Captains Fury, Page 6

Chapter 9~10

  Chapter 9

  Tavi focused on the stone in the dale outside the town of Elinarch, blocking out absolutely everything else around him. Nothing existed but himself and the stone, a wind-and-rain-rounded lump of granite the size of a handcart. He breathed deeply, concentrating, then spoke in a clear and commanding voice. "Come forth. "

  Nothing in particular happened.

  Frustration welled up inside him, a red bubble expanding in his chest. He fought it off, concentrating on his breathing, on his focus, and addressed the stone again, reaching out for the fury he knew was inside. "Come forth. "

  The stone's stillness and silence were nothing short of insulting.

  "Crows take it!" Tavi snarled. He clenched his teeth, tried to keep his tone of voice level and confident, and only mangled the words slightly as he gave it one last try. "Come f-"

  He wasn't sure exactly what tipped him off. There might have been the faintest hint of sound behind him. There might have been a breath of excitement and feline amusement that ran over the back of his neck. It could have been the subtle, singing tension that he now felt surrounding every blade. Likely, it was a combination of all of those subtle factors. They coalesced into a single thought that flashed into the front of his mind: danger.

  Tavi flung himself to one side, drawing his blade as he went. He whirled on the way, spinning back toward the attacker, his back to the ground, and his blade intercepted a sword descending in a sharp overhand arch. The two blades met, and there was a small explosion of golden-green sparks. Tavi's momentum carried him forward, and his bare shoulder blades hit the grass first. He drew upon the wind blowing through the little vale to give speed enough to fold his body into a ball, bounce a bit off the grass, and then roll back onto his feet.

  He wobbled but caught his balance as a rock the size of his head came zipping at his face. Off-balance, he had no time to move, and instead thrust the heel of his hand forward, drawing strength from the earth, and struck the oncoming stone with a single, sharp blow.

  The rock exploded into shards and dust. Flying pieces lashed open half a dozen small wounds on his naked upper body and put two new rips in his trousers. His wrist and hand hurt like the crows, but he still had his balance, and as his attacker darted forward with windcrafted speed, he met a blindingly swift stroke of his attackers' sword with his own. He traded three or four strokes running on pure reflex, the blows too swift to allow for any thought, minicas-cades of sparks scattering around him with each blow.

  He never "saw" the opening in his opponent's defense, so much as he felt it, sensed the change coming in the humming sensation of the two swords' furies clashing and blending. He twisted his blade forward in a serpentine thrust, forcing his opponent's blade to engage his, the tip too far to one side to stop him from stepping in close, locking his aching left hand on his opponent's weapon wrist, and applying the pressure of a fury-assisted grip.

  "Ah!" Kitai cried out, the sound both pained and amused. "Enough, enough!"

  Tavi released her wrist, and the Marat girl lifted her blade in a quick salute, then sheathed it one-handed in a single motion, never bothering to look down at the scabbard.

  "That was cheating," Tavi said. "I was trying to concentrate. "

  Kitai thrust out her lower lip in a pouting expression. "Poor Aleran, needing all his rules to keep him safe. "

  Tavi swiped a hand at her. Kitai laughed and ducked it.

  "Crows, Kitai. You know how hard I've been working. Until I can bid a fury to manifest-"

  She threw her hands up in the air. "Two years ago, he has no furies at all, and he is content. Today he has more than he ever hoped to have, and it is not enough. "

  Tavi growled and shoved his own sword away, also without looking. He couldn't have explained how he did it. He could feel when the tip of his blade was aligned with the metal fittings at the end of the scabbard, a sensation that was comparable to feeling his fingers all in the proper position to tug on a glove.

  "I'm not going to get opportunities to practice once we march. You know that. This was my last chance to try it for a while. "

  "And you tried it," Kitai said. She put a hand on her hip and faced him, her green eyes hard. "It didn't work, and you started to lose your temper, at which point it wasn't going to work. " Her expression softened slightly. "You were only torturing yourself, chala"

  She was right, Tavi thought, which was annoying, but he could feel her genuine concern for him, sense it almost as if it were an emotion of his own. His watercrafter's perceptions were still inconsistent and often quite vague, but where Kitai was involved, they were clear and unmistakable. Or perhaps the bond they shared was more responsible for the empathy that had grown between them. He wasn't sure.

  Kitai studied him, bright green eyes on his, and shook her head. "You think too much, Aleran. Always planning. Always questioning. Always calculating. It's a wonder your head doesn't catch fire from the inside. " She glanced up at the sun, then down at the cuts on his chest. "Come. Let me clean that up. He'll be here in a moment. "

  Tavi blinked and looked down at himself. He had almost forgotten the injuries. He had shut away the pain almost before it had registered on him, and had been holding it away without really thinking about it. Once he did, of course, the crafting faltered, and the cuts burned and stung unpleasantly.

