The freed thrall rode off the next morning. Grus sent a squad of horsemen with him; he didn't want Otus gallivanting over the countryside by himself. Being the first freed thrall might still make him special. Grus didn't want Menteshe raiders grabbing him and taking him away so the Banished One could find out exactly how he'd been freed.
After Otus rode away, Grus forgot about him for a little while. Part of the Avornan army would stay behind in the south to protect the land they'd won this campaigning season. Getting the rest back across the Stura was a large, complicated job. Coping with it, and especially coping with the absence of some barges that should have been there, kept the king busy for several days.
Once the army had crossed, Grus let everyone rest in Anna for a while before pressing on up to the capital. He and Hirundo were making sure everything was going smoothly when Otus walked up to them. With him was a dark, quiet-looking woman. Otus' face lit up whenever he looked at her. He said, "Your Majesty, this is Fulca. My woman." Pride filled his voice.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Fulca," Grus said gravely. "I'm glad you're free."
"Glad to be free." Like any newly liberated thrall, she spoke hesitantly. She hadn't needed many words when she lay under that dark magic. She pointed to Otus. "He knows you? Knows king? Really? Truly?"
"Really. Truly," Grus assured her.
"I told you so," Otus said. By that alone, he and Fulca might have been married for a long time.
She sniffed in response. "Tell all sorts of things. Tell is easy. Tell true? No, tell true not so easy. Even free, not so easy."
Grus was no prophet, no soothsayer. But he would have bet anything he owned that Otus' serving girl in the palace was going to end up disappointed. Fulca had a spark Otus plainly responded to. And that was the way she was now, with the veils of thralldom newly lifted. How she'd be once she really learned to speak, really learned to think.. . How would she be? She'd be formidable, that was how. Grus beamed at Otus. "You did the right thing, deciding to go over there."
Otus beamed back. Grus had let Fulca think coming for her was Otus' idea. A white lie wouldn't hurt here, the king judged. Otus still needed some practice at being a man. As who does not? Grus thought. As who does not, by the gods?
Lanius had often ridden out of the city of Avornis to greet Grus and a returning army. More often than not, he'd been annoyed and resentful at having to help aggrandize the other king. Today, though, he rode out and waited for the army without the least bit of resentment. Considering who – considering what – Grus' principal foe had been, how could he do anything else?
"I want to see the soldiers, Father," Crex said from a pony beside Lanius.
"Soldiers!" Pitta added. Lanius wasn't at all sure she cared about them, but she wasn't going to let her brother get away with anything.
"They'll be here soon," Lanius promised. "Be patient, both of you."
They looked at him as though the word did not belong to the Avornan language. As far as they were concerned, it didn't.
Anser was also there to greet the returning army. Even dressed in the arch-hallow's red robe, he looked as though he would rather be hunting. Sosia and Estrilda had made the journey as well. Grus' daughter and wife talked quietly with each other. Lanius suspected he was lucky he could not hear what they were saying.
Ortalis and Limosa had stayed back at the royal palace. Limosa could use her pregnancy as an excuse for not getting on horseback. Ortalis? Ortalis rarely showed any interest in Grus' campaigns – or in doing anything that would please his father. In a way, that was a relief to Lanius. In another way, he thought it was too bad.
Scouts rode past, saluting Lanius and the rest of the royal family and the arch-hallow – who was also part of the royal family, even if he was on the wrong side of the blanket. More horsemen trotted by. Then Grus came into sight, guardsmen in front of him and behind him, Hirundo on his right, Pterocles on his left. The leading guardsmen reined in. So did Grus, when he was directly in front of Lanius. He inclined his head. "Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty," Lanius echoed. He hated giving Grus the royal title. He did it as seldom as he could. Grus seldom tried to force it from him. Here, though, he didn't see what choice he had. If he insulted Grus by refraining in front of the army, which was the other king's instrument… No good would come of that.
Still speaking formally, Grus went on, "We have taken the arms of Avornis beyond the Stura River. We have defeated the Menteshe in battle. We have taken the city of Trabzun, with many smaller towns. We have freed thralls beyond counting from the evil magic of the Banished One."
Lanius had wondered if he would dare name the exiled god, and admired his nerve for doing so. Lanius also heard the pride under Grus' formality. Like Grus or not, the other king had earned the right to be proud. No King of Avornis since the loss of the Scepter of Mercy could say what he had just said.
"It is well. It is very well," Lanius replied. "All of Avornis rejoices in what you and your men have done."
"I thank you, Your Majesty," Grus said.
"I thank you, Your Majesty," Lanius said. If he was going to give Grus his due, best to give with both hands. He went on, "The kingdom and the city of Avornis have remained at peace behind you." After Grus' vaunting claims, that one seemed small, but it was the most Lanius could offer.
Grus could have mocked him for it. He could have, but he didn't. "That is the best news you could give me, Your Majesty," he said. "May I never hear anything less." Along with Hirundo and Pterocles and the guardsmen, he took his place with Lanius and the other members of the royal family.
Greeting Grus was hard enough for Lanius. Reviewing the soldiers who rode and marched into the capital was harder, in a different way; Lanius had to fight to keep boredom from overwhelming him. One thing court life trained him in, though – not showing what he thought. The men who saluted and received his answering salutes had no idea that he would rather have been almost anywhere else.
At last, there were no more soldiers. Lanius let out a silent sigh of relief. Grus still seemed fresh and resilient. "Shall we go into the city, Your Majesty?" he said.
"Yes, let's." Lanius' voice showed only polite acquiescence, not the quivering eagerness he really felt.
As he and Grus had watched soldiers go by – endlessly – so the people of the capital lined up to watch the royal family and high functionaries return to the palace. Lanius didn't care to have so many people he didn't know staring at him. That was one reason he went out into the city of Avornis only rarely. Being the center of all eyes didn't seem to bother Grus. Hirundo, for his part, reveled in it. He smiled and waved and, whenever he saw a pretty girl, blew kisses.
Under cover of the shouts from the people, Lanius said, "The spell to free the thralls works as it should, then?"
"So it would seem." Grus nodded, partly to Lanius and partly, Lanius thought, to himself. "Yes – so it would seem. Pterocles and the other wizards did a fine job."
"Very glad to hear it," Lanius said. "Next campaigning season, then, you'll… move farther south?" He didn't want to speak of Yozgat, much less of the Scepter of Mercy.
"That's what I have in mind, yes," Grus answered. "I think we'll also have to see what, ah, happens this winter, though."
What the Banished One does, Lanius translated. "What do you think will happen?" he asked.
"I don't know," Grus said. "That's what I told you – we'll just have to see."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Every time a cloud rolled across the sky, Grus worried. Every time rain fell, he frowned. Every time a funeral procession wound through the city of Avornis taking a body to its pyre, he bit his lip. Every time a fire broke out, he grimaced. Every time anything went on, he jumped more nervously than one of Lanius' moncats.