The beginning of the end.
Dec. 23rd, 2015 07:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thewidewideworldDawn found Sinric on the roof of the palace, eyes closed as the rising sun warmed his face. August had been pleasantly mild, the summer cooling into crisp evenings and the whispered the promise of a chilly autumn.
It had been a wonderful night. Constantine had been in a good mood and playful.
And loving. So very loving.
For the first time since Athelstan and Ragnar had made him aware he was capable of reach it, Sinric had guided Constantine into bringing him to his peak.
Constantine had been thrilled to discover this new thing about his favourite. Although Sinric felt a little bad about this lie of omission to his master, he let Constantine believe it was the first time Sinric had ever felt such a thing.
Mellow and wonderfully pleased with himself in their shared afterglow, Constantine had been open to Sinric’s insistence that he act as Constantine’s cupbearer on the coming campaign against Bulgaria.
The next step of Sinric’s journey was set.
Even if it brought Sinric one step closer to losing the man he loved; his master, father, lover, protector. His Constantine.
He shook his head, pushing back his dark thoughts, focusing on the coming journey and the fact he would be at his beloved’s side to the very end. His thoughts were still in the clouds and distant shores as he drifted through the corridors of the palace.
Until a hand wrapped around his neck and pushed him against the wall.
Leo growled and lifted Sinric by the throat, hefting the slight little eunuch as if he weighted nothing. His eyes burned as he held Sinric there, lips twisted into a cruel half smile as Sinric coughed and gasped.
“You might think you’re safe, little bird. You’re not. Even if he takes you with him, I still own you.” He tightened his hand, cutting Sinric’s air off completely. “He isn’t around to protect you now.”
Sinric’s vision tunnelled, bright spots forming at the corners of his eyes. His mind reeled, trying to fight but finding no air at all. It couldn’t end like this. He had a destiny, a future. Ragnar. Athelstan. If he died now, they might never -
Then nothing but darkness.
***
When he came to himself again, it was to sound of his name. Not his court name, the Greek for gold was Constatine’s pet name for him but his true name, his birth name.
Sinric.
He opened his eyes to the face of Castor, Constantine’s first captain and a room he didn’t recognise.
“Sinric. Praise God.” Castor held him gently, though the big man’s hands were tight with forced control. “I feared you would not wake.”
Sinric opened his mouth, his breath rasping a little but another voice cut him off. “Don’t try to speak. Your throat is very swollen.” At first he thought it was Dr Lector who spoke but forcing himself to focus, he saw it was Niketas, third of Constantine’s sons by Eudokia.
“Nobelissimos.” Sinric managed to rasp the young man’s title, flinching at the pain it caused him.
“Silence,” Niketas ordered, not unkindly. No more than a year older than Sinric, already the youth showed the wisdom and considered nature of Constantine himself. Like his father, Niketas was broad shouldered and stout, his hair falling in dark curls to frame deep, inscrutable eyes. “I feel you have much to tell us but it must wait. You need time to recover.” He moved to press a cold compress to Sinric’s neck, pulling back as the little eunuch flinched.
“Nobelissimos, please?” Castor held out his hand. “Allow me.” He bundled Sinric into his arms gently, replacing the fallen compress. “Sinric doesn’t like his throat being touched.”
The simple kindness in those words made Sinric’s heart clench, grateful to have someone who understood him so. He burrowed into the guard’s strong arms and letting the world drift away in a silent fall of tears.
***
He awoke sometime later in Niketas’ bed, Castor stroking his long hair. “Constantine?” He croaked, still hoarse. Had anyone told the Emperor what Leo had done? Or meant to do?
“My father has been called away from palace on urgent business.” Niketas answered from a writing desk not far away. “He is not expected to return for some days. I fear that is why my brother,” the words dripped with venom, “felt he could threaten you so openly. But you are quite safe for now. You are in my rooms and under my protection. And that of my father’s guard, it would seem?” There was an implied question in that, the dark eyes flicking from the little eunuch to the trusted guard in obvious curiosity.
Castor nodded from his place at Sinric’s side, ignoring the Nobelissimos’ question to address Sinric. “The Emperor sent me to find you when he was called away. He didn’t want you left alone. I have failed you both; I reached you too late to protect you.”
