The patriarch said, "Not only do we seek thy blessing, Phos, we also humbly send up to thee our thanks for returning to us Phostis son of Krispos, heir to the throne of Videssos, and granting him thine aid through all the troubles he has so bravely endured."
"He's never been humble in his life, surely not since he donned the blue boots," Phostis murmured to Olyvria.
"Hush," she murmured back; the Temple had her in its spell.
Oxeites went on, "Surely, lord with the great and good mind, thou also viewest with favor the ending of the Empire's trial of heresy, and the way in which its passing was symbolized by the recent union of the young Majesty and his lovely bride."
A spattering of applause rose from the assembled worshipers, vigorously led by Krispos. Phostis was convinced Oxeites would not know a symbol if it reached up and yanked him by the beard; he suspected the Avtokrator of putting words in his patriarch's mouth.
"We thank thee. Phos, for thy blessings of peace and prosperity, and once more for the restoration of the young Majesty to the bosom of his family and to Videssos the city," Oxeites said in ringing tones.
The choir burst into song again. When the hymn was finished, the patriarch dismissed the congregation: the thanksgiving service was not a full and formal liturgy. Phostis blinked against the late summer sun as he walked down the broad, wide stairs outside the High Temple. Katakolon poked him in the ribs and said, "The only bosom you care about in your family is Olyvria's."
"By the good god, you're shameless," Phostis said. He couldn't help laughing, even so. Because Katakolon had no malice in him, he could get away with outrages that would have landed either of his brothers in trouble.
In the courtyard outside the High Temple, people of rank insufficient to get them into the thanksgiving service cheered as Phostis came down from the steps and walked over to his horse. He waved to them, all the while wondering how many had shouted for the gleaming path not long before.
The Haloga guard who held the horse's head said, "You talk to your god only a little while today." He sounded approving, or at least relieved.
Phostis handed Olyvria up onto her mount, then swung into the saddle himself. The Halogai formed up around the imperial party for the return to the palaces. Olyvria rode at Phostis' left.
To his right was Evripos. His older younger brother curled his lip and said, "You're back. Hurrah." Then he looked straight ahead and seemed to concentrate solely on his horsemanship.
"Wait a minute," Phostis said harshly. "I'm sick of cracks like that from you. If you wanted me to be gone and stay gone, you had your chance to do something about it."
"I told you then, I don't have that kind of butchery in me." Evripos answered.
"Well then, quit talking to me as if you wish you did."
That made Evripos look his way again, though still without anything that could be called friendliness. "Brother of mine, just because I won't shed blood of my blood, that doesn't mean I want to clasp you to my bosom, if I can steal the patriarch's phrase."
"That's not enough," Phostis said.
"It's all I care, to make it," Evripos answered.
"It's not enough, I tell you," Phostis said, which succeeded in gaining Evripos' undivided attention. Phostis went on, "One of these days, if I live, I'm going to wear the red boots. Unless Olyvria and I have a son of our own, you'll be next in line for them. Even if we do, he'd be small for a long time. The day may come when you decide blood doesn't matter, or maybe you'll think you can just shave my head and pack me off to a monastery: you'd get the throne and salve your tender conscience at the same time."
Evripos scowled. "I wouldn't do that. As you said, I had my chance."
"You wouldn't do it now," Phostis returned. "What about ten years from now, or twenty, when you feel you can't stand being second in line for another heartbeat? Or what happens if I decide I can't trust you to stay in your proper place? I might strike first, little brother. Did you ever think of that?"
Evripos was good at using his face to mask his thoughts. But Phostis had watched him all his life, and saw he'd succeeded in surprising him. The surprise faded quickly. Evripos studied Phostis as closely as he was studied in turn. Slowly, he said, "You've changed." It sounded like an accusation.
"Have I, now?" Phostis tried to keep anything but the words themselves from his voice.
"Aye, you have." It was accusation. "Before you got kidnapped, you didn't have the slightest notion what you were for, what you wanted. You knew what you were against—"
"Anything that had to do with Father," Phostis interrupted.
"Just so," Evripos agreed with a thin smile. "But being against is easy. Finding, knowing, what you truly do want is harder."
"You know what you want," Olyvria put in.
"Of course I do," Evripos said. The red boots hung unspoken in the air. "But it looks like I can't have that. And now that Phostis knows what he wants, too, and what it means to him, it makes him ever so much more dangerous to me than he was before."
"So it does," Phostis said. "You can do one of two things about it, as far as I can see: you can try to take me out, which you say you don't want to do, or you can work with me. We spoke of that before I got kidnapped; maybe you remember. You scoffed at me then. Do you sing a different tune now? The second man in all the Empire can find or make a great part for himself."
"But it's not the first part," Evripos said.
"I know that's what you want," Phostis answered, saying it for his brother. "If you look one way, you see one person ahead of you. But if you look in the other direction, you see everyone else behind. Isn't that enough?"
Enough to make Evripos thoughtful, at any rate. When he answered, "It's not what I want," the words lacked the hostility with which he'd spoken before.
Krispos rode ahead of the younger members of the imperial family. As he clattered down the cobblestones in front of the government office building where Digenis had been confined, a man strolling along the sidewalk sang out, "Phos bless you, your Majesty!" Krispos sent him a wave and kept on riding.
"That's what I want." Now Evripos' voice ached with envy. "Who's going to cheer a general or a minister? It's the Avtokrator who gets the glory, by the good god."
"He gets the blame, too," Phostis pointed out. "If I could, I'd give you all the glory, Evripos; for all I care, it can go straight to the ice. But there's more to running the Empire than having people cheer you in the streets. I didn't take it seriously before I got snatched, but my eyes have been opened since then."
He wondered if that would mean anything to his brother. It seemed to, for Evripos said, "So have mine. Don't forget, I was running Videssos the city while Father went on campaign. Even without the riots, I'll not deny that was a great bloody lot of work. All jots and tittles and parchments that didn't mean anything till you'd read them five times, and sometimes not then."
Phostis nodded. He often wondered if he wanted to walk in Krispos' footsteps and pore over documents into the middle of the night. That, surely, was why the Empire of Videssos had developed so large and thorough a bureaucracy over the centuries: to keep the Avtokrator from having to shoulder such burdens.
As if Krispos had spoken aloud, Phostis heard his opinion of that: Aye, and if you let the pen-pushers and seal-stampers run affairs without checking up on them, how do you know when they're bungling things or cheating you? The good god knows we need them, and he also knows they need someone looking over them. Anthimos almost brought the Empire to ruin because he wouldn't attend to his ruling.
"I wouldn't be Anthimos," Phostis protested, just as if Krispos had spoken out loud. Olyvria, Evripos, and Katakolon all gave him curious looks. He felt his cheeks heat.