Academ's Fury ca-2

by Jim Butcher

  "I'll help," Tavi said.

  Miles gave him a brief smile. "I had already assumed you would be willing. But you can't suddenly vanish from the Academy during the week of your finals. The absence of the First Lord's favorite page will not go unremarked."

  "Then we'll need more help," Tavi said.

  Miles frowned. "I know. But I don't know any others I can absolutely trust."

  "None?" Tavi asked.

  "They died twenty years ago," Miles said, his voice bitter.

  "What about the Cursors?" Tavi said. "Surely they can be trusted."

  "Like Fidelias?" Miles spat. "The only one of them I might take a chance on is Countess Amara, and she isn't here."

  Tavi stared at the unconscious First Lord. "Do you trust me?"

  Miles arched a brow sharply. "Tell me what you need. Maybe I know someone who could help us."

  Miles exhaled slowly. "No. Tavi, you're smart, and Gaius trusts you, but you re too young to know how dangerous this is."

  "How dangerous will it be if we have no one to help, sir? Do we let him lie there and hope for the best? Is that less dangerous than taking a chance on my judgment?"

  Miles opened his mouth, then closed it, clenching his teeth. "Crows. You're right. I hate it, but you are."

  "So what do you need?"

  "A nurse. Someone who can do all the day-to-day feeding and caring for him. And a double, if we can get one."

  "Double?"

  Miles clarified. "An imposter. Someone who can appear at events Gaius would attend. To be seen walking around. To eat the First Lord's breakfasts and otherwise make sure everyone thinks things are business as usual."

  "So you need a strong watercrafter. Someone who can alter his appearance."

  "Yes. And not many men have that much skill at water. Even if they have the talent. It's just… not masculine."

  Tavi sat down on his heels, facing Miles. "I know two people who can help."

  Miles's eyebrows went up.

  "The first one is a slave. His name is Fade. He works in the kitchens and the gardens at the Academy," Tavi said. "I've known him since I was born. He doesn't seem very bright, but he hardly ever talks, and he's good at not being noticed. Gaius brought him here with me when I came."

  Miles pursed his lips. "Really? Fine. I'll have him transferred to me to help with last-minute work. No one will notice something like that before Wintersend. The other?"

  "Antillar Maximus," Tavi said. "He's got almost as many water beads on his lanyard as anyone at the Academy, and he's lost a bunch of them."

  "High Lord Antillus's bastard?" Miles asked.

  Tavi nodded. "Yes, sir."

  "Do you really believe you can trust him, Tavi?"

  Tavi took a deep breath. "With my life, sir."

  Miles let out a rough laugh. "Yes. That's precisely what we're speaking about. Is he skilled enough to alter his form?"

  Tavi grimaced. "You're asking exactly the wrong person about furycrafting, sir. But he hardly ever practices his crafting and still scores the highest in his classes. You might also consider letting me contact-"

  "No," Miles said. "Too many people will know already. No more, Tavi."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure. You are to tell no one anything, Tavi. You are to make sure no one gets close enough to realize what has happened. You are to take any measures necessary to do so." He turned his face up to Tavi, and Miles's flat eyes chilled him to the core. "And I am going to do exactly the same thing. Do you understand me?"

  Tavi shivered and looked down. Miles hadn't laid his hand on his sword for emphasis. He hadn't needed to. "I understand, sir."

  "Are you sure you want your friends to be involved in this?"

  "No," Tavi said, quietly. "But the Realm needs them."

  "Aye, boy. It does." Miles sighed. "Though who knows. With luck, maybe it will work without trouble." Yes, sir. "Now. I'll stay here. You fetch Killian and the others." He knelt by the First Lord again. "The Realm itself may be depending on us, boy. Keep everyone away from him. Tell no one."

  "I'll keep everyone away from him," Tavi repeated dutifully. "And I'll tell no one."

  Chapter 10

  "Stop worrying," Bernard said. "So long as you speak to Gaius right away, we should be fine."

  "Are you sure?" Isana asked. "That it won't come to fighting?"

  "As sure as anyone can be," Bernard assured his sister from the door to her bedroom. Morning sunlight slanted across the floor in golden stripes through the narrow windows. "I'm not eager to see more good people get hurt. All I want to do is make sure these vord stay where they are until the Legions arrive.

