by Jim Butcher
Amara covered her mouth with her hand until she could camouflage the smile behind a cup as she drank. Bernard settled back with a tolerant smile, but Isana felt something else from him-a sudden stab of anxiety.
Aric poured a bit more wine into his cup and settled back from the table. He was a spare man, all arms and legs, and still too young to have the heavier, more muscular build of maturity. For all of that, he was considered to be uncommonly intelligent, and in the past two years had worked hard enough on the two steadholts under his authority to separate himself entirely from what was now generally considered to be an unfortunate blood relation with his late father, Kord.
"Something's been hunting on the eastern steadholt," he said in a serious tone. "We were missing nearly a third of the cattle we had to turn out to wild forage over the winter, and we assumed that they'd been taken by thanadents or even a herdbane. But we've lost two more cows from our enclosed pastures since we've brought them in."
Isana frowned. "You mean they've been killed?"
"I mean they've been lost," Aric said. "At night, they were in the pasture. In the morning they weren't. No tracks. No blood. No corpses. Just gone."
Isana felt her eyebrows lift. "That's… odd. Cattle thieves?"
"I thought so," Aric said. "I took two of my woodcrafters, and we went into the hills to track down whoever it was. We searched for their camp, and we found it." Aric took a large swallow of wine. "It looked like there might have been as many as twenty men there, but they were gone. The fires were out, but there was a spit of burnt meat sitting over one of them. There were clothes, weapons, bedrolls and tools lying out as if they'd all gotten up and walked away without taking anything with them."
Bernard's frown deepened, and Aric turned earnestly to face him.
"It was… wrong, sir. It was frightening. I don't know how else to describe it to you, but it made the hair on our necks stand up. And dark was coming on, so I took my men and headed back for the steadholt as quickly as we could." His face grew a little more pale. "One of them, Grimard-you remember him, sir, the man with the scar over his nose?"
"Yes. Attican legionare, I think, retired out here with his cousin. I saw him cut down a pair of Wolf warriors at Second Garrison."
"That's him," Aric said. "He didn't make it back to the steadholt."
"Why?" Isana asked. "What happened?"
Aric shook his head. "We were strung out in a line, with me in the middle. He wasn't five yards away. One minute he was there, but when I turned around to look a moment later, he was gone. Just… gone, sir. No sound. No tracks. No sign of him." Aric looked down. "I got scared, and I ran. I shouldn't have done that."
"Crows, boy," Bernard said, still frowning. "Of course you should have done that. That would have scared the hairs right off my head."
Aric looked up at him and down again, shame still on his features. "I don't know what to tell Grimard's wife. We're hoping he's still alive, sir, but…" Aric shook his head. "But I don't think he is. We aren't dealing with bandits, or Marat. I don't have a reason why. It's just…"
"Instinct," Bernard rumbled. "Never discount it, lad. When did this happen?"
"Last night. I've ordered the children kept in the steadholt walls, and that no one should leave in groups of less than four. I left first thing morning to speak with Isana."
Bernard exhaled slowly and glanced at Amara. The Cursor nodded, stood up, and went to the door. Isana heard her whisper something while she touched the wood of the door, and her ears pained her briefly, then popped.
"We should be able to speak freely now," Amara said.
"Speak freely about what?" Aric asked.
"About something I learned from Doroga this morning," Bernard said. "He says that there is some manner of creature he called a vord. That it was dwelling in the Wax Forest, and that something happened that caused it to leave its home." Isana frowned, listening as Bernard told the rest of what Doroga had confided to him regarding the creature.
"I don't know, sir," Aric said, his voice dubious. "I've never heard of anything like this. A blood-drinking shapeshifter? We would have heard of such a thing, wouldn't we?"
"According to Doroga, by the time you hear about it, it might already be too late," Bernard said. "If he's correct about the location of the nest on Garados, it could explain the losses at your steadholt, Aric."
"Are you sure he isn't telling you stories?" Aric asked.
