Krispos the Emperor (The Tale of Krispos, Book Three) (The Tale of Krispos of Videssos) by Harry Turtledove

Author:Harry Turtledove [Turtledove, Harry]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780307801715
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-08-17T00:00:00+00:00

VIII

KRISPOS WAS WADING THROUGH CHANGES IN A LAW THAT DEALT with tariffs on tallow imported from the northeastern land of Thatagush when Barsymes tapped at the open door of his study with one knuckle. He looked up. The vestiarios said, “May it please your Majesty, a messenger from the mage Zaidas at the government office building.”

“Maybe it will please me, by the good god,” Krispos said. “Send him in.”

The messenger quickly prostrated himself, then said, “Your Majesty, Zaidas bids me tell you that he has at last succeeded in commencing a sorcerous interrogation of the rebel priest Digenis.”

“Has he? Well, to the ice with tallow.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Never mind.” The less the messenger knew about the dickering with Thatagush, the happier he’d be. Krispos got up and accompanied him out of the study and out of the imperial residence. Haloga guards fell in with him as he went down the broad steps outside. He felt a childish delight in having caught his parasol bearers napping, as if he’d put one over on Barsymes.

He hadn’t gone to listen to Digenis since the day of Iakovitzes’ return. He’d seen no point to it: he’d already heard all the Thanasiot platitudes he could stomach, and Digenis refused to yield the truths he wanted to learn.

He was shocked at how the priest had wasted away. In his peasant days, he’d seen men and women lean with hunger after a bad harvest, but Digenis was long past leanness: everything between his skeleton and his skin seemed to have disappeared. His eyes shifted when Krispos came into his cell, but did not catch fire as they had before.

“He is very weak, your Majesty; his will at last begins to fail,” Zaidas said quietly. “Otherwise I doubt even now I could have found a way to coax answers from him.”

“What have you done?” Krispos asked. “I see no apparatus for the two-mirror test.”

“No.” By his expression, Zaidas would have been glad never to try the two-mirror test again. “This is half magic, half healing art. I laced the water he drinks with a decoction of henbane, having first used sorcery to remove the taste so he would notice nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Well done.” After a moment, Krispos added, “I do hope the technique for that is not so simple as to be available to any poisoner who happens to take a dislike to his neighbor—or to me.”

“No, your Majesty,” Zaidas said, smiling. “In any case, the spell, because it goes against nature, is easy to detect by sorcery. Digenis, of course, was not in a position to do so.”

“And a good thing, too,” Krispos said. “All right, let’s see if he’ll give forth the truth now. What questions have you put to him thus far?”

“None of major import. As soon as I saw he was at last receptive, I sent for you at once. I suggest you keep your questions as simple as you can. The henbane frees his mind, but also clouds it—both far more strongly than wine.

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