Like Fire Through Bone (3 page)

“It seems a shame to damage you that way, though, since it will be harder for you to fulfill your duties with fewer fingers. But we do want to impress on you the severity of your actions so that in future you will only uphold the good name of this house. Instead”—Vasilios met Eòran’s steady gaze and willed his own tone to unflinching firmness—“you will be lashed until I think you have learned your lesson.” He turned back to the young eunuch, strode across the space, and hauled him up by the front of his tunic. “And if ever you do such a thing again,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “I will see you branded or have fingers removed as I should have done today.”

He let go of the man, who crumpled to the ground again. Then he nodded at Eòran, who turned, walked out of the courtyard, and returned a moment later carrying a single-tailed lash. Eòran stripped off his tunic, revealing a slim, if heavily muscled, chest covered in bright-blue and dark-black swirling and knotting tattoos.

The two guards roughly pulled the young eunuch to his feet, stripped him out of his own tunic, and dragged him across the courtyard to tie him to one of the ornate metal gates that covered the doorway. The eunuch began to sob in earnest again, and Vasilios pushed down the revulsion that twisted in his gut. Gods, but he hated being in charge of discipline.

“Please,” the young man said between choked sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. I swear on God’s name, please.”

He couldn’t flinch, Vasilios thought, no matter how much he wanted to. The boy was young, stupid, and scared out of his mind, and Gods, but Vasilios didn’t want to do this. He was already going softer on the eunuch than he should. If he was any more forgiving, word of it would surely spread. Not only would Panagiotis hear of it, but also the servants and eunuchs, and his ability to command any kind of obedience within the household would be ruined. So he braced himself and nodded to Eòran, who approached the young eunuch.

The man shrieked with the first strike, and Vasilios took a long careful breath. Eòran kept a regular rhythm and pace. The muscles worked and flexed in his back. The lash snapped through the air, marking the eunuch’s back with bright welts. Vasilios knew the lash would soon draw blood, and he forced himself not to flinch away or look anywhere else.

The lash bit again, and now the blood came. Vasilios swallowed back the nausea that rose in him. The young man had stopped screaming and was instead hyperventilating so badly that Vasilios was half afraid he’d choke. He shifted where he stood, and when Eòran looked back at him between strokes, he shook his head, and Eòran let his arm fall.

Everyone around the courtyard seemed to wait, long enough for Vasilios to be sure the eunuch wasn’t about to choke to death on his own tongue, and then he nodded sharply to Eòran who raised his arm again. The crack as the lash cut the air seemed much louder this time, and the young eunuch screamed in earnest. Vasilios felt his whole body tense with the need to look away or curl in on himself as if he’d been the one struck.

When the lash cut across other marks that were deep enough to bleed for the third time, Vasilios unclenched his hand enough to gesture for Eòran to stop. The two guards stepped forward to untie the eunuch. Vasilios raised his eyes to the group on the balcony watching the entire scene.

“One of you come down to attend to him.” He raised his voice loud enough for them to hear him, and one of the women’s eunuchs detached himself from the group and headed for the stairs.

Vasilios turned to the young eunuch now lying on the ground, and walked over to inspect the damage. There were a few marks that would scar, but nothing he wouldn’t recover from.

Turning away, Vasilios hoped the eunuch had learned his lesson and would not need to be disciplined like that again.

If there was a next time, Vasilios would be forced to hand out one of the harsher punishments he usually shied away from, or Damianos might oversee his punishment. While not cruel, Damianos was a traditionalist. The Gods forbid, it might even be Anthimos, in which case—Vasilios couldn’t help but shudder a little at the idea—the punishment might be anything.

Feeling tired and a little ill, Vasilios made his way back to his room, hoping nothing else out of the ordinary would require his attention for the rest of the day.

Paperwork was blessedly normal, and Vasilios sat at his writing desk and busied himself going over the latest warehouse inventories. He’d almost forgotten about Markos’s visit, until a knock came at the door.

He opened it to find a servant boy standing in the hall. “General Markos Özdemir is here, and our master asks that you attend them,” the serving boy said, and Vasilios bit his tongue on a curse and nodded. He closed the door behind him and followed the boy.

