from herself.
Of course, she wouldn't put any stock in the honeyed words he'd used to call her back. But perhaps she did have another friend in Miklagard besides the little black stray.
“This is even better than I hoped,” Damian said as he paced the length of his apartments. “I've heard of the falling sickness, of course, but to see it in full-blown power... well, nothing could match it for dramatic impact. Now we just need to teach her to make use of the spells.”
Erik watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Valdis's chest, satisfied she was out of danger. She'd been lucid enough when he and Damian bundled her into a sedan chair and hustled her back to the palace before the crowd poured out of the Hippodrome. She even insisted the stinking little dog be allowed to come with her. According to Valdis, the dog had tried to warn her of the onset of the spectacular fit. The animal had been bathed and trimmed by one of the eunuch's perfumed servants and was now resting in a sodden heap on the foot of Valdis's couch.
“Wait a moment,” Erik said as he tucked the coverlet over Valdis's sleeping form. “You're thinking this ... this whatever it is, is somehow a good thing?”
“Absolutely.” Damian's face was flushed with excitement. “In the old Rome, some of our most powerful leaders were touched by the same malady and the ancients believed them kissed by the gods.”
“Odin spare me from such a kiss,” Erik said. The evil god's kiss had tossed Valdis into a maelstrom, her body convulsing rigidly. He'd never seen the like.
“And in the new Rome,” Damian went on, “such an occurrence will cause those who wish to believe in such things to proclaim Valdis a seeress of uncommon ability.”
“But she says she sees nothing when the spell comes upon her,” Erik protested.
“None but we know that,” Damian said. “When the time is right, she will see what I tell her to see and we will make her prophecy come to pass.”
“You want her to pretend to foretell the future.” Northmen were no strangers to guile, but Byzantine thought held more crooks and twists than the most serpentine river. Every conversation held a secret meaning and each promise a stinging surprise. “To what possible end?”
“To the greater glory of the new Rome, of course.” Damian bared his teeth at Erik in what passed for a smile, but his eyes were guarded. “You needn't concern yourself with specifics. Your only task is to school her to fluency in our tongue as soon as possible.”
Erik looked back at the couch, where Valdis lay at peace in a deep natural sleep. He wondered if his harsh tutelage had in any way contributed to the convulsing fit Valdis suffered. If so, he was determined to train her with a lighter hand in the future.
But he still needed to keep her at arm's length, especially now. He was shocked at the endearments pouring from his own lips as he tried to lure her back to the land of light. Just because she roused a measure of tenderness in him didn't mean he'd be any less a danger to her.
“She might learn more quickly if she had an inducement,” Erik said.
“She sleeps in silk, eats dainties from the emperor's own table. I've clothed her in a manner befitting a woman of noble birth.” Damian ticked off the benefits he provided for Valdis on his slim patrician fingers. “What more could she want?”
“Something that calls to her with more strength than anything,” Erik said. “Freedom. Promise to free her and I guarantee she will put her whole heart into the effort.”
“Freedom? Bah!” Damian waved a dismissive hand. “My slaves live lives of safety and plenty and, while I demand certain standards, they are not burdened by a crushing load of toil. Isn't that right, Lentulus?” he demanded of his ubiquitous body-servant.
“Yes, master,” came the meek response.
“There, you see. Slave and master alike, we all serve the emperor's pleasure. As a Varangian, you must understand that.” Damian
Of course, she wouldn't put any stock in the honeyed words he'd used to call her back. But perhaps she did have another friend in Miklagard besides the little black stray.
“This is even better than I hoped,” Damian said as he paced the length of his apartments. “I've heard of the falling sickness, of course, but to see it in full-blown power... well, nothing could match it for dramatic impact. Now we just need to teach her to make use of the spells.”
Erik watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Valdis's chest, satisfied she was out of danger. She'd been lucid enough when he and Damian bundled her into a sedan chair and hustled her back to the palace before the crowd poured out of the Hippodrome. She even insisted the stinking little dog be allowed to come with her. According to Valdis, the dog had tried to warn her of the onset of the spectacular fit. The animal had been bathed and trimmed by one of the eunuch's perfumed servants and was now resting in a sodden heap on the foot of Valdis's couch.
“Wait a moment,” Erik said as he tucked the coverlet over Valdis's sleeping form. “You're thinking this ... this whatever it is, is somehow a good thing?”
“Absolutely.” Damian's face was flushed with excitement. “In the old Rome, some of our most powerful leaders were touched by the same malady and the ancients believed them kissed by the gods.”
“Odin spare me from such a kiss,” Erik said. The evil god's kiss had tossed Valdis into a maelstrom, her body convulsing rigidly. He'd never seen the like.
“And in the new Rome,” Damian went on, “such an occurrence will cause those who wish to believe in such things to proclaim Valdis a seeress of uncommon ability.”
“But she says she sees nothing when the spell comes upon her,” Erik protested.
“None but we know that,” Damian said. “When the time is right, she will see what I tell her to see and we will make her prophecy come to pass.”
“You want her to pretend to foretell the future.” Northmen were no strangers to guile, but Byzantine thought held more crooks and twists than the most serpentine river. Every conversation held a secret meaning and each promise a stinging surprise. “To what possible end?”
“To the greater glory of the new Rome, of course.” Damian bared his teeth at Erik in what passed for a smile, but his eyes were guarded. “You needn't concern yourself with specifics. Your only task is to school her to fluency in our tongue as soon as possible.”
Erik looked back at the couch, where Valdis lay at peace in a deep natural sleep. He wondered if his harsh tutelage had in any way contributed to the convulsing fit Valdis suffered. If so, he was determined to train her with a lighter hand in the future.
But he still needed to keep her at arm's length, especially now. He was shocked at the endearments pouring from his own lips as he tried to lure her back to the land of light. Just because she roused a measure of tenderness in him didn't mean he'd be any less a danger to her.
“She might learn more quickly if she had an inducement,” Erik said.
“She sleeps in silk, eats dainties from the emperor's own table. I've clothed her in a manner befitting a woman of noble birth.” Damian ticked off the benefits he provided for Valdis on his slim patrician fingers. “What more could she want?”
“Something that calls to her with more strength than anything,” Erik said. “Freedom. Promise to free her and I guarantee she will put her whole heart into the effort.”
“Freedom? Bah!” Damian waved a dismissive hand. “My slaves live lives of safety and plenty and, while I demand certain standards, they are not burdened by a crushing load of toil. Isn't that right, Lentulus?” he demanded of his ubiquitous body-servant.
“Yes, master,” came the meek response.
“There, you see. Slave and master alike, we all serve the emperor's pleasure. As a Varangian, you must understand that.” Damian
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