Academs Fury

by Jim Butcher

Chapter 15~16

  Chapter 15

  Amara nudged her horse up to walk beside Bernard's in the morning sunlight, and murmured, "Something's wrong. "

  Bernard frowned and glanced at her. They were riding at the head of the column of legionares from Garrison. Two dozen local holders, veterans of the Legions themselves, rode armed and armored as auxiliary cavalry troops, and two dozen more bore the great hunting bows common to the holders of the region and marched in file behind the legionares. Behind them rumbled a pair of heavy gargant-drawn carts, followed by Doroga on his massive black gargant, and the column's rear guard, most of the knights Bernard had under his command, mounted and grim.

  Bernard himself had donned his helmet in addition to his mail, and carried his strung bow across his saddle in one hand, an arrow already on the string. "You noticed it, then. "

  Amara swallowed and nodded. "There are no deer. "

  Bernard nodded, a barely perceptible gesture. His lips scarcely moved when he spoke. "This time of year, the column should be scaring them out every few hundred yards. "

  "What does it mean?"

  Bernard's shoulders shifted in a slight shrug. "Ordinarily, I'd think it meant that another body of troops had already driven them out, and that they may be preparing a surprise attack. "

  "And now?" Amara asked.

  His lips lifted up away from his canines. "I think these creatures may already have driven them out, and that they may be preparing a surprise attack. "

  Amara licked her lips, glancing at the rolling woodlands around them. "What do we do?"

  "Relax. Trust our scouts," Bernard said. "Keep an eye out. There might be a number of other explanations for some missing deer. "

  "Such as?"

  "Aric's holders may have slaughtered all they could shoot quickly in preparation for our arrival, to help feed the troops, for one. I've had to put down a number of herdbane who remained in the valley after the battle. One of those could have killed the local does during birthing over the winter. They do that sometimes. "

  "What if that hasn't happened?" Amara asked.

  "Then be ready to take to the air," Bernard said.

  "I've been ready to do that since before we left the steadholt," she replied, her voice wry. "I'm not much one for feeling hunted. "

  Bernard smiled, and shared the warmth of it with her, meeting her eyes. "I'll not be hunted in my own home, dear Countess. And I'll not suffer my guests to be hunted, either. " He gestured back toward the column with a tilt of his head. "Patience. Faith. Alera's Legions have seen her through a thousand years in a world where enemies of all sorts have tried to destroy her. They will see us through this, too. "

  Amara sighed. "I'm sorry, Bernard. But I've seen too many threats to Alera that a Legion could do precisely nothing about. How much farther to Aricholt?"

  "We'll be there before midday," Bernard told her,

  "You'll want to see the camp Aric told us about, I take it?"

  "Naturally," Bernard said. "Before nightfall. "

  "Why not let your Knights Aeris handle it?"

  "Because in my experience, wind rider, Knights Aeris miss a very great deal of what happens underneath branch and bough since they're soaring several dozen yards above them. " He smiled again. "Besides, what fun would that be?"

  Amara raised her eyebrows. "You're enjoying this," she accused.

  Bernard's eyes returned to their casual, careful scan of the woods around them, and he shrugged. "It was a long winter. And I haven't been out in the field for more than a few hours at a time since I became Count Calderon. I hadn't realized how much I missed it. "

  "Madman," Amara said.

  "Oh come now," Bernard said. "You have to admit, it's exciting. A mysterious, dangerous new creature. A possible threat to the Realm. The chance to challenge it, defeat it. "

  "Dear furies. " Amara sighed. "You're worse than a boy. "

  Bernard laughed, and there was both joy and something unpleasant in it.

  The corded muscles in his neck tightened and relaxed with the horse's movements, and his broad hands held the great bow steady. Amara was again struck by the sheer size of the man, and well remembered the deadly skill and power in him. There was something wolfish in his manner, something that suggested that his quiet smile was only a mask. That something far more grim, and far more ready to taste blood lay just beneath.

  "Amara," he rumbled. "Something threatens my home. After what happened before, I know what is at stake. And I wouldn't want anyone else to be in charge of dealing with that threat. " His hazel green eyes reflected bark and newly sprouted leaves in equal measure, dangerous and bright. "I am a hunter. I will hunt this creature down and hold it. And when the First Lord sends help enough, I will destroy it. "

  The words were calm, matter-of-fact, barely laced with that lurking ferocity, and Amara found herself feeling irrationally comforted by it. Her shoulders loosened a little, and the trembling that had been threatening her hands receded.

