Guy Kay - Sailing to Sarantium

In the awkwardness that followed his making explicit something the lady Styliane Daleina would far rather not have had made so clear, the Empress said, with deceptive mildness, "We have many ornaments among us. It occurs to me now that another of them has promised us to lay to rest a wager proposed at the banquet. Scortius, before I retire for the night, if I am to sleep easily, I must know the answer to the Emperor's question. No one has come forward to claim the offered gem. Will you tell us, charioteer?" This time Crispin did turn to look, as the brilliant array of courtiers to his right parted in a shimmer of silk and a small, trim man moved, neat-footed and composed, to stand beside a candelabrum. Crispin moved a little to one side, to let Scortius of the Blues wait alone before the thrones. Unable to help himself, he stared at the man.

The Soriyyan driver he'd seen perform marvels that day had deep-set eyes in a dark face traced lightly-and in one or two cases less lightly- by scars. His easy manner suggested he was no stranger to the palace. He wore a knee-length linen tunic in a natural, off-white colour, stripes in a dark blue running down from each shoulder to the knee, gold thread bordering it. A soft blue cap covered his black hair. His belt was gold, simple, extremely expensive. About his throat was a single chain, and from it, on his chest, hung a golden horse with jewels for its eyes.

"We all strive," the charioteer said gravely, "in all we do, to please the Empress." He paused deliberately, then white teeth flashed. "And then the Emperor, of course."

Valerius laughed. "Sheathe that deadly charm, charioteer. Or save it for whomever you are seducing now."

There was feminine laughter. Some of the men, Crispin noted, did not appear amused. Alixana, her own dark eyes flashing now, murmured, "But I like when he unsheathes it, my lord Emperor."

Crispin, caught unawares, was unable to control his own sudden burst of laughter. It didn't matter. Valerius and the court around him gave vent to amusement as the charioteer bowed low to the Empress, smiling, unruffled. This was, Crispin understood finally, a court with a nature at least partly defined by its women.

By the woman on the throne, certainly. The Emperor's return to good humour was manifestly unfeigned. Crispin, looking at the two thrones, abruptly thought of Ilandra, with the queer inner twist, as of a blade, that still came whenever he did so. Had his wife made the same sort of openly provocative remark he, too, would have been relaxed enough to find it amusing, so sure had he been of her. Valerius was like that with his Empress. Crispin wondered-not for the first time-what it would have been like to be wed to a woman one could not trust. He glanced at the Strategos, Leontes. The tall man wasn't laughing. Neither was his aristocratic bride. There might be many reasons for that, mind you.

"The jewel," said the Emperor "is still on offer, until Scortius reveals his secret. A pity our Rhodian didn't see the event, he seems to have so many answers for us."

"The racing today, my lord? I did see it. A magnificent spectacle." It occurred to Crispin, a little too late, that he might be making another mistake.

Valerius made a wry face. "Ah. You are a partisan of the track? We are surrounded by them, of course."

Crispin shook his head. "Hardly a partisan, my lord. Today was the first time I was ever in a hippodrome. My escort, Carullus of the Fourth Sauradian, who is here to meet with the Supreme Strategos, was good enough to be my guide to the running of the chariots." It couldn't hurt Carullus to have his name mentioned here, he thought.

"Ah, well then. As a first-timer you wouldn't be able to address the question in any case. Go ahead, Scortius. We await enlightenment."

"Oh, no. No, let us ask him, my lord," said Styliane Daleina. There really was malice in her cold beauty. "As our thrice-exalted Emperor says, the artisan seems to know so much. Why should the chariots be beyond his grasp?"

"There is much that lies beyond me, my lady," Crispin said, as mildly as he could. "But I shall endeavour to… satisfy you." He smiled in turn, briefly. He was paying a price for what he'd done inadvertently to her artisan, and for the deliberate reference to her pearl. He could only hope the price would stop at barbed innuendoes.

Alixana said, from her throne, "The question we debated at dinner, Rhodian, was this: how did Scortius know to surrender the inside track in the first race of the afternoon? He let the Green chariot come inside him, deliberately, and led poor Crescens straight into disaster."

"I recall it, my lady. It led the tribune of the Fourth Sauradian into a financial disaster, as well."

A weak sally. The Empress did not smile. "How regrettable for him. But none of us has been able to offer an explanation that matches the answer our splendid charioteer is holding in reserve. He has promised to tell us. Do you wish to hazard a guess before he does?"

"There is," Valerius added, "no shame attached to not knowing. Especially if this was your first time at the Hippodrome."

It never really occurred to him not to answer. Perhaps it should have. Perhaps a more careful man, judging nuances, would have demurred. Martinian would have been such a man, almost certainly.

Crispin said, "I have a thought, my lord, my lady. I may be very wrong, of course. I probably am."

The charioteer beside him glanced over. His eyebrows were raised a little, but his brown-eyed, observant gaze was intrigued and courteous.

Crispin looked back at him, and smiled. "It is one thing to sit above the track and ponder how a thing was done, it is another to do it at speed on the sands. Whether I am right or not, permit me to salute you. I did not expect to be moved today, and I was."

"You do me too much honour," Scortius murmured.

"What is it, then?" said the Emperor. "Your thought, Rhodian? There is an Ispahani ruby to be claimed."

Crispin looked at him and swallowed. He hadn't known, of course, what was on offer. This was no trivial prize; it was wealth, from the farthest east. He turned back to Scortius, clearing his throat. "Would it have to do with light and dark in the crowd?"

And from the immediate smile on the charioteer's face, he knew that he had it. He did. A puzzle-solving mind. All his life.

In the waiting silence, Crispin said, with growing confidence, "I would say that the very experienced Scortius took his cue from the darkness of the crowd as he reached the turn below the Imperial Box, my lord Emperor. There must have been other things he knew that I cannot even imagine, but I'd hazard that was the most important thing."

"The darkness of the crowd," said the Master of Offices. Faustinus glared. "What nonsense is this?"

"I hope it is not nonsense, my lord. I refer to their faces, of course." Crispin said no more. He was looking at the charioteer beside him.

Everyone was, by now.

"We seem," the Soriyyan said, at length, "to have a chariot-driver here." He laughed, showing white, even teeth. "I fear the Rhodian is no mosaicist at all. He is a dangerous deceiver, my lord." "He is correct?" said the Emperor sharply. "He is entirely so, thrice-exalted lord." "Explain!" It was a command, whip like.

"I am honoured to be asked," said the champion of the Blues, calmly. "You are not asked. Cams Crispus of Varena, explain what you mean." Scortius looked abashed, for the first time. Crispin realized that the Emperor was genuinely vexed, and he guessed why: there was, clearly, another puzzle-solving mind in this room.

Crispin said cautiously, "Sometimes a man who sees a thing for the first time may observe that which others, more familiar, cannot truly see any more. I confess that I grew weary of the later races in the long day, and my gaze wandered. It went to the stands across the spina."