"I saw our healers patch up better than two hundred Marat and at least as many of their beasts, Aric. That wasn't done as a practical joke. If Doroga says he lost nearly two thousand warriors, I believe him." He went on to relay the rest of what Doroga had told him.
Isana folded her arms and shivered. "What about the third nest?"
Bernard and Amara traded another one of those looks, and she hardly needed any of her furycrafting gifts to know that her brother lied when he said, "Doroga has trackers on its trail. As soon as we find it, we'll hit it. But I want to focus on the nest we know about first."
"Two thousand men," Aric muttered. "What will you do to assault this nest? There aren't that many in the whole valley, Bernard."
"The Marat didn't have any Knights with them. We do. I think we should at least be able to contain these vord until reinforcements can arrive from Riva."
"If help arrives from Riva," Isana said.
Bernard looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"
"You saw how Aric reacted when you told him your source of information, and he's actually met Doroga. Don't let it shock you if High Lord Riva discounts a barbarian's word altogether."
Amara chewed on her lip, eyes narrowed. "She could be right. Riva hates the Marat for a variety of reasons."
"But Alerans are dying, Amara," Bernard said.
"Your argument is reasonable," Amara said. "Riva might not be. He's already strapped for funds after rebuilding Garrison and assisting with repairs in the steadholts. He's going to find himself with empty pockets if he is forced to mobilize his Legions. He'll want to avoid that unless it's absolutely necessary, and he'll almost certainly drag his feet rather than waste money on the ghost stories of some furyless barbarian. It's even possible that he has already left to attend Wintersend ceremonies in the capital."
"It's also possible he hasn't."
Amara held up her hand in a pacifying gesture. "I'm only saying that it's going to be difficult to secure assistance based on the observations of a Marat hordemaster. Riva holds Doroga in contempt."
"I'd rather do something than nothing. And in any case, I've already sent the messenger. It's done. There isn't any time to waste."
"Why not?" Aric asked.
"According to Doroga, this nest will reproduce and divide into three more within a week's time. If we don't catch this one now, the vord may be able to spread more rapidly than we can find and destroy them. That being the case, if Riva doesn't respond at once, we may have to fend for ourselves."
Aric nodded, though he didn't look happy. "What can I do to help?"
"Return to your steadholt," Amara said. "Start filling containers with drinking water, preparing tubs for the healers, bandages, the like. We'll use Aricholt as our base of operations while we locate the nest."
"Very well," Aric said, rising from the table. "In that case, I wish to return immediately."
"It could be dangerous for you, after dark," Amara warned.
"I'll swing wide around the mountain," Aric said. "My place is with my holders."
Bernard stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Be careful, Steadholder."
They murmured their good-byes, and Aric left the study.
After the door had shut, Amara turned to Isana and offered her an envelope.
"What's this?" Isana asked.
"An invitation to Wintersend, from the Crown."
Isana lifted her eyebrows. "But that's in a few days."
"I am given to understand that His Majesty has already set several Knights Aeris aside to fly you in."
&n
bsp; Isana shook her head. "I'm afraid that isn't possible," she said. "Especially not before this vord situation is settled. Healers will be needed."
Amara frowned at her. "This isn't precisely a request, Steadholder Isana. You are needed in the capital. You've become quite the bone of contention."
Isana blinked. "I have?"
"Indeed. By elevating you to a position of equality with the male members of the gentry, Gaius has tacitly declared a sort of equality of status between men and women. As a result, many folk have taken it as permission to establish a number of equities formerly denied women. And others have taken shameless advantage of the opportunity. Various cities have begun to tax the sale of female slaves as heavily as males. The Slaver's Consortium is furious and demands legislation to reestablish the previous status quo, and the Dianic League has rallied against them."
"I don't see what that has to do with me attending Festival in the capital."
"The balance of power has begun to shift in the Senate. Gaius needs the support of the Dianic League if he is to prevent it from flying out of control. So he needs you there, at Festival, highly visible to everyone in the Realm, to show how strongly you support him."