  "Besides," Bernard drawled, "it's a lovely morning for a ride in the country with a pretty girl. Why not enjoy it?"

  Amara rolled her eyes and began to smile, but Serai's words echoed quietly in her heart.

  Of course you'll have to leave him.

  She drew in a breath, forced her expression into a neutral mask, and said, "I think it's better for all of us if I remove any potential distraction, Your Excellency. Your mind should be upon your duty. "

  Bernard blinked and looked at her with open surprise on his face. "Amara?"

  "If you will excuse me, Count," she said in a polite voice, and nudged her horse out of line, letting him nibble at new grass while she waited for the column to pass her. She felt Bernard's eyes on her for a moment, but she did not acknowledge him.

  She waited until the carts had passed, then nudged her horse to pace alongside Doroga's giant gargant. The horse refused to move within twenty feet of the beast, despite Amara's best efforts.

  "Doroga," she called up to the Marat chieftain.

  "I am," he called back. He watched her struggle with the nervous horse, his expression amused. "You wish something?"

  "To speak to you," she said. "I was hoping-" She broke off as a low branch slapped her in the face, a stinging annoyance. "Hoping to ask you some questions. "

  Doroga rumbled out a rolling laugh. "Your head will get knocked off. Your chieftain Gaius will come take it from my hide. " He shifted an arm and tossed a rope of braided leather over the side of the saddle-mat to dangle five feet from the earth. "Come up. "

  Amara dipped her head to him and passed the reins of her horse off to a nearby holder. She dismounted, and jogged over to pace Doroga's gargant. She seized the saddle rope and hauled herself carefully up to its back, where Doroga clamped a big fist down on her forearm and hauled her to a more stable perch.

  "So," Doroga rumbled, turning back to face forward. "I see that Bernard ate the wrong soup. "

  Amara blinked at him. "What?"

  Doroga smiled. "When I was young and had just taken my wife as mate, I woke up the next morning, went to my fire, and ate the soup there. I declared it the best soup that any woman ever made for a man. To everyone in the camp. "

  Amara lifted her eyebrows. "Your wife hadn't made it?"

  "She had not," Doroga confirmed. "Hashat did. And after our wedding night, I spent the next seven days sleeping on the ground outside her tent to apologize. "

  Amara laughed. "I can't imagine you doing that. "

  "I was very young," Doroga said. "And I very much wanted her to be happy with me again. " He glanced over his shoulder. "Just as Bernard wants you to be happy with him. "

  Amara shook her head. "It isn't anything like that. "

  "Yes. Because Bernard does not know he ate the wrong soup. "

  She sighed. "No. Because we aren't married. "

  Doroga snorted. "You are mates. "

  "No, not like that. "


  "You have mated," he said, patient as if he spoke to a small child. "Which makes you mates. "

  Amara's cheeks flamed. "We. . . did. We have. But we aren't. "

  Doroga looked back at her, his expression scrunched into a skeptical frown. "You people make everything too complicated. Tell him he ate the wrong soup and have done. "

  "It's nothing Bernard has done. "

  "You ate the soup?" Doroga asked.

  "No," Amara said, exasperated. "There was no soup. Doroga, Bernard and I. . . we can't be together. "

  "Oh," Doroga said. He shook his head in a mystified gesture and briefly put his hand over his eyes, mimicking a blindfold. "I see. "

  "I have obligations to Gaius," Amara said. "So does he. "

  "This Gaius," Doroga said. "To me he seemed smart. "

  "Yes. "

  "Then he should know that no chieftain can command the heart. " Doroga nodded. "He gets in the way of that, he will learn that love will be love, and he can do nothing but kill everyone or stand aside. You should learn that, too. "

  "Learn what?" Amara said.

  Doroga thumped a finger against his skull. "Head got nothing to do with the heart. Your heart wants what it wants. Head got to learn that it can only kill the heart or else get out of the way. "

  "You're saying it would kill my heart to turn away from Bernard?" Amara asked.