  Kitai brought a cloth and a flask of water and cleaned the cuts and scrapes. Tavi managed to hold still through it all, though it was hardly pleasant. He had to close his eyes and exhale slowly as Kitai cleansed one cut. The Marat girl winced a little and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss nearby the hurt. Then she bound over the two wounds that still oozed a little blood, her motions practiced. They should be, Tavi thought. Great furies knew that they'd had enough practice on one another over the past two years.

  Tavi had just pulled his shirt back on when Enna's horse came walking slowly through the entrance to the dale. The horse trooper had one hand clamped resolutely over her eyes. "Captain?" she called. "Kitai told me not to look at you when you were unclothed. How am I supposed to know whether or not you are unclothed without looking?"

  Tavi gave Kitai a level look. "Oh for pity's sake. "

  She laughed at him. She did that quite often, Tavi thought. The smile that went with the laugh was devastating, and he found himself smiling with her, despite another day's effort, another day's failure.

  "It's all right, Enna," Tavi called. "You can look. "

  "Thank goodness," Enna said, dropping her hand, and beaming at Tavi. Then she gave him a disappointed little frown and sighed. "I miss all the best parts. "

  "Centurion," Tavi prompted.

  She gave him a quick salute. "The man who none of us saw and who none of us are going to remember is here to see you, sir. "

  "He knows me," said a young man's voice, and Ehren walked around from behind Enna's horse, touching the animal's flanks gently with one hand as he brushed past. He was small, quite a bit under five and a half feet tall, but the reed-thin young man Tavi had met when he first came to the Academy had hardened. Ehren, sandy-haired and unassuming, was still slender-but slender like hunting cats, or dueling swords, rather than like writing quills. He was dressed in rough garb of castaway clothing, most of it ill fitting, and looked like any of ten thousand refugees in the camps.

  At a nod from Kitai, Enna withdrew. Tavi went to the young man and traded grips with him, then considered his clothing with a frown. "Ehren. I never said I was sending you out again. "

  "Please," Ehren said. "I'm a professional spy, Tavi. I wouldn't be doing you any good standing around here. " He turned to Kitai with a smile and bowed gallantly over her hand. "Not that it isn't nice sleeping with both eyes closed, but I'm starting to get soft. "

  "You've only been back for three days," Kitai said.

  "That's just about enough," Ehren said. He lowered his voice conspiratori-ally and jerked his head covertly at Tavi. "I can't stand
working where my superiors can look over my shoulder anyway. "

  Tavi smiled, but he didn't really feel it. Ehren had worked his way into position in Canim-occupied territory over an entire perilous year. Some of the Canim commanders had spent a great deal of energy hunting for spies and rooting them out. Many such informants had been caught, and had not been seen again. Ehren had, Tavi gathered, very nearly been caught as he left occupied territory-and there was a fresh scar on his brow that he had not explained.

  "Is there any word from the First Lord?" Tavi asked quietly.

  Ehren shook his head. "You haven't given me enough time to try all the channels. "

  "I don't have the time," Tavi said. "We march tomorrow. "

  "I know," Ehren said. "But word is that Gaius is with the Legions in the south somewhere. As far as anyone I could reach knows, all of his messages are being routed to someone on the staff-even Cursor traffic. So, either he's come down with a bad case of bureaucratic thinking. . . "

  "Or he's up to something," Tavi said. "Crows. Why now?"

  "Even if he wasn't," Ehren said, "from what you told me, he's given you your marching orders. Maybe you shouldn't be trying to go over Arnos's head like this. "

  "That was before we knew about Mastings," Tavi said. "Or Arnos's so-called battle plan. Or what he had in mind for the noncombatants. We have to find another option, Ehren. ''

  Ehren lifted both hands. "Which is why I'm dressed for the road," he said. "You want me to see how close I can get to Mastings?"

  Tavi drew in a deep breath. "Sort of. "

  Ehren frowned and tilted his head.

  "I want you to get to Nasaug," Tavi said.

  Ehren burst out in a laugh. It died young, as he watched Tavi's expression. "Oh," he said. "You were serious. "

  "Yes. "

  Ehren shook his head. "Your confidence is flattering, but even if I could get close to him, which I don't think I could, I'm not at all sure I could take him. I saw him fight at the Elinarch. "

  "No, no, crows," Tavi said. "If I wanted him assassinated, I'd do it myself. " He paused to consider. "Or possibly send Max and Crassus. "

  "For you," Ehren said, "that was an uncommonly sensible afterthought. "

  Tavi grinned at him for a second. "This isn't that kind of mission," Tavi said. He flicked open the leather case on his sword belt and drew out a folded envelope. He offered it to Ehren.

