«Of course it is,» Roshnani said. «Women's quarters were a mistake from the beginning. I wish Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, would outlaw them altogether.»
«Yes, by the God!» the city governor's wife exclaimed. «May she plant that idea firmly in his Majesty's mind and heart.»
A little farther down the low table Turan, the commander of the troopers escorting Abivard and his family, choked on his date wine. «Sweeter than I'm used to,» he wheezed, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his caftan.
That was true; Abivard found the sticky stuff cloying, too. He didn't think it was why Turan had swallowed wrong. Some nobles did ape Sharbaraz and himself and give their principal wives more freedom than upper-crust Makuraner women had customarily enjoyed. Others, though, muttered darkly about degeneration. Abivard did not think he would have to guess twice to figure out into which camp the escort commander fell.
They crossed the Tib on a bridge of boats much like the one they'd used to cross the Tutub and enter the land between the rivers. Only a narrow strip of cultivated land ran along the western bank of the Tib. Canals could not reach far there, for the country soon began to slope up toward the Dilbat Mountains in whose foothills sat Mashiz.
Abivard pointed to the city and the smoke rising from it. «That's where we're going,» he said. His children squealed excitedly. To them Mashiz was more nearly a legend than Videssos the city. They'd seen the capital of the Empire of Videssos misted in sea haze on the far side of the Cattle Crossing. Mashiz was new and therefore fascinating.
«That's where we're going,» Roshnani agreed quietly. «How we'll come out again is another matter.»
To enter Mashiz the cavalrymen escorting Abivard and his family donned their armor and decked their horses out in chamfrons and iron-studded blankets, too. They carried the lances that had stayed bundled in the bed of a wagon since they'd crossed the Tutub. It was a fine warlike display, making Abivard seem to be returning to the capital of his homeland in triumph. He wished reality were a better match for appearance.
People stared at the jingling martial procession that hurried through the streets toward the palace of the King of Kings. Some pointed, some cheered, and some loudly wondered what was being celebrated and why. Even when the horsemen shouted out Abivard's name, not everyone knew who he was. So much for fame, he thought with wry amusement.
In the market squares his escort had to slow from a trot to a walk. They fumed, but Abivard took that as a good sign. If so many people were buying and selling things that they crowded the squares, Makuran had to be prosperous.
The palace of the King of Kings was different from its equivalent in Videssos the city, which Abivard had so often watched with longing. The Avtokrator of the Videssians and his court had a good many buildings scattered among lawns and groves. Here in Mashiz, the King of Kings' palace lay all under one roof, with a dark stone wall surrounding it and turning it into a citadel in the heart of the city.
To preserve the out wall's military usefulness, the square around it was bare of buildings for a bowshot. When Smerdis the usurper had held Mashiz, Abivard had fought his way to the palace against soldiers and sorcery. Now, years later, summoned by the man he'd helped place on the throne, he approached with hardly less apprehension.
«Who comes?» called a sentry from above the gates. Oh, he knew, but the forms had to be observed.
«Abivard son of Godarz, returned to Mashiz from Videssos and Vaspurakan at the order of Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase.»
«Enter, Abivard son of Godarz, obedient to the command of Sharbaraz King of Kings,» the sentry said. He called to the gate crew. With squeaks from hinges that needed oiling, the gates swung open. Abivard entered the palace.
Almost at once an army of servitors swarmed upon and overwhelmed his little army of warriors. Stablemen and grooms vanquished the riders. They waited impatiently for the cavalrymen to dismount so they could lead the horses off to the stables. Their armored riders accompanied them, reduced to near impotence by having to use their own legs to move from one place to another.
Higher-ranking servants saw to Abivard and Roshnani. A plump eunuch said, «If you will please to come with me, brother-in-law to the King of Kings, yes, with your excellent family, of course. Oh, yes,» he went on, answering a question Abivard had been on the point of asking, «your conveyance and your driver will be attended to: you have the word of Sekandar upon it.» He preened slightly so they would know he was Sekandar.
«How soon will we be able to see the King of Kings?» Abivard asked as the chamberlain led them into the palace itself.
«That is for the puissant Sharbaraz, may his years be many and his realm increase, to judge,» Sekandar answered.
Abivard nodded and kept on following the eunuch but worried down where-he hoped-it did not show. If the King of Kings seldom left the palace and listened to the advice of Sekandar and others like him, how could he have any notion of what was true? Once, Sharbaraz had been a fighting man who led fighting men and took pleasure in their company. Now… Would he even acknowledge who Abivard was?
The apartment in which the eunuch installed Abivard and his family was luxurious past anything he had known in Videssos, and it was luxury of a familiar sort, not the icons and hard furniture of the Empire. Carpets into which his feet sank deep lay on the floor; thick, fat cushions were scattered in the corners of the rooms to support one's back while sitting. They had other uses, too; Varaz grabbed one and clouted Shahin with it. Shahin picked up his own, using it first for defense, then for offense.
«They're used to chairs,» Abivard said. «They won't know how comfortable this can be till they try it for a while.»
Roshnani was speaking to her sons in standard tones of exasperation. «Try not to tear the palace down around our ears quite yet, if you please.» She seamlessly made a shift in subject to reply to her husband: «No, they won't.» As if making a shameful confession, she added, «Nor will I, as a matter of fact. I got to like chairs a good deal. My knee clicks and my back crackles whenever I have to get up from the floor.»
«So Videssos corrupted you, too?» Abivard asked, not quite joking.
«Life in the Empire could be very pleasant,» his wife answered as if defying him to deny it. «Our food is better, but they do more with the rest of life than we do.»
«Hmm,» Abivard said. «My backside starts turning to stone if I sit in a chair too long. I don't know; I think their towns are madhouses myself, far worse than Mashiz or any of the Thousand Cities. They're too fast, too busy, too set on getting ahead even if they have to cheat to do it. Those are all the complaints we've had about Videssians for hundreds of years, and if you ask me, they're all true.»
Roshnani didn't seem to feel like arguing the point. She looked at the chambers in which the palace servitors had established them. «We are going nowhere, fast or slow; the God knows we shan't be busy, and the only way we can get ahead is if the King of Kings should will it.»
«As is true of anyone in Makuran,» Abivard said loudly for the benefit of anyone in Makuran who might be listening. Without seeming to, though, his wife had not only won the argument but pointed out that, palace though this might be for Sharbaraz, for Abivard and his kin it was a prison.
Winter dragged on, one storm following another till it looked as if the world would stay cold and icy forever. With each passing day Abivard came more and more to realize how right Roshnani had been.