Sinric reached up to hush him, shaking his head. It wasn't Castor’s fault. Had he been there, it might well have been worse. In protecting Sinric, Castor would have been forced to challenge Leo, if not physically intercede. An act that could well be cast in the light of treason.
Niketas had servants bring them tea, ignoring their sideward glances at the Emperor’s favourite pleasure slave in the Nobelissimos’ bed. The tea brought, Niketas dismissed them, emptying his rooms of all but the three of them.
Niketas poured the tea himself, offering it to Sinric. “I think you have much to tell us, Sinric is it not?” He glanced to Castor. “I don’t believe I’ve heard that name used by my father.”
Sinric swallowed, letting the tea soothe his aching throat. “Aureus is the name my master gave me, and I own it with pride; but Sinric is name I had when I was bought by the palace. It is the only name that is mine alone.” He confessed softly. “A name only Castor, and now yourself, know.”
“Then I am honoured.” Niketas bowed his head slightly. “Sinric. But there is still much I feel you can tell us.”
Sinric looked wary, glancing from Castor to the Nobelissimos. “You already seem to know it was Leo who did this to me. He takes no pains to hide his-” He cut himself off. He was about to say crimes, but that was Milliways talking. What had been done to him was no crime, not here. “What more can you want of me?” His rough throat and rising fear made his voice break.
Castor rested a hand on Sinric’s shoulder, very gently, trying to keep from startling the youth. “Sinric, Nobelissimos Niketas and I have both seen that there is something different about you. Something... we cannot explain. We have seen you... disappear, and return between the beats of a heart.”
“But we have seen you return differently to how you left.” Niketas added. “Subtle things – changes in your make-up, the line of your dress. Your expression. Drunk and flushed one moment, then sober and controlled the next.” He raised a hand to silence Sinric’s panicked protests. “We two keep our confidence in this and as far as we can tell no other has noticed, not even our honoured emperor. It is a secret we intend to keep.” He added as a promise.
Tears welled in Sinric’s eyes as he pulled away from Castor and the bed. “I...I’m sure you are mistaken, Nobelissimos.” He felt his chest tighten, the beginning of a panic attack rising like bile in his throat.
“I am not mistaken.” Niketas’ sharp eyes studied Sinric’s face. “I cannot explain such things but I am guess you can.”
Castor reached for Sinric, and then thought better of it. Grabbing Sinric would only make it worse. He had seen Sinric’s panic attacks before.
Niketas rose too, realising this was more than just Sinric evading the question but Castor waved him back.
Sinric backed himself into a corner, the light tunic clinging to him as sweat pricked his skin. He closed his eyes, fighting to keep his too rapid breathing from overwhelming him.
Castor moved to the door, opening it. “Go to the roof. I know you feel safest there. I will follow; to keep watch that no-one troubles you. We can talk again when you feel ready. But you need not fear, we mean you no harm.”
Sinric swallowed thickly, near blind with tears as he broke for the open door.
It took Sinric most of the day to calm himself, curled in a ball in the little niche on the palace roof only he knew of.
Between Leo’s attack and this revelation, his mind railed and shuddered. Leo meant to kill him, slowly. That if he wasn’t tried for witchcraft first.
He’d been caught. Castor and sharp-eyed Niketas knew. They might not know about Milliways but they knew something was wrong. And he would be hard pressed to explain. What could he tell them that would not smack of madness?
Or worse: of witchcraft.
He rested his hand over the tattoo on his hip, hidden by the layer of the masking cream the bar had given him. He took a deep breath, trying to draw on Ragnar’s strength and Athelstan’s wisdom.
He had wanted to tell someone for some time. And Castor had been one of the people he had hoped to trust. He and Probus, Sinric’s second in the company of the Emperor’s birds.
Nobelissimos Niketas had never entered into those thoughts. But then the Emperor’s sons had rarely seemed to have shown any interest in Sinric, other than Leo’s cruel attentions.
The thought of Leo brought Sinric’s hand to his throat, the pain and undoubted bruises there made the panic rise in him again and Sinric had to force himself to breathe slower, to remember what Dr. Lecter had taught him about controlling his fear.
