They rode through the open square surrounding the walls of the palace of the King of Kings. The courtiers within those walls led lives as ingrown in their own way as those of the inhabitants of the most isolated stronghold of Makuran. And very few of them, Abivard thought, were likely to go out of their way to do anything nice for anyone they knew.
The guards at the gate saluted Abivard and threw wide the valves to let him and his family come inside. Servitors took charge of the wagon—and of Pashang. The driver went with them with less fear and hesitation that he'd shown the winter before. Abivard was glad to see that, though he still wondered what sort of reception he himself was likely to get.
His heart sank when Yeliif came out to greet him; the only people he would have been less glad to see in the palace were, for different reasons, Tzikas and Maniakes. But the beautiful eunuch remained so civil, Abivard wondered whether something was wrong with him, saying only, «Welcome, Abivard son of Godarz, in the name of Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase. Come with me and I shall show you to the quarters you have been assigned. If they prove unsatisfactory in any way, by all means tell me, that I may arrange a replacement.»
He'd never said anything like that the past couple of years. Then Abivard's stays in the palace had been in essence house arrest. Now, as he and his family walked through the hallways of the palace, servants bowed low before them. So did most nobles he saw, acknowledging his rank as being far higher than theirs. A few high nobles from the Seven Clans kissed him on the cheek, claiming status only a little lower than his. He accepted that. Had he not done what he'd done, he would have been the one bowing before them.
No. Had he not done what he'd done, the nobles from the Seven Clans would either have fled up into the plateau country west of the Dilbat Mountains or would be trying to figure out what rank they had among Maniakes' courtiers. He'd earned their respect.
The suite of rooms to which Yeliif led him had two great advantages over those in which he'd stayed in the past two years. First was their size and luxury. Second, and better by far, was the complete absence of sentries, guards, keepers, what have you in front of the door.
«Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, will allow us to come and go as we please and to receive visitors likewise?» Abivard asked. Only after he'd spoken did he realize how great a capacity for irony he'd acquired in his years in Videssos.
Yeliif had never been to Videssos but was formidably armored against irony. «Of course,» he replied, his limpid black eyes as wide and candid as if Abivard had enjoyed those privileges on his previous visits to the palace… and as if he had never urged drastic punishment for the disloyalty of which Sharbaraz so often suspected Abivard.
Abivard's tone swung from sardonic to bland: «Perhaps you could help me arrange a meeting with my sister Denak and even arrange for me to see my nephew, Peroz son of Sharbaraz.»
«I shall bend every effort toward achieving your desire in that regard,» the beautiful eunuch said, sounding as if he meant it. Abivard studied him in some bemusement; cooperation from Yeliif was so new and strange, he had trouble taking the idea seriously. And then, as politely as ever but with a certain amount of relish nonetheless, the eunuch asked, «And would you also like me to arrange for you a meeting with Tzikas?»
Abivard stared at him. So did Roshnani. So even did Varaz. Yeliif's small smile exposed white, even, sharply pointed teeth. «Tzikas is here—in the palace?» Abivard asked.
«Indeed he is. He arrived a fortnight before you,» Yeliif answered. «Would you like me to arrange a meeting?»
«Not right now, thank you,» Abivard said. If Tzikas had been there two weeks and had still kept his head on his shoulders, he was liable to keep it a good deal longer. Somehow or other he'd managed to talk Sharbaraz out of giving him over to the torturers.
That meant he'd be getting ready to give Abivard another riding boot between the legs the first chance he saw.
Yeliif said, «The King of Kings was inclined toward severity in the matter of Tzikas until the Videssian enlightened him as to how, after a daring escape from Maniakes' forces, he saved your entire army from destruction at the hands of vicious Videssian sorcery.»
«Did he?» Abivard said, unsure whether he meant Tzikas' «enlightenment» of Sharbaraz or his alleged salvation of the Makuraner force. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered whether Maniakes hadn't known perfectly well that Tzikas would flee back to the Makuraners and thus had given him something juicy with which to flee. Maybe the magical preparations had looked worse than they were, to impress the renegade, just as the sorcerous «fog bank» had impressed Abivard's wizards till they had discovered that nothing lay behind it.
And maybe, too, Tzikas had known perfectly well that the Videssians' magecraft was harmless and had gone back with the specific intention of delaying Abivard's army as long as he could and giving Maniakes a chance to get away. He'd certainly done that whether he had intended to or not. And Tzikas, from what Abivard had seen, seldom did things inadvertently.
«These quarters care satisfactory?» Yeliif asked.
«Satisfactory in every way,» Abivard told him, that being the closest he could come to applauding the lack of keepers. Roshnani nodded. So did their children, who would have more room now than they had enjoyed in some time. Of course, after slow travel in the wagon, any chamber larger than belt-pouch size felt commodious to them.
«Excellent,» the beautiful eunuch said, and bowed low, the first such acknowledgment of superiority he'd ever granted Abivard. «And rest assured I shall not forget to make arrangements for you to see your sister and nephew.» He slipped from the suite and was gone.
Abivard stared after him. «Was that really the Yeliif we've known and loathed the past couple of years?» he said to no one in particular.
«It really was,» Roshnani said, sounding as dazed as he was. «Do you know what I wish we could borrow right now?»
«What's that?» Abivard asked.
«Sharbaraz' food taster, if he has one,» his principal wife answered. «And he probably does.» Abivard thought about that, then nodded, agreeing with both the need and the likelihood.
Yeliif used a suave and tasteful gesture to point out the door through which Abivard was to enter. «Denak and young Peroz await you within,» he said. «I shall await you here in the hall and return with you to your chamber.»
«I can probably find my way back by myself,» Abivard said.
«It is the custom,» the eunuch answered, a sentence from which there could be no possible appeal.
Shrugging, Abivard opened the door and went inside. He didn't shut it in Yeliif's face, as he would have done before. Since the beautiful eunuch was not actively hostile, Abivard didn't want to turn him that way.
Inside the room waited not only his sister and her new baby but also the woman Ksorane. Not even her brother could be alone with the principal wife of the King of Kings, and tiny Peroz didn't count in such matters.
«Congratulations,» he said to Denak. He wanted to run to his sister and take her in his arms but knew the serving woman would interpret that as uncouth familiarity no matter how closely they were related. He did the next best thing by adding, «Let me see the baby, please.»
Denak smiled and nodded, but even that proved complicated. She could not simply hand Peroz to Abivard, for the two of them would touch each other if she did. Instead, she gave the baby to Ksorane, who in turn passed him to Abivard, asking as she did so, «You know how to hold them?»
«Oh, yes,» he assured her. «My eldest will start sprouting his beard before many years go by.» She nodded, satisfied. Abivard held Peroz in the crook of his elbow, making sure he kept the baby's head well supported. His nephew stared up at him with the confused look babies so often give the large, confusing world.