Harry Turtledove - Krispos Rising

"No, it might not," the Sevastokrator said. "But since it is not likely to become necessary, either, I do not intend to worry overmuch about it. And even if everything you describe should come to pass, ways remain of bringing the Kubratoi to heel, I assure you of that."

Krispos raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Would your Imperial Highness please explain them to me?"

"No, by the Lord with the great and good mind, I will not. Listen to me, esteemed and eminent sir—" Though never a servant, Petronas had learned the art of using titles to cut rather than praise. "—and listen well: I need explain myself to no man in Videssos save only the Avtokrator himself. And I do not expect to have to do that in this case. Do I make myself quite clear, Krispos?"

"Aye, illustrious Highness." Petronas did not want him to raise the issue with Anthimos, Krispos thought. "I will have to think on what to do, though."

"Think carefully, Krispos." Now Petronas spoke in unmistakable warning. "Think very carefully indeed, before you seek to measure your influence with his Majesty against mine. Think also on the fate of Skombros, and on whether you care to spend the rest of your days in the bare cell of a celibate monk. You would find that harder to endure than a eunuch does, I assure you, and yet it is the best fate to which you might aspire. Anger me sufficiently and you may know far worse. Remember it always."

"Believe me, I will, illustrious Highness." Krispos rose to go. He did his best not to show how his heart pounded. "But I will also remember what I think best for the Empire." He bowed his way out. If nothing else, he thought, this marked the first time he'd ever had the last word with Petronas.

Leaves glowed green under the spring sun's cheerful rays. The chatty trills of newly returned wagtails and chiffchaffs came through the open windows of the imperial residence along with the sunbeams and the sweet scent of the cherry blossoms now in riotous pink bloom all around the building.

Krispos fetched a tray of wine and sweet pastries in to Anthimos and Petronas, then contrived to hang about in the hallway outside the chamber where they were talking. He had a dust rag and every so often made a swipe at one of the antiquities there, but no one would have thought he was doing anything but eavesdropping.

The Avtokrator and Sevastokrator exchanged pleasantries before they got down to business. Krispos' dusting hand jerked when Petronas asked after Dara. "She's quite well, thanks," Anthimos answered. "She seems happy these days."

"That's good," his uncle said. "May she give you a son soon."

As he cleaned the helmet of the long-ago King of Kings of Makuran, Krispos thought with a small smile that the odds of Dara's conceiving had improved these days. She had called him back to her bed after that first time, again and again. They still had to be cautious, they took all the chances they could.

After more inconsequential talk, Anthimos said, "Uncle, may the good god grant you victory in your wars on Makuran, but are you certain you have left behind enough forces to hold back the Kubratoi if they attack?" Krispos stopped dusting altogether and craned his neck to make sure he heard Petronas' reply.

It took a while to come. At last the Sevastokrator said, "I do not think the Kubratoi will launch any serious assaults this year."

"But they've already begun, it seems to me." Anthimos rustled parchments. "See, here I have two reports that have just arrived, one from near Imbros, the other some distance farther east, of raids by the wild men, cattle and sheep stolen. I don't like such reports. They concern me." Under most circumstances, the young Emperor did not hear news of things that went wrong. Krispos, though, had made sure these reports came to his attention.

"Let me see them." Another pause, presumably while Petronas skimmed through the documents. The Sevastokrator snorted. "These are pinpricks, as you must see, Anthimos, The frontier guards drove off both bands without difficulty."

"But what if they grow worse?" Anthimos persisted. "The guards you've left behind would not be able to drive them off then." Krispos nodded to himself. He'd managed to get his own urgency through to the Emperor, sure enough.

"I consider that most unlikely, your Majesty," Petronas said.

"Uncle, I'm afraid I don't," Anthimos said. "If these attacks have begun already, they will only get larger. I really must insist that you strengthen the northern frontier with some of the troops you've shifted toward the westlands."

This time, Petronas was silent a long while. "Insist?" he said, as if he did not believe his ears. He repeated the word, "Insist, nephew?" Now he sounded as if he had caught Anthimos in an obvious error and was waiting for the Emperor to fix

But Anthimos, though his voice wobbled—Krispos knew his own would have wobbled, too, confronting Petronas' formidable presence—said, "Yes, I really must."

"Even if that means gutting the campaign against Makuran?" Petronas asked softly.

"Even then," Anthimos said, more firmly now. "After all, I am the Avtokrator."

"Certainly you are," Petronas said. "It's only that I'm surprised to find you taking so sudden an interest in the conduct of matters military. I'd thought I enjoyed your trust in such things." His voice was a finely tuned instrument, projecting now nothing but patience and reason.

"You do hold my trust. You know you do, Uncle," Anthimos said. Krispos feared he was weakening. But he went on, "In this particular case, though, I think your own eagerness for the fight makes you less cautious than you have been in the past."

"This is your final word, your Majesty?"

"It is." Anthimos could sound most imperial when he cared to, Krispos thought. He wondered if that would be enough for him to impose his will on the Sevastokrator.

It was, and then again it was not. After yet another long, thoughtful pause, Petronas said, "Your Majesty, you know your word is my command." Krispos knew what a lie that was; he wondered if Anthimos did. He got no chance to find out, for the Sevastokrator continued, "Perhaps, though, you will be gracious enough to let me propose a solution that permits me to keep the entire army, yet will confound the Kubratoi."

"Go ahead," Anthimos said cautiously, as if, like Krispos, he was wondering how Petronas proposed to accomplish the two goals that seemed incompatible.

"Thank you, Anthimos; I will. Perhaps you remember hearing of a Haloga mercenary band led by a northerner called Harvas Black-Robe."

"Well, yes, now that you mention it. They've been making mischief for a while in Khatrish, haven't they?"

"Thatagush actually, your Majesty. I've taken the liberty of inquiring of this Harvas what he would require to fall upon Kubrat instead. If his northerners do that, Malomir will be far too occupied with them to give us any trouble for some time to come, all without the use of a single good Videssian soldier. What say you to that?"

It was the Avtokrator's turn to hesitate. Out in the hall, Krispos kicked at the polished marble floor. Petronas had indeed had a scheme in reserve, and a good scheme to boot. Krispos learned what being outmaneuvered felt like.

"Uncle, I'll have to give that some thought," Anthimos said at last.

"Go ahead, but I hope you'll think quickly, for now that the weather is fine once more, every campaigning day lost counts against me," Petronas said.

"You'll know my decision tomorrow," the Avtokrator promised.

"Good enough," Petronas said jovially.

Krispos heard him set down his cup, then heard the chair shift under him as he got to his feet. He started to duck into another room—he did not want to face the Sevastokrator right now. But he was either too slow or too noisy, for Petronas came in after him. As protocol required, he went to one knee before the man with the second highest rank in the Empire of Videssos. "Your imperial Highness," he said, eyes on the ground.