From his new altitude, the Avtokrator said, «Rise.»

«I obey,» Abivard's envoy said, coming to his feet in one smooth motion. His face was beardless, and beautiful as a woman's. When he spoke, in good Videssian, his voice was silver bells. He must have been gelded early in life, for it never to have cracked and changed.

«Name yourself,» Maniakes said, continuing the ritual, though the ambassador had already been introduced to him in private.

«Majesty, I am called Yeliif,» the beautiful eunuch answered. «I am come to announce to Maniakes Avtokrator, his brother in might, the accession of Abivard King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase: divine, good, peaceful, to whom the God has given great fortune and great empire, the giant of giants, who is formed in the image of the God.»

«We, Maniakes, Avtokrator of the Videssians, vicegerent of Phos on earth, greet with joy and hope the accession of Abivard King of Kings, our brother,» Maniakes said, granting Abivard the recognition Sharbaraz—who had claimed the Makuraner God was formed in his image—had consistently refused to grant him. «Many years to Abivard King of Kings.»

«Many years to Abivard King of Kings!» the assembled courtiers echoed.

«Majesty, you are gracious to grant Abivard King of Kings the boon of your shining countenance,» Yeliif said. However lovely and well modulated his voice, it held no great warmth. He spoke, not with Kameas' impassivity, but with what struck Maniakes as well-concealed bitterness. He was, of course, a eunuch, which certainly entitled any man—or half man—to be bitter. And his features, however beautiful, had the cold perfection of statuary, not the warmth of flesh.

«May we live in peace, Abivard King of Kings and I.» That was also part of the ritual, but Maniakes spoke the words with great sincerity. Videssos and Makuran both needed peace. He dared hope they might find some small space of it.

Abivard King of Kings, he thought. The man who was, or could have been, his friend, the warrior who had made such a deadly foe, and now the ruler who had in the end chosen to reign in his own name, not that of his nephew, his sister's son by Sharbaraz.

That brought to mind another question: «What has befallen Sharbaraz the former King of Kings, esteemed sir?» the Avtokrator asked, giving Yeliif the title a high-ranking eunuch in Videssos would have had.

«Majesty, the God judges him now, not mortal men,» Yeliif answered. «Not long before I set out for this city, his successor had his head stricken from his body.» Was that regret? Yeliif had presumably been at court throughout Sharbaraz's reign. However little use most Makuraners might have had for Sharbaraz at the end, he might have been sorry to see his sovereign overthrown.

Well, Maniakes thought, that's not my worry. Aloud, he said, «I have gifts for you to take to Abivard King of Kings on your return to Makuran.» That, too, was ritual.

But then affairs in Makuran became Maniakes' worry, for Yeliif broke with ritual by prostrating himself again. «Majesty, may it please you, I cannot return to Makuran, save only that my head should answer for it, as Sharbaraz's did for him,» the beautiful eunuch said. «Abivard King of Kings sent me here not only as embassy but also as exile.» He sighed, a wintry sound. «He was, in his way, merciful, having had it in his power to slay me out of hand.»

«I won't slay you out of hand,» Maniakes promised. «I'm sure I'll be able to learn a great deal about Makuran from you.» I'll squeeze you dry, was what he meant. Yeliif nodded to show he understood and assented—not that he had much choice. Maniakes went on, «For now, esteemed sir, you may reckon yourself enrolled among the eunuchs of the palaces.»

«Majesty, you are gracious to an exile,» Yeliif said. «I shall have a great deal to say about everyone I know, I assure you.»

«I'm sure you will,» Maniakes said. «I'm sure you will.» Betrayal was the coin with which the beautiful eunuch would buy his welcome in Videssos the city. Abivard must have known as much and exiled him anyhow, which was… interesting. And Yeliif did not have to have it spelled out for him. Maniakes studied the limpid dark eyes, the elegant cheekbones, the sculptured line of jaw. Though a man only for women himself, he recognized the danger in that loveliness. Yes, Yeliif would know about betrayal. And, of course, someone in Yeliif's early days had given him over to be castrated. What worse betrayal than that?

The Avtokrator bowed his head, signifying the audience was ended. Yeliif prostrated himself, rose, and backed away from the throne till he could turn around without showing disrespect. A great many eyes followed him as he withdrew from the Grand Courtroom.

«Yes,» Yeliif said, «of course, the lady Denak was furious when Abivard chose to rule as King of Kings rather than as regent for Peroz, her son by Sharbaraz. Before that, she was furious with him for overthrowing Sharbaraz just when she'd finally gained influence over the then-King of Kings by bearing a son. Before that, she was furious with Sharbaraz for not giving her the influence she reckoned her due as principal wife.» The eunuch sipped wine and nodded first to Maniakes and then to the secretary who was taking down his words for further study.

«And what of Sharbaraz?» Maniakes asked. «How did he take it when he learned Abivard was moving against him?»

«He bellowed like a bull.» Yeliif's lip curled in scorn. «And, like a bull, he raged this way and that, neither knowing nor caring how he might best meet the threat before him, so long as he could bellow and paw the ground.»

With a faint scrape-scrape, the secretary's stylus raced over the waxed surface of his three-leaved wooden tablet. Maniakes slowly nodded. He hoped Yeliif would take that for agreement and understanding. Both were there, but so was something else, something that grew with every conversation he had with the beautiful eunuch: wariness. The next complimentary word Yeliif said about anyone at the Makuraner court would be the first. What was in a way worse was that the eunuch didn't seem to notice he was casually savaging everyone he mentioned. His view was so jaundiced, Maniakes had trouble deciding how much reliance he could place in it.

Experimentally, the Avtokrator said, «And what of Romezan? He's a noble of the Seven Clans. How does he feel about serving a sovereign born a mere dihqan?»

«It's no great difficulty.» Yeliif's gesture was elegant, scornful, dismissive. «Give Romezan something to kill and he's happy. It could be Videssians, it could be wild asses, it could be those who followed Sharbaraz. So long as he welters in gore, he cares not what gore it is.» Scrape-scrape went the stylus.

«He fights well,» Maniakes observed.

«He should. He's had practice enough. He'd fight himself, I daresay, till the bruises got too painful even for him to bear.» Somehow, malice was all the more malicious when expressed in that sweet, sexless voice. If Romezan had practice fighting, Yeliif had the same in backbiting—but he'd never wounded himself. «And Abivard?» Maniakes said.

«I warned Sharbaraz of him long ago,» the beautiful eunuch said. «I told him Abivard had his eye on the throne. Did he heed me? No. Did anyone heed me? No. Should he have heeded me? Majesty, I leave that to you.»

«Suppose Sharbaraz had got rid of him,» Maniakes said– actually, he said Sarbaraz; here in the city, he didn't care if his accent was imperfect. «Who would have led Makuran's armies against us this past spring?»

Yeliif returned a perfect shrug. «Romezan. Why not? He might have done better, and could hardly have done worse—worse for Makuran, I mean, as he made quite a good thing for himself out of failure.» Such cynicism took the breath away, even for an Avtokrator of the Videssians. Coughing a little, Maniakes said, «I begin to see why Abivard doesn't want you coming back to Mashiz.»