by Jim Butcher
"Dogs," Bernard said. "That makes it more complicated."
"Why?" Amara asked.
Bernard shrugged. "I could use Brutus to keep them calm as we went by them-but I can't hold up a veil around us at the same time. And dogs track by scent. Veils won't do much to hide us from them."
"And if you don't hold a veil around us," Amara mused, "we won't make it through unseen."
Bernard nodded. "Likely."
"That isn't a problem," Gaius murmured. "Countess, you can veil us from sight, while the good Count Calderon prevents the hounds from raising the alarm-and it would leave him with enough attention to shoot if we need to silence anyone quickly."
Bernard lifted an eyebrow, thinking it through, and nodded. "True. I didn't know you could do a veil, Countess."
"Uh," Amara said. "I… I can't." She flushed. "Not a very good one, anyway. I passed the qualifications in my windcrafting courses at the Academy, but not by much. I've never held one large enough for all three of us, and never for more than a few moments."
"Mmmm," Gaius said. "Have we other options?"
Bernard grimaced. "Not unless you'd like to begin taking action here and now, sire."
Gaius turned his gaze to the east for a time. Then he shook his head, and said, "It's still too soon. We'll need to get through the first pass in the mountains." He studied Amara. "You say your classroom veils were barely passing marks, eh?"
"Yes, sire. I was always so much better at flying. Perhaps I didn't put as much effort into the rest as I could have."
The feverish old man smiled and closed his eyes. "Or," he murmured, "perhaps you needed the proper tutor. Attend."
Chapter 40
Tavi lost track of several days. Not completely, but there was a definite blurring in his memory. He had to get the details from Kitai later, but the long and short of it was that they slipped quietly out of Alera Imperia two days after they took Varg from the Grey Tower.
Demos had delayed their departure until he had secured a cargo to freight down the river to Parcia-since it would look more than mildly suspicious for a ship to arrive and depart without loading or unloading anything. Tavi was only intermittently aware of what was going on, thanks to the extensive watercrafting he'd required after the rescue. He had a fairly clear recollection of the conversation with his mother while hiding in the river, and something about grabbing one of Varg's ears as if he'd been a sheep being stubborn about shearing-but he mostly remembered being ravenously hungry, eating as much as he could fit in his stomach, then stumbling back to his bunk to sleep.
By the time hours had begun once again to proceed one after another in an orderly fashion, they had reached Parcia, and in less than half the time it had taken them to make the journey upriver. Demos unloaded his cargo and within hours they were once again in the open sea.
Tavi promptly got sick again.
He was lying on the open deck at night, several nights later, enjoying the cool breeze and gnawing on a ship's biscuit as his nausea finally began to fade. Araris sat with his back against the mast, his sword on his lap, dozing. Tavi had just begun to consider life worth living again, when the door to the hold opened and Varg prowled onto the deck.
Tavi watched in silence as the Cane paced to the bow. The vast, dark-furred form, darker and more solid than the evening shadows, faced forward for a time, face lifted to the evening air.
Tavi rose. He held out a hand to Araris as he walked past him. The singulare passed over the hilt of his sword, and Tavi took it with him, casually carrying the weapon in its scabbard as he went to stand beside Varg.
The Cane glanced aside at Tavi and down to the sword. His chest rumbled with a sound that could have been amusement or approval. "I was wounded," Varg said. "Unto death."
"Not quite," Tavi said quietly.
Varg lifted a paw-hand in an approximation of an Aleran gesture of acceptance. "I was made whole by Aleran sorcery."
"By the Lady Isana," Tavi said.
"Your mother," Varg said.
Tavi blinked and stared at him.
Varg tapped one claw on the end of his nose. "Your scents are similar."
Tavi snorted out a breath.
Varg turned to face the sea again. "Almost as similar as your scent and that of Gaius Sextus."
Tavi frowned.
