Harry Turtledove [The V

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Thorisin's dispatch ordering him to the capital.
He broke the seal, felt mixed loneliness and pleasure at seeing angular Latin
letters rather than the snaky Videssian script. As always, Gaius Philippus'
note was to the point; he found writing too hard to waste words. The scrawled
message said, "The locals are paid off, them as didn't die of shock. Now
where's our back wages?"
The tribune scribbled a reminder to himself. When he looked up, the courier
was still there. "Yes?"
The fellow shifted his feet; water squelched. "Last time I saw you, you fed me
hot wine," he said pointedly.
"I'm sorry." Marcus reddened. He took care of the rider, apologizing again for
his discourtesy. It was not even that he resented the man for starting him on
his disastrous journey; he had simply been thoughtless. In a way, that was
worse.
Mollified at last, the courier gave him a salute before going off to deliver
the rest of his dispatches. Scaurus, his conscience somewhat assuaged, decided
not to let another chance to show good manners pass by.
"I've just had word you sent the Garsavrans the money the fisc owed them," he
said to Iatzoulinos. "I want to thank you for attending to it promptly."
"Once you pointed out the urgency, I did my best to implement your request,"
the bureaucrat said. What else was I going to do, with you looking over my
shoulder? his eyes added silently, faint contempt in them. Marcus pursed his
lips, annoyed that civility could be taken as a sign of weakness.
His voice hardened. "I trust you will also be punctual in seeing that the pay
for the garrison at Garsavra the garrison of my countrymen does not fall into
arrears."
"Accounts for military expenditures are maintained in an entirely different
ledger," Iatzoulinos warned. "The policies of the present government have
occasioned so many transfers of funds that I have difficulty being certain if
this request can be expedited so readily as the last."
The tribune's tours in the chancery, especially this latest one, had made him
understand how, to the pen-pushers who spent all their time here, ledgers
became more real than the men whose deeds and needs they recorded. Gaius
Philippus would have another opinion about that, he thought.
He said, "Garsavra is important in holding the Yezda at bay. The Emperor would
not care to hear of disaffection among the troops there. And, as I told you, I
am one of them, and I know them. Their current commander is not a man to make
an enemy of."
" I will exert every effort," Iatzoulinos said sulkily.
"A fine idea. If you work as hard to pay the Romans as you did for the people
of Garsavra, I'm sure their wages will reach them very soon."
Marcus gave the bureaucrat a friendly nod and returned to his desk.
Iatzoulinos actually permitted a smile to touch his thin face for a moment,
which let the tribune hope the warning had sunk home without stinging too
much.
In spite of his gloom, he suddenly smiled himself. Iatzoulinos might think him
a nuisance, but the pen-pusher would run shrieking from a meeting with Gaius
Philippus.
"Three pieces of silver?" The leatherworker's stare was scornful. "This is a
fine belt, outlander. See the tooling? See the fine tanning? See how strong it
Page 184
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
is?" He tugged at it.
"It doesn't come apart in your hands," Scaurus observed dryly. "If it did,
someone would have lynched you long since, and you would not be standing here
trying to cheat me. Still, perhaps if I offered you four, you might be so
ashamed at your ill-gotten gains that you would keep quiet and leave off
letting the whole plaza of Palamas know what a thief you are."
"I, a thief? Here you try to rob me without even drawing sword. Why, after the
price I had to pay for the cowhide, after the hard labor I lavished on it, I
would be stealing from my own children to let it go for seven."
They eventually settled on six silver coins, a quarter of a goldpiece. Marcus
was vaguely displeased; had his heart been in the haggle, likely he could have
got the belt for five. He shrugged. He could not really make himself care.
These days, there was not much he did care about.
At least he had the belt. The one he was wearing was old and frayed. He
unbuckled it, slid off his sword and dagger, and leaned them against his leg.
Holding up his trousers with one hand, he began threading the new belt through
the loops.
He was fumbling for the one behind his back when a cheery voice said, "Aye, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Linki