Harry Turtledove - Krispos Rising

"You're probably right," Krispos said. He could not help thinking, though, that Harvas Black-Robe's Halogai had already beaten the Kubratoi, and the Kubratoi raised no mean cavalry, even if, as Agapetos had said, they lacked discipline.

He made himself shake off his worries. He'd done the best he could to protect the northern frontier. He'd certainly done more than Anthimos had. If Agapetos' army did not suffice, then Videssos would have a full-sized war on its hands. Not even Anthimos could ignore that—he hoped.

Krispos got more and more used to working around Anthimos rather than through him. Petronas had managed for years. But Petronas had been Sevastokrator, of the imperial family and with prestige almost imperial—sometimes more imperial than Anthimos'. Because he was only vestiarios, Krispos had to work harder to convince people to see things his way.

Having Dara with him when he saw Agapetos had helped persuade the general to go along. Sometimes, though, Krispos needed to beard officials in their own lairs. Much as he wanted to, he could not bring the Empress along.

"You have my sincere apologies, esteemed and eminent sir, but without his Imperial Majesty's seal or signature I cannot implement this new law on codicils to bequests," declared a certain Iavdas, one of the aides to the logothete of the treasury.

Krispos stared. "But you're the one who asked for it. I have your memorandum here." He waved the parchment at Iavdas. "It's a good law, a fair law. It should go into effect."

"I quite agree, but for it to do so, seal or signature must be affixed. That, too, is the law, and I dare not disobey it."

"His Majesty isn't signing or sealing much these days," Krispos said slowly. The more he urged Anthimos to do, the less the Emperor did, a defense of principle that would have been admirable had the principle defended been more noble than Anthimos' right to absolute laziness. "I assure you, though, that I do have the authority to tell you to go ahead with this."

"Unfortunately, I must disagree." Like most treasury officials Krispos had met, Iavdas owned a relentlessly literal mind. He went on, "I must follow the letter of the law, not the spirit, for spirit, by its nature, is subject to diverse interpretations. Without formal imperial approval, I cannot proceed."

Krispos almost told him to go to the ice. He bit back his anger. How could he get Iavdas to do what even Iavdas admitted needed doing? "Suppose we don't call this a new law?" he said after some thought. "Suppose we just call it an amendment to a law that's already there. Would my say-so be enough then?"

Iavdas' eyes got a faraway look. "I suppose it would be technically accurate to term this a correction of an ambiguity in the existing law. It was not framed so, but it could be reworked to appear as a revised chapter of the present code on codicils. And for a mere revision, no, seal and signature are not required." He beamed at Krispos. "Thank you, esteemed and eminent sir. An ingenious solution to a complex problem, and one that evades not only the defects in current legislation but also those posed by the Avtokrator's obstinacy."

"Er—yes." Krispos beat a hasty retreat. Talking with high functionaries reminded him of the limits of his own education. He could read and write, add and subtract, but he still felt at sea when people larded their talk with big words for no better reason than to hear them roll off their lips. Why, he wondered, couldn't they say what they meant and have done? He did understand that Iavdas liked his plan. That would do.

But, as he complained to Dara when she called him to her bedchamber some time past midnight, "We shouldn't have to go through this rigmarole every time we need to get something done. I can't always come up with ways of getting around Anthimos, and because I can't, things don't happen. If only Anthimos would—" He broke off. Lying in Anthimos' bed with Anthimos' Empress, he did not want to talk about the Avtokrator. Sometimes, though, like tonight, he got too frustrated with Anthimos to stop himself.

Dara put the palm of her hand on his bare chest, felt his heartbeat slow toward normal after their coupling. Smiling, she said "If he hadn't neglected me, we wouldn't have happened. Still' I know what you mean. Just as you did, I hoped he'd rule for himself once his uncle was gone. Now—"

"Now he's so annoyed with me for trying to get him to rule that he won't even see to the little he did before." You were the one who made me keep pushing at him, too , he thought. He kept that to himself. Dara had been doing her best for her husband and the Empire. Had Anthimos responded, all would have been well.

"Never mind Anthimos now," Dara whispered, perhaps feeling some of the same awkwardness he had. She held him to her. "Do you think we can try again if we hurry?"

Krispos did his best to oblige. One did not say no, not to the Empress. Then he got out of bed and into his clothes. Which turns me from lover back to vestiarios , he thought with a touch of irritation. He slipped from the imperial bedchamber, shutting the doors behind him. He started to go back to his own room, then changed his mind and decided to have a snack first. He walked down the hall to the larder.

He was coming back, munching on a roll sticky with honey, when he saw a disembodied head floating toward him. His mouth dropped opened; a bit of roll fell out and landed on the floor with a wet smack. He needed a moment to gain enough control of himself to do anything more than stand, stare, and gurgle. In that moment of terror, before he could scream and flee, he recognized the head. It was Anthimos'.

The head recognized him, too. Winking, it spoke. Krispos frowned, tried to read its silent lips. "You'd eat better than that if you were with me," he thought it said.

"I s-suppose I would, your Majesty," he got out. If Anthimos could work magic this potent while at a revel, he was turning into a very impressive sorcerer indeed, Krispos thought. Aloud, he added, "You almost scared me to death."

The Emperor's head grinned. As he looked at it, he realized it was not physically there; he could see through it. That made it a trifle easier to take—he did not have to imagine an acephalous Anthimos lying on a couch among his cronies. He tried to smile back.

Grinning still, the Avtokrator—or as much of him as was present—moved past Krispos. The head came to the door of the imperial bedchamber. Krispos expected it to drift through the wood. Had it come a few minutes earlier—he shivered. He knew what it would have seen.

But instead of sailing ghostlike through the closed doors, the Emperor's projected head fetched up against them with a bump that was immaterial but nonetheless seemed to hurt, judging by the expression the slightly misty face wore and the words it was mouthing.

Krispos fought to keep his own face straight; Anthimos might be turning into a powerful mage, but he was still a careless one. "Would you like me to open it for you, your Majesty?" he asked politely.

"Piss off," Anthimos' head snarled. An instant later, it vanished.

Krispos leaned against the wall and let out a long, slow sigh. He suddenly realized his right hand was sticky—he'd squeezed that honeyed bun to pieces without even remembering he had it. He threw away what was left and went back to the larder for some water to wash his fingers. He did not take another bun. He'd lost his appetite.

One of the Halogai standing guard outside the imperial residence turned and spotted Krispos in the hallway. "Someone out here to see you," he called.

"Thanks, Narvikka. I'll be there in a minute." Krispos put away the armful of newly washed robes he was carrying, then went out onto the steps with the guardsmen. He blinked several times, trying to get his eyes used to the bright afternoon sunshine outside.