  Isana finished binding her dark, silver-threaded hair into a tight braid, and regarded her reflection in the dressing mirror. Though she wore her finest dress, she knew perfectly well that the clothing would be laughably crude and lacking in style in Alera Imperia, the capital. Her reflection looked lean, uncertain, and worried, she thought. "Are you sure they won't attack you first?"

  "Doroga seems confident that we have a little time before they'd be ready to do that," Bernard said. "He's sent for more of his own tribesmen, but they're in the southern ranges, and it may be two or three weeks before they arrive."

  "And what if the First Lord does not order the Legions to help?"

  "He will," Amara stated, her voice confident as she entered the room. "Your escorts are here, Isana."

  "Thank you. Does that look all right?"

  Amara adjusted the fore of Isana's sleeve and brushed off a bit of lint. "It's lovely. Gaius has a great deal of respect for Doroga, and for your brother. He'll take their warning seriously."

  "I'll go to him at once," Isana replied. Though she by no means relished the notion of speaking to Gaius. That old man's eyes saw too much for her comfort. "But I know that there are many protocols involved in gaining an audience. He is the First Lord. I'm only a Steadholder. Are you sure I'll be able to reach him?"

  "If you aren't, speak to Tavi," Amara said. "No one could deny you the right to visit your own nephew, and Tavi often serves as His Majesty's page. He knows the First Lord's staff and guards. He'll be able to help you."

  Isana looked aside at Amara and nodded. "I see," she said. "Two years. Will I recognize him?"

  Amara smiled. "You may need to stand a few stairs above him to get the same perspective. He's put on height and muscle."

  "Boys grow," Isana said.

  Amara regarded her for a moment, then said, "Sometimes the Academy can change people for the worse. But not Tavi. He's the same person. A good person, Isana. I think you have every right to be proud of him."

  Isana felt a flash of gratitude toward Amara. Though she had never shared any such words or emotions before, Isana could feel the woman's sincerity as easily as she could see her smile. Cursor or not, Isana could tell that the words were precisely what they seemed to be-honest praise and reassurance. "Thank you, Countess."

  Amara inclined her head in a gesture that matched the sense of respect Isana felt from the younger woman. "Bernard?" Amara said. "Would you mind if I had a few words with the Steadholder?"

  "Not at all," Bernard said amiably.

  Isana stifled a laugh that threatened to bubble from her mouth.

  After a moment, Amara arched an eyebrow, and said, "Privately?"

  Bernard blinked and stood up at once. "Oh. Right, of course." He looked back and forth between them suspiciously. "Um. I'll be out at the barn. We should be on the move in an hour. I've got to make sure Frederic-excuse me, Sir Frederic hasn't wandered off and forgotten his head."

  "Thank you," Isana said.

  Bernard winked at her, touched Amara's hand, and left the room.

  Amara shut the door and laid her fingers against it. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then Isana again felt that odd tightness to the room. There was a brief pain in her ears.

  "There," Amara said. "I apologize. But I must be sure we are not overheard."

  Isana felt her eyebrows
rise. "Do you expect spies in my household now?"

  "No. No, Steadholder. But I needed to speak with you about something personal."

  Isana rose and tilted her head slightly to one side. "Please explain."

  Amara nodded. The shadows under her eyes were deeper than they had been before. Isana frowned, studying the young woman. Amara was only a few years out of the Academy herself, though Isana was sure the Cursor had led a more difficult life than most. Amara had aged more quickly than a young woman should, and Isana felt a surge of compassion for her. In all that had happened, she sometimes forgot how very young the Countess was.

  "Steadholder," Amara said, "I don't know how to ask this, but simply to ask it." She hesitated.

  "Go on," Isana said.

  Amara folded her arms and didn't look up. "What have I done to wrong you, Isana?"

  The sense of raw pain and despair that rose from the girl closed around Isana like a cloud of glowing embers. She turned away and walked to the far side of the room. It required a significant effort to control her expression, and to keep her thoughts calm. "What do you mean?"