  "Your heart. His too. " Doroga rolled a shoulder in a shrug. "You get to choose. "

  "Broken hearts heal in time," Amara said.

  Something washed over Doroga's features, making them look heavier, more sad. He lifted a hand to one of his braids, where he had braided his pale hair together with plaits of fine reddish tresses Amara had assumed were dyed. "Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't. " He turned to face her, and said, "Amara, you got something not everyone finds. Those who lose it would gladly die to have it again. Do not cast it away lightly. "

  Amara rode in silence, swaying in the rhythm of the gargant's long, slow steps.

  It was difficult to consider Doroga's words. No one had ever spoken to her of love in that way before. She had believed in it, of course. Her own mother and father had been very much in love, or so it had seemed to her as a small child. But since she had been taken in by the Cursors, love had been something that existed as a means to an end. Or as the lead player in a sad story about loss and duty. The only love a Cursor could allow herself to feel was for lord and Realm. Amara had known this since before she completed her training. What's more, she had believed it.

  But in the past two years, things had changed. She had changed. Bernard had become, not so much important to her as he was natural to her whole being. He was as much a part of her thoughts as breath, food, and sleep. At once present and not present, conspicuous with his absence and filling her with a sense of completion when he was there.

  For a man so strong, he was gentle. When his hands, his arms, his mouth were on her, he moved as if afraid she might shatter if held too tightly. Their nights together had been, and remained a blaze of passion, for he was a wickedly patient lover who took delight in her responses to him. But more than that, in the quiet hours after he would hold her, both of them weary, content, sleepy. She would lie in his arms and feel no worry, or sadness, or anxiety. She only felt beautiful. And desired. And safe.

  Safe. She had to make a sharp effort to keep tears from her eyes. She knew well how little safety truly existed in the world. She knew how much danger threatened the Realm; how a single mistake had the potential to bring it down. She could not allow emotions to cloud her judgment.

  No matter how much she might want them to.

  She was a Cursor. Sworn vassal of the Crown, a servant of the Realm of Alera, entrusted with its direst secrets, guarding against its most insidious foes. Her duty called for many sacrifices so that others could be safe and free. She had long ago given up the notion of a life of safety. Her duty called her to give up such luxuries as love as well.

  Didn't it?

  "I will consider your words," she told Doroga quietly.

  "Good," he responded.

  "But now is not the time for such things," Amara said. Already, her emotions were distracting her. She needed to know more about the dangers they currently faced, and for the moment Doroga was their sole source of information. "We have a more immediate problem. "

  "We do," Doroga agreed. "The ancient enemy. The Abomination before The One. "

  Amara looked from the Marat chieftain up to the sun and back, frowning. "Before the One. You mean, before the sun?"

  Doroga looked at her blankly.

  "The sun," Amara explained, adding a gesture. "That is what you mean by the One, yes?"

  "No," Doroga said, laughter in his tone. "The sun is not The One. You do not understand. "

  "Then tell me," Amara said, exasperated.

  "Why?" Doroga asked. The question was a simple one, but there was a weight behind the word that made Amara hesitate and think before answering.

  "Because I want to understand you," she said. "I want to know more about you and your people. What makes you what you are. What we share and what we do not. "

  Doroga pursed his lips. Then he nodded once, to himself, and turned around completely, facing Amara, and crossing his legs. He folded his hands in his lap, then after a moment, began to speak to her in a tone that reminded her of several of her better teachers at the Academy.

  "The One is all things. He is the sun, yes. And the sunlight on the trees. And the earth, and the sky. He is the rain in the spring, the ice of winter. He is the fire, the stars at night. He is the thunder and the clouds, the wind and the sea. He is the stag, the wolf, the fox, the gargant. " Doroga put a broad hand on his chest. "He is me. " Then he reached out and touched Amara's forehead with a finger. "And he is you. "

  "But I've seen your folk refer to The One, and indicated the sun by gesture. "

  Doroga waved a hand. "Are you Gaius?"

  "Of course not," Amara said.

  "But you are his sworn servant, yes? His messenger? His hand? And at times you command in his name?"

  "Yes," Amara said.

