Videssos Cycle, Volume 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

will show w’at it shows,” a thought that could have come from his pagan Haloga ancestors.
    The talk shifted to lines of march, supply centers, and all the other minutiae that went into a major campaign. Despite his travels in the westlands, Marcus listened carefully. Attention to detail was never wasted.
    On the other hand, a couple of the Khamorth chieftains looked actively bored. The nomads made fine scouts and raiders, being as mobile as their distant cousins from Yezd. But they were not interested in anything but the fight itself: preparing for it seemed to them a waste of time. One plainsman snored until his seatmate, a Videssian, kicked him in the ankle under the table. He woke with a start, sputtering guttural curses.
    However rude they were in manner, the nomads had a firm grip on the realities of the mercenary’s trade. One of them caught ThorisinGavras’ eye during a lull in the planning. Thinking he had some point to make, the Emperor asked, “What is it, Sarbaraz?”
    “You not run out of money halfway through fight?” Sarbaraz asked anxiously. “We fight for your Ort’iash, he give us more promises than gold, and his gold not much good either.” That was true enough; Ortaias Sphrantzes had debased Videssos’ coinage until what was styled a goldpiece was less than one-third gold.
    “You’ll be paid, never fear,” Gavras said. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. “And you know I don’t coin trash, either.”
    “True, true—in city. We get away from city, from—how you say?—treasury, then what? Then maybe you run out of money, like I say. My boys not happy if that happen—maybe make up missing pay off countryside.” Sarbaraz grinned insolently, exposing crooked teeth. The Khamorth had no use for farmers, except as prey.
    “By Phos, I said you’d be paid!” Thorisin shouted, really angry now. “And if your bandits start plundering, we’ll set the rest of the army on you and see how you like that!”
    He took a deep breath and then another, trying to calm himself; before he became Emperor, Marcus thought approvingly, he would have let his temper run away with him. When he spoke again, it was with studied reason: “There will be plenty of coin along for the army’s needs. And even if the campaign should run longer than we expect, we won’t have to send back to the city for more goldpieces, just to the local mint at, at—” He snapped his fingers in irritation, unable to remember the town’s name. By inclination he was a soldier, not a financier; he found taxes and revenues as dull as the Khamorth did grain supply and encampment sites.
    “Kyzikos,” Alypia Gavra supplied. As was her way, the Emperor’s niece had sat quietly through most of the council, occasionally scribbling a note for the history she was composing. Most of the officers took no notice of her; they were used to her silent presence.
    For his part, Marcus felt the same mixture of longing, guilt, and a touch of fear Alypia always raised in him. He was more than fond of her, which did nothing to help his sometimes-stormy life with Helvis. Moreover, he knew his feelings were returned, at least in part. The fear came there. If a mercenary could not hope to hold a castle in Videssos, what would befall one who held a princess?
    “The mint at Kyzikos is not far southeast of Garsavra,” she was explaining to Sarbaraz. “In fact, it was first established as a paycenter for our troops in a war against Makuran … let me see.” Her green eyes grew thoughtful. “… Not quite six hundred years ago.”
    The nomad had not been happy at having to listen to any woman, even one of the imperial family. At her last words he stared, frankly unbelieving. “All right, you have mint, we get money. No need to mock me—who could remember six five-twenties of years?”
    He translated his own people’s number-system into Videssian. Scaurus wondered what Gorgidas would make of that; he’d probably say it harked back to a time when the