Kay, Guy Gavriel – Sarantine Mosaic 01 – Sailing to Sarantium

The Empress said, ‘She did want it relayed only to the Emperor, didn’t she?’

Crispin lifted his head, made no reply.

He might die here now, he knew.

‘Of course she did. What else could she have done?’ Alixana’s tone was matter-of-fact, no emotion in it at all. ‘She would want to avoid an invasion at almost any cost.’

‘She would, I would,’ said Crispin finally, as calmly as he could. ‘Wouldn’t any man? Or woman?’ He took a breath. ‘I will say one thing, something I myself believe to be true: Batiara might possibly be taken in war, but it cannot be held. The days of one Empire, east and west, are over. The world is not what it was.’

‘I believe that,’ said Alixana, surprising him, again.

‘And I do not,’ said the Emperor flatly. ‘Else I would not be devising as I am. I will be dead one day and lying in my tomb, and I would have it said of Valerius II that he did two things in his days beneath Jad’s sun. Brought peace and splendour to the warring schisms and sanctuaries of the god’s faith, and restored Rhodias to the Empire and to glory. I will lie easy with Jad if these two things are so.’

‘And otherwise?’ The Empress had turned to her husband. Crispin had a sense he was party now to a long conversation, oft repeated.

‘I do not think in terms of otherwise,’ said Valerius. ‘You know that, love. I never have.’

Then marry her,’ said his wife, very softly.

‘I am married,’ said the Emperor, ‘and I do not think in terms of oth­erwise.’

‘Not even to lie easy with the god after you die?’ Dark eyes holding cool grey in a room of candles and gold. Crispin swallowed hard and wished he were elsewhere, anywhere that was not here. He had not spo­ken a word of Gisel’s message, but they seemed to know it all, as if his silence meant nothing. Except to himself.

‘Not even for that,’ said Valerius. ‘Can you truly doubt?’

After a long moment, she shook her head. ‘Not truly,’ said the Empress Alixana. There was a silence. She went on. ‘In that case, however, we ought to consider inviting her here. If she can survive somehow and get away, her royalty becomes a tool against whoever usurps the Antae throne-and someone surely would-if she were gone.’

Valerius smiled then, and Crispin-for reasons he did not immediately grasp-felt a chill, as if the fire had died. The Emperor didn’t look boy­ish now. ‘An invitation went west some time ago, love. I had Gesius send it to her.’

Alixana went very still, then shook her head back and forth, her expres­sion a little odd now. ‘We are all foolish if we try to stay apace with you, are we not, my lord? Whatever jests or wagers you might enjoy making. Do you weary of being cleverer than anyone?’

Crispin, appalled at what he’d just heard, burst out, ‘She can’t possibly come! They’ll kill her if she even mentions it.’

‘Or let her come east and denounce her as a traitor, using that as an excuse to seize the throne without shedding royal blood. Useful in keep­ing you Rhodians quiescent, no?’ Valerius’s gaze was cool, detached, sort­ing through some gameboard problem late at night. ‘I wonder if the Antae nobles are clever enough to do it that way. I doubt it, actually.’ These were real lives, though, Crispin thought, horrified: a young queen, the people of a war-torn, plague-stricken land. His home.

‘Are they only pieces of a puzzle, my lord Emperor? All those living in Batiara, your army, your own people exposed in the east if the soldiers go west? What will the King of Kings in Bassania do when he sees your armies leave the border?’ Crispin heard his own reckless anger.

Valerius was unruffled. He said, reflectively, ‘Shirvan and the Bassamds receive four hundred and forty thousand gold solidi a year from our trea­sury. He needs the money. He’s under pressure from the north and south and he’s building, too, in Kabadh. Maybe I’ll send him a mosaicist.’

‘Siroes?’ the Empress murmured drily.

Valerius smiled a little. ‘I might.’