  Amara shrugged with one shoulder, and Isana's sense of the young woman became tinged with embarrassment. "I mean that you don't like me. You've never treated me badly. Or said anything. But I also know that I am not welcome in your home."

  Isana took a deep breath. "I don't know what you mean, Amara. Of course you're welcome here."

  Amara shook her head. "Thank you for trying to convince me. But I've visited you several times over the past two years. And you've never once turned your back on me. You've never sat at the same table as me, or taken a meal with me-you serve everyone else instead. You never meet my eyes when you speak to me. And until today, you've never been alone in a room with me."

  Isana felt her own brow furrow at the young woman's words. She began to answer, then remained silent. Was the Cursor right? She raked back through the memories of the past two years. "Furies." She sighed. "Have I really done that?"

  Amara nodded. "I thought that… that I must have done something to warrant it. I was hoping that a little time would smooth things over, but it hasn't."

  Isana gave her a fleeting smile. "Two years isn't much time when it comes to healing some hurts. It can take longer. A lifetime."

  "I never meant to hurt you, Isana. Please believe me. Bernard adores you, and I would never intentionally do you wrong. If I have said or done anything, please tell me."

  Isana folded her hands in her lap, frowning down at the floor. "You've never done anything of the sort. It was never you."

  Frustration colored Amara's voice. "Then why?"

  Isana pressed her lips together hard. "You're a loyal person, Amara. You work for Gaius. You are sworn to him."

  "Why should that offend you?"

  "It doesn't. But Gaius does."

  Amara's lips firmed into a line. "What has he shown you other than generosity and gratitude?"

  A stab of hot, bitter hatred shot through Isana, and her words crackled with it. "I was nearly killed today because of his gratitude and generosity. I'm only a country girl, Amara, but I'm not an idiot. Gaius is using me as a weapon to divide his enemies. Bernard's appointment to Count Calderon over the heads of the noble Houses of Riva is a direct reminder to them that Gaius, not Rivus, rules Alera. We are simply tools."

  "That isn't fair, Isana," Amara said, but her voice was subdued.

  "Fair?" Isana demanded. "Has he been fair? The status and recognition he gave us two years ago was not a reward. He created a small army of enemies for my brother and me, then whisked Tavi off to the Academy under his patronage-where I am certain my nephew has found others who strongly dislike and persecute him."

  "Tavi is receiving the finest education in Alera," Amara stated. "Surely you don't begrudge him that. He's healthy and well. What harm has that done to him?"

  "I'm sure he is healthy. And well. And learning. It's a marvelously polite way to hold Tavi hostage," Isana replied. The words tasted bitter in her mouth. "Gaius knows how much Tavi wanted to go to the Academy. He knows that it would destroy him to be sent away. Gaius manipulated us. He left us with no alternative but to throw in our lot with him as strongly as possible if we were to survive."

  "No," Amara said. "No, I won't believe that of him."

  "Of course you won't. You're loyal to him."

  "Not mindlessly," Amara said. "Not without reason. I've seen him. I know him. He's a decent man, and you're interpreting his actions in the worst possible light."

  "I have reason," Isana said. Some part of her felt shocked at the venom and ice in her voice. "I have reason."

  Amara's expression and bearing flickered with concern. Her voice remained gentle. "You hate him."

  "Hate is too mild a word."

  Amara blinked several times, bewildered. "Why?"

  "Because Gaius killed my… younger sister."

  Amara shook her head. "No. He isn't that way. He is a strong Lord, but he is no murderer."

  "He didn't do it directly," Isana said. "But the fault lies on him."

  Amara fretted her lower lip. "You hold him responsible for what happened to her."

  "He is responsible. Without him, Tavi might still have a mother. A father."

  "I don't understand. What happened to them?"

  Isana shrugged one shoulder. "My family was a poor one, and my sister did not wed by her twentieth birthday. She was sent to the Crown Legion camp for a term of domestic service. She met a soldier, fell in love, and bore him a child. Tavi."

  Amara nodded slowly. "How did they die?"

  "Politics," Isana said. "Gaius ordered the Crown Legion moved to the Calderon Valley. He was making a statement to Riva during a period of turmoil, and patronizing the Senate by placing a Legion in a position to deter a Marat horde from invading while simultaneously giving Lord Rivus a warning that his Legion was at hand."

