Harry Turtledove - Krispos Rising

Krispos started to take that as a simple compliment, then stopped, his eyes going wide. "You knew," he ground out. Barsymes nodded again. Krispos drew his sword. "You knew, and you did not warn me. How shall I pay you back for that?" Barsymes did not flinch from the naked blade. "Perhaps while you consider, you should let the Empress Dara know you survived. I am certain she will be even more relieved to hear of it than we are."

Again Krispos started to miss something, again he caught himself. "You knew that, too?" he asked in a small voice. This time both eunuchs nodded back. He looked at his sword, then returned it to its sheath. "How long have you known?" Now he was whispering.

Barsymes and Tyrovitzes looked at each other. "No secret in the palaces is a secret long," Barsymes said with the slightest trace of smugness.

Dizzily, Krispos shook his head. "And you didn't tell Anthimos?"

"If we had, esteemed and—no, forgive me, I beg—your Majesty, would you be holding this conversation with us now?" Barsymes asked.

Krispos shook his head again. "How shall I pay you back for that ?" he said, then musingly answered himself: "If I'm to be Emperor, I'll need a vestiarios. The post is yours, Barsymes."

The eunuch's long, thin face was not made for showing pleasure, but his smile was less doleful than most Krispos had seen from him. "You honor me, your Majesty. I am delighted to accept, and shall seek to give satisfaction."

"I'm sure you will," Krispos said. He hurried past the two eunuchs and down the hall. He passed the doorway that had been his and paused in front of the one he had entered so many times but that only now belonged to him. He raised a hand to knock softly, then stopped. He did not knock at his own door. He opened it.

He heard Dara's sharp intake of breath—she had to have been wondering who would come through that door. When she saw Krispos, she said, "Oh, Phos be praised, it's you!" and threw herself into his arms. Even as he held her, though, he thought that her words would have done for Anthimos' return just as well—no chance of making a mistake with them. He wondered how long she'd worked to come up with such a safe phrase.

"Tell me what happened," she demanded.

He explained Anthimos' downfall for the fourth time that night. He knew he would have to do it again before dawn. The more he explained it, the more the story got between him and the exertion and terror of the moment. If he told the tale enough times, he thought hopefully, perhaps he'd forget how frightened he'd been.

This was the first time Dara had heard it, which made it seem as real for her as if she'd been there. When he was through, she held him again. "I might have lost you," she said, her face buried against his shoulder. "I don't know what I would have done then."

She'd been sure enough earlier in the evening, he thought, but decided he could not blame her for forgetting that now. And her fear for him made him remember his own fear sharply once more."' You certainly might have," he said. "If he hadn't tripped over his own tongue—"

"You made him do it," she said.

He had to nod. At the end, Anthimos had been badly rattled, too, or likely he never would have made his fatal blunder. "Without you, I never would have known, I wouldn't have been there ..." This time Krispos hugged Dara, acknowledging the debt he owed, the gratitude he felt.

She must have sensed some of that. She looked up at him; her eyes searched his face. "We need each other," she said slowly.

"Very much," he agreed, "especially now."

She might not have heard him. As if he hadn't spoken, she repeated, "We need each other," then went on, maybe as much to herself as to him,"We please each other, too. Taken together, isn't that a fair start toward ... love?"

Krispos heard her hesitate before she risked the word. He would also have hesitated to speak it between them. Having been lovers did not guarantee love; that was another of Tanilis' lessons. Even so ... "A fair start," he said, and did not feel he was lying. Then he added, "One thing more, anyhow."

"What's that?" Dara asked.

"I promise you won't have to worry about minnows with me."

She blinked, then started to laugh. But her voice had a grim edge to it as she warned, "I'd better not. Anthimos didn't have to care about what I thought, whereas you ..."

She stopped. He thought about what she hadn't said: that he was a peasant-born usurper with no right to the throne whatever, save that his fundament was on it. He knew that was true. If he ruled well, he also knew it eventually would not matter. But eventually was not now. Now anything that linked him to the imperial house he had just toppled would help him hold power long enough for it to seem to belong to him. He could not afford to antagonize Dara.

"I said not a minute ago that you didn't need to worry about such things," he reminded her.

"So you did." She sounded as if she were reminding herself, too.

He kissed her, then said with mock formality so splendid Mavros might have envied it, "And now, your Majesty, if you will forgive me, I have a few small trifles to attend to before the night is through."

"Yes, just a few," she said, smiling, her mood matching his. Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Your Majesty."

He kissed her again, then hurried away. The Halogai outside the imperial residence swung their axes to the ready in salute as he came out. A few minutes later, Mavros rode up, leading Krispos' horse Progress on a line. "Here's your mount, Kris— uh, your Majesty. Now—" His voice sank to a conspiratorial whisper,"—what do you need the beast for?"

"To ride, of course," Krispos said. While his foster brother sputtered, he turned to Thvari and spoke for a couple of minutes. When he was done, he asked, "Do you have that? Can you do it?"

"I have it. If I can do it, I will. If I can't, I'll be dead. So will you, not much later," the northerner answered with the usual bloodthirsty directness of the Halogai.

"I trust you'll do your best, then, for both our sakes," Krispos said. He swung himself up onto Progress' back and loosed the lead line. "Now we ride," he told Mavros.

"I did suspect that, truly I did," Mavros said. "Do you have any place in particular in mind, or shall we just gallivant around the city?"

Krispos had already urged his bay gelding into a trot. "Iakovitzes' house," he said over his shoulder as he rode west toward the plaza of Palamas. "I just hope he's there; the only person I can think of who likes—liked—to carouse more than he does is Anthimos."

"Why are we going to Iakovitzes' house?"

"Because he's still in the habit of keeping lots of grooms," Krispos answered. "If I'm to be Avtokrator, people will have to know I'm Avtokrator. They'll have to see me crowned. That will have to happen as fast as it can, before anyone else gets the idea there's a throne loose for the taking. The grooms can spread word through the city tonight."

"And wake everyone up?" Mavros said. "The people won't love you for that."

"The people of this town love spectacle more than anything else," Krispos said. "They wouldn't forgive me if I didn't wake them up for it. Look at Anthimos—you can be anything in Videssos the city, so long as you're not dull."

"Well, maybe so," Mavros said. "I hope so, by the Lord with the great and good mind."

They reined in in front of Iakovitzes' house, tied their horses to the rail, and went up to the front door. Krispos pounded on it. He kept pounding until Iakovitzes' steward Gomaris opened the little grate in the middle of the door and peered through it. Whatever curses the steward had in mind got left unsaid when he recognized Krispos; he contented himself with growling, "By the good god, Krispos, have you gone mad?"

"No," Krispos said. "I must see Iakovitzes right now. Tell him that, Gomaris, and tell him I won't take no for an answer." He waited tensely—if Gomaris said his master was out, everything was up for grabs again. But the steward just slammed the grate shut and went away.