The other king noticed. That told Grus how nervous he must have been, for Lanius failed to notice a good many things. "What is troubling you?" Lanius asked. "You should be happy. If you're not happy now, seeing what you did south of the Stura, when will you be?"
"It's because of what I did south of the Stura that I'm not so happy now," Grus answered. Lanius looked baffled. Grus glanced around. You never could tell when a servant might be listening – or when someone else might be listening through a servant's ears. "Where can we talk without being overheard?" "Why, the archives, of course," Lanius said. Grus laughed, more in surprise than for any other reason. The archives weren't of course to him; he could count on the fingers of one hand the times he'd gone into them since becoming king. But that didn't mean Lanius was wrong. "Let's go, then."
Men bowed and women dropped curtsies as the two kings walked through the palace. Grus nodded back. So did Lanius, when he happened to see them – which was about half the time. The younger king chatted about this and that till he closed the heavy doors to the archives behind himself and Grus. Then his attention sharpened. "Well?" he asked.
Before answering, Grus looked up at the smeared skylights. The piles and crates of documents, the dusty sunshine, the musty smell… Yes, this was a place that suited Lanius. The other king belonged here, the way Grus belonged on the deck of a river galley. This was where Lanius would be at his best. Grus repeated, "Because of what I did south of the Stura." He went on, "Now I have to wonder what the Banished One will do on account of it."
"Ah." Lanius might be vague when it came to people, but not to something like that. "Do you think we'll have another one of those unnatural winters? Shall we start laying in extra grain again?"
"It wouldn't be a bad idea," Grus replied. "Or he might do something different. A pestilence, maybe. Maybe something else. No way to tell what, not until it happens. But something."
He waited to see what Lanius thought. Yes, the other king might be blind to a lot of the human drama that went on around him, but he was nobody's fool. He said, "I think you're likely to be right. And I wish I could tell you that you were likely to be wrong."
"So do I," Grus said.
"What does Pterocles think of this?" Lanius asked.
"That I'm likely to be right," Grus answered.
"Anything more? Does he have some better notion of what the Banished One might try?"
"He was the one who thought of a plague," Grus said. "Past that, no." He waved an arm, encompassing the archives in a single gesture. "Can you tell me more, Your Majesty? You know things nobody else does."
"I doubt that. But here, sometimes, I can find things other people have trouble finding," Lanius said. "And if I can't find them here, sometimes I can find them in the archives under the cathedral." Even here, where no one else could possibly be spying, he warily looked around before mouthing a single word: "Milvago."
Grus had known he would name that name. So the Banished One had been called before he was cast down from the heavens. He had fathered the gods who later ousted him. He had been the mightiest god in the heavens – until he wasn't anymore. If he ever found a way to use the Scepter of Mercy instead of just holding it… In that case, Avornis wouldn't have to worry about anything as trivial as an ice-filled winter that lasted into spring or a pestilence.
Sighing, Grus said, "Well, see what you can learn. I'll do the same, and so will Pterocles. And we'll find out what happens. That's liable to teach us more than we can learn any other way."
Lanius looked unhappy, almost unhappy enough to tempt Grus into a smile. The other king wasn't much for learning by experience. He wanted to find answers written down somewhere. That handbook on kingship he'd written for Prince Crex… Grus had glanced at it. It held a lot of information – and a lot of good advice, too. But so what? So much of the advice was only good if you had the experience to understand it… in which case you probably didn't need it.
A scratching noise came from somewhere deep within the archives. Grus started in alarm. Maybe that was a mouse or a rat – if this place wasn't a paradise for mice, he'd never seen one that was. But maybe it was something else. Maybe it was the Banished One somehow spying on him and Lanius across all these miles. Grus didn't know if that was possible. Better, though, with the Banished One, to take no chances.
Then, to his amazement, Lanius started to laugh. Grus realized the other king recognized the noise, whatever it was. "I think you'd better tell me what's going on," Grus said carefully.
"I'll do more than that," Lanius replied. "I'll show you." He amazed Grus again by lying down on his back on one of the less dusty stretches of floor. Then he started thumping on his chest as though he were beating a drum. Grus wondered if he'd lost his mind.
But he hadn't. A moncat came strolling up and climbed onto his chest. Lanius had a scrap of meat handy, and gave it to the animal. Grus gaped. He said, "Now I've seen everything."
"Oh, this is nothing special. Pouncer gets in here every once in a while, and into other places where I need meat to lure him out." Lanius sounded elaborately casual. "So I usually carry a few scraps with me. I have to remember to get fresh ones pretty often. Otherwise, he doesn't want them."
"I see," Grus said. "I meant to ask you about some of the things you've been spending money on. I've heard about an animal trainer, an architect, and quite a few workmen. What haven't I heard about?"
"Why I'm doing it," Lanius answered, stroking Pouncer behind the ears. The moncat purred loudly.
"All right. Why?"
Lanius went on petting and scratching the moncat as he talked. The longer Grus listened, the more astonished he got. At last, the other king finished by asking, "What do you think?"
"What do I think?" Grus echoed. Lanius had told him a little of this the winter before, but only a little. Now that he'd heard it all, he thought he'd really heard it all. He said, "I think it's crazy, that's what. What could anybody who heard something like this think?"
"Now I'll tell you something you don't know," Lanius said. "Not long after we started this, the Banished One sent Collurio a dream."
Grus had to take that seriously. The Banished One sent dreams only to those who worried him. Some of the enemies who'd struck him heavy blows never saw him in their sleep. Hirundo was one of those, and had no idea how lucky he was. Grus whistled softly, trying to take this in. "He sent dreams… to an animal trainer?"
"By Olor's beard, Your Majesty, he did." Lanius might have been taking an oath. His use of the royal title impressed Grus much more than his calling on the current king of the gods.
Grus said, "He didn't send one to the builder, though?"
"Not yet, at any rate," the other king said. "The builder knows less of what's going on than the trainer does. He would also be easier to replace than the trainer. That all makes him less essential and less dangerous."
"You've thought this through, haven't you?" Grus laughed at himself. Of course Lanius had thought it through; that was what Lanius did best. Grus aimed a forefinger at the other king as though it were an arrow. "You can't tell me the builder is less expensive than the trainer, by the gods. Oh, you can, but I won't believe you."
"I won't even try. You'd know I was lying. Here, wait – I'll stop lying." He got up off the floor, still holding Pouncer. Grus made a horrible face. Lanius continued, "Even if he is more expensive, we need him. Will you tell me I'm wrong about that?"
"I'll tell you that you could be wrong," Grus said. Lanius considered that in his usual grave fashion, then slowly nodded. But Grus felt he had to add, "You could be right, too. We'll find out. I hope we'll find out. In the meantime… In the meantime, you'd better go on."