  The young man stared at the envelope for a moment and exhaled slowly. "Oh. The other part of the Cursor business. " He searched Tavi's face for a moment, and said, quietly, "We're messengers for the First Lord, Tavi. This isn't one of his messages. "

  "If he didn't want us using our initiative, he shouldn't be so hard to contact," Tavi replied.

  Ehren chuckled. "Can't argue there. What is it?"

  "A request for a meeting," Tavi said. "Between me and Nasaug. "

  Ehren exhaled. "That's all?"

  "Yes. "

  "We, uh. We don't really know how they're going to react to an official courier. No one's sent any. "

  "Don't worry about it," Tavi said. "You wouldn't be official. "

  "Oh," Ehren said. "Crows. "

  "You don't have to," Tavi said quietly. "I can find something else for you to-"

  "Oh shut up," Ehren said, his voice annoyed, as he took the envelope from Tavi's hand. "You think Nasaug will be willing to talk?"

  "If he is," Tavi said, "I think we can expect him to behave in a civilized fashion. "

  "They haven't exactly been a monolithic culture," Ehren replied. "What if some of the other Canim don't hold with Nasaug's way of thinking?"

  "I'd advise you to avoid them," Tavi said.

  "You don't ask much, do you?" Ehren flashed Tavi an easy grin and slipped the envelope out of sight beneath his overlarge tunic. "Time limit?"

  "Sooner is better, but take what you need to make the approach. " Tavi paused, then offered his hand again. Ehren took it, and Tavi said softly, "Be careful, Ehren. "

  "Can't have you moaning over how guilty you feel for sending me off to my death," Ehren said, and winked at Kitai. "The Ambassador would never forgive me. "

  "No," Kitai said. She stepped forward and kissed Ehren on the cheek. "I wouldn't. Walk softly. "

  "I suspect I'll have less to worry about than you. Take care of each other. " He nodded to them, turned, and vanished into the trees without ceremony.

  Tavi watched him go and bit his lip.

  "He knows what he is doing, chala," Kitai said.

  "I know. "

  "He knows the risks. "

  "I know. "

  "If this works," she said, "what will you say to Nasaug? What do you hope to accomplish?"

  "I don't know," Tavi said quietly. "Yet. But I have to do something. "

  She stood beside him for a moment, then said, "We should get back. "

  Tavi took a deep breath and blew it out again. "Right," he said. "Lots to do. And we march at dawn. "

  Chapter 10

  Just as Tavi rose to leave his office for the field, Araris shut the door, and said in a very quiet voice, "I have to talk to you. "

  There were a hundred details still to take care of, and they formed a precise, clear list in the young commander's mind. Tavi buckled on his sword belt as he mentally ordered the list, and reached for his cloak. "Fine. We can talk on the road. "

  "No," the singulare said quietly.

  Tavi threw the cloak around his shoulders. "The Senator isn't going to appreciate it if we hold him up. Let's move. "

  Araris looked steadily at Tavi for a second. Then he locked the door, folded his arms, and leaned back against it. "The Senator," he said, "can wait. "

  Tavi drew up short and stared at the older man until he had managed to shake the list out of the forefront of his thoughts. He studied Araris for a minute, taking in his wary posture, his obvious tension. Tavi concentrated for a moment and was able to feel a vague sense of unease tinting an iron shell of resolve.

  "Oh," Tavi said quietly. "This talk. "

  Araris nodded. "It's time. "

  Boots thudded dully on the floors overhead, probably the Subtribunes Lo-gistica moving the Legion's treasury chest along with two full spears of guards.

  "Why now?"

  Araris nodded up at the world above. "Because you're leaving on campaign. There's always the possibility that you might not come back from it. And because you're a grown man, Tavi. Because rumors are spreading, and you've got to be ready. You need to know. You deserve to know. "

  Tavi felt a flash of old, hot frustration flare through him, but he pushed it back. "I'm listening. "

  Araris nodded. "There's a lot. Tell me what you've already worked out. "

  Tavi took a deep breath. "I know," he said, "that you were a singulare to the Princeps Gaius Septimus. I know that he died at the First Battle of Calderon twenty-two years ago. His singulares were thought to have died with him. They were buried with him at the Princeps Memorium back in Calderon.

  "I know," Tavi continued, "that you pledged your loyalty to me. That Gaius didn't seem to care for that, but that he kept you close to me for years. "

  Araris nodded. "All true. "

  "I know that Aunt Isana doesn't talk about my mother much. Neither does Uncle Bernard. " Tavi glanced down. "The only thing they've ever said about my father is that he was a soldier. " He tried not to let it happen, but his voice turned bitter. "Which means I'm just a legionare's bastard. There are plenty of those around. "

  Araris looked up sharply. "Bastard? No. No, your parents were wed, Tavi. "

  Tavi felt his heart begin to speed up. He'd spent a lifetime knowing almost nothing about his mother and father. No one had ever been willing to speak of them in anything but the vaguest terms. Tavi barely trusted himself to speak. "You. . . you knew them?"

