Lord of Emperors (28 page)

He looked up and down the empty street. Torches burned fitfully on walls; some had been extinguished by the wind. He looked up, and sighed. In silence, having done this sort of thing many times before, he moved to the end of the portico, mounted the stone railing and, reaching above his head with both hands, gripped and then pulled himself straight upwards in one smooth motion onto the porch roof.

One became very strong in the upper body and legs after years of mastering four horses in a chariot.

One also developed injuries. He paused long enough to give vent under his breath to the pain in his arm. He really
was
becoming too old for this sort of thing.

From portico roof to solarium balcony involved a short vertical jump, another hard gripping, and then a steady pull upwards until one knee could get purchase. Life would have been easier if Shirin had chosen to make this her bedchamber, after all. She hadn't, as he'd surmised. A glance inside-darkness, some benches, a fabric hanging on the wall above a sideboard. It was a reception room.

He swore again, and then stepped up on the balcony railing, balancing. The roof above was flat, as they all were in this neighbourhood, no edging at all, to let the rain run off. Made it hard to find a grip. This, too, he remembered from elsewhere. Other houses. He could fall here if his hands slipped. It was a long way down. He imagined some servant or slave finding him in the morning street, neck broken. A sudden hilarity entered into him. He was being indescribably reckless here and he knew it.

Thenai's ought to have been alone. She hadn't been. He was here, climbing to another woman's roof in the wind.

Footsteps sounded in the street below. He remained motionless, both feet on the railing, a hand on a corner column for balance, until they went away. Then he let go of the column and jumped again. He got both hands flat on the roof-the only way to do this successfully-and, grunting, levered himself up and onto it. A hard movement, not without cost.

He remained lying where he was for a time, on his back, determinedly not rubbing at his arm, looking up at the stars and the white moon. The wind blew. Jad had made men to be foolish creatures, he decided. Women were wiser, on the whole. They slept at night. Or closeted themselves with their husbands. Whatever that meant.

He laughed this time, softly to himself,
at
himself, and stood up. He walked, treading lightly, towards the place where the roof ended at a view of the interior courtyard below. He saw a small fountain, dry still at winter's end, stone benches around it, bare trees. The white moon shone, and the stars. Windy night, brilliantly clear. He realized that he felt happy, suddenly. Very much alive.

He knew exactly where her bedroom would be, could see the narrow balcony below. He took another look at the pale moon. A sister of the god, the Kindath called it. A heresy, but one could-privately-understand it sometimes. He looked over the roof edge. Going down would be easier. He dropped to his stomach, swung his legs over the side, lowered himself as far as he could, hands stretched above him. Then he dropped neatly to the balcony, landing silently, like a lover or a thief. He straightened from a crouch, moved softly forward to peer through the two glass-panelled doors into the woman's room. One door, oddly, was ajar in the cold night. He looked at the bed. No one there.

"There is a bow trained on your heart. Stop where you are. My servant will kill you happily if you do not declare yourself," said Shirin of the Greens.

It seemed wise to stop where he was.

He had
no
idea how she'd known he was there, how she'd had time to summon a guard. It also occurred to him-very belatedly-to wonder why he'd assumed she would be sleeping alone.

Declare yourself,
she'd ordered. He did have his self-respect.

"I am Heladikos, son of Jad," he said gravely. "My father's chariot is here. Will you come ride with me?"

There was a silence.

"Oh, my!" Shirin said, her voice changing.
'You?

Speaking quickly, in a low tone, she dismissed the guard. After he'd left she swung open the door to the balcony herself and Scortius, pausing to bow, entered her chamber. There came a light tapping at the inner door. Shirin crossed, opened it only a crack, accepted a lit taper from the servant briefly revealed in the hallway and then closed the door again. She moved about the room lighting candles and lamps herself.

Scortius saw the bedcovers in disarray. She
had
been asleep; was dressed now, however, a dark green robe buttoned high over whatever she wore to bed, if anything. Her dark hair, cut short, just reached her shoulders. A fashion emerging; Shirin of the Greens set fashions for the women of Sarantium. She was barefoot, high-arched, moving dancer-light over her floor. He felt, looking at her, a quick pulse of desire. This was a
very
attractive woman. He loosened his cloak, let it fall to the floor behind him. He began to feel a measure of control returning with the warmth. He knew all about this sort of encounter. She finished with the candles, turned back to him.

"I take it Thenai's was with her husband?"

Asked it with
such
a wide-eyed, innocent smile.

He swallowed hard. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Watched her sit, still smiling, on a cushioned seat near the banked fire.

"Do sit down, charioteer," she murmured, her back straight, exquisitely poised. "One of my women will bring us wine."

With great confusion and very real relief, he sank into the indicated seat.

The problem was that he was an absurdly attractive man. Shedding his cloak, clad still in white from the wedding, Scortius appeared permanently young, immune to all the aches and doubts and infirmities of lesser mortals.

She'd been lying alone, by choice of course. Jad knew there were enough who would have offered their versions of solace in the dark had she asked or allowed. But Shirin had discovered that the greatest luxury of status, the real privilege it conveyed, was the power to not allow, and to ask only when and where she truly desired.

There would come a time when it would make sense to take a protector, perhaps even an important husband from the army or one of the wealthy merchants or even someone from the Imperial Precinct. There was a living Empress who was proof of such possibilities. But not now. She was young still, at the apex of her fame in the theatre, and had no need-yet-for a guardian.

She
was
guarded, by celebrity, and other things. Among those other things was the fact that she had someone here to warn her when there were those who sought her room after darkfall.

'Danis, Danis. Isn't he gorgeous?"
she asked silently, knowing what the bird would say to that.

Scortius of Soriyya smiled, uneasily.

