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For another, no magic was very effective in the heat of battle. When a man's
passions were roused to fever pitch as he fought for his life, he scarcely
sensed spells that might have laid him low had they taken him at his ease. The
wizards, then, did more in the way of finding lost rings and occasionally lost
toddlers for the camp women than they did in hurling sorcerous fireballs at
Maniakes' men. They foretold whether pregnant women would bear boys or
girls not with perfect accuracy but better than they could have done by random
guessing. They helped heal sick men and sick horses and with luck helped keep
camp diseases from turning into epidemics. And, being men, they boasted about
all the other things they might do if only they got the chance.
Every so often Abivard summoned one of them to see if he could make good on
his boasts. One hot, sticky high-summer day he had called to his residence the
mage named Bozorg, a young, eager fellow who had not accompanied the army in
all its campaigns in the Videssian westlands but was newly arrived from
Mashiz.
Bozorg bowed very low before Abivard, showing he recognized that his own rank
was low compared with that of the general. Venizelos fetched in wine made
tangy with the juice of oranges and lemons, a specialty of the coastal
lowlands. Over the past couple of years Abivard had grown fond of it. Bozorg's
lips puckered in an expression redolent of distaste.
"Too sour for me," he said, and then went on, "unlike my gracious and generous
host, whose kindness is a sun by day and a full moon by night, illuminating by
its brilliance all it touches. I am honored beyond my poor and humble worth by
his invitation and shall serve him with all my heart, all my soul, and all my
might, be my abilities ever so weak and feeble."
Abivard coughed. They didn't lay compliments on with a trowel in the frontier
domain where he'd grown up. The Videssians weren't in the habit of quite such
cloying fulsomeness, either; their praise tended to have a sardonic edge to
it. But at the court of Mashiz flattery knew no bounds.
Bozorg must have expected him to take it for granted, too, for he continued.
"How may I serve the valiant and noble lord whose puissance causes Videssos to
tremble, whose onset is like that of the lion, who strikes with the swiftness
of the goshawk, at whose approach the pale easterners who know not the God
slink away like jackals, who overthrows city walls like an earthquake in human
form, who "
Abivard's patience ran thin. "If you'll give me a chance to get a word in
edgewise, I'll tell you what I have in mind." He was glad Roshnani wasn't
listening to Bozorg;
he would have been a long time living down earthquake in human form.
"Your manner is harsh and abrupt," Bozorg said sulkily. Abivard glared at him.
He'd sent looks less hostile toward the Videssian generals whose armies he'd
overthrown. Bozorg wilted. Shifting from foot to foot, he admitted, "I am of
course here to serve you, lord."
"That's a relief," Abivard said. "I thought you'd come to stop up my ears with
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treacle." Bozorg assumed a deeply wounded expression. He hadn't practiced it
enough; it looked plastered on rather than genuine. Abivard did him a favor:
he ignored it. After pausing to marshal his thoughts, he went on, "What I need
from you, if you can give it to me, is some sort of picture of what Maniakes
has in mind to do to us this year or next year or whenever he decides he's
strong enough to face us in open battle."
Now Bozorg really did look worried. "Lord, this is no easy task you set me.
The
Avtokrator of the Videssians will surely have his plans hedged around with the
finest sorcery he can obtain from those small fragments of the Empire still
under his control."
"If what I wanted were simple, I could give silver arkets or Videssian
goldpieces to any local hedge wizard," Abivard said, looking down his long
nose at the mage from Mashiz. "You, sirrah, come recommended for both talent
and skill. If I send you back to the capital because you have not the spirit
to essay what I ask of you, you shall get no more such recommendations in the
future."
"You misunderstand me, lord," Bozorg said quickly. "It is not to be doubted I
shall attempt this task. I did but warn you that the God does not guarantee
success, not against the wizards Maniakes Avtokrator has under his command."
"Once we're bom, the only thing the God guarantees is that we'll die and be
judged on how we have lived our lives," Abivard answered. "Between those two
moments of birth and death we strive to be good and true and righteous. Of
course we can't succeed all the time; only the Prophets Four came close, and
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