The sun was almost setting when he climbed down from the roof, and made his way back towards the Nobelissimos’ rooms. Feeling Castor fall in three paces behind him he kept walking, forcing himself to keep his head high.
“I am ready to talk but there are things I need.” He announced softly as they walked. “The locked chest at the end of my bed.” He didn’t need to turn to know Castor had heard him and had gone to fetch it.
The door to the Nobelissimos’ rooms were opened to him, Niketas dismissing his servants with a wave. “I’m very glad you’ve returned, Sinric.” The young lord said softly. “And I hope you have come because you’re ready to trust me?”
“Yes, Nobelissimos.” Sinric nods tightly. “But if you will pardon me, I need to refresh myself while Castor retrieves my things.”
“Of course.” Niketas nods, gesturing towards a small private bath in a room beyond. “I will have my servants heat some water.”
Sinric shook his head. “Not necessary, I can as easily wash in cold water.” He kept his head high as he closed the door behind himself and began to wash, the chilled water helping to clear his head and wash away the sweat of panic.
When he returned, Castor was waiting, Sinric’s little chest on the table. Without looking at either the guard or the Nobelissimos, Sinric touched the lock. Without the need for a key, the little box clicked open to his touch; a gift from the Bar in which to safely store his precious things that didn’t belong to this world.
The smell of heparin gel always left Sinric with a strange tang of confused desire. He pushed that down as he smoothed the healing gel over his bruise-mottled throat, knowing the marks would fade all the faster for it.
He gathered his strength, touching the tattoo again and turned to them. “I will answer honestly what you ask. But I must have your assurance you will not think me mad, or cursed.” He knew he had no way to enforce such a promise but he judged them both to be men of honour. “And that you will speak of this to no other.”
Niketas considered this. “On my honour as a son of Constantine the fifth.”
Sinric choked a harsh laugh, made all the rougher by pain in his throat. “This,” He gestured to his mottled neck, “was done by the honour of a son of Constantine the fifth.”
“I am not my half brother.” Niketas answered with a harshness of his own. “I am nothing like that brute.”
Castor stepped between them, resting a gentle hand on Sinric’s arm. “As you trust me, I ask you to trust him. As I do. Please Sinric, we only want to help.”
Sinric nodded and he lowered himself into a chair, trying to hide his fear. “Then ask, and I will answer as truly as I can.”
Many times he had wondered how he would tell his tale, rehearsing the words in his head but now, all that failed him and the truth came out little by little. He told them of Milliways; the world between worlds. Of the life he had made for himself there. Of dancing with the Ganymede of legend, of the love and protection of a Viking earl and his steward, of a kind doctor of a later age.
It was Niketas who picked up the implications of what knowledge of a later age might mean. “The future, of my father’s rule, of the Empire. You know that too, don’t you?” He leaned in, his voice urgent and hard.
Sinric got up and paced, fighting to keep his breathing even. The hard edge of Niketas’ voice reminded him too much of Leo, causing the bile and panic to rise again. It is a long moment before he could answer. “Yes, I know. But with it is the burden of knowing it cannot be changed. No matter how much I may wish to.”
Castor reached for him, sensing the deep well of pain in Sinric’s words but the eunuch flinched away from him too, trying to hold back tears.
“How long have you known?” Niketas asked, his voice softer now. “How long have you carried that burden alone?”
Sinric shook his head. “Too long.”
Castor moved closer to Sinric, slow and protective. “Let us share that burden?”
“The future can’t be changed.” Sinric met the guard’s eyes. “You have to understand that. It cannot be changed. Trying will only bring suffering.”
Niketas crossed to them now, his face set in that determined expression so utterly like his father’s it made Sinric’s heart ache. “How long, before my father dies?”
The tears fell thick and fast now, leaving silent trails of silver down Sinric’s cheek. “One month and twenty seven days.”
The air seemed to go out of both Niketas and Castor at once, the guard gathering Sinric in his arms.
“The war... with Bulgaria.” Niketas breathed, as if struck in the gut, “It will end his rein. Will Leo-”
Sinric nodded sadly against Castor’s chest. “Leo will ascend to the throne.”
Again the air seemed sucked from Niketas’ lungs and the Nobelissimos turned away from them.