  "So it is with The One," Doroga replied. "From the sun comes all life, just as from The One. The sun is not The One. But it is how we give him our respect. "

  Amara shook her head. "I've never heard that of your people. "

  Doroga nodded. "Few Alerans have. The One is all that is, all that was, all that will be. The worlds, the heavens-all a part of The One. Each of us, a part of The One. Each of us with a purpose and a responsibility. "

  "What purpose?" she asked.

  Doroga smiled. "The gargant to dig. The wolf to hunt. The stag to run. The eagle to fly. We are all made to be for a purpose, Aleran. "

  Amara arched an eyebrow. "And what is yours?"

  "Like all my people," Doroga said. "To learn. " He leaned a hand down to rest on the steadily pacing gargant's back, almost unconsciously. "Each of us feels a call to other pieces of The One. We grow nearer to them. Begin to feel what they feel, and know what they know. Walker thinks all of this rusty metal your folk wear stinks, Aleran. But he smells winter apples in the wagons and thinks he should get a barrel. He is glad the spring is coming quickly, because he is tired of hay. He wants to dig down to find the roots of some young trees for his lunch, but he knows that it is important to me that we keep walking. So he walks. "

  Amara blinked slowly. "You know this about your gargant?"

  "We are both a part of The One, and both stronger and wiser for it," Doroga said. He smiled. "And Walker is not mine. We are companions. "

  The gargant let out a rumbling call and shook its tusks, making the saddle-mat lurch back and forth. Doroga burst out into rumbling laughter.

  "What did he say?" Amara asked, somewhat awed.

  "Not so much say," Doroga said. "But. . . he makes me know how he feels. Walker thinks we are companions only until he gets too hungry. A
nd then I can either give him more food or stand clear of those apples. "

  Amara found herself smiling. "And the other tribes. They are. . . "

  "Bonded," Doroga provided.

  "Bonded with their own totems?"

  "Horse with horse, Wolf with wolf, Herdbane with herdbane, yes," he confirmed. "And many others. It is how our people learn. Not just the wisdom of the mind. " He put a fist on his chest. "But the wisdom of the heart. They are equally important. Each of them part of The One. "

  Amara shook her head. The beliefs of the barbarians were a great deal more complex than she would have believed possible. And if Doroga was telling the literal truth about the Marat bond with their beasts, it meant that they might be a great deal stronger than the Alerans had previously believed.

  Hashat, for example, the chieftain of the Horse Clan, wore the cloak pins of three Royal Guardsman on her saber belt. Amara had assumed they had been looted from the field after the first day of First Calderon, but now she was not so sure. If the Marat woman, then a young warrior, had challenged the Princeps's personal guardsman on horseback, her bond with her animal may have given her a decisive advantage, even over Aleran metalcrafting. At Second Calderon, Doroga's gargant had smashed through walls built to withstand the pressures of battle of all kinds, from the great mauls of earthcrafter-borne strength to furycrafted blasts of fire and gale winds.

  "Doroga," she said, "why have your people not made war on Alera more often?"

  Doroga shrugged. "No reason to do it," he said. "We fight one another often. It is a test The One has given us, to see where the greatest strengths lie. And we have differences of thought and mind, just as your own folk do. But we do not fight until one side is dead. Once the strength is shown, the fight is over. "

  "But you killed Atsurak at the battle two years ago," Amara said.

  Doroga's expression darkened with what looked like sadness. "Atsurak had become too savage. Too steeped in blood. He had betrayed his own purpose before The One. He had stopped learning and began to forget who and what he was. His father died at the Field of Fools-what my tribe call First Calderon-and he grew to manhood lusting for vengeance. He led many others with him in his madness. And he and his followers killed an entire tribe of my people. " Doroga tugged at the braid again and shook his head. "As he grew, I had hoped he would learn to forget his hate. He did not. For a time, I feared I would hate him for what he did to me. But now it is over and done. I am not proud of what I did to Atsurak. But I could do nothing else and still serve The One. "

  "He killed your mate," Amara said quietly.

  Doroga closed his eyes and nodded. "She hated spending winters with my tribe, in our southlands, in the dunes by the sea. Too much sleeping, she said. That year, she stayed with her own folk. "

  Amara shook her head. "I do not want to disrespect your beliefs. But I must ask you something. "

  Doroga nodded.

  "Why do you fight to destroy the ancient enemy if we are all a part of The One? Aren't they as much a part of it as your people? Or mine?"

