with great conviction. Doubt was no part of his makeup; once he formed an opinion, he clung to it through thick and thin. "The Avtokrator is Phos' vicegerent on earth, as I have said before. To rebel against him is to rebel against the good god himself."
"You are surely right." By the way Zautzes said it, he wasn't sure of anything of the sort. "His Majesty is a good and worthy ruler, and is bound to do Phaos' work, as you say. But what of the rulers who are wicked tyrants? The Empire of Videssos has known a few."
"As I say, Skotos can have his momentary triumphs." Rhavas spat on the cobblestones in rejection of the dark god. As Zautzes had with the sun-circle, he made haste to follow suit here. Rhavas continued, "You will notice, most honorable sir, that wicked tyrants seldom rule for long. A better ruler commonly takes their place—Phos gains the advantage in the struggle against darkness and evil."
The eparch nodded. His jowls wobbled when he did. "May it be so here," he said, and turned away.
"Yes. May it be so." Rhavas was on the way back to the prelate's residence before he realized Zautzes hadn't said that Maleinos' triumph and the good god's were one and the same. But Zautzes had said earlier that he was loyal to the reigning Avtokrator. He'd done nothing to make Rhavas disbelieve him . . . yet.
And the closer I watch him, the smaller the chance he has to get away with anything like that, the prelate thought.
Waiting for word wasn't easy. It never was. Rhavas tried to keep doing what he did every day, but routine had no flavor for him. He might have been mired in mud. Skopentzana, meanwhile, hurried toward high summer like a lover running to meet his beloved. Days stretched and stretched. The sun rose early in the far northeast and set late in the far southwest. During the brief nights, full darkness hardly came. There was always a hint of twilight in the north.
People said that in the Haloga country, farther north still, the twilight was even brighter, so that a man could read a book at midnight—not that many Halogai could read at any hour of the day or night. People even said that in the far north of Halogaland the sun never set at all during high summer, but skimmed low above the northern horizon and then began to climb again.
Rhavas didn't know whether to believe that. For one thing, it seemed unnatural. But if the sun stayed in the summer sky longer in Skopentzana than in Videssos the city—which it surely did—why shouldn't it stay there all day if one traveled farther north still?
Why? The prelate's chief objection wasn't natural but theological. As long as the sun lingered here in summer, it barely dared show its face come wintertime. On Midwinter's Day, the day of the solstice (and a great festival all over the Empire), it poked its nose up over the horizon, scuttled across the southernmost sky, and then sank again. The prayers that went up hereabouts to save the sun from Skotos were uncommonly sincere.