Like Fire Through Bone (29 page)

“Maybe you could, maybe you could not.” She let her arm fall back to her lap and smiled at him. “And in many ways, I think that doesn’t matter, because you are a good man and you are faithful, and in the end you do what you must. Now it is getting dark.” She stood and held out one arm to him. “Come, let us go inside.”

In the fading light of the garden, he stood as well, took her arm and moved with her toward the house.

“Be well,” Vasilios said when they were inside the main hallway of the house. He let go of Aritê’s arm so she could make her way to her own room.

“And you.” She smiled, a small secret smile. “I have no doubt that whatever else happens between this time we have spent together and the next, you will go where it is you need to be.”

“I hope I’ll see you again in the morning before you leave.” Vasilios pulled away, and Aritê nodded before turning and heading for the stairs.

Vasilios didn’t really remember going to his room or falling asleep, but he did wake with light, weak sunlight coming through the grate over the window. Someone knocked on the door, Vasilios guessed probably for the second time.

He sat up and swung out of bed, then searched for and began to pull on his clothes. “Yes?”

Phyllis eased the door open and stuck her head in. “The others are preparing to leave now, if you want to say your farewells,” she told him. “Also, there is a message for you from Lady Eudoxia’s house.”

He stood, stomach churning a little, and hurried out of the room toward the front courtyard.

Patros, along with several soldiers, were either on horseback or standing close to the lecticae, as was Brother Stavros and Aritê.

“God watch over you, my friend,” Brother Stavros greeted him as soon as he saw Vasilios. He uncurled his long serpent’s body and moved across the stones to embrace him.

“And God’s blessings on you,” Vasilios said, hugging him back before pulling away and turning to Aritê.

“We will see each other again,” she told him, one of her small secret smiles curving her lips. “Be certain of this, Vasilios Eleni.”

“Go in peace,” he said to her, then reached out and embraced her briefly.

“We need to leave,” Patros called, and Brother Stavros nodded once more to Vasilios, before turning and making his way to a lectica.

“Have a safe journey,” Vasilios called to Patros, who nodded, and Aritê also moved to her own lectica.

Vasilios stood and watched as everyone gathered and mounted their horses or lifted the lecticae and headed out of the gate and into the street. He turned when Phyllis touched his shoulder.

“The boy who came from Lady Eudoxia’s says you are wanted there at once,” she told him, and Vasilios looked back at the house.

“Where is Markos?”

“He went up to the Palace to meet with the Emperor early this morning,” Phyllis said. “I do not know when he’ll be back.”

Vasilios reached for the scarf around his shoulders and pulled it up over his head. “Tell Markos that I’ve gone to speak with Lady Eudoxia.”

“Very well.”

Vasilios turned and headed for the gate and out into the street.

It seemed so strange, he thought, moving through the gate to Lady Eudoxia’s house, across the courtyard and through the door. It seemed like a lifetime since he’d been here last, instead of barely any time at all.

One of Eudoxia’s eunuchs met him in the hall and bowed deeply. “Our mistress is waiting for you in the study.”

Vasilios nodded, feeling strangely out of place in this house he’d lived in for so many years. The eunuch led the way down the hall and then opened the door to the study. Vasilios slipped through, pulling the scarf from around his head as he did and then froze.

Eudoxia sat on one of the couches, and Damianos stood by the desk, which had once been his father’s, with Anthimos beside him. Vasilios’s hands began to shake.
Kneel
a voice at the back of his mind told him frantically.
Kneel
, but he couldn’t make himself do it, seemingly frozen in place.

“Vasilios,” Damianos said, sounding not at all pleased to see him. “You have been away, my mother tells me.”

“Yes, Master Damianos.” Vasilios lowered his eyes, still unable to force his legs to work well enough to go to his knees on the floor.

“And where have you been?” Anthimos asked, sounding far, far angrier than Damianos. Vasilios clenched his hands into fists in the folds of his robe to keep from flinching.

“Anthimos,” Eudoxia cut in, voice calm, but the authority of her tone was unmistakable. “Where Vasilios has been and what he has been doing is immaterial to this conversation. Damianos, please get on with your business here.”

There was a slight pause, where Vasilios stared fixedly at the floor and didn’t dare look up at Damianos and Anthimos.

“I have a letter from the Emperor,” Damianos said finally, his tone cold and stiff, “informing me that someone has paid for your freedom.”

Vasilios’s gaze rose and he stared at Damianos, trying to understand what he’d been told. “Paid the Emperor? For my freedom?”

“Yes,” Damianos snapped. “The Emperor has paid your price to me in turn, and you are now a free man.”

Vasilios’s gaze skittered from Damianos to Anthimos. Anthimos’s hands were balled into fists, and he was glaring at him as if he was moments away from striking out in a violent rage. Vasilios turned to look at Eudoxia, who sat seemingly calm and collected as always but with a small, pleased smile on her lips. She had no reason to be pleased, Vasilios thought hazily. It was her family, after all, that was losing a valuable asset. When her gaze met his, though, there was warmth in her eyes.

“As is customary for a slave given his freedom, you are entitled to your fee from the state.” Damianos threw a small leather bag at him, and Vasilios reached out without thinking, and caught it before it could hit him in the chest. He could feel coins inside the bag.

“Who?” Vasilios asked, fingers still clutching at the small bag of coins as Damianos began to turn away. “Who paid for my freedom?”

“I don’t know.” Damianos glanced back at him briefly. “The Emperor did not say.”

“Farewell, Vasilios Eleni,” Eudoxia said from where she sat. The small smile that had been lurking around the corners of her mouth had blossomed, warm and full of joy, making her look much younger than she was. “God’s blessings on your house.”

“And on yours.” Vasilios managed a small smile of his own for her, although his entire body felt heavy and wooden with shock. He forced himself to turn and head for the door, where the eunuch waited in the hall.