  Amara made a quiet, hissing sound. "The First Battle of Calderon."

  "Yes," Isana said quietly. "Tavi's parents were there. Neither survived."

  "But Isana," Amara said, "the First Lord did not mandate their deaths. He placed a Legion in harm's way. That's why they exist. The loss was tragic, but you can't blame Gaius for not foreseeing the Marat horde that even surprised his own commanders in the field."

  "They were there on his orders. It was his fault."

  Amara squared her shoulders and set her jaw. "Great furies, Steadholder. His own son was killed there."

  "I know that," Isana spat. More words struggled to flow from her mouth, but she shook her head and stopped them. It was a struggle, so intense was the tide of hatred in her heart. "That isn't all that I blame him for." She closed her eyes. "There are other reasons."

  "And they are?" Amara asked.

  "My own."

  The Cursor was silent for a long moment, then nodded. "Then… I suppose we must agree to disagree on this matter, Steadholder."

  "I knew that before this conversation began, Amara," Isana said. The sudden tide of rage was failing, draining away, leaving her tired and unhappy in its wake.

  "I know him as a disciplined, capable lord. And as an honorable and forthright man. He has sacrificed much for the sake of the Realm-even his own son. I am proud to serve him as best I may."

  "And I will never forgive him," Isana said. "Never."

  Amara nodded stiffly, and Isana could feel her distress beneath the polite expression she held on her face. "I'm sorry, Steadholder. After what you went through yesterday… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you."

  Isana shook her head. "It's all right, Countess. It's good to have this in the open."

  "I suppose," Amara said. She touched the door, and the tense pressure in the very air of the room vanished. "I'll make sure your litter is ready and that your escorts have eaten."

  "Wait," Isana said.

  Amara paused, her hand on the door.

  "You make Bernard very happy," Isana said in a quiet voice. "Happier than I've seen him i
n years. I don't want to come between you, Amara. We needn't agree about the First Lord for you to stay with him."

  Amara nodded and gave her a silent smile, then left the room.

  Isana stared at her mirror for a moment, then rose. She went to the chest at the foot of her bed and opened it. She took out piles of bedding, her extra pair of shoes, a spare pillow, and a small wooden box containing bits of silver jewelry she'd acquired over the years. Then she pushed hard on one end of the bottom of the chest, willing Rill to draw the water from the boards there, which shrank and came loose. She removed the dried slats, revealing a small and hidden space beneath them.

  She picked up a small silk jewel-pouch. She untied and opened it, and upended the pouch into her palm.

  An elegant ring of gleaming silver upon a slender silver chain fell into her palm. It was heavy and cool. The ring was set with a single gem that somehow changed from a brilliant blue diamond to a bloodred ruby down its seamless center. Two carved silver eagles, one slightly larger than the other, soared toward one another to form the setting, holding the gem aloft on their wings.

  That old pain and loss filled her as she stared down at the ring. But she did not ask Rill to stop her tears.

  She draped the chain over her head, and tucked it away into her dress. She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, willing the redness from her eyes. She had no more time to waste looking back.

  Isana lifted her chin, composed her expression, and left to go to the assistance of the family she loved with all of her heart and the man she hated with all of her soul.

  Chapter 11

  Amara was waiting when the Knights Aeris sent by the Crown swept down from the dark grey clouds overhead. Spring this far north of the capital could be unpleasantly cold and damp, but the rain promised by occasional rumbles of thunder had not yet arrived. Amara recognized the man leading the contingent and briefly considered trying to provoke the water-laden clouds into emptying themselves a bit earlier. Onto his bloated head.

  Sir Horatio flew in front of the enclosed litter, his ornamented armor doing its best to gleam on the cloudy day, his red velvet cloak spread behind him. A Knight in a travel harness flew at each corner of the litter, supporting its weight, and four more flew in a loose escort around it. The contingent descended more swiftly than was necessary, and their furies stirred up a miniature cyclone of wild wind that threw Amara's hair around her head and sent a herd of sheep in a nearby pen crowding to its far side for shelter. The holders rushing around preparing supplies and sundries for Bernard's cohort had to shield their eyes against flying straw and dust.