The boy showed him to the door of one of the receiving rooms. Vasilios pushed it open and walked through, to immediately sink to his knees on the lush red-and-gold carpet that covered most of the brightly tiled floor. The soft murmur of voices subsided, Panagiotis’s distinctive wheezing tone and Markos’s quiet replies.

“My deepest apologies,” he said, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Oh, not to worry,” Panagiotis said, and Vasilios knew, even though he did not look up, he’d punctuated the statement with a dismissive wave. “General Markos arrived only moments ago.”

“Indeed.” Markos’s voice was as deep and rich as Vasilios remembered. The desire to look up was so intense, Vasilios’s fingers clenched ever so slightly against the rug. “There is no harm done.”

Vasilios didn’t say anything. He bowed until his forehead briefly touched the floor.

“Well, now that we are all here, your message said you wanted to speak with me about the purchase of a parcel of land,” Panagiotis said.

“Yes,” Markos said. “It’s for my daughter-in-law really. My son, you see, is away often on campaign, and Cassandra quite liked to spend time at their country villa during his absence, but my son, in his infinite wisdom, has decided to gift the villa to his newest concubine. So, my thought was, I would buy a villa, a modest ride from the city, and allow Cassandra to use that when she wished to get away.”

Panagiotis chuckled. “You are very kind, Markos. I am sure all my daughters wish their own fathers-in-law were as generous. We will see what we can do for you. As you know, I do not trade in land myself, usually, but I have some dear friends who do, and I am sure I will be able to facilitate a good deal for you. Although, I tell you, what you are describing is prime real estate and will probably cost you dearly.”

“The price doesn’t concern me,” Markos said. “The Emperor rewards me well for my service, as did his father, God rest him.”

“Well, then.”

Vasilios heard the clink of delicate china against china as Panagiotis set aside his cup.

“Tell me what exactly you are looking for.”

“If I may,” Markos said, voice slightly apologetic, “I do not mean to come into your home and interfere with the running of your household, but would it be possible for Vasilios not to kneel the entire time?”

There was a brief silence.

“Why…,” Panagiotis finally said, sounding as perplexed and slightly taken aback as Vasilios felt. “He does not have to. Vasilios, get up.”

Rising slowly, Vasilios dared to glance questioningly at Panagiotis, who nodded in an encouraging fashion. Vasilios stood, head slightly bent and eyes still fixed on the floor, hands clasped in front of him.

“Is that better, Markos?” Panagiotis asked, still sounding slightly puzzled.

“Thank you, my lord, for humoring me.”

“Now, none of that.” Panagiotis waved his hand. “I am hardly
your
lord, my esteemed General.”

Markos made a rather flustered embarrassed noise that caused something hot and tight to twist in Vasilios’s stomach.

Panagiotis laughed again, and there was another light click as he picked up his cup. “So, tell me what you are looking for in this property?”

“I would like it to be of modest size,” Markos said, “but with room to grow an orchard, if there is not one already. The house has to already be there. I’m afraid I do not have the time to oversee the building of a new one.”

Eyes firmly on the floor, Vasilios listened attentively, making a mental note of every detail Markos wanted, knowing that Panagiotis would expect him to remember it all without writing anything down.

“Well, my friend,” Panagiotis said, a laughing note to his voice that soon turned into a deep hacking wheeze, “not looking for much are you? Prime real estate indeed! But never mind that. We will find it for you.”

“I would be indebted,” Markos said, and there was another soft clink as he set his cup on the table. “And I will pay a handsome finder’s fee.”

“I’m sure you will,” Panagiotis said. “After all, we are both men of business here.”

“Yes.” Markos’s deep voice held a note of something Vasilios couldn’t name, and he longed to look up and see what expression was on Markos’s face. He did not, though. It would have been well beyond his station, and if there was anyone he wanted to be perfect in front of, it was Markos Özdemir.

“So will you be staying in the capital long this time?” Panagiotis asked, and Vasilios heard the couch Panagiotis was reclining on creak as he shifted.

“I do not know,” Markos said. “Probably longer than I have for a number of years. The Emperor has asked me to look into a matter for him.”

There was an awkward silence. Vasilios fought the dual urges to shift a little where he stood and to look up and see if Markos had changed much since the last time he had seen him.

“So how is your wife?” Markos asked finally.

