Abivard read through the last few lines several times. They still said what they had the first time he'd read them. Had Sharbaraz King of Kings had any true familial feelings for him, he would have put that news at the head of the letter and let all the rest wait. Had he followed the advice of Yeliif and those like him, though, he probably wouldn't have let Abivard know of his unclehood at all. It was a compromise, then—not a good one, as far as Abivard was concerned, but not the worst, either.
Sharbaraz' messenger, who had ridden along with him while he read the letter from the King of Kings, now asked him, as messengers were trained to do, «Is there a reply, lord? If you write it, I will deliver it to the King of Kings; if you tell it to me, he will have it as you speak it.»
«Yes, there is a reply. I will speak it, if you don't mind,» Abivard said. The messenger nodded and looked attentive. «Tell Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, I have driven Maniakes from the land of the Thousand Cities. And tell him I thank him for the other news as well.» He fumbled in his belt pouch, pulled out a Videssian goldpiece with Likinios Avtokrator's face on it, and handed it to the messenger. «You men get blamed too often for the bad news you bring, so here is a reward for good news.»
«Thank you, lord, and the God bless you for your kindness,» the messenger said. He repeated Abivard's message to make sure he had it right, then kicked his horse up into a trot and headed back toward Mashiz with the reply.
For his part, Abivard wheeled his horse and rode to the wagons that traveled with the army. When he saw Pashang, he waved. Abivard then called for Roshnani. When she came out of the covered rear area and sat beside Pashang, Abivard handed the letter to her.
She read through it rapidly. He could tell when she came to the last few sentences, because she took one hand off the parchment, made a fist, and slammed it down on her leg. «That's the best news we've had in years!» she exclaimed. «In years, I tell you.»
«What news is this, mistress?» Pashang asked. Roshnani told him of the birth of the new Peroz. The driver beamed. «That is good news.» He nodded to Abivard. «Congratulations, lord—or should I say uncle to the King of Kings to be?»
«Don't say that,» Abivard answered earnestly. «Don't even think it. If you do, Sharbaraz will get wind of it, and then we'll get to enjoy another winter at the palace, packed as full of delight and good times as the last two we had in Mashiz.»
Pashang's hand twisted in the gesture Makuraners used to turn aside evil omens. «I'll not say it again any time soon, lord, I promise you that.» He repeated the gesture; that first winter in Makuran had been far harder on him than on Abivard and his family.
Roshnani held out the letter to Abivard, who took it back from her. «The rest of this isn't so bad, either,» she said.
«I know,» he said, and lowering his voice so that only she and Pashang could hear, he added, «It's so good, in fact, I almost wonder whether Sharbaraz truly wrote it.»
His principal wife and the driver both smiled and nodded, as if they'd been thinking the same thing. Roshnani said, «Having a son and heir come into the world is liable to do wonders for anyone's disposition. I remember how you were after Varaz was born, for instance.»
«Oh?» Abivard said in a tone that might have sounded ominous to anyone who didn't know him and Roshnani well. «And how was I?»
«Dazed and pleased,» she answered; looking back on it, he decided she was probably right. Pointing to the parchment, she went on, «The man who wrote that letter is about as dazed and pleased as Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, ever lets himself get.»
«You're right,» Abivard said in some surprise; he hadn't looked at it like that. Poor bastard, he thought. He would have said that to Roshnani, but he didn't want Pashang to hear it, so he kept quiet.
Peasants in loincloths labored in the fields around the Thousand Cities, some of them bringing in the crops, others busy repairing the canals the Videssians had wrecked. Abivard wondered, with a curiosity slightly greater than idle, how the peasants would have gone about repairing the half twist Maniakes' mages had given that one canal.
No one in the land of the Thousand Cities came rushing out from the cities or in from the fields to clasp his hand and congratulate him for what he had done. He hadn't expected anyone to do that, so he wasn't disappointed. Annies got no credit from the people in whose land they fought.
Khimillu, city governor of Qostabash, the leading town the Videssians had not sacked in the area, turned red under his swarthy skin when Abivard proposed garrisoning troops there for the winter. «This is an outrage!» he thundered in a fine, deep voice. «What with the war, we are poor. How are we to support these men gobbling our food and fondling our women?»
However impressive Khimillu's voice, he was a short, plump man, a native of the Thousand Cities. That let Abivard look down his nose at him. «If you don't want to feed them, I suppose they'll just have to go away,» he said, using a ploy that had proved effective in the land of the Thousand Cities. «Then, next winter, you can explain to Maniakes why you don't feel like feeding his troopers—if he hasn't burned this town down around your ears by then.»
But Khimillu, unlike some other city governors, was made of stern stuff despite his unprepossessing appearance. «You will not do such a thing. You cannot do such a thing,» he declared. Again unlike other city governors, he sounded unbluffably certain.
That being so, Abivard did not try to bluff him. Instead he said, «Maybe not. Here is what I can do, though: I can write to my brother-in-law, Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase, and tell him exactly how you are obstructing my purpose here. Have one of your scribes bring me pen and ink and parchment; the letter can be on its way inside the hour. Does that suit you better, Khimillu?»
If the city governor had gone red before, he went white now. Abivard would not have had the stomach to endanger all of Qostabash because of his obstinacy. Getting rid of an obstreperous official, though, wouldn't affect the rest of the town at all. «Very well, lord,» Khimillu said, suddenly remembering—or at least acknowledging—Abivard outranked him. «It shall be as you say, of course. I merely wanted to be certain you understood the predicament you face here.»
«Of course you did,» Abivard said. In another tone of voice that would have been polite agreement. As things were, he had all but called Khimillu a liar to his face. With some thousands of men at his back, he did not need to appease a city governor who cared nothing for those men once they had done him the services he had expected of them.
Blood rose once more to Khimillu's face. Red, white, red—he might have done for the colors of Makuran. Abivard wondered whether he should hire a taster to check his meals for as long as he stayed in Qostabash. In a tight voice the city governor said, «You could spread your men around through more cities hereabouts if the Videssians hadn't burned so many.»
«We don't work miracles,» Abivard answered. «All we do is the best we can. Your town is intact, and the Videssians have been driven away.»
«Small thanks to you,» Khimillu said. «For a very long time the Videssians were near, and you far away. Had they stretched out their hands toward Qostabash, it would have fallen like a date from a tree.»
«It may yet fall like a date from a tree,» Abivard said. The city governor's complaint had just enough truth in it to sting. Abivard had done his best to be everywhere at once between the Tutub and the Tib, but his best had not always been good enough. Still– «We are going to garrison soldiers here this winter, the better to carry on the war against Videssos when spring comes. If you try to keep us from doing that, I promise: you and this city will have cause to regret it.»