Varg let out another amused rumble. "I have said nothing of it to any ears but yours."
"Sometimes it feels like everyone knew but me," Tavi growled. "How long have you known?"
"Since the night you held a knife to my throat."
"I didn't have much choice in the matter," Tavi said.
"You could have chosen to neglect your duty. You did not." Varg leaned his huge, clawed paw-hands on the ship's rail and stared out to sea. "Why did you come down for me when I fell, Aleran?"
"Because you agreed to follow me," Tavi said.
"I might already have been dead."
"There was no way to know that until I went down to look."
Varg grunted. "You could have been killed in coming."
Tavi shrugged. "I wasn't."
Varg bared his teeth. "I respect Gaius's power. I respect his intelligence. But I most respect that he understands what it is to lead." He turned toward Tavi and bent his head gently forward, in the Aleran manner. "As I respect you, gadara."
Tavi inclined his head in reply. "Have you eaten?"
Varg coughed out a grunt of laughter. "You have learned what it is to lead warriors." He sounded amused. "These sailors do not like to come near me. I have chosen not to take food from them."
Tavi's eyes widened as he considered what Kitai had told him about Varg's extensive wounds and the crafting that had been required to repair them. "You must be starving."
"I have been hungry before."
Tavi turned to Varg and put the rest of his ship's biscuit on the rail beside the Cane's paw-hand. "Eat that," he said. "I'll see about getting you something more solid."
Varg took the biscuit and tossed it into his jaws. The Cane's teeth crunched the tough block of food as if it had been fresh bread. He flicked his ears in distaste as he worked his jaws, getting the crumbs from between his fangs. "Aler-ans may be hardier than I thought." He tilted his head and considered Tavi. "The Lady Isana," he growled. "If it is not improper, I would have you convey my respects for her skills."
"Why would you think it improper?" Tavi asked.
Varg picked another shard of ship's biscuit from his teeth with one claw. "Your people have strange customs with regards to mates and offspring. A male may be mated, yet pursue other females. A female may be mated, but bear children of other males, yet pretend they are her mate's offspring, while the mate outwardly acknowledges the children as his own. A man and woman may mate and bear children, but if it is recorded improperly, then shame is visited on the child."
"Shame?"
"Illegitimacy, I have heard it called," Varg said. "Bastard. And you, a child of the House of Gaius, were treated as an outcast. A menial. I do not know if your mother has been visited with shame, or if it would be inappropriate to acknowledge her. The values of such things make no sense to me."
"It's… complicated," Tavi said. "Even by Aleran standards. But it would not be inappropriate for you to thank her for her assistance."
Varg bared his teeth and growled. "I do not offer thanks. Your people need me alive and healthy. It was not an act of charity."
"True enough," Tavi said. "I chose an imprecise phrase. It would not be inappropriate for you to convey your respect for her skills."
Varg narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment. "Among my people, a pack leader handles such matters."
Tavi turned to face Varg directly, hand on his sword. "Then I will do so."
The Cane's chest rumbled again, and he flicked his ears in agreement, turning back to the sea. "It is well."
Tavi turned from his confrontational stance as well. "Is there anything else you need?"
Varg growled and flexed his claws. "I
nformation."
Tavi considered that, and said, "I will give you what I can."
"I have need," he said.
"Were our roles reversed, I the prisoner in your land, would you share information openly with me?"
"Were our roles reversed, Aleran, your blood would have been drained into jars long since." He drummed his claws on the rail. "And no. I would not share openly." He nodded once. "Tell me what you can about my people here."
Tavi described the last two years in very general terms, giving Varg no information about the positions of Aleran troops, their capabilities, their logistics, or their vulnerability.
When it was done, Varg's mouth dropped open, his tongue lolling out for a second or two. "Sari is dead by your hand?"
Tavi grinned out at the sea. "It might not have happened if Nasaug hadn't maneuvered him into it."
"But you saw it happening," Varg said. "You used it to your advantage."
