The journey across the land of the Thousand Cities showed the scars the Videssian incursion had left behind. Several hills were topped by charred ruins, not living towns. Soon, Abivard vowed, those towns would live again. If he had anything to say about it, money and artisans from the Videssian westlands would help make sure they lived again-that appealed to his sense of justice.
Whether he would have anything to say about it remained to be seen. The letter summoning him to Mashiz hadn't been so petulant as some of the missives he'd gotten from Sharbaraz. That might mean the King of Kings was grateful he'd kept Maniakes from sacking the capital. On the other hand, it might also mean Sharbaraz was dissembling and wanted him back in Mashiz before doing whatever dreadful things he would do.
As usual, Roshnani thought along with him. When she asked what he thought awaited them in Mashiz, he shrugged and answered, «No way to judge till we get there.» She nodded, if not satisfied, then at least knowing that she knew as much as her husband.
They crossed the Tib on a bridge of boats that the operator dragged back to the western bank of the river after they went over it. That sort of measure was intended to make life difficult for invaders. Abivard doubted it would have thwarted Maniakes long.
After they left the land of the Thousand Cities, they went up into the foothills of the Dilbat Mountains toward Mashiz. Varaz said, «They're not going to lock us up in one suite of rooms through the whole winter again, are they, Father?»
«I hope not,» Abivard answered truthfully, «but I don't know for certain.»
«They'd better not,» Varaz declared, and Shahin nodded.
«I wish they wouldn't, too,» Abivard said, «but if they do, what can you do about it-aside from driving everyone crazy, I mean?»
«What we should do,» Varaz said, with almost the force of someone having a religious revelation, «is drive the palace servants and the guards crazy, not you and Mother and-» He spoke with the air of one yielding a great concession."-our sisters.»
«If I told you I thought that an excellent plan, I would probably be guilty of lese majesty in some obscure way, and I don't want that,» Abivard said, «so of course I won't tell you any such thing.» He set a finger alongside his nose and winked. Both his sons laughed conspiratorial laughs.
There ahead stood the great shrine dedicated to the God. Abivard had seen the High Temple in Videssos the city at a shorter remove, though here no water screened him from reaching the shrine if he so desired. Again, whether Sharbaraz' minions would keep him from the shrine was a different matter.
Away from the army, Abivard was just another traveler entering Mashiz. No one paid any special attention to his wagon, which was but one of many clogging the narrow streets of the city. Drivers whose progress he impeded cursed him with great gusto.
Abivard had studied from afar the palaces in Videssos the city. They sprawled over an entire district, buildings set among trees and lawns and gardens. But then, as he knew all too well, Videssos the city was a fortress, the mightiest fortress in the world. Mashiz was not so lucky, and the palace of the King of Kings had to double as a citadel.
The wheels of the wagon rattled and clattered off the cobbles of the open square surrounding the wall around the palace. As he had the winter before, Abivard identified himself to the guards at the gate. As before, the valves of the gate swung wide to let him and his family come in, then closed with a thud that struck him as ominous.
And as before, and even more ominously, grooms led the horses away from the stables, while a fat eunuch in a caftan shot through with silver threads took charge of Pashang. The wagon driver sent Abivard a look of piteous appeal. «Where are you taking him?» Abivard demanded.
«Where he belongs,» the eunuch answered, sexless voice chillier than the cutting breeze that blew dead brown leaves over the cobbles.
«Swear by the God you are not taking him to the dungeon,» Abivard said.
«It is no business of yours where he goes,» the eunuch told him.
«I choose to make it my business.» Abivard set a hand on the hilt of his sword. Even as he made the gesture, he knew how foolish it was. If the eunuch so much as lifted a finger, the palace guards would kill him. Sharbaraz would probably reward them for doing it
The finger remained unlifted. The eunuch licked his lips; his tongue was very pink against the pale, unweathered flesh of his face. He looked from Abivard to Pashang and back again. At last he said, «Very well. He shall dwell in the stables with your horses. By the God, I swear that to be true; may it drop me into the Void if I lie. There. Are you satisfied?»
«I am satisfied,» Abivard answered formally. Men used masculine pronouns when speaking of the God, women feminine; it had never occurred to Abivard that eunuchs would refer to him-for so Abivard conceived of his deity-in the neuter gender. He turned to Pashang. «Make sure they feed you something better than oats.»
«The God go with you and keep you safe, lord,» Pashang said, and started to prostrate himself as if Abivard were King of Kings. With a snort of disgust the eunuch hauled him to his feet and led him away. Pashang waved clumsily, like a bear trained to do as much in hopes of winning a copper or two.
Another eunuch emerged from the stone fastness of the palace. «You will come with me,» he announced to Abivard.
«Will I?» Abivard murmured. But that question had only one possible answer. His family trailing behind him, he did follow the servitor into the beating heart of the kingdom of Makuran.
He knew-knew only too well-every turn and passageway that would lead him to the suite where he and his family had been politely confined the winter before. As soon as the eunuch turned left instead of right, he breathed a long if silent sigh of relief. He glanced over to Roshnani. She was doing the same thing.
The chambers to which the fellow did lead them were in a wing far closer to the throne room than the place they had been before. Abivard would have taken that as a better sign had not two tall, muscular men in mail shirts and plume-crested helms stood in front of the doorway.
«Are we prisoners here?» he demanded of the eunuch.
«No,» that worthy replied. «These men are but your guard of honor.»
Abivard plucked a hair from his beard as he thought that over. The winter before no one in the palace had pretended he was anything but a prisoner. That had had the virtue of honesty, if no other. Would Sharbaraz lie, though, if he thought it served his purpose? The answer seemed obvious enough.
«Supposed we go in there,» Abivard said. «Then suppose we want to come out and walk through the halls of the palace here. What would the guards do? On your oath by the God.»
Before answering, the eunuch held a brief, low-voiced colloquy with the soldiers. «They tell me,» he said carefully, «that if you came out for a stroll, as you say, one of them would accompany you while the other remained on guard in front of your door. By the God, lord, that is what they say.»
The guardsmen nodded and gestured with their left hands to confirm his words. «We have no choice,» Roshnani said. She had picked up Gulshahr, who was tired from all the walking she'd done.
«You're right,» Abivard said, though there had been that unspoken choice: rebelling rather than coming to Mashiz a second time after what had happened before. But rebellion was no longer possible, not here, not now. Lion trainers, to thrill a crowd, would stick their heads into the mouths of their beasts day after day. But the lions they worked with were tame. One could form a pretty good notion of what they would do from day to day. With Sharbaraz-
«Does it suit you, lord?» the eunuch asked.