“Eudoxia?” Panagiotis laughed. “Better than I am and as lovely as always. She will far outlive me, I’m sure. God smiles upon that woman.”

“She is a fine and pious lady,” Markos agreed. “And your sons are well?”

“Oh fine, fine,” Panagiotis said. “Married, all three of them, and Damianos’s wife is expecting another child. God willing, another boy. They have been quite lucky in that regard. Lukas’s two boys are healthy and thriving, although he’s more interested in playing with his newest jewel than making another son, I’m afraid. Still, what can we fathers do?”

“Indeed.” Markos’s voice sounded unhappy and resigned.

“Anthimos’s wife continues to be unable to conceive,” Panagiotis said. “Although as I keep telling him, they are young and there is time.”

“Yes.”

Vasilios pressed his lips tightly together so as not to frown at the mention of Panagiotis’s youngest son and his poor wife.

“He is still young, and there is plenty of time.”

“Yes, indeed, and you? If I remember correctly, you were not in the habit of keeping concubines, or jewels, for that matter.”

“No,” Markos said, his voice soft and serious. “When I was a young man, I was too often away at war to worry about such things, and now that I am older, I find I do not have much need for either.”

Panagiotis chuckled at that, but it turned into a wheezing cough. “I understand the sentiment, my friend,” he said, once he got his breathing back under control. “It has been a long time since even my concubines shared my bed, let alone dallying with the eunuchs. Ah, age! What it will do to a man.”

Markos made a polite noise of agreement, and there was the sound of more tea being poured into cups.

“And your own son is well?” Panagiotis asked.

“You would know better than I,” Markos said, a slight hint of humor in his voice. “I have been gone from court for so long, I hardly know what anyone is doing anymore, let alone Isaias.”

“Oh, I hardly get to court myself these days. My health has not been what it used to be,” Panagiotis said. “If the Emperor were to request my appearance, of course I would go, but otherwise I prefer the quieter life here at home.”

“Well, I can certainly understand that,” Markos said. “And especially with such a lovely, well-run household.”

Panagiotis gave another wheezing laugh. “That is mostly thanks to Vasilios,” he said. “He is everything you could ever want from a eunuch, worth every coin I paid for him. He spoils me really. My friends tell me stories of how they had to beat this or that slave, or post extra guards simply to make sure the eunuchs didn’t try to run off, and that their kitchens are always being run poorly. But Vasilios sees to all that, and everything runs smoothly.”

“Amazing,” Markos said, and Vasilios felt his face flush and tried to be as discreet as possible when he bent forward a little bit more to hide it.

“As much as I would like to stay and continue to enjoy such fine company”—there was the rustle of cloth as Markos rose—“I have other business that requires my attention, I’m afraid, so I must take my leave. God’s blessings on your house, Lord Panagiotis.”

“And yours.” Panagiotis wheezed hard, and there was the deep groan of a couch being pushed to its limit as Panagiotis pushed himself up to stand. Vasilios moved quickly to take one of Panagiotis’s arms and support him. “I will send Vasilios to you when I have a solid offer.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Vasilios saw Markos incline his head in a small bow. “As always, it was a pleasure spending time with you,” Markos said.

“And you,” Panagiotis managed to say between wheezing gasps, and Vasilios put a steadying hand around Panagiotis’s shoulders.

For a moment, he felt Markos’s eyes square upon him. Vasilios risked a quick glance up through his lashes to find Markos was indeed looking at him. Markos’s eyes were dark gray with a hint of blue. It was unusual for anyone who wasn’t from the Northern Isles to have eyes that weren’t dark. A small smile turned up the corners of Markos’s mouth, and Vasilios looked away quickly.

“God’s peace be with you,” Markos said with a slight bow, which Panagiotis tried to imitate and failed.

“And also with you.”

Then Markos turned and left the receiving room, and Panagiotis had a look of utter exhaustion. He raised a hand that shook.

“Help me to my room,” he said to Vasilios. “There’s a good boy.”

Vasilios supported him out of the room and down the hall, and they traversed the short flight of steps slowly. Vasilios nodded to the guards outside Panagiotis’s private chambers, and the two hastened to open the double doors. He helped his master across the room to the large bed with its linen sheets and heavy brocade blankets.