"Yes."
"And Sari died by your hand."
"Yes."
"Well did Nasaug name you gadara," Varg rumbled.
"I have a theory," Tavi said.
One of Varg's ears swiveled around toward him.
"The invasion fleet arrived under desperate circumstances," Tavi said. "Sari burned their ships behind them. There was a great deal of internal division. A great many ritualists had come with the fleet, and they were clearly dominant." Tavi frowned. "And they had noncombatants with them. I saw a female with young."
Varg's claws dug into the railing.
"It wasn't an invasion force," Tavi said. "It was more like a colony."
"I do not know this word," Varg said.
"It's when you send a group into a new area. They take with them everything they need to begin building their own society and settle down to make a new home."
Varg flicked his ears in acknowledgment.
"After the night of the Vord attack on the First Lord, Sari vanished. We now know that he was taken from the capital on a ship and went back to his homeland. We hunted for him for weeks, but we never found him." Tavi squinted out ahead of them to the west-toward Varg's home. "We never found the Vord queen, either."
Varg bared his teeth.
"Sari was already scheming with the Vord. I believe that he took it with him when he ran. I believe he took it back to your homeland and that it got loose. I think that once he realized what was happening, he took hostages to guarantee the cooperation of Nasaug and his warriors, stole everything he could get his hands on, and ran, trusting his scheme with Kalarus to give him a fighting chance."
"That," Varg growled, "was Sari."
Tavi nodded. "I think," he said quietly, "that your people are in danger. That's why Sari burned the ships behind him. He knew Nasaug would return to protect your homeland if he didn't. And that's why Nasaug is building a fleet right now."
Varg said nothing. His body language told Tavi nothing. A moment later, he said, "If it is true, Aleran, then your enemies will be laid low. What reason could you have to help Nasaug return and stop this from happening?"
"Are you kidding?" Tavi asked. "Self-interest. If the Vord destroy your people, sooner or later they will come here. If I send you home to fight them, then one of two things will happen. You will overcome them, in which case Alera is faced with a familiar enemy and is no worse off than before. Or they will destroy you, weakening themselves in the process, making them easier for Alera to fight. Either way, we are better off if your people leave."
Varg considered that for a moment. "If you are right, we share an enemy."
"I'm right," Tavi said quietly. "I know I'm right."
The Cane glanced aside at Tavi. "What do you propose?"
"I return you to Nasaug at Mastings. You finish building your ships and leave."
"So simple," he said. "But it is not so simple, Aleran. You are not honored as your blood should be. Can you compel your Legions to cease fighting? To allow my people to leave?"
Tavi clenched his teeth for a moment but forced himself to admit, "I'm not sure."
"Then how will you accomplish it?"
"I'm not sure," Tavi said. He narrowed his eyes. "Not yet. But it will happen."
Varg did not reply.
The two of them stood staring out at the shadowed west before them, and for no explicable reason Tavi suddenly felt cold.
Chapter 41
"I don't like it, First Spear," Crassus said quietly. "This was too easy."
They stood within the ruins of an old town on a hill, its name long since forgotten. Odds were that the town had simply withered after the successful port city of Mastings had grown up only a few miles away, but whatever it had once been, centuries had passed since anyone but the occasional traveler or passing deer had lived there.
"I was sure they would have fortified this place," Marcus said. "But I'm just as glad they didn't make us fight to take it."
"Exactly," Crassus said. "They could have-they should have. And they didn't."
"The Canim are good soldiers," Marcus responded. "But that doesn't make them perfect, sir. And there could have been any number of factors that prevented them from using this position against us. Whether they made a mistake or just couldn't get things set up in time, we're better off for it."
"That story sounds weak, Marcus," Crassus said. "Even you think so."