“That’s why you needed to go with him, Sinric?” Castor touched Sinric’s cheek, “To be with him to the end? But what will you do? You know Leo will hunt you, just for the sport of it.”
Sinric shook his head. “I will go east. Yan, the Sino ambassador’s son. I will have a place with him. And time enough to mourn far from the Golden Cage.” He looked to the pacing Nobelissimos. “But it is not myself I fear for. It’s the other birds.”
“They will be safe.” Niketas answered, without a moment’s hesitation, his thoughts and attention returning to the present. “I will see to that. You have my word I will see to it they are out of Leo’s reach.”
Sinric felt a great weight lift of his heart at that. He trusted in Niketas’ word now but even more he trusted in Castor’s deeds. The Birds would have the protection of Constantine’s most trusted and worthy guards and the not insubstantial influence of his younger sons.
Niketas began to pace. “Is there truly nothing that can be done to change this future? Can the Emperor not be warned?”
“No!” Sinric answered so fervently his voice broke with pain. “Nobelissimos, please? You must understand. To try to change any part of the future seen and written will have dire consequences. That which is to come, must come. Constantine will fall to his wounds and Leo will come to power.” He breathed out slowly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “But Leo’s rule will be short, too short for his son to come to power in his own right. Irene will seize power as regent over her son.”
“My brothers will fight her.” Niketas said softly. “The lady Irene is her husband’s match in cruelty as well as ambition.”
“Yes, Nobelissimos.” Sinric lowered his eyes. “They will fight her. And it will be their deaths.” He swallowed thickly. “And yours.”
The silence stretched out for what seemed like an age and Sinric found himself panicking that he had said too much.
But Niketas nodded gravely, decisively. “Just so. At least I know I will die doing what I know to be right.”
The Nobelissimos paced, hands clasped behind his back and eyes lowered as if studying the pattern of the rug. “I believe you as you tell it, Sinric. I scarcely understand it but I believe you. You are gifted at wearing masks to please men but I see no guile in you now. All this being so, we have plans and preparations to make. Your own escape to the East as much as escapes for your brothers of the cage. And for you, Castor. I assume you would not offer your services to the Emperor to be? When my beloved father ascends to heaven.”
“I would sooner cut my own throat.” Castor answered with the conviction of one ready to reach for the knife.
“A gross waste of your talents and loyalty.” Niketas shook his head. “If you wish it, you will have service with me. Your first task being to see Sinric safe away.”
Castor nodded slowly. “I should go with you, Sinric. It will not be safe for you to travel the Silk Road alone. Leo will be hunting you.”
Sinric shook his head. “No, Castor. You must return. For Constantine’s sake. No other could be trusted to bring him home and lay him to his rest in state.” He sighed. “As for Leo, I have thought on that often.” Usually in the darkest hours of the night. “Best perhaps at he thinks me dead, driven to madness by my master’s passing.”
“He’ll want proof.” Castor cut in, seeming surer now that it came to the planning he most excelled at. “More than my word or that of my men.”
“My golden hair as a trophy.” Sinric nodded. “It will grow again and short, I may easily dye it and be less recognised.”
Niketas was pacing again, as if moving helped him think. “But less able to pass as a woman, which, fair as you are, might be a safer disguise. No, leave Castor and me to arrange some other proof. It would be better I stay here in the palace to see to the other birds sent to safety but I have agents, men I trust to be your allies in this endeavour.”
He drummed his fingers on the writing desk, so very like his father. “For now, rest and heal. You have given me much to think on and even more to do. I have letters to write and arrangements to make. Tomorrow we will meet and begin afresh.”
Niketas crossed to Sinric, his dark eyes holding the eunuch’s lighter ones. “I have often wondered what it was my father prized so highly in you, Sinric and now I know. It was never for beauty and accomplishment, but for wit and will of which I see so much in you.”
Sinric ducked his head but Niketas touched his chin lightly, bringing his eyes back up. The Nobelissimos looked into Sinric’s eyes for a long, long moment. “I wish I had known you better before now. You are both a blessing and blessed. If all you say is true, we will not be together to mourn the father we both love, but I know we will do so as brothers never the less.” He pressed a kiss to each of Sinric’s cheeks. “Rest well.”
