"How about eleven goldpice?" Krispos suggested when their inspiration began to flag. "It's not a perfect rhyme—"
"It is if you write it that way," Anthimos said, so Krispos did.
"Your Majesty, could I get you to think on something else about these chances for a moment?" Krispos asked. At the Emperor's nod, he went on, "You might want to give them out to the entertainers along with your guests. They're not rich; think how overjoyed they'd be to pick one of the good chances."
Anthimos' answering smile was not altogether pleasant. "Yes, and think how downcast they'd be if they didn't. That could be amusing, too. We'll give it a try."
Krispos knew he hadn't got his way for the reason he wanted, but he'd got it. Some of the jugglers and musicians and courtesans would end up better off, and even the ones who came away from the chances disappointed would actually be in no worse state than before, he told himself.
"What's next?" the Avtokrator asked.
"I am given to understand a new Makuraner embassy has come to the city," Krispos said carefully. "If you cared to, I suppose you could meet the high ambassador."
Anthimos yawned. "Another time, perhaps. Petronas will tend to them. That's his proper function, seeing to such tiresome details."
"As you wish, your Majesty." Krispos did not press the issue. He'd done his best to make the meeting sound dull. He knew Petronas wanted to keep his own hands firmly on the Empire's relations with its neighbors.
Instead of meeting with the Makuraner high ambassador, Anthimos went to the Amphitheater. He ate the coarse, greasy food the vendors sold there; he drank rough wine from a cracked clay cup; he awarded five hundred goldpieces to a driver who'd brought his chariot from the back of the pack to first in the last couple of laps. The crowd cheered his generosity. It all worked well enough, Krispos thought; they had a symbol, Anthimos had fun, and Petronas had the government.
And what do I have? Krispos wondered. Part of the answer was plain enough: good food, good lodging, even the ear of the Avtokrator of the Videssians—for such matters as chances at revels, anyhow. All that was marvelously better than the nothing with which he'd arrived at Videssos the city a few years before.
He was discovering, though, that the more he had, the more he wanted. He'd read two or three chronicles of the Empire's past. None of them recorded the name of a single vestiarios.
A few days later, Anthimos went hunting. Krispos stayed behind. Running the imperial residence, even with the Emperor absent, was a full-time job. He was not unduly surprised when Eroulos came by a little before noon. This time Petronas' steward bowed to him. "His Imperial Highness the Sevastokrator would be pleased to take lunch with you, esteemed and eminent sir, your duties permitting."
"Of course." Krispos gave Eroulos a quizzical look. "So you've heard my new title?"
Eroulos sounded surprised that Krispos need ask. "It's my business to hear such things." Petronas had heard it, too. "Ah, the esteemed and eminent vestiarios," he said, bowing back when Krispos went on one knee before him. "Here, have some wine. How fares my nephew?"
"Well enough, Highness," Krispos said. "He showed no great interest in making the acquaintance of the new envoy from Makuran."
"Just as well," Petronas said, scowling. "There will be war soon—if not this year, then the next. Probably next year. I'll have to take the field in person, and to do that, I need you solidly in place with Anthimos so he won't listen to too much nonsense while I'm away from the city in the westlands."
There lay the weakness in Petronas' position, Krispos thought: while he ruled, he was not Videssos' ruler. If Anthimos ever decided to take up the reins of power for himself, or if someone else steered him, the prestige that went with the imperial title might well make officials follow him rather than his uncle.
Krispos said, "I'm glad you place such confidence in me, Highness."
"We've discussed why I do." Petronas suavely changed the subject, "Anthimos' gain is my loss, I'm finding. The stable hands still do their individual work well enough, but there's less overall direction to things without you. I asked Stotzas if he wanted your job, but he turned me down flat."
"He did the same with me when I asked him if he wanted me to mention him to you." Krispos hesitated. "May I suggest someone else?"
"Why not? Whom do you have in mind?"
"How about Mavros? I know he's even younger than I am, but everyone likes him. And he wouldn't be slack; he takes horses seriously. He's more a real horseman than I, as a matter of fact. I got to the point where I knew what I was doing, but he comes by it naturally."
"Hmm." Petronas stroked his beard. At last he said, "You may have something there. He's likelier than anyone I'd thought of, at any rate. I'll see what Eroulos has to say; he's not Mavros' personal friend, as you are. If he thinks the youngster will answer, I may well give him a try. My thanks."
"I'm pleased to help, even if I'm not part of your household any more." Krispos doubted Eroulos would have anything bad to say about Mavros. All the same, he took note of Petronas caution. Knowing Krispos' advice was not disinterested, the Sevastokrator would not move until he heard some that was.
Another bit of business worth remembering, Krispos thought. He wondered if he'd ever have a chance to use it.
The chance came sooner than he'd expected. A few days later, he received a letter from a certain Ypatios, asking if the two of them could meet to "discuss matters of mutual interest." Krispos had never heard of Ypatios. Some discreet inquiry among the eunuchs let him find out that the fellow headed a large trading house. Krispos arranged a meeting at the imperial residence on an afternoon when Anthimos was watching the chariots.
Barsymes ushered Ypatios into the antechamber where Krispos sat waiting. The man bowed. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, esteemed sir," he began, and then stopped, seeming to notice Krispos' beard for the first time. "I meant no offense by that title, I want you to know. You are vestiarios, after all, but I see—"
"I'm usually styled 'esteemed and eminent.' " This routine, Krispos realized, was one he'd need to get used to.
Ypatios quickly recovered his poise. " 'Esteemed and eminent' it is. Very good." The merchant was about fifty, well fed and shrewd-looking. "As I said in my letter, esteemed and eminent sir, I believe we have interests in common."
"You said so," Krispos agreed. "You didn't say what they were, though."
"One can never tell who all reads a letter," Ypatios said. "Let me explain: my sons and I specialize in importing fine furs from the kingdom of Agder. For some time his Imperial Majesty, may his years be many, has had under consideration a law to lower the import duties upon such furs. His favorable action upon this law would, I'll not deny, work to our advantage."
"Would it?" Krispos steepled his fingertips. He began to see in which quarter the wind lay.
Ypatios nodded solemnly. "It would indeed. And my sons and I are prepared to be generous in our appreciation. As you are in such intimate contact with his Imperial Majesty, surely you might find occasion to suggest a course of action to him. Our own humble requests, expressed in written form, perhaps have not had the good fortune to come under his eyes."
"Maybe not," Krispos said. It occurred to him that even had Anthimos been the most conscientious ruler Videssos ever knew, he would have had trouble staying up with all the minutiae of the Empire. Since Anthimos was anything but, he undoubtedly had never seen the law he was supposed to be considering. Krispos went on, "Why are the duties against the furs so high now?"
Ypatios' lip curled in a fine round sneer. "Who can say why stupid laws remain in force? To make beggars of me and my family, I suspect." He did not look as if he'd be whining for crusts on a street corner any time soon. His next words confirmed that. "Still, I might see my way clear to investing twenty pieces of gold to repair the injustice presently on the books."