«He'd swive anything that moved,» Mikhran said, «and if it didn't move, he'd shake it. Our nobles would have served him the same way had he outraged their womenfolk as he did those of the nakharars here.»

«No doubt you're right Gazrik said as much,» Abivard answered, thinking what he'd do if anyone tried outraging Roshnani. Of course, anyone who tried outraging Roshnani might end up dead at her hands; she was nobody to take lightly nor one who shrank from danger.

«I warned him.» Mikhran's words tolled like a sad bell. «He told me to go suck lemons; he'd go get something else sucked himself.» He started to say something more, then visibly held his tongue. He got that, all right, and just as he deserved, was what ran through Abivard's mind. No, Mikhran marzban couldn't say that no matter how loudly he thought it

Abivard sighed. «You proved yourself wiser than the man who was your master. So what do we do now? Must I spend the rest of this year going from valley to valley and thrashing the princes? I will if I must, I suppose, but it will lead to untold mischief in the Videssian westlands. I wish I knew what Maniakes was doing even now.»

«Part of the problem solved itself when Vshnasp's genitals ceased to trouble the wives and daughters of the Vaspurakaner nobles,» Mikhran said. «The nakharars would willingly return to obedience, save that…»

Save that we have to obey Sharbaraz King of Kings. Again Abivard supplied a sentence Mikhran marzban didn't care to speak aloud. Disobeying the King of Kings was not something to be contemplated casually by any of his servants. In spite of the God's conveyance of preternatural wisdom to the King of Kings, Sharbaraz wasn't always right But he always thought he was.

Mikhran opened a saddlebag, reached in, and pulled out a skin of wine. He undid the strip of rawhide holding it closed, then poured a tiny libation for each of the Prophets Four down onto the ground that had already drunk so much blood. After that he took a long swig for himself and passed the skin to Abivard.

The wine went down Abivard's throat smooth as silk, sweet as one of Roshnani's kisses. He sighed with pleasure. «They know their grapes here, no doubt about that,» he said. On the hillsides in the distance were vineyards, the dark green of the grapevines' leaves unmistakable.

«That they do.» Mikhran hesitated. Abivard gave him back the wineskin. He swigged again, but that wasn't what he'd wanted. He asked, «What will the King of Kings expect from us now?»

«He will expect us to restore Vaspurakan to obedience, nothing less,» Abivard answered. The golden wine mounted swiftly to his head, not least because he was so worn from the morning's fighting. He went on. «He will also expect us to have it done by yesterday, or perhaps the day before.»

Mikhran marzban's slightly pop-eyed expression said he hadn't just stepped over an invisible line, he'd leapt far beyond it. He wished he'd held his tongue, a useless wish if ever there was one. But perhaps his frankness or foolishness or whatever one wanted to call it had finally won the marzban's trust. Mikhran said, «Lord, while we are putting down this rebellion in Vaspurakan, what will the Videssians be doing?»

«I was wondering the same thing myself. Their worst, unless I'm badly mistaken,» Abivard said. He listened to himself in astonishment, as if he were someone else. If his tongue and wits were running a race, his tongue had taken a good-sized lead.

But Mikhran marzban nodded. «Which would Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his days be long and his realm increase, sooner have: war here and Videssos forgotten or peace here and Videssos conquered?»

«Both,» Abivard replied without hesitation. But in spite of his tongue's running free as an unbroken colt, he knew what Mikhran was driving at. The marzban didn't want to be the one to have to say it, for which Abivard could hardly blame him: Mikhran was not Sharbaraz' brother-in-law and enjoyed no familial immunity to the displeasure of the King of Kings. How much did Abivard enjoy? He suspected he'd find out «If we give up trying to compel the princes to follow the God, they'll be mild enough to let me get back to fighting the Videssians.»

When Mikhran had said the same thing earlier, he had spoken of it as an obvious impossibility. Abivard's tone was altogether different. Now Mikhran said, «Lord, do you think we can do such a thing and keep our heads on our shoulders once the King of Kings learns of it?»

«That's a good question,» Abivard observed. «That's a very good question.» It was the question, and both men knew it. Since Abivard didn't know what the answer was, he went on: «The other question, the one that goes with it, is, What is the cost of not doing it? You summed that up well, I think: we will have warfare here, and we will lose the gains we made in Videssos.»

«You are right, lord; I'm certain of it,» Mikhran said, adding, «You will have to draft with great care the letter wherein you inform the King of Kings of the course you have chosen.» After a moment, lest that seem too craven, he added, «Of course I shall also append my signature and seal to the document once you have prepared it»

«I was certain you would,» Abivard lied. And yet it made sense that he should be the one to write to Sharbaraz. For better or worse—for better and worse—he was brother-in-law to the King of Kings; his sister Denak would help ease any outburst of wrath from Sharbaraz when he learned that for once not all his wishes would be gratified. But surely Sharbaraz would see that the change of course would only do Makuran good.

Surely he would see that. Abivard thought of the latest letter he'd gotten from the King of Kings, back in Across. Sharbaraz had not seen wisdom then. But the red-lion banner had never before flown above Across. Makuran had struggled for centuries to dominate Vaspurakan. Persecutions of the locals had always failed. Surely Sharbaraz would remember that. Wouldn't he?

Mikhran said, «If the God be kind, we will be so well advanced on our new course, and will have gained such benefits from it by the time Sharbaraz King of Kings, may his years be many and his realm increase, receives your missive that he will be delighted to accept what we have done.»

«If the God be kind.» Abivard's left hand twisted in the gesture that invoked the Prophets Four. «But your point is well taken. Let us talk with their chief priests here; let us see what sort of arrangements we can work out to put the uprising behind us. Then, when we have at least the beginnings of good news to report, will be time enough to write.»

«If we have even the beginnings of good news to report,» Mikhran said, suddenly gloomy. «If not, we only bring more trouble down on our heads.»

At first Abivard had a hard time imagining more trouble than Vaspurakan aflame with revolt and the Videssian westlands unguarded by his mobile force because of that revolt. But then he realized that those were troubles pertaining to Makuran as a whole. If Sharbaraz grew angry at how affairs in Vaspurakan were being handled contrary to his will, he would be angry not at Makuran in general but at Abivard in particular.

Nevertheless– «Are we agreed on our course?» he asked.

Mikhran marzban looked around the battlefield before answering. Most of the Makuraner dead had been taken away, but some still sprawled in death alongside the Vaspurakaners whose defeat they would not celebrate. He asked a question in his turn: «Can we afford more of this?»

«We cannot,» Abivard answered, his purpose finning. «We'll treat with the princes, then, and see what comes of that» He sighed. «And then we'll tell Sharbaraz King of Kings of what we've done and see what comes of that.»