As Castor guided him out of the door, Sinric felt as if the ground under his feet had somehow grown firmer.
It had been a wonderful night. Constantine had been in a good mood and playful.
And loving. So very loving.
For the first time since Athelstan and Ragnar had made him aware he was capable of reach it, Sinric had guided Constantine into bringing him to his peak.
Constantine had been thrilled to discover this new thing about his favourite. Although Sinric felt a little bad about this lie of omission to his master, he let Constantine believe it was the first time Sinric had ever felt such a thing.
Mellow and wonderfully pleased with himself in their shared afterglow, Constantine had been open to Sinric’s insistence that he act as Constantine’s cupbearer on the coming campaign against Bulgaria.
The next step of Sinric’s journey was set.
Even if it brought Sinric one step closer to losing the man he loved; his master, father, lover, protector. His Constantine.
He shook his head, pushing back his dark thoughts, focusing on the coming journey and the fact he would be at his beloved’s side to the very end. His thoughts were still in the clouds and distant shores as he drifted through the corridors of the palace.
Until a hand wrapped around his neck and pushed him against the wall.
Leo growled and lifted Sinric by the throat, hefting the slight little eunuch as if he weighted nothing. His eyes burned as he held Sinric there, lips twisted into a cruel half smile as Sinric coughed and gasped.
“You might think you’re safe, little bird. You’re not. Even if he takes you with him, I still own you.” He tightened his hand, cutting Sinric’s air off completely. “He isn’t around to protect you now.”
Sinric’s vision tunnelled, bright spots forming at the corners of his eyes. His mind reeled, trying to fight but finding no air at all. It couldn’t end like this. He had a destiny, a future. Ragnar. Athelstan. If he died now, they might never -
Then nothing but darkness.
***
When he came to himself again, it was to sound of his name. Not his court name, the Greek for gold was Constatine’s pet name for him but his true name, his birth name.
Sinric.
He opened his eyes to the face of Castor, Constantine’s first captain and a room he didn’t recognise.
“Sinric. Praise God.” Castor held him gently, though the big man’s hands were tight with forced control. “I feared you would not wake.”
Sinric opened his mouth, his breath rasping a little but another voice cut him off. “Don’t try to speak. Your throat is very swollen.” At first he thought it was Dr Lector who spoke but forcing himself to focus, he saw it was Niketas, third of Constantine’s sons by Eudokia.
“Nobelissimos.” Sinric managed to rasp the young man’s title, flinching at the pain it caused him.
“Silence,” Niketas ordered, not unkindly. No more than a year older than Sinric, already the youth showed the wisdom and considered nature of Constantine himself. Like his father, Niketas was broad shouldered and stout, his hair falling in dark curls to frame deep, inscrutable eyes. “I feel you have much to tell us but it must wait. You need time to recover.” He moved to press a cold compress to Sinric’s neck, pulling back as the little eunuch flinched.
“Nobelissimos, please?” Castor held out his hand. “Allow me.” He bundled Sinric into his arms gently, replacing the fallen compress. “Sinric doesn’t like his throat being touched.”
The simple kindness in those words made Sinric’s heart clench, grateful to have someone who understood him so. He burrowed into the guard’s strong arms and letting the world drift away in a silent fall of tears.
***
He awoke sometime later in Niketas’ bed, Castor stroking his long hair. “Constantine?” He croaked, still hoarse. Had anyone told the Emperor what Leo had done? Or meant to do?
“My father has been called away from palace on urgent business.” Niketas answered from a writing desk not far away. “He is not expected to return for some days. I fear that is why my brother,” the words dripped with venom, “felt he could threaten you so openly. But you are quite safe for now. You are in my rooms and under my protection. And that of my father’s guard, it would seem?” There was an implied question in that, the dark eyes flicking from the little eunuch to the trusted guard in obvious curiosity.
Castor nodded from his place at Sinric’s side, ignoring the Nobelissimos’ question to address Sinric. “The Emperor sent me to find you when he was called away. He didn’t want you left alone. I have failed you both; I reached you too late to protect you.”