"Why, ah, would you think that, I, er…"

"Thenai's?" she finished for him. "Oh, women know these things, dear man. I saw you looking at her this afternoon. I must say she's exquisite."

"Urn, no! I mean, I'd, ah, say rather that… women may see strands of stories, where none are really to be found." His smile grew more assured. "Though I must say
you
are exquisite."

'You see? I knew it!"
said Danis.
'You
know
what this man is like! Stay where you are. Don't smile back!

Shirin smiled. Lowered her eyes demurely, hands in her lap. "You are too kind, charioteer."

A scratching at the door again. To preserve her guest's identity-and avoid the windstorm of gossip this visit would cause-Shirin rose and took the tray herself from Pharisa, not letting her in. She set it down on the side table and poured for both of them, though Jad knew she didn't need more wine at this hour. There was a tingle of excitement in her that she couldn't deny. The whole of the City-from palace to chapel to wharfside caupona-would be stupefied were it to learn of this encounter between the First of the Blues and the Greens" Principal Dancer. And the man was-

'More water in yours!"
Danis snapped.

The bird sniffed.
'I don't know why I bothered to warn you of sounds on the roof. Might as well have let him find you naked in bed. Save him so much bother.

'We didn't know who it was,'she
said reasonably.

"How did you, ah, realize I was there?" Scortius asked, as she handed him his cup. She watched him take a long drink.

"You sounded like four horses landing on the roof, Heladikos," she laughed. Untrue, but the truth was not for him, or anyone. The truth was a bird her father had sent her, with a soul, never sleeping, supernaturally alert, a gift of the half-world where spirits dwelled.

'Don't make jokes,"
Danis complained.
'You'll encourage him! You
know
what they say about this man!

'Of course I do,"
Shirin murmured inwardly.
'Shall we test it, my dear? He's famously discreet.

She wondered how and when he was going to make his overture of seduction. She took her seat again, across the room from him, and smiled, amused and at ease, but feeling an excitement within her, hidden like the soul of the bird. It didn't happen often, this feeling, it really didn't.

"You do know," said Scortius of the Blues, not moving from his seat, that this visit is entirely honourable, if… unusual. You are completely safe from my uncontrolled desires." His smile flashed, he set down his cup with an easy hand. "I'm only here to make you an offer, Shirin, an agent with a business proposal."

She swallowed hard, tilted her head thoughtfully. "You, ah, have control of the uncontrollable?" she murmured. Wit could be a screen.

He laughed, again easily. "Handle four horses from a bouncing chariot," he said. "You learn."

'Wliat is the man talking about?"
Danis expostulated.

"Yes," she said coolly, sitting up straight, holding her wine carefully "I'm sure you do. Go on." She lowered her voice, changed its timbre. Wondered if he'd notice.

The change in her tone was unmistakable. This was an actress: she could convey a great deal merely with a shift of voice and posture. And she just had. He wondered again why he'd assumed she'd be alone. What that said about her, or his sense of her. An awareness of the woman's pride, at the very least… self-contained, making her own choices.

Well, this
would
be her own choice, whatever she did. That was, after all, the point of what he'd come to say, and so he said it, speaking carefully: "Astorgus, our factionarius, has been wondering aloud and at some length what it would take to induce you to change factions."

What she did was change position again, rising swiftly, a taut uncoiling. She set down her cup, staring coldly at him.

"And for
this,
you enter my bedchamber in the middle of the night?"

It began, more and more, to seem a bad idea.

He said, defensively, "Well, this isn't really the sort of proposal one would want to make in a public-"

"A letter? An afternoon visit? A private word exchanged during today's reception?"

He looked up at her, read the cold anger, and was silent, though within him, looking at the fury of her, something else registered and he felt again the stirrings of desire. Being the man he was, he thought he knew the source of her outrage.

She said, glaring down at him, "As it happens, that last is exactly what Strumosus did today."

"I didn't know that," he said.

"Well, obviously," she said tartly.

"Did you accept?" he asked, a little too brightly.

She wasn't about to let him off so easily. "Why are you here?"

Scortius became aware, looking at her, that she was wearing nothing at all beneath the silk of her dark green robe. He cleared his throat.

"Why do any of us do what we do?" he asked, in turn. Question for question for question. "Do we ever really understand?"

He hadn't expected to say that, actually. He saw her expression change. He added, "I was restless, couldn't sleep. Wasn't ready to go home to bed. It was cold in the streets. I saw drunken soldiers, a prostitute, a dark litter that unsettled me for some reason. When the moon came up I decided to come here… thought I might as well try to… accomplish something, so long as I was awake." He looked at her. "I'm sorry."

"Accomplish something," she echoed dryly, but he could see her anger slipping away. "Why did you assume I'd be alone?"

He'd been afraid she'd ask that.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I was just asking myself the same question. There is… no man's name linked to yours, I suppose, and I have never heard you to be…" He trailed off.

And saw the ghost of a smile at the edge of her mouth. "Attracted to men?"

He shook his head quickly. "Not that. Um… reckless with your nights?"

She nodded. There was a silence. He needed more wine now but was reluctant to let her see that.

She said, quietly, "I told Strumosus I couldn't change factions."

"Couldn't?"

She nodded. "The Empress has made that clear to me."

And with that said, it seemed painfully obvious, actually. Something he ought to have known, or Astorgus certainly. Of course the court would want the factions kept in equilibrium. And this dancer wore Alixana's own perfume.

She didn't move, or speak. He looked around, thinking it through, saw the wall hangings, the good furnishings, flowers in an alabaster vase, a small crafted bird on a table, the disturbing disarray of the bed coverings. He looked back up at her, where she stood in front of him.