The Thousand Cities

«This side of taking Videssos the city, neither can I,» Abivard said.

«If you couldn't take Videssos the city, Sharbaraz has to be mad to think Tzikas will be able to do it,» Roshnani said indignantly. Abivard pointed to the walls of their suite and then to the ceiling. He didn't know if Sharbaraz had placed listeners by the suite, but the King of Kings surely had done that the past two winters, so taking chances was foolish. Roshnani nodded, following what he'd meant. She went on, «The Videssians hate Tzikas, too, though, so I don't see how he'd be a help in taking their capital.»

«Neither do I,» Abivard said. Even if Sharbaraz wouldn't listen to Dhegmussa, his spies were going to get an earful of what Abivard thought of the renegade. Sooner or later, he kept telling himself, some dirt would have to stick to Tzikas. «They'd sooner kill him than me. I'm just an enemy, while he's a traitor.»

«A traitor to them, a traitor to us, a traitor to them again,» Roshnani said, getting into the spirit of the game. «I wonder when he'll betray us again.»

«First chance he gets, or I miss my bet,» Abivard answered. «Or maybe not—who knows? Maybe he'll wait till he can do us the most harm instead.»

They spent the next little while contentedly ru

Abivard sat down beside Roshnani and slipped an arm around her. He liked that for its own sake. It also gave him the chance to put his head close to hers and whisper, «Whatever plan Sharbaraz has, if it's for taking Videssos the city, it won't work. He can't make ships sprout from thin air, and he can't make Makuraners into sailors, either.»

«You don't need to tell me that,» she answered, also whispering. «Do you think you were the only one who looked out over the Cattle Crossing from Across at the city—» She dropped into Videssian for those words; to the imperials, their capital was the city, incomparably grander than all others."—on the far side?"'

«I never caught you doing that,» he said.

She smiled. «Women do all sorts of things their husbands don't catch them doing. Maybe it comes from having spent so much time in the women's quarters—they're as much for breeding secrets as for breeding babies.»

«You've been out of the women's quarters since not long after we wed,» he said. «You needn't blame that for being sneaky.»

«I didn't intend 'blaming' it on anything,» Roshnani answered. «I'm proud of it. It's saved us a good deal of trouble over the years.»

«That's true.» Abivard lowered his voice even further. «If it weren't for you, Sharbaraz wouldn't be King of Kings now. He never would have thought of taking refuge in Videssos for himself—his pride ran too deep for that, even so long ago.»

«I know.» Roshnani let out a small, almost silent sigh. «Did I save us trouble there or cost us trouble?» The listeners, if there were any, could not have heard her; Abivard scarcely heard her himself, and his ear was close to her mouth. And having heard her, he had no idea what the answer to her question was. Time would tell, he supposed.

Sharbaraz King of Kings had enjoined Abivard from trying to dispose of Tzikas. From what Yeliif had said, Sharbaraz had also enjoined Tzikas from trying to get rid of him. He wouldn't have given a counterfeit copper for the strength of that last prohibition, though.

After that one near disaster at the feast the palace servitors did their best to ensure that Abivard and Tzikas did not come close to occupying the same space at the same time. Insofar as that meant keeping them far apart at ceremonial meals, the servitors' diligence was rewarded. But Abivard was free to roam the corridors of the palace. And so, however regrettable Abivard found the prospect, was Tzikas.

They bumped into each other three or four days after Yeliif had delivered the message from Sharbaraz ordering Abivard not to run down the Videssian renegade. Message or not, that was almost literally what happened. Abivard was hurrying down a passageway not far from his suite of rooms when Tzikas crossed his path. He stopped in a hurry. «I'm sor—» Tzikas began, and then recognized him. «You!»

«Yes, me.» Abivard's hand fell, as if of its own accord, to the hilt of his sword.

Tzikas did not flinch from him and was also armed. No one had ever accused the Videssian of cowardice in battle. Plenty of other things had been charged against him, but never that one. He said, «A lot of men have lodged accusations against me—all lies, of course. Not one of those men came to a good end.»

«Oh, I don't know,» Abivard answered. «Maniakes still seems to be flourishing nicely, however much I wish he weren't»

«His time approaches.» For a man who had been condemned to death by both sides, who switched gods as readily as a stylish woman switched necklaces, his confidence was infuriating. «For that matter, so does yours.»

Abivard's sword leapt halfway out of its scabbard. «Whatever else happens, I'll outlive you. By the God I swear it—and he's likely to remember me, because I worship him all the time.»

Videssian skin being fairer than the Makuraner norm, Tzikas' flush was quite visible to Abivard, who ski

He was speaking the Makuraner tongue; he wouldn't have given Abivard that kind of opening in Videssian. And Abivard took advantage of it, saying, «Your heart knows all about lies, doesn't it, Tzikas?»

Now the Videssian snarled. His graying beard gave him the aspect of an angry wolf. He said, «Jeer all you like. I am a constant man.»

«I should say so—you're false all the time.» Abivard pointed rudely at Tzikas' face. «Even your beard is changeable. When you first fled to us, you wore it trimmed close, the way most

Videssians do. Then you grew it out to look more like a Makuraner. But when I fought you down in the land of the Thousand Cities, after Maniakes got hold of you, you'd cut it short and shaved around the edges again. And now it's getting longer and bushier.»

Tzikas brought a hand up to his chin. Maybe he hadn't noticed what he was doing with his beard, or maybe he was angry someone else had noticed. «After Maniakes got hold of me, you say?» His voice went ugly. «You gave me to him, intending that he kill me.»

«He has even better reason to love you than I do,» Abivard replied, «but I have to say I'm gaining on him fast. You're like a sock, Tzikas—you fit either foot. But whoever made you wove you with a dye that burns like fire. Whatever you touch goes up in flames.»

«I'll send you up in flames—or down to the ice,» Tzikas said, and snatched out his sword.

Abivard's sword cleared the scabbard at about the same instant The clash of metal on metal brought shouts from around corners—people knew what that sound was even if they couldn't tell whence it came. Abivard knew what it was, too: the answer to his prayers. Tzikas had drawn on him first. He could kill the renegade and truthfully claim self-defense.

He was bigger and younger than Tzikas. All he had to do, he thought, was cut the Videssian down. He soon discovered it wouldn't be so easy. For one thing, Tzikas was smooth and strong and quick. For another, the corridor was narrow and the ceiling low, cutting into his size advantage: He had no room to make the full-armed cuts that might have beaten their way through Tzikas' guard. And for a third, neither he nor the renegade was used to fighting on foot in any surroundings, let alone such cramped ones. They were both horsemen by choice and by experience.