"And you're a blockhead," Evripos retorted. "I'm not the one who let Digenis seduce him."
"How's this, then?" Phostis said. "Suppose you summon Oxeites the patriarch here to the plaza of Palamas or anyplace else you think would be a good idea, and he can marry me to Olyvria as publicly as possible. That ought to convince people I'm not a Thanasiot—they'd sooner starve than wive ... Curse you, Evripos, I mean it. What's so bloody funny?"
"I'm sorry," Evripos said, the first concession Phostis had got from him. "I was just thinking it's too bad Father's gone on campaign. The two of you might don the crowns of marriage side by side. Do you remember the serving maid named Drina?"
"Of course. She's a pretty little thing, but—" Phostis gaped at his grinning brother. "Father's gone all soft in the head over her?"
"I doubt that," Evripos said judiciously. "When has Father ever gone soft in the head over anyone, us included? But she is pregnant by him. We'll have ourselves a little half brother or half sister before Midwinter's Day. Relax, Phostis—you don't need to go so white. Father truly doesn't plan on marrying her. Believe me, I'm as happy at that as you are."
"Yes. A new half brother or half sister, eh? Well, well." Phostis wondered if he was only half brother to Evripos and Katakolon as it was. He'd never know, not for certain. He said, "If you're done gossiping, I'm dead serious about what I said. If you think it will help end the riots, I'll wed in as open a ceremony as the chamberlains can dream up."
Beside him, Olyvria nodded vigorously. "That might be the best way to discredit the gleaming path: let those who think of following it see that their one-time leaders are abandoning it."
"The plan is sensible, young Majesty," Noetos said.
"Mmm—maybe it is." Evripos frowned in intense concentration. A messenger interrupted with a note. Evripos read it, snapped orders, and returned to study. At last he said, "No, I will not order it. One of the drawbacks of our rank, brother, is that we aren't always free to make the matches we would. I see nothing wrong with this one, but I'm slowly finding out—" His grin was rueful and disarming at the same time. "—I don't know everything there is to know. Too much rides here for me to say aye or nay."
"What then?" Phostis demanded.
"I'll send you along the courier route to Father. Tell him your tale. If he believes you, what can I possibly say? And if he thinks this marriage of yours a good idea, then married you shall be—and at a quickstep, if I know Father. Bargain?"
"Bargain," Phostis replied at once. A couple of orders from Evripos and he and Olyvria might have disappeared for good. If Krispos ever found out, Evripos could claim they were fanatical Thanasioi. Who would contradict him, especially after he became the primary heir? "It's ... decent of you."
"Meaning you expect me to throw you into some dungeon or other and then forget which one it was?" Evripos asked.
"Well—yes." Phostis felt his face heat at being so obvious; had he made that kind of mistake at Etchmiadzin, he never would have got out of the fortress.
"If you think the notion didn't cross my mind, you're daft." Phostis needed a moment to realize the strangled noise Evripos made was intended as laughter. His younger brother went on, "Father always taught us to fear the ice, and I guess I listened to him. If you'd gone over to the gleaming path, nothing would have made me happier than hunting you down and taking your place. Always believe that, Phostis. But stealing it after you've got loose of the Thanasioi?" He made a wry face. "It's tempting, but I can resist it."
Phostis thought of the chamber under Digenis' tunnel, and of the naked and lovely temptation Olyvria had represented. He'd passed her by—then. Now he lay in her arms whenever he could. Had he yielded to temptation? Would Evripos, with some future chance to seize the throne, spring after it rather than turning his back?
As for the first question, Phostis told himself, the situation had changed by the time he and Olyvria became lovers. She wasn't just so much flesh set out for him to enjoy; she'd become his closest friend—almost his only friend—in Etchmiadzin. Were circumstances different, he'd gladly have paid her formal court.
As for the second question ... the future would have to answer it. Phostis knew he'd be a fool to ignore the possibility of Evripos' trying to usurp him. In the future, though, he'd have the power, not his brother—as Evripos did today. And maybe today showed they had hope, at least, of working together.
Evripos said, "Come the day, brother, we may not make such a bad team. Even if you end up with the red boots on your feet, give me something to do with soldiers and I'll do well for Videssos with them."
Not in your service, Phostis noted. He didn't quibble. Among the other things Krispos had taught was that the Empire came first, that anyone who didn't put it ahead of everything else didn't deserve to have his fundament warm the throne in the Grand Courtroom. The lesson made more sense to Phostis than it ever had before.
"You know what?" he said. Evripos raised a questioning eyebrow. Phostis continued, "It'll be good to see Father. It's been too long." Phostis paused again. "I don't suppose I could bring Olyvria along?"
"No," Evripos said at once, but then added, "Wait. Maybe you should. She'll know a lot about the Thanasioi—"
"She does," Phostis said, at the same time as Olyvria was saying, "I do."
"Well then," Evripos said, as if that settled things, "if you don't bring her, Father will come down on me for making you leave her behind so he can't wring her dry with questions. Take her by all means."
"I shall obey your commands, young Majesty," Phostis said with a salute.
Evripos saluted in return. "I've obeyed yours a time or two, young Majesty," he answered.
"Brothers," Olyvria said; she might have been referring to some lower form of life. Phostis and Evripos looked at each other. Grinning, they both nodded.
XI
Krispos slammed his forehead with the heel of his hand, hard enough to hurt. "By the good god, I'm an idiot," he exclaimed.
"No doubt, your Majesty," Sarkis agreed cheerfully; along with Iakovitzes, Zaidas. and Barsymes, he could say something like that without going up on charges of lese majesty. "In which particular matter are you being an idiot today?"
"With all the hoorah over Garsavra, I clean forgot to write to Evripos and warn him to be alert for Phostis," Krispos answered. He thumped himself again, in disgust. Characteristically, he wasted no more time on reproaches. Instead, he pulled a scrap of parchment and pen and ink from pouches on his belt, scrawled a few nearly illegible lines—the motion of the horse didn't help—and then called, "Katakolon!" After a moment, he called again, louder.
"Aye, Father? How can I help you?" His youngest son brought his own horse trotting up alongside Krispos' mount.
Krispos handed him the note. "Seal this, stick it in a message tube, and get it off to Videssos the city as fast as you can."
"Just as you say." The piece of parchment was too small to roll or fold conveniently. Katakolon read it before he took it to do as Krispos had commanded. His eyes were troubled when he raised them to look at his father again. "Surely it can't be as bad as—this?"
"I don't know whether it is or not," Krispos said. "But as to whether it can be—by Phos, boy, it could be ten times worse. He might be landing in the city with a shipload of fanatics all hot to die for the gleaming path."
"Phostis?" Katakolon's voice rose. He shook his head. "I can't believe it."
"I can, which is what matters," Krispos answered. "Now get moving. I didn't give you that note to argue over it, just to have it start on its way to the city."