  Doroga was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "The One created us all to be free. To learn. To find common cause with others and to grow stronger and wiser. But the ancient enemy perverts that union of strengths. With the enemy, there is no choice, no freedom. They take. They force a joining of all things, until nothing else remains. "

  Amara shivered. "You mean, joined with them the way you are with your totems?"

  Doroga's face twisted in revulsion-and, Amara saw with a sense of unease, the first fear she had ever seen on the Marat's face. Deeper. Sharper.

  "To join the enemy is to cease to be. A living death. I will speak no more of it. "

  "Very well," Amara said. "Thank you. "

  Doroga nodded and turned around to face forward.

  She untied the saddle rope and dropped it over the gargant's flank, preparing to climb down it, when a call went down the column to halt. She looked up to see Bernard sitting his nervous horse with one hand lifted.

  One of the scouts appeared on the road, his horse running at top speed toward the column. As the rider closed on Bernard and slowed, Bernard gave the man a curt gesture, and the two of them cantered side by side down the length of the column, until they were not far from Doroga's gargant.

  "All right," Bernard said, gesturing from the scout to Amara and Doroga. "Let's hear it. "

  "Aricholt, sir," the man said, panting. "I was just there. "

  Amara saw Bernard's jaw clench. "What has happened?"

  "It's empty, sir," the scout replied. "Just. . . empty. No one is there. There are no fires. No livestock. "

  "A battle?" Amara asked.

  The scout shook his head. "No, lady. Nothing broken, and no blood. It's as if they all just walked away. "

  Bernard frowned at that and looked up at Amara. It didn't show on his face, but she could see the worry behind his eyes. It matched the worry and the fear she was feeling herself. Missing? An entire steadholt? There were more than a hundred men, women, and children who called Aricholt their home.

  "It is too late to save them," Doroga rumbled. "This is how it begins. "

  Chapter 16

  "I don't understand this," Isana said. "He's an academ. He's at the Academy. It isn't all that enormous. What do you mean that you can't find my nephew?"

  The runner Serai had hired grimaced. He was a boy too young to labor on the docks but too old to be free of the need to work, and his sandy hair was limp with sweat from running back and forth between the Citadel and the private manor in the Citizens' Quarter.

  "Pardon, my lady Citizen," the boy panted. "I did as you asked and inquired after him in every place in the Academy visitors are allowed. "

  "Are you sure you checked his quarters in the dormitories?"

  "Yes, my lady," the boy said, apology in his tone. "There was no answer. I slipped your note under his door. He may be in examinations. "

  "Since dawn?" Isana demanded. "That's ridiculous. "

  Serai murmured, from nearby, "Antonin's suggestion has merit, Stead-holder. Final examination week is extremely demanding. "

  Isana settled down lightly onto the raised wall of flagstones surrounding the garden's central fountain, her back straight. "I see. "

  Birds chirped in the background, bright and cheerful in the warm afternoon that almost had the feel of spring to it. The manor to which Serai had brought Isana was a small one, by the standards of the capital, but its designer had crafted the home with an elegance that made the larger, richer homes surrounding it seem gaudy by comparison.

  Isana opened her eyes. Though still marked by the chill of winter night, the garden had begun to awaken to the spring. Buds had already formed on the early-blooming plants and upon all three of the carefully pruned trees. Like the house, the garden was modest and beautiful. Surrounded upon all sides by the three-story manor, hanging and climbing vines hid the silvery marble of the building almost completely, so that the garden seemed more like a glade in a heavy forest than part of a metropolitan household. The bees had not yet awakened from their winter slumber, nor had most of the birds returned from their yearly journey, but it would not be long before the garden would be full of motion, bustling with the business of life.

  Spring had always been her favorite time of year, and her own happiness had been infectious. Isana always felt her family's emotions quite clearly, regardless of the season, but in the spring they were the most happy.

  That thought led her to Bernard. Her brother was walking into danger, and leading holders she had known for most of her life as he did. He would arrive at Aricholt today-and perhaps he already had. His men might be racing the danger the vord represented as early as the next morning.

  And Isana could do nothing but sit in a garden, listening to the rustling waters of an elegant marble fountain.