"No," Isana said flatly. "I have more vital duties here."
"More vital than protecting the stability of the Realm?" Amara asked in a mild tone. "My. You must be very busy."
Isana rose sharply to her feet, her eyes narrowed, and snarled, "I don't need a child like you to tell me my duty."
Bernard rose, staring at Isana in shock. " 'Sana, please."
"No, Bernard," Isana said. "I am not Gaius's pet dog to sit up and hop through hoops when he snaps his fingers."
"Of course not," Amara said. "But you are the only person who might give him the advantage he needs to prevent the Realm from falling into a civil war. Which is why someone ordered you killed in the first place-or hadn't that occurred to you?"
Bernard put a warm hand on Isana's shoulder to steady her, but Amara's words struck her like a cup of icy cold water. "Civil war? Has it come to that?"
Amara pushed her hair back tiredly. "It grows more likely each day. The Slaver's Consortium is supported by several of the southern cities, and the northern and Shieldwall cities favor the Dianic League. It is imperative that Gaius maintains control over the Senate's majority, and the Dianic League is the lever he needs. My orders were to give you this information, then accompany you and your brother to the capital."
Isana sat down again slowly. "But that has now changed."
Amara nodded. "If Doroga is right about the vord, they could be a deadly threat. They must be dealt with without delay, so Bernard and I will stay here and do so, and join you as soon as we are able."
"And," Bernard rumbled, "we think we know where the third group of vord is going."
Isana arched an eyebrow.
Bernard reached into a sack he'd brought with him and drew out an old, battered leather pack. "Doroga's scouts found this along a trail leading directly toward the capital."
Isana blinked at the pack. "Isn't that Fade's old pack?"
"Yes," Bernard said. "But Fade gave it to Tavi before he entered the Wax Forest. Tavi lost it during the battle there. His scent is all over it."
"Blood and crows," Isana swore. "Are you telling me that this creature is following him?"
"It appears so," said Amara. "The Knights Aeris will arrive in the morning. Isana, you need to get to the capital and gain an audience with Gaius as soon as possible. Tell him about the vord, and make him believe you. He needs to find their nest and stop them."
"Why can't you send a courier to him instead?"
"Too risky," Bernard answered. "If the courier is delayed, or if Gaius is preoccupied with preparations, we'd be better off having the extra help here."
Amara nodded. "He will see you, Holder Isana. You may be the only one who will be able to cut through protocol and get to him immediately."
"All right. I'll do it. I'll talk to him." Isana said. "But not until I am sure Tavi is safe."
Amara grimaced but nodded. "Thank you. It was never my intention to send you into that snake pit alone. There will be a lot of people interested in you. Some of them can be quite deceptive and dangerous. I can provide you with an escort-a man I trust, named Nedus. He'll meet you at the Citadel and should be able to help you."
Isana nodded quietly and rose. "Thank you, Amara. I'll manage." She took a step toward the door and wavered, nearly falling.
Bernard caught her before she could. "Whoa. Are you all right?"
Isana closed her eyes and shook her head. "I just need to rest. It will be an early morning." She opened her eyes and frowned up at her brother. "You will be careful?"
"I'll be careful," he promised. "If you promise that you will."
She smiled faintly at him. "Done."
"Don't worry, 'Sana," he rumbled. "We'll make sure everyone is kept safe. Especially Tavi."
Isana nodded, and started for the door again, steadier. "We will."
Presuming, of course, that they weren't already too late.
Chapter 7
Between the time he saw Steadholder Isana found by her people and the time the sun set, Fidelias had run more than a hundred miles and left the Calderon Valley behind him. The furycrafted stones of the causeway lent their strength to his own earth fury, and through it to Fidelias. Though he was a man of nearly threescore years, the long run had cost him comparatively little effort. He slowed down when the hostel came into sight and walked the last several hundred yards, panting, his legs and arms burning lightly with exertion. Grey clouds rolled across the flaming twilight, and it began to rain.
