Negotiations between the eparch and the amir concluded when all parties agreed to honour the safety of travellers, especially merchants and the like who habitually traversed disputed borders. The routes themselves might remain under contention, but all recognized that it was best for everyone if trade continued unhindered. What is more, both emperor and caliph vowed-through their emissaries-to take whatever steps necessary to halt the pirating and raiding on both sides.

Furthermore, they agreed that these simple measures, if strictly upheld, could lay a solid foundation for increased cooperation, perhaps even reconciliation in the future. Towards this end, they proposed to meet again the following year to plan a council at which the emperor and the caliph could meet face to face and exchange tokens and treaties of peace.

Spring, early in this part of the world, was soon upon us and that meant the beginning of the trading year. Hence, Nicephorus was eager to return to the emperor with word of the envoy's success, for the sooner word of the peace accord could reach Constantinople, the sooner the merchants could resume trading with full confidence-and the sooner imperial coffers would begin enjoying fresh infusions of tax money, foreign and domestic.

"If you will pardon me, eparch," said Nikos the day after Amir Sadiq had departed. There had been a great farewell feast to celebrate the successful conclusion of the council, and the amir had been sent off with gifts of assurance and good will-the treasure the Sea Wolves had guarded, in fact. The eparch was preparing to sail the next day.

"Yes, yes, what is it, komes?" replied Nicephorus impatiently. He was sitting at the small table in the courtyard, looking at various documents having to do with the business just concluded.

"I see you are busy. Therefore, I will speak plainly."

"By all means."

"I think it a mistake to return to Constantinople at once." Nikos was so intent on making his point that he failed to notice me standing just inside the door. I had brought the eparch his cloak; the day had turned cloudy, and he asked me to fetch it for him.

"And why is that?" wondered the eparch, laying aside the parchment he was reading.

"We have had pledges and assurances before, but it has not stopped the predation."

"Are you suggesting the amir has lied to us, or deceived us in some way?"

"Not in the least," answered the komes quickly. "I am as certain as you are that Amir Sadiq is a just and honourable man."

"Then what are you suggesting?" The eparch glared at Nikos. "Come now! Be quick about it. You proposed to speak plainly-do so!"

"I am simply suggesting," Nikos said with elaborate patience, "that the news of our achievement may not receive the welcome it rightly deserves."

"And why should you imagine that?" snapped the eparch, already dismissing the komes from his mind, if not from the room. He turned back to the parchment he had been perusing.

"For the simple reason that no one will believe it."

The eparch glanced up from his work, regarded Nikos, then said, "Ridiculous."

"Is it?" countered the komes quickly. "Who will be the first to test the soundness of the treaty? If I were a merchant, I do not think I would be overeager to risk life and livelihood on the naked assurance of…" He hesitated.

"Say it, komes," demanded the eparch. "On the naked assurance of a silly old man. That is what you were going to say, is it not?"

"To risk life and livelihood on the assurances of an unknown Arab emissary," corrected Nikos smoothly. "It seems to me that without additional surety, shall we say, the agreement we take back with us will be seen as yet another empty promise offered by the duplicitous Muhammedans-a promise ordained to be broken as soon as the first trade vessels leave the Bosphorus."

This arrested the eparch's attention. He raised his head slowly and turned to the komes. "Yes, I am listening. What do you propose?"

"A simple demonstration," answered Nikos.

"A demonstration," the eparch intoned flatly. "What sort of demonstration do you have in mind, komes?"

"A journey, nothing more."

The eparch's mouth turned down at the corners. "I am disappointed, komes. I expected something much more creative and intelligent from you." Flicking his hand dismissively, Nicephorus said, "It is out of the question. You are too late with your anxious worries. We are leaving as soon as the ships are provisioned and ready. The merchants are anxious to return to Constantinople, and so am I. The emperor is waiting."

"It need be nothing very elaborate, or very far," continued Nikos as if he had not heard the eparch's decision. "What better way to announce the success of the treaty than to declare before the emperor and the assembled merchant princes that you personally have inaugurated the new peace with a journey over one of our more troubled trade routes, and found it to be completely satisfactory?"

The eparch regarded Nikos closely; I had seen the same look on the face of a man trying to determine the age of the horse he was buying. "You have a destination in mind, I presume?"

"The short journey to Theodosiopolis should suffice. It would take only a few days, and amply serve the purpose."

The eparch considered this, tapping his fingertips together. Finally, he said, "It is a meritable idea, Komes Nikos. I think you should do it-"

"Good," replied Nikos swiftly. "I will make the arrangements at once."

"On your own," continued the eparch, more forcefully. "That would allow me to stay here and prepare for next year's council. The governor is expected in a few days, and I could greet him and relate the details of our agreement. It would be time well spent. You go."

"But I am not the eparch," Nikos pointed out. "I could not-"

"It makes no difference. The journey is largely symbolic anyway. It will carry the same significance whether I go along or not."

Komes Nikos seemed about to make an objection; I could almost see the protest forming on his lips. But he checked himself and said, "Very well. If that is your decision."

"That is my decision," replied Nicephorus precisely.

"I shall leave in the morning. Good day to you, eparch." He turned suddenly and, for the first time, saw me standing just inside the doorway. His face stiffened; he crossed the room in quick, long strides. "Beware, meddling priest," he whispered under his breath as he passed. "Beware."

"Ah, Aidan, you are here," called the eparch, beckoning me to enter. "The day has grown cold. I am chilled to the bone."

Unfolding the cloak, I placed it around his shoulders. "I could light the brazier," I offered.

"Too much bother," he said. "I will not stay out here much longer. The light is failing." He looked at the doorway, as if expecting to see Nikos standing there. "Did you hear what he said?"

"Yes, eparch."

"What do you think?"

"I know nothing of these matters," I answered.

"But you know Nikos," the eparch pointed out. "You know him and, what is more, you distrust him-as do I." Nicephorus paused, ordering his thoughts. "I distrust him because I do not know where his true loyalties lie. He is ambitious, I believe. Many young men are ambitious, and I have seen more than my share; but in our friend Nikos, ambition serves an end I cannot see." Turning stiffly to me, he asked, "Was he lying, do you think?"

"You would know better than I, eparch," I answered. Suspicion, Justin had said, is the knife in your sleeve and the shield at your back.

"I think we must assume that he was. But if so, I cannot see any possible gain in it-for him or anyone else. Can you?"

"No, eparch." Even as I answered I felt the creeping damp of the prison cell I had seen in my dream. I shivered and looked around me; the courtyard had grown dim as daylight waned. "It is getting dark. Shall I not light the brazier for you?"