Sinric reached up to hush him, shaking his head. It wasn't Castor’s fault. Had he been there, it might well have been worse. In protecting Sinric, Castor would have been forced to challenge Leo, if not physically intercede. An act that could well be cast in the light of treason.
Niketas had servants bring them tea, ignoring their sideward glances at the Emperor’s favourite pleasure slave in the Nobelissimos’ bed. The tea brought, Niketas dismissed them, emptying his rooms of all but the three of them.
Niketas poured the tea himself, offering it to Sinric. “I think you have much to tell us, Sinric is it not?” He glanced to Castor. “I don’t believe I’ve heard that name used by my father.”
Sinric swallowed, letting the tea soothe his aching throat. “Aureus is the name my master gave me, and I own it with pride; but Sinric is name I had when I was bought by the palace. It is the only name that is mine alone.” He confessed softly. “A name only Castor, and now yourself, know.”
“Then I am honoured.” Niketas bowed his head slightly. “Sinric. But there is still much I feel you can tell us.”
Sinric looked wary, glancing from Castor to the Nobelissimos. “You already seem to know it was Leo who did this to me. He takes no pains to hide his-” He cut himself off. He was about to say crimes, but that was Milliways talking. What had been done to him was no crime, not here. “What more can you want of me?” His rough throat and rising fear made his voice break.
Castor rested a hand on Sinric’s shoulder, very gently, trying to keep from startling the youth. “Sinric, Nobelissimos Niketas and I have both seen that there is something different about you. Something... we cannot explain. We have seen you... disappear, and return between the beats of a heart.”
“But we have seen you return differently to how you left.” Niketas added. “Subtle things – changes in your make-up, the line of your dress. Your expression. Drunk and flushed one moment, then sober and controlled the next.” He raised a hand to silence Sinric’s panicked protests. “We two keep our confidence in this and as far as we can tell no other has noticed, not even our honoured emperor. It is a secret we intend to keep.” He added as a promise.
Tears welled in Sinric’s eyes as he pulled away from Castor and the bed. “I...I’m sure you are mistaken, Nobelissimos.” He felt his chest tighten, the beginning of a panic attack rising like bile in his throat.
“I am not mistaken.” Niketas’ sharp eyes studied Sinric’s face. “I cannot explain such things but I am guess you can.”
Castor reached for Sinric, and then thought better of it. Grabbing Sinric would only make it worse. He had seen Sinric’s panic attacks before.
Niketas rose too, realising this was more than just Sinric evading the question but Castor waved him back.
Sinric backed himself into a corner, the light tunic clinging to him as sweat pricked his skin. He closed his eyes, fighting to keep his too rapid breathing from overwhelming him.
Castor moved to the door, opening it. “Go to the roof. I know you feel safest there. I will follow; to keep watch that no-one troubles you. We can talk again when you feel ready. But you need not fear, we mean you no harm.”
Sinric swallowed thickly, near blind with tears as he broke for the open door.
It took Sinric most of the day to calm himself, curled in a ball in the little niche on the palace roof only he knew of.
Between Leo’s attack and this revelation, his mind railed and shuddered. Leo meant to kill him, slowly. That if he wasn’t tried for witchcraft first.
He’d been caught. Castor and sharp-eyed Niketas knew. They might not know about Milliways but they knew something was wrong. And he would be hard pressed to explain. What could he tell them that would not smack of madness?
Or worse: of witchcraft.
He rested his hand over the tattoo on his hip, hidden by the layer of the masking cream the bar had given him. He took a deep breath, trying to draw on Ragnar’s strength and Athelstan’s wisdom.
He had wanted to tell someone for some time. And Castor had been one of the people he had hoped to trust. He and Probus, Sinric’s second in the company of the Emperor’s birds.
Nobelissimos Niketas had never entered into those thoughts. But then the Emperor’s sons had rarely seemed to have shown any interest in Sinric, other than Leo’s cruel attentions.
The thought of Leo brought Sinric’s hand to his throat, the pain and undoubted bruises there made the panic rise in him again and Sinric had to force himself to breathe slower, to remember what Dr. Lecter had taught him about controlling his fear.
The sun was almost setting when he climbed down from the roof, and made his way back towards the Nobelissimos’ rooms. Feeling Castor fall in three paces behind him he kept walking, forcing himself to keep his head high.