Fidelias flipped his cloak's hood over his head. His hair had grown even thinner in the past few years, and if he didn't cover it, the cold rain would be both unpleasant and unhealthy. No self-respecting spy would allow himself to catch cold. He imagined the deadly consequences had he sneezed or coughed while inside the barn with Isana and her would-be assassin.
He didn't mind the thought of dying on a mission, but he'd stake himself out for the crows if he would ever allow it to happen because of a petty mistake.
The hostel was typical of its kind in the northern half of the Realm-a ten-foot wall surrounding a hall, a stables, a pair of barracks houses and a modest-sized smithy. He bypassed the hall, where travelers would be buying hot meals. His stomach rumbled. The music, dancing, and drinking wouldn't start until later in the evening, and until they did, he would not risk being recognized by bored diners with nothing better to do than observe and converse with their fellow travelers.
He slipped up the stairs of the second barracks house, opened the door to the room farthest from the entrance, and bolted it behind him. He eyed the bed for a moment, and his muscles and joints ached, but duty came before comfort. He sighed, built the fire laid in the fireplace to life, tossed aside his cloak and poured water from a pitcher into a broad bowl. Then he withdrew a small flask from his pouch, opened it, and poured a few splashes of water from the deep wellsprings beneath the Citadel in Aquitaine into the bowl.
The water in the bowl stirred almost immediately, rippling, and a long blob of liquid extruded from the surface of the contents in the bowl, wavering slowly into the miniature form of a woman in evening robes, striking rather than beautiful, apparently in her late twenties. "Fidelias," the woman's form said. Her voice sounded faint, soft, very far away. "You're late."
"My lady Invidia," Fidelias replied to the image, inclining his head. "I'm afraid the opposition wasn't overly considerate of our time constraints."
She smiled. "An agent had been dispatched. Did you learn anything of him?"
"Nothing stone solid. But he was carrying a Kalaran gutting knife, and he knew what he was doing," Fidelias said.
"A Kalaran bloodcrow," said the image. "Then the rumors are true. Kalarus has his own breed of Cursor."
"Apparently."
She laughed. "Only a man of great integrity could resist saying, 'I tol
d you so.'"
"Thank you, my lady."
"What happened?"
"It was a near thing," Fidelias said. "When his first plan failed he panicked and went after her with that gutting blade."
"The Steadholder was slain?"
"No. She sensed him just before he struck, and killed him with a pitchfork."
The image's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Impressive."
"She's a formidable woman, my lady, watercrafting aside. If I may ask, my lady, what were the results of the League's summit?"
The woman's image tilted her head, regarding him thoughtfully. Then said, "They have elected to support and promote Steadholder Isana's status."
Fidelias nodded. "I see."
"Do you?" the image asked. "Do you really see what this could mean? How it could affect the course of our history?"
Fidelias pursed his lips. "I suppose in the long term, it could mean an eventual state of legal and political parity between genders. I try not to think in terms of history, my lady. Only in practical cause and effect."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that the most immediate effect will be economic, and therefore political. The establishment of a woman as a full Citizen in her own right will have immediate effects on the slave trade. If it becomes as costly to sell and purchase female slaves as male, it will have an enormous detrimental effect on the economy of the southern cities. Which is why, presumably, Kalarus dispatched an agent to remove Isana of Calderon."
"High Lord Kalarus is a debauched pig," Invidia said, her tone matter-of-fact. "I'm sure he went into some sort of seizure when he heard the news about Steadholder Isana."
Fidelias narrowed his eyes. "Ah. The First Lord knew precisely how High Lord Kalarus would react."
Her mouth curled up in an ironic smile. "Indeed. Gaius rather neatly divided his enemies by introducing this issue. My husband's alliance in the north, and Kalarus's in the south-and if the Steadholder appears in support of him, he may sweep the support of the Dianic League from my husband, as well."