  She rose and paced the length of the garden and back, while Serai paid Antonin with f
ive shining copper rams. The boy pocketed the coin in a flash, bowed to Isana and Serai, and retreated quietly from the garden. Serai watched him go, then settled down at the fountain again with her sewing. "You're going to wear a path in the grass, darling. "

  "This is taking too long," Isana said quietly. "We have to do something. "

  "We are," Serai said, her tone placid. "Our host, Sir Nedus, has dispatched word to the proper channels to request an audience. "

  "That was hours ago," Isana said. "It seems simple enough. How long can it take to give an answer?"

  "The Wintersend ceremonies are extensive, Steadholder. There are thousands of Citizens visiting the capital, and there are quite literally hundreds of them also seeking an audience for one reason or another. It is quite prestigious to be granted an audience with Gaius during the festivities. "

  "This is different," Isana snapped. "He sent for me. And you are his envoy. " Serai's eyes snapped up in a warning glance, and she cast a significant look at the house around them. Isana felt a flash of foolish embarrassment. "It is different," she repeated.

  "Yes, it is," Serai said. "Unfortunately, the First Counselor's staff is not privy to the details of why. We must approach him through the usual channels. "

  "But we might not get through to him," Isana said. "We should present our request in person. "

  "Isana, only this morning a professional assassin attempted to take your life. If you leave this house, your chances of reaching the Citadel without further attempts are dubious, at best. "

  "I am prepared to take that risk," Isana replied.

  "I am not," Serai said placidly. "In any case, it simply isn't how one approaches the First Lord of Alera, Steadholder. Were we to do as you suggest, it is most likely that we would be ignored. "

  "Then I will be insistent," Isana answered.

  Serai's fingers moved with steady, calm speed. "In which case we would be arrested and held for trial until the end of the Festival. We must have patience. "

  Isana pressed her lips together and regarded Serai levelly for a moment. Then she forced herself to walk back to the fountain. "You're sure this is the fastest way?"

  "It is not the fastest way," Serai said. "It is the only way. "

  "How much longer must we wait?"

  "Nedus has friends and allies in the Citadel. We should have some kind of answer soon. " She set the sewing down and smiled at Isana. "Would you care for a bit of wine?"

  "No, thank you," Isana said.

  Serai glided to a small table nestled in a nook of the garden, where glasses and a crystal decanter of wine rested. She poured rose-colored wine into a glass and sipped very slowly.

  Isana watched her, and it was only with an effort that she could sense the woman's apprehension. Serai carried her wine over to the fountain, and settled beside Isana.

  "May I ask you something?" Isana said.

  "Of course. "

  "At the landing port. How did you know that man was an assassin?"

  "The blood on his tunic," Serai said.

  "I don't understand. "

  The tiny courtesan moved her free hand, to touch her side lightly, just under her arm. "Bloodstains, here. " She glanced up at Isana. "Probably the result of a knife thrust to the heart, between the ribs and up through the lungs. It's one of the surest ways to kill a man quietly. "

  Isana stared at Serai for a moment, then said, "Oh. "

  The courtesan continued, her tone quiet and conversational. "If it isn't done perfectly, there can be quite a bit of excess blood. The assassin must have needed a second thrust to finish the dockworker whose tunic he stole. There was a long stain down the length of the fabric, and that was what made me take a second look at him. We were quite fortunate. "

  "A man died so that someone could try to murder me," Isana said. "In what way is that fortunate?"

  Serai rolled her shoulder in a shrug. "His death was no doing of yours, darling. We were fortunate in that our assassin was both inexperienced and hurried. "

  "What do you mean?"

  "He went to considerable lengths to acquire a tunic in order to disguise himself. With time to plan, he would never have jeopardized his mission with an unnecessary killing, nor approached with his disguise marred with a suspicious stain. It sharply limited his ability to be part of the background, and an older, more experienced operative would not have attempted it. We were also fortunate in that he was wounded. "

  "How can you know that?"

