Acting? Krispos didn't think so. He asked Olyvria, "Are you here of your own will, girl, or did he kidnap you?"
"As a matter of fact, your Majesty, I kidnapped him," Olyvria answered boldly. Krispos stared; that was not the reply he'd expected. Olyvria added, "We've made other arrangements since."
"So I gather." Krispos glanced over to Phostis, who was still grinning like a besotted schoolboy. The Avtokrator made his decision. He told the Haloga guards, "Stand aside." After a moment's hesitation, they obeyed. He urged his horse up alongside Phostis', held out his arms. The two men, one young, the other vividly remembering when he had been, embraced.
Phostis pulled away. "Sorry, Father, but hugging chain mail hurts. I have so much to tell you—did you know, for instance, that Makuran is aiding the Thanasioi?"
"As things turn out, I did," Krispos said. "I'm glad to hear you tell me as much all the same—it lets me know you are to be trusted indeed."
He wondered if he should have been so frank. He watched Phostis' face freeze into the mask he'd seen so often before, the one that concealed whatever went on behind it. Minutes into their reunion, would the two of them go back to misunderstanding each other?
But Olyvria said, "I don't blame you for being wary of us, your Majesty. Truly, though, the gleaming path lures us no more."
To Krispos' relief, Phostis' face cleared. "That's so," he said. "I've seen more along those lines than I can stomach. And Father!—is Zaidas with you?"
"Aye, he is," Krispos answered. "Why?"
"I have much to tell him—and little of it good—of Artapan, the Makuraner mage who aids Livanios' schemes."
"All that can wait till tonight when we camp," Krispos said. "For now, it's enough to see you again." And to see you here as something besides a Thanasiot fanatic, he thought. He kept that to himself, though Phostis would have to be a fool if he couldn't figure it out. Let the lad have his time in Phos' sun now, though. "How did you escape the zealots' clutches, then?"
Phostis and Olyvria took turns telling the tale, which, as it unfolded, seemed only fair to Krispos. Phostis didn't try to minimize what he'd done as an unwilling Thanasiot raider: if anything, he dwelt on it with pained guilt. "How are your arm and shoulder now?" Krispos asked.
"They still pain me now and again," Phostis said, working the arm. "I can use them, though. Anyhow, Father, getting wounded helped convince Syagrios I could be trusted, and prompted him to let me go to Pityos—"
Olyvria took over then with the story of how she'd smashed the chamber pot on Syagrios' head. "Fitting enough," Krispos agreed. Then Phostis told of buying the fishing boat and sailing to Videssos the city. That made Krispos laugh out loud. "There—you see? All that time you passed on the water with me wasn't wasted after all."
"I suppose not," Phostis said; he was, if nothing else, more patient around Krispos than he had been before he was kidnapped. Krispos watched his mirth fade as he continued, "I found riots in the city when I got there."
"Yes, I knew of them," Krispos said, nodding. "I knew you were on the way to the city, too; Zaidas' magic told me as much. I feared you were traveling as provocateur, not escapee. I meant to write Evripos and tell him as much, but it slipped my mind until yesterday in the midst of everything else that's been going on."
"It didn't matter," Phostis answered. "He thought of it for himself."
"Good," Krispos said, to see how Phostis would react. Phostis didn't react much at all, certainly not with the anger he would have shown a few months before. He just nodded and went on with his story. When he was finished, Krispos said, "So our troops have the upper hand?"
"They did when Olyvria and I left to join you," Phostis said. "Uh, Father ..."
"Yes?"
"What do you think of the suggestion I made to Evripos, that Olyvria and I should marry at once to show the Thanasioi we've renounced their sect?"
"Imperial marriages have a way of being made for reasons of state, but till now I'd never heard of one made for reasons of doctrine," Krispos answered. "Were the emergency worse, I might send the two of you back there to be wedded forthwith. As it is, I think you can wait till the campaign is over before you marry—assuming you still want to by then."
Their expressions said they could imagine no other possibility. Krispos had a deeper imagination. If they still wanted to go through with it come fall, he didn't think he'd object—or that Phostis would listen if he tried. The lad had needed to take care of himself lately, and had discovered he could do it. Few discoveries were more important.
Krispos said, "If you two like, you can spend the night in my pavilion." Then he saw their faces and laughed at himself. "No, you'll want a tent for yourselves, won't you? I would have, at your age."
"Well, yes," Phostis said. "Thank you. Father."
"It's all right," Krispos answered. At that moment, having Phostis back not only in one piece but opposed to the gleaming path, he could have refused him very little. He did add, "Before you repair to that tent, I trust you'll do me the honor of dining on army food and bad wine in the pavilion. I'll have Zaidas there, too; you said you wanted to talk with him, didn't you, Phostis? I'll see you around sunset."
Even with Olyvria's hand warm in his, Phostis approached Krispos' tent with considerable trepidation. When he set sail for Videssos the city, she'd feared he would remember he was junior Avtokrator and forget he was her lover. Now, as the bright silks of the imperial pavilion drew near, he was afraid his father would turn him into a boy again, simply by refusing to imagine he could be anything else.
The Halogai outside the entrance to the tent saluted him in imperial style, clenched right fists over their hearts. He watched them discreetly look Olyvria up and down, as men of any nation will when they see a pretty girl. One of them said something in his own language. Phostis understood it was about Olyvria but not what it meant; he had only a smattering of the Haloga tongue. He almost asked the guardsmen what it meant, but at the last minute decided not to make an issue of it—Haloga candor could be brutal.
Inside the tent waited Krispos, Katakolon, Zaidas. Sarkis, and half a dozen helpings of bread and onions and sausage and salted olives. Olyvria's smile puzzled Phostis till he remembered she was an officer's daughter. No doubt the fare looked familiar.
As they ate, Phostis and Olyvria retold their story for Zaidas; Sarkis and Katakolon had heard most of it in the afternoon. The mage, as usual, made a good audience. He clapped his hands when Olyvria again recounted knocking Syagrios out with the chamber pot, and when Phostis told how they'd decamped immediately thereafter.
"That's the way to do it," he said approvingly. "When you need to get out in a hurry, spend what you have to and leave. What's the point to saving your gold but failing of your purpose? Which reminds me ..." He abruptly went serious and intent. "His Majesty the Avtokrator—"
"Oh, just say, 'your father' and have done," Krispos broke in. "Otherwise you'll waste half the night in useless blathering."
"As your Majesty the Avtokrator commands," Zaidas said. Krispos made as if to throw a crust of bread at him. Grinning, Zaidas turned back to Phostis. "Your father, I should say, tells me you learned something of importance about the techniques of Livanios' Makuraner wizard."
"That's true, sorcerous sir." Phostis had to work to stay formal; he'd almost called the mage Uncle Zaidas. "One day— this was after I learned Artapan was from Makuran—I followed him and—" He described how he'd learned Artapan fortified his power with the death energies of Thanasioi who starved themselves to complete their renunciation of the world. "And if they weren't quite dead when he needed them so, he wasn't averse to holding a pillow over their heads, either."