Turtledove, Harry V

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anyone came wandering by a little while ago, inquiring after your Majesty's
well-being. You or I would not be so foolish, but few people find themselves
at a disadvantage by underestimating the stupidity even of seemingly clever
people."
No one who had held the imperial throne for a while would have presumed to
disagree with that. Hoping the case would unravel like the sleeve of a cheap
robe when the first thread pulled lose, Maniakes walked out to the entrance.
No one, though, had come round to see if he was still intact. He sighed. Since
the day he had donned the red boots, nothing had been easy. He didn't suppose
he ought to expect anything different now.
When he turned back to deliver the negative news, he found his father coming
up the hall toward him. "Are you all right, son?" the elder Maniakes asked.
"The servants are telling all sorts of ghastly tales."
"I shouldn't be surprised, but yes, I'm fine." Maniakes explained what had
happened.
His father's face darkened with anger. Sketching Phos' sun-sign above his left
breast, he growled. "To the ice with whoever would try such a thing. Worse
than hiring an assassin, if you ask me: a mage doesn't have to get close to
try to slay you. Who's on your list?"
Maniakes named names. His father nodded at each one in turn. Then the
Avtokrator named Parsmanios. The elder Maniakes' eyes closed in pain for a
moment. At last, with a sign, he nodded again. "Aye, you'll have to look into
that, won't you? He was away from us for a long time, and he hasn't been happy
with his circumstances since he came to Videssos the city. But by the good
god, how I hope you're wrong."
"So do I," Maniakes answered. "As you say, there's not been a lot of love lost
between us, but he is my brother."
"If you don't remember that, you're a long step closer to the ice right
there," the elder Maniakes said. "Bagdasares is finding out what you need to
know, is he? How soon will he have any idea of what's toward?"
"Where we have specimens, he's already started work," Maniakes answered. "For
some of the people who might have done it, we'll either have to pull samples
out of the archives or else get them to give us new ones. We should have
something from Parsmanios in the files."
The elder Maniakes sighed once more. "You have to do it, but this is a filthy
business. I wonder if we wouldn't have been better off staying on Kalavria in
spite of all the tears and speeches the nobles gave."
"I've thought the same thing," the Avtokrator said. Now he sighed in turn.
"Going back wouldn't be easy, not what with everything that's happened since.
But heading for a place where no one's plotting against you has its
temptations."
"If we did go back, someone might start plotting against you," his father
said. He named no names, but Rotrude sprang into the Avtokrator's mind. She
hadn't married since he had left, she would be jealous of Lysia, and she would
want to advance Atalarikhos' fortunes. The Haloga style in such matters was
liable to include good old straightforward murder. Maniakes felt like jumping
into the sea. Only the fish would bother him there.
Kameas stood in the doorway, waiting to be noticed. "Yes, esteemed sir?"
Maniakes asked.
"The excellent Bagdasares has tested writings from the most holy Agathios and
the fragments of Abivard's seal, your Majesty," the vestiarios replied. "He
reports that neither man was involved in the attack on you. He is about to
evaluate writings from the eminent Kourikos, and wonders if you might be
interested in observing the process, as you expressed the belief that he may
well be one of the guilty parties."
"Yes, I'll come," Maniakes said, glad not to have to gauge the odds of
Rotrude's turning against him. "What about you, Father?"
"Thank you; I'll stay here," the elder Maniakes said. "What wizards do can be
useful. How they do it never much interested me, because I have no hope of
doing it myself."
The Avtokrator knew he would never make a wizard, either, but found what they
did intriguing even so. When he walked into the chamber where Bagdasares was
working, the mage showed him a piece of parchment with crabbed notations
complaining about a lack of funds. "This is indeed written in the hand of the
eminent Kourikos?" Bagdasares asked. Maniakes nodded.
Whistling softly between his teeth, Bagdasares set the parchment on a table.
He poured wine from one jar and vinegar from another together into a cup.
"They symbolize what is and what shall be," he said, "and this chunk of
hematite " He held it up. " is by the law of similarity attuned to the piece
of the same mineral in the amulet that protected you and allowed you to reach
me. Now "
He dipped a glass rod into the cup that held the mixed wine and vinegar, then
dabbed several drops of the mixture onto the parchment. The letters and
numbers there smeared as they got wet. Chanting, Bagdasares touched the wet
places with the lump of hematite. "If the eminent Kourikos was involved with
the magic, your Majesty, we should see those areas begin to glow as my sorcery
exposes the connection."
Maniakes waited. Nothing happened. After a couple of minutes, he asked, "Has
it done everything it's going to do?"
"Er yes, your Majesty," Bagdasares answered. "It would appear that the eminent
Kourikos was in fact not one of those who so wickedly plotted against you."
Pointing out to an Avtokrator that he was wrong could be a risky business.
Maniakes, however, greeted the wizard's words with a shrug, and Bagdasares
relaxed. Maniakes was just as well pleased not to have the logothete of the
treasury under suspicion, for his innocence made Parsmanios' more likely.
Maniakes wished he could have been positive it was Kourikos he had seen with
his brother, but he couldn't, and no help for it.
Doing his best to make life difficult, Bagdasares said, "We do, of course,
still have to test the script of the logothete's wife."
"I'm sure you'll attend to that in due course," Maniakes said. He supposed
Kourikos could have been a go-between for Phevronia and Parsmanios without
directly doing business with the mage who had tried to kill him, but it didn't
strike him as probable. He rubbed his chin. "I don't think I have a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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