  "The assassin was right-handed. He threw the knife at you with his left. "

  Isana frowned, then said, "The bloodstain was on the right side of the tunic. "

  "Precisely. The assassin approached the dockworker from behind and struck with the blade in his right hand. We know that the kill was not a clean one. We know that the dockworker was probably an earthcrafter. It is reasonable to assume that he struck back at his attacker with furycrafted strength-likely a glancing blow back with his right arm or elbow, striking the assassin's arm in the process. "

  Isana stared down at Serai. The practical, quiet tone of the courtesan's voice in discussing calculated violence and murder was chilling. A current of fear coursed through Isana, and she sat down at the fountain again. Men of terrible skill and intent were determined to end her life, and her only protection was a frail-looking slip of a woman in a low-cut silk gown.

  Serai sipped again at her wine. "Had he been able to get any closer before being seen, or had he been throwing with his preferred arm, you would be dead, Steadholder. "

  "Great furies preserve us," Isana whispered. "My nephew. Do you think that he is in danger?"

  "There's nothing to suggest that he is-and within the Citadel he's as safe as anywhere in the Realm. " Serai touched Isana's hand with hers. "Patience. Once we contact Gaius, he will protect your family. He has every reason to do so. "

  Bitter, old sadness washed through Isana, and the ring on the chain about her throat suddenly felt very heavy. "I'm sure he has the best of intentions. "

  Serai's back straightened slightly, and Isana sensed a sudden wash of comprehension and suspicion from the courtesan. "Isana," Serai said quietly, dark eyes intent, "you know Gaius. Don't you. "

  Isana felt a flutter of panic in her belly, but she held it from her voice, expression, and posture as she rose and paced away. "Only by reputation. "

  Serai rose to follow her, but before she could speak the courtyard was filled with the sound of the house bells ringing. Voices called out from the street outside, and only a moment later, an elderly but robust-looking man in fine robes limped quickly into the garden.

  "Sir Nedus," Serai said, performing a graceful curtsey.

  "Ladies," Nedus replied. Tall and slim, Nedus had been a Knight Captain for thirty years before retiring, and his every precise and efficient movement still reflected it. He bowed slightly to each of them, and grimaced, an expressive gesture given his bushy silver eyebrows. "Did you drink all my wine again, Serai?"

  "I may have left a splash in the bottle," she said, walking to the little table. "Please, my lord, sit down. "

  "Steadholder?" Nedus asked.

  "Of course," Isana replied.

  Nedus nodded his thanks and thumped down on the stone bench around the fountain, rubbing at his hip with one hand. "I hope you don't think me rude. "

  "Not at all," she assured him. "Are you in pain?"

  "Nothing that doesn't happen every time I spend hours on my feet dealing with fools," Nedus said. "I must have talked for hours. " Serai passed Nedus a glass of wine, and the old knight downed it in a long swallow. "Furies bless you, Serai. Be a dear child and-"

  Serai drew the bottle from behind her back, smiling, and refilled Nedus's glass.

  "Wonderful woman," Nedus said. "If you could cook, I'd buy your contract. "

  "You couldn't afford me, darling," Serai said, smiling, and touched his cheek in a fond gesture.

  Isana refrained from
voicing a curse aloud and settled for asking, "What happened, sir?"

  "Bureaucracy," Nedus spat. "The First Counselor's office was packed to the roof. If someone had set the building on fire, half the fools of the Realm would have burned to ash together and left us the richer for it. "

  "That many?" Serai asked.

  "Worse than I've ever seen," Nedus confirmed. "The office wanted every request in writing, and they weren't supplying paper and ink to manage it with. The Academy refused to give any away during examinations, every shop in the Citadel was sold dry of them, and errand boys were gouging applicants for a bloody fortune to run and get them in the Merchants' Quarter, bless their avaricious hearts. "

  "How much did it cost you?" Serai asked.

  "Not a copper ram," Nedus replied. "Something strange was up. The First Counselor's demands were just an excuse. "

  "How do you know'?" Isana asked.

  "Because I bribed a scribe in the office with a dozen golden eagles to find out," Nedus replied.

  Isana blinked at Nedus. Twelve golden coins could buy supplies for a steadholt for a year or more. It was a small fortune.

  Nedus finished the second glass of wine and set it aside. "Word came down that no further audiences with the First Lord were to be granted," he replied. "But that he'd commanded the First Counselor not to reveal the fact. The fool was stuck with figuring out how to prevent anyone from seeing the First Lord without giving them an excuse as to why. And from the looks of the folk in the office, he didn't expect to last the day without someone setting his hair on fire. "

  Serai frowned and exchanged a long glance with Isana.