What would he do, where would he go? Vasilios clenched his hand around the fabric of his long tunic as if the feel of familiar cloth would somehow ground him. He could not imagine he would be living the kind of life where he would have much call for fine lamb’s wool or linen. For some reason, that thought made him smile, and something in his chest loosened and broke. Still smiling, he turned back toward the eunuch.

“All right,” he said. “I’m ready to leave now.”

The eunuch nodded and led the way through the house. “Are Bröndulfr and Eòran still with this household?” Vasilios asked, as they moved back toward the front door.

“No.” The eunuch shook his head. “They both moved on, once Lord Panagiotis’s estate was in order.”

Vasilios nodded, wondering where they had gone, and if he’d be able to one day meet them again. He wished he’d been able to say his farewells.

The eunuch opened the front door and led the way to the front gate, which the guard opened for him.

“Good-bye,” the eunuch said, tucking his hands into his sleeves and bowing low.

“Good-bye.” Vasilios bowed back and then turned and stepped into the street.

T
HE
first thing he did was head straight back to Markos’s house, where Phyllis met him at the door.

“Is Markos back?” he asked, when she let him in.

“Not yet,” she said, eyeing the small coin bag he still clutched against his chest.

“Then I’ll wait.” He headed for the receiving room and sat on one of the couches.

“I’ll bring you tea.” Phyllis turned and left the room before he could protest.

Vasilios sat. He didn’t know who would have bought his freedom, and who would have done it without telling him. There was Nereida, but would she have even had the money to do so? Or Lady Eudoxia, or Ilkay and Theofilos, but would they have done it at all, or someone else he wasn’t thinking of? Then, of course, there was Markos.

Phyllis pushed open the door again, and set a tray with a silver tea urn and a set of cups in front of him.

“Thank you.” He reached for one of the cups without really thinking, and Phyllis sighed and shook her head.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Vasilios sipped his tea with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. He was
free
. What he did and where he went was his to decide. His eyes flicked back to the pouch of coins that sat on the table. It was small and there were not many coins in it. What would he do now, where would he go, what kind of marketable skills did he really have? He didn’t know, never in his life had he been given the chance to find out.

The front door opened and shut, startling Vasilios enough to cause his hand to jerk, spilling tea down his arm and into his lap. With a hiss, he stood and began trying to pat himself dry. There were low voices in the hall, and then the door opened, letting Markos through.

Markos looked from where he was trying to wipe away the spilled tea on his tunic, to the coin bag on the table. “What happened?”

“Did you do it?” Vasilios blurted before he could stop. “Did you pay the Emperor for my freedom?”

Markos went still, gaze moving up to Vasilios’s face. Vasilios saw shock in Markos’s gray eyes slowly morph into something different, something new.

“I swear to you,” Markos said, voice low, “I did not buy your freedom. I do not have the power to ask favors of the Emperor like that.”

Vasilios stared at him for several long minutes. Markos’s face was serious, and there was nothing but honesty in his gaze, and Vasilios shook his head and then brought both slightly shaking hands up to his face.

“Then who did?” It came out little more than a whisper.

“I don’t know.” Markos took a few steps toward him and then stopped. “I have no idea. I heard no word of this until now, I swear to you.”

After a moment of silence, Vasilios sank back down onto the couch, trying to fight through the shock once more. Part of him, since Damianos had told him of his freedom, had assumed it had been Markos. Who else would do such a thing for him? Who else would care that much? Yet, Markos had sworn it had not been him, and Vasilios believed his word.

“Vasilios?” A hand lightly touched his shoulders, and Vasilios jerked in surprise and looked up to see Markos leaning over him with a slight frown on his face, eyes dark. “Are you truly all right?” Markos asked. “You know you can stay here for as long as you want.”

“I….” Vasilios forced himself to think about it, really think and then finally shook his head. “Thank you,” he said softly, “but I have lived in other people’s houses my entire life.” His eyes strayed to the small bag of coins. “I would like to try and live on my own a little, now.”

Markos opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, shook his head instead. “I understand,” he said at last, “but remember you are always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” On an impulse, Vasilios reached for Markos’s hand and held it between his own. “Thank you so much for everything.” Markos cupped the side of Vasilios’s face with his free hand and traced his fingers across Vasilios’s jaw before tilting it up slightly. He lightly brushed Vasilios’s lips with his thumb.

“You are a free man now,” Markos said, voice soft and deep, and Vasilios swallowed.

“Yes,” he said, voice equally soft, “yes I am.”

Markos’s head bent, and Vasilios let go of Markos’s hand to reach up and clutch at his shoulders. Their lips brushed together lightly before Markos sat back with a frustrated sigh. Vasilios had opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Phyllis pushed the door open.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but there is a young man from the Imperial Palace here to fetch you back.”

Markos made a frustrated noise halfway between a growl and a curse. Vasilios couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“This is going to take all night.” Markos’s mouth was set in a thin line. “Literally.”

“I need to find myself somewhere to stay anyway.” Vasilios stood as well, smoothing one hand down his tunic and reaching for the small pile of clothes from off the couch.

“Have dinner with me.” Markos reached for Vasilios’s hand and clasped it between his own, but then he winced. “I’m not free, I’m afraid, until later this week, but please come and spend some time with me.”

“I would love to.” It was easy. After everything, it was so easy to say it and smile up at Markos as he did.

“Thank you.” Markos squeezed his hands lightly and then turned and headed out of the receiving room and into the hall. Vasilios scooped up his small bag of coins and followed. A young man in a military uniform, with a sword at his waist, his helmet tucked under one arm, and wearing the crest of the Imperial Guard at his shoulder, saluted Markos as Vasilios closed the door behind them.