“I am ready to talk but there are things I need.” He announced softly as they walked. “The locked chest at the end of my bed.” He didn’t need to turn to know Castor had heard him and had gone to fetch it.
The door to the Nobelissimos’ rooms were opened to him, Niketas dismissing his servants with a wave. “I’m very glad you’ve returned, Sinric.” The young lord said softly. “And I hope you have come because you’re ready to trust me?”
“Yes, Nobelissimos.” Sinric nods tightly. “But if you will pardon me, I need to refresh myself while Castor retrieves my things.”
“Of course.” Niketas nods, gesturing towards a small private bath in a room beyond. “I will have my servants heat some water.”
Sinric shook his head. “Not necessary, I can as easily wash in cold water.” He kept his head high as he closed the door behind himself and began to wash, the chilled water helping to clear his head and wash away the sweat of panic.
When he returned, Castor was waiting, Sinric’s little chest on the table. Without looking at either the guard or the Nobelissimos, Sinric touched the lock. Without the need for a key, the little box clicked open to his touch; a gift from the Bar in which to safely store his precious things that didn’t belong to this world.
The smell of heparin gel always left Sinric with a strange tang of confused desire. He pushed that down as he smoothed the healing gel over his bruise-mottled throat, knowing the marks would fade all the faster for it.
He gathered his strength, touching the tattoo again and turned to them. “I will answer honestly what you ask. But I must have your assurance you will not think me mad, or cursed.” He knew he had no way to enforce such a promise but he judged them both to be men of honour. “And that you will speak of this to no other.”
Niketas considered this. “On my honour as a son of Constantine the fifth.”
Sinric choked a harsh laugh, made all the rougher by pain in his throat. “This,” He gestured to his mottled neck, “was done by the honour of a son of Constantine the fifth.”
“I am not my half brother.” Niketas answered with a harshness of his own. “I am nothing like that brute.”
Castor stepped between them, resting a gentle hand on Sinric’s arm. “As you trust me, I ask you to trust him. As I do. Please Sinric, we only want to help.”
Sinric nodded and he lowered himself into a chair, trying to hide his fear. “Then ask, and I will answer as truly as I can.”
Many times he had wondered how he would tell his tale, rehearsing the words in his head but now, all that failed him and the truth came out little by little. He told them of Milliways; the world between worlds. Of the life he had made for himself there. Of dancing with the Ganymede of legend, of the love and protection of a Viking earl and his steward, of a kind doctor of a later age.
It was Niketas who picked up the implications of what knowledge of a later age might mean. “The future, of my father’s rule, of the Empire. You know that too, don’t you?” He leaned in, his voice urgent and hard.
Sinric got up and paced, fighting to keep his breathing even. The hard edge of Niketas’ voice reminded him too much of Leo, causing the bile and panic to rise again. It is a long moment before he could answer. “Yes, I know. But with it is the burden of knowing it cannot be changed. No matter how much I may wish to.”
Castor reached for him, sensing the deep well of pain in Sinric’s words but the eunuch flinched away from him too, trying to hold back tears.
“How long have you known?” Niketas asked, his voice softer now. “How long have you carried that burden alone?”
Sinric shook his head. “Too long.”
Castor moved closer to Sinric, slow and protective. “Let us share that burden?”
“The future can’t be changed.” Sinric met the guard’s eyes. “You have to understand that. It cannot be changed. Trying will only bring suffering.”
Niketas crossed to them now, his face set in that determined expression so utterly like his father’s it made Sinric’s heart ache. “How long, before my father dies?”
The tears fell thick and fast now, leaving silent trails of silver down Sinric’s cheek. “One month and twenty seven days.”
The air seemed to go out of both Niketas and Castor at once, the guard gathering Sinric in his arms.
“The war... with Bulgaria.” Niketas breathed, as if struck in the gut, “It will end his rein. Will Leo-”
Sinric nodded sadly against Castor’s chest. “Leo will ascend to the throne.”
Again the air seemed sucked from Niketas’ lungs and the Nobelissimos turned away from them.
“That’s why you needed to go with him, Sinric?” Castor touched Sinric’s cheek, “To be with him to the end? But what will you do? You know Leo will hunt you, just for the sport of it.”