  "What does it mean?" Isana asked quietly.

  "That we cannot reach him that way," Serai said. "Beyond that, I am not sure. Nedus, did you learn anything at all about why the First Lord would do such a thing?"

  Nedus shook his head. "Rumor was strong among the Counselor's staff that the First Lord's health had finally broken, but no one knew anything solid. " He took the bottle from Serai's hand and drained the rest of it in a single pull. "I tried to find Sir Miles and speak to him, but he was nowhere to be found. "

  "Sir Miles?" Isana asked.

  "Captain of the Royal Guard and the Crown Legion," Serai supplied.

  "He was a water boy for Gaius's Knights, back in the my day," Nedus added. "He and his brother Araris. Miles was a hopeless squire, but he grew up pretty good. He remembers me. Might have helped out, but I couldn't find him. I'm sorry, child. I failed you. "

  Serai murmured, "Of course you didn't, darling. Gaius is making himself scarce, and his captain is nowhere to be found. Clearly something is afoot. "

  "Not all that scarce," Nedus said. "He presided over the qualifying runs of the Wind Trials this morning, as always. "

  "Perhaps," Serai said, her brow furrowed in thought. She glanced back at Isana, and said, "We must now consider more dangerous means of reaching him. " She opened a small purse affixed to her belt, withdrew a folded piece of paper, and offered it to Isana.

  "What is this?" she asked.

  "An invitation," Serai replied. "Lady Kalare is hosting a garden party this evening. "

  Nedus's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Crows, woman. How did you manage to get an invitation?"

  "I wrote it," the courtesan replied serenely. "Lady Kalare's hand is quite simple to reproduce. "

  Nedus barked out a laugh, but said, "Dangerous. Very dangerous. "

  "I don't want to go to a party," Isana said. "I want to reach the First Lord. "

  "Without being able to schedule an audience or reach your nephew, we must attempt something less direct. Each of the High Lords has an audience with the First Lord every year, as do the Senator Primus, the Regus of the Trade Consortium, and the head of the Dianic League. Most, if not all of them will be at the fete. "

  Isana frowned. "You want to talk one of them into letting us accompany them on their audience?"

  "It isn't uncommon," Serai said. "You would not be privileged to speak to the First Lord under normal circumstances, but then once we are actually in Gaius's presence, we should be able to resolve matters in short order. "

  "Very. Dangerous," Nedus said.

  "Why?" Isana asked.

  "Gaius's enemies will be there, Steadholder. "

  Isana inhaled slowly. "I see. You think someone might take the opportunity to kill me. "

  "It's possible," Serai confirmed. "Lord and Lady Kalare will be in attendance. Kalare is at odds with both Gaius and the Dianic League, and is probably the man behind the attempts upon your life. And you are already, I believe, acquainted with the political leanings of Lord and Lady Aquitaine. "

  Isana felt her hand clench into a fist. "Indeed. They will be there as well?"

  "Almost certainly," Serai said. "Gaius's most loyal High Lords rule the Shield cities in the north. It is a rare year that more than one can attend, and this winter has been a particularly hard one on the northern High Lords. "

  "You mean that Gaius's supporters may not be there to protect me. "

  "In all probability," Serai said.

  "Is there any chance at all of successfully reaching Gaius if we go to this party?"

  "Slim," Serai said, her tone frank. "But it definitely exists. And your favor with the Dianic League should not be forgotten, either. They have long waited for a woman to attain Citizenship outside the structure of marriage or the Legions. It is in their interest to preserve and support you. "

  Nedus growled, "Is the League going to walk the street next to her and make sure your assassin doesn't take her on the way there?"

  Isana felt her fingers shaking. She pressed them against her forehead, and said, "You're sure we can't reach Gaius by any other means?"

  "Not quickly," Serai said. "Until Wintersend is over, our options are severely limited. "

  Isana forced herself to ignore her fear, her worry. She had no desire to die, but she could not allow anything to stop her message, regardless of the danger. Wintersend would not conclude for days. Tavi could be in danger even now, and her brother would surely face it before another day had passed. She did not have time to wait. They did not have days.

  "Very well," Isana said. "It would appear that we must go to a party. "