"Weak, sir?" Marcus asked. "Just because the Canim have let us take a position we can fortify beyond their capabilities to assault only miles away from the town they have to protect at all costs, without giving us so much as a nosebleed over taking it? Especially when they know how tough we are from a defensive strong point?" He snorted. "What's weak about that?"
Around them, the First Aleran continued sweeping the overgrown streets, the half-collapsed buildings, checking everything within the tumbledown walls that had once surrounded the town. Both Guard Legions had marched to positions beside the town and were now erecting palisades atop simple earthworks as an outer defensive perimeter around the base of the hill.
The hoofbeats of a trotting horse approached, and Maximus rode his stallion through what had once been someone's living room. He dismounted and flicked the horse's reins around the remains of a chimney, then approached Crassus and saluted.
Crassus returned it. "Well?"
"They had scouts watching the hill," Maximus said. "Canim and mounted rebels. We pursued them, but not too hard."
Crassus nodded at his brother. "The city?"
Maximus's eyes glittered. "Saw it."
"How bad is it?"
"Three layers of earthworks," Max said. "Then what looks like a newly crafted outer wall, around the walls of the town itself. And they're all lined with troops."
Marcus let out a low whistle.
"How many?" Crassus asked.
"Twenty thousand on the walls," Max said. "No idea how many might have been behind them."
Crassus spat. "Wonderful."
"The good news," Marcus said, "is that at least they're doing something we anticipated, sir."
"Under the circumstances, it's hardly comforting," Crassus said. "With that much manpower, they should have had plenty of hands to spare to build up the ruins and make us fight for them."
"Maybe they didn't think they needed to," Maximus said. "They've got us outnumbered already. If we want to take them out, we'll have to go to them, and having a defensible position to fall back on isn't going to mean much when it's miles away."
Marcus grunted in a neutral tone. Crassus was a young commander, but his naturally studious, pensive personality tended to negate the usual recklessness of a leader his age. If anything, perhaps too much so. Waging a military campaign truly was one of the more complicated endeavors anyone could embark upon, and the demands of organization, logistics, communications, and internal politics could often create unusual, or even outwardly ridiculous-seeming, scenarios.
Marcus was well aware of Nasaug's skills, which had been sufficient to enable him to survive in hostile territory
, cut off from any help and vastly outnumbered on the absolute scale. Only extremely competent leadership could account for such a thing-but even the most brilliant general had finite resources. It was entirely possible that Nasaug had reached the limits of his.
It was also, he admitted, entirely possible that the reason the ruins had been ceded without a fight was nowhere near so innocuous.
"Plan for what he can do," Marcus said. "Not what you think he's going to do."
Crassus glanced at Marcus and nodded sharply. "Giving us a nice position here lets them know two things for certain-where to find us and from where we'll approach Mastings." He scratched at the tip of his nose, frowning. "We estimate that he'll have forty thousand troops available to defend Mastings, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Fine," Crassus said. "Let's suppose he's got thirty thousand waiting for us behind the walls. He could easily have ten waiting in the field, hoping to pin us between Mastings's defenses and their field force."
Max nodded. "Which would get ugly, fast."
"But that isn't a large enough force to take us on its own," Marcus said. "Especially not from fortifications."
"Which gives them even more reason not to let us take these without a fight."
Max stared at Crassus for a moment, then accused, "You think too much."
The young commander shrugged. "I don't see Nasaug sitting quietly behind his walls and waiting for us, either," Crassus said. "It could be that he's planning on hitting us here before the engineers can build the ruins up. So I want to picket the cavalry in a screen around us at five or six miles. If anyone sees anything moving out there, I want to know about it."
Max nodded and banged a fist on his chest, then went to his horse.
Before he could leave, more horses approached, and shortly the Senator, the captains of both Guard Legions, and their immediate attendants arrived.
But not, Marcus noted, the Senator's hired singulares. There was no sign of Phrygiar Navaris or her contemporaries. Several burly legionares from the Guard were staying close to Arnos-but not his gang of hired killers.