Sinric shook his head. “I will go east. Yan, the Sino ambassador’s son. I will have a place with him. And time enough to mourn far from the Golden Cage.” He looked to the pacing Nobelissimos. “But it is not myself I fear for. It’s the other birds.”
“They will be safe.” Niketas answered, without a moment’s hesitation, his thoughts and attention returning to the present. “I will see to that. You have my word I will see to it they are out of Leo’s reach.”
Sinric felt a great weight lift of his heart at that. He trusted in Niketas’ word now but even more he trusted in Castor’s deeds. The Birds would have the protection of Constantine’s most trusted and worthy guards and the not insubstantial influence of his younger sons.
Niketas began to pace. “Is there truly nothing that can be done to change this future? Can the Emperor not be warned?”
“No!” Sinric answered so fervently his voice broke with pain. “Nobelissimos, please? You must understand. To try to change any part of the future seen and written will have dire consequences. That which is to come, must come. Constantine will fall to his wounds and Leo will come to power.” He breathed out slowly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “But Leo’s rule will be short, too short for his son to come to power in his own right. Irene will seize power as regent over her son.”
“My brothers will fight her.” Niketas said softly. “The lady Irene is her husband’s match in cruelty as well as ambition.”
“Yes, Nobelissimos.” Sinric lowered his eyes. “They will fight her. And it will be their deaths.” He swallowed thickly. “And yours.”
The silence stretched out for what seemed like an age and Sinric found himself panicking that he had said too much.
But Niketas nodded gravely, decisively. “Just so. At least I know I will die doing what I know to be right.”
The Nobelissimos paced, hands clasped behind his back and eyes lowered as if studying the pattern of the rug. “I believe you as you tell it, Sinric. I scarcely understand it but I believe you. You are gifted at wearing masks to please men but I see no guile in you now. All this being so, we have plans and preparations to make. Your own escape to the East as much as escapes for your brothers of the cage. And for you, Castor. I assume you would not offer your services to the Emperor to be? When my beloved father ascends to heaven.”
“I would sooner cut my own throat.” Castor answered with the conviction of one ready to reach for the knife.
“A gross waste of your talents and loyalty.” Niketas shook his head. “If you wish it, you will have service with me. Your first task being to see Sinric safe away.”
Castor nodded slowly. “I should go with you, Sinric. It will not be safe for you to travel the Silk Road alone. Leo will be hunting you.”
Sinric shook his head. “No, Castor. You must return. For Constantine’s sake. No other could be trusted to bring him home and lay him to his rest in state.” He sighed. “As for Leo, I have thought on that often.” Usually in the darkest hours of the night. “Best perhaps at he thinks me dead, driven to madness by my master’s passing.”
“He’ll want proof.” Castor cut in, seeming surer now that it came to the planning he most excelled at. “More than my word or that of my men.”
“My golden hair as a trophy.” Sinric nodded. “It will grow again and short, I may easily dye it and be less recognised.”
Niketas was pacing again, as if moving helped him think. “But less able to pass as a woman, which, fair as you are, might be a safer disguise. No, leave Castor and me to arrange some other proof. It would be better I stay here in the palace to see to the other birds sent to safety but I have agents, men I trust to be your allies in this endeavour.”
He drummed his fingers on the writing desk, so very like his father. “For now, rest and heal. You have given me much to think on and even more to do. I have letters to write and arrangements to make. Tomorrow we will meet and begin afresh.”
Niketas crossed to Sinric, his dark eyes holding the eunuch’s lighter ones. “I have often wondered what it was my father prized so highly in you, Sinric and now I know. It was never for beauty and accomplishment, but for wit and will of which I see so much in you.”
Sinric ducked his head but Niketas touched his chin lightly, bringing his eyes back up. The Nobelissimos looked into Sinric’s eyes for a long, long moment. “I wish I had known you better before now. You are both a blessing and blessed. If all you say is true, we will not be together to mourn the father we both love, but I know we will do so as brothers never the less.” He pressed a kiss to each of Sinric’s cheeks. “Rest well.”
As Castor guided him out of the door, Sinric felt as if the ground under his feet had somehow grown firmer.
