Seeing the distrust in Damodara’s eyes, Belisarius shook his head.
“I assure you, Lord Damodara, that nothing I will discuss with Narses will cause any harm to you.”
He waited, while Damodara gauged the thing. Measured the angles, so to speak.
That was a beautifully parsed sentence, said Aide admiringly.
I had an excellent grammarian. My father spared no expense on my education.
Damodara was still hesitating. Looking for the oblique approach, wherever the damn thing was. That it was there, Damodara didn’t doubt for an instant.
“I will give you my oath on it, if you wish,” added Belisarius.
Oh, that’s good. You’re smart, grandpa. Don’t let anybody tell you different.
Belisarius almost made a modest shrug. But long experience had taught him to keep his conversations with Aide a secret from those around him.
I am a man of honor. But I’ve never seen where that prevents me from using my honor practically. We Romans are even more practical than the Malwa. Way more, when push comes to shove.
The offer seemed to satisfy Damodara. “There’s no need,” he said pleasantly. Again, he bowed to Belisarius. Then, taking Sanga by the arm, he left the pavilion.
Belisarius and Narses were alone. Narses finally spoke.
“Fuck you. What do you want?”
* * *
Belisarius grinned. “I just want to tell you your future, Narses. I think I owe you that much, for saving Theodora’s life.”
“I didn’t do it for you. Fuck you.” The old eunuch’s glare was a thing of wonder. As splendid, in its own way, as Aide’s coruscating glamour. Sheer hostility, as pure as a diamond, forged out of a lifetime’s malice, envy and self-hatred.
“And what do I care?” demanded the eunuch. Sneering: “What? Are you going to tell me that I’m an old man, right on the edge of the grave? I already know that, you bastard. I’ll still make your life as miserable as I can. Even while they’re fitting me for the shroud.”
Belisarius’ grin was its own thing of marvel. “Not at all, Narses. Quite the contrary.” He tapped the pouch under his tunic. “The future’s changed, of course, from what it would have been. But some things will remain the same. A man’s natural lifespan, for instance.”
Narses glared, and glared. Belisarius’ grin faded, replaced by a look of—sorrow?
“Such a waste,” he murmured. Then, more loudly: “I will tell you the truth, Narses the eunuch. I swear this before God. You will outlive me, and I will not die young.”
His crooked smile came. “Not from natural causes, anyway. In this world, which we’re creating, who knows what’ll happen? But in the future that would have been, I died at the age of sixty. You were still alive.”
Narses jaw dropped. “You’re serious?” For a moment, a lifetime’s ingrained suspicion vanished. For that moment—that tiny moment—the scaled and wrinkled face was that of a child again. The infant boy, before he had been castrated and cast into a life of bitterness. “You’re really telling me the truth?”
“I swear to you, Narses, before God Himself, that I am speaking the truth.”
Suspicion returned, like a landslide. “Why are you telling me this?” demanded Narses. “And don’t give me any crap. I know how tricky you are. There’s an angle here.” The eunuch’s angry eyes scanned the interior of the pavilion, and the landscape visible beyond, as if looking for the trap.
“Of course there’s an angle, Narses. I should think it’s obvious. Ambition.”
Narses’ eyes snapped back to Belisarius.
“Such a waste,” repeated Belisarius. Then, firmly and surely: “I forgive you your treason, Narses the eunuch. Theodora won’t, because she cannot abandon her spite. But I can, and I do. I swear to you now, before God, that the past is forgiven. I ask only, in return, that you remain true to the thing which brought you to treason. Your ambition.”
Belisarius spread his hands, cupped, like a giant holding an invisible world. “Don’t think small, Narses. Don’t satisfy yourself with the petty ambition of bringing me down. Think big.” His grin returned. “Why not? You’ve still got at least thirty more years to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”