  Araris's eyes grew distant for a moment. "Oh, yes," he said quietly. "Very well. "

  "How-" T
avi began, but his throat clenched shut. "Who. . . What did

  Araris held up a hand. "First," he said, "I must tell you this. I did not want to be the one to speak. That duty by rights belonged to Isana. But she. . . " He shook his head. "When someone goes through as much grief and loss as she did, in such a short amount of time, it can leave wounds as surely as any sword. You can recover from some wounds. But sometimes they're lasting. Crippling. And the best you can hope for is to survive them. "

  "I don't understand," Tavi said.

  "Isana. . . doesn't think very clearly where you are concerned. Not about this. She loves you desperately, Tavi. "

  Tavi chewed on his lip and nodded. "I know. "

  "She's terrified of losing you. It clouds her judgment, I think. Her resolve. I believe that she wanted to tell you the truth long before now. But she'd kept it locked up so tightly, for so long, I'm not sure she knew how to let it out again. "

  Tavi shook his head. "Wait. Araris-what truth?"

  "The truth about your father," Araris said quietly. "The truth about Gaius Septimus. "

  The bottom fell out of Tavi's stomach upon hearing the words.

  He'd known-no, not known, but speculated, analyzing what he knew and putting it together in a theory, as the Cursors had trained him to do. It had been an idle exercise, or so he thought, though it might be more accurate to say that he had simply found a new way to daydream about what it would have been like actually to have parents in his life. He'd done that often as a child, spending hours picturing them, imagining what they might have looked like, sounded like, what they might have said.

  What life would have been like. How much better it might have been.

  Of course, the idea of the Princeps as Tavi's unknown father had a single major stumbling block-the utter lack of furycraft that had haunted Tavi until two years before.

  But that wasn't an issue anymore.

  In fact, as he thought on it, it should have been more obvious to him. Tavi's crafting was still sharply limited by his lack of ability to control a manifest fury, but had he been in the Academy, he would have earned two or three beads in every single branch of crafting by now. While it was not unheard of for a crafter-especially a scion of the Citizenry-to be gifted in several areas of craft, it was exceedingly rare for anyone but the upper tiers of talent to possess skills that ran the entire spectrum of furycraft.

  It should have been more obvious, but he supposed it was possible he hadn't wanted it to be true. If Araris was correct, if the Princeps truly was wed to his mother, it meant that he was a legitimate heir of the House of Gaius. It meant. . .

  Bloody crows. It meant that the First Lord had an heir.

  And it was him. Tavi.

  Bloody crows. It meant that the most dangerous and ruthless people on the face of Carna were going to want him dead.

  Him. Tavi.

  Other pieces fell into place. He could see why Gaius had brought him to the Academy-to give him a sound education. To expose him to the children of the Citizenry. He'd been trained with the Cursors, learning the arts of intrigue and deception. He'd been assigned to a room with Max-another outcast to Aleran high society, just as Tavi himself was. That a friendship of mutual alliance would grow between them had been all but inevitable, and Tavi abruptly felt certain that Gaius had planned deliberately to secure Tavi at least one ally with the crafting power of a High Lord.

  And the First Lord's designs hadn't stopped there. Tavi had been sent out into a Legion to learn the arts of strategy, tactics, logistics, and leadership. Granted, Gaius hadn't expected Tavi to wind up in command of the bloody thing, but the First Lord-his grandfather-couldn't have been terribly displeased with the results.

  Gaius.

  His grandfather.

  He had a grandfather.

  Tavi knew he was breathing too quickly, and it was making him dizzy, but too many thoughts were spinning through his mind to pay any attention. He wasn't sure if he wanted to scream, or hit something, or run, or laugh, or burst out weeping. His mind was an enormous blur of ideas and memories and possible futures, and only one thing was certain.

  Everything had changed.

  Everything.

  "I've. . . I've. . . " Tavi swallowed and forced himself to stop stammering. "I've known that there were things Aunt Isana wasn't telling me about my parents, but. . . "

  Araris closed his eyes and sighed. Then he opened them and faced Tavi. "No, Tavi. There's a lot your mother hasn't told you about your father. "

  Tavi frowned and opened his mouth to ask another question-then stopped suddenly as he heard the very gentle emphasis Araris put on the word mother.

  A lot his mother hadn't told him.

  Not Aunt Isana.

  His mother.

  Isana. Isana was his mother.

  Tavi's heart suddenly throbbed and clenched, and the searing flame of shock and pain seared through his vitals. It was as if every tiny wound his heart had received over the years, every little momentary pain of a lonely child, every jab of self-loathing he felt when other children had asked who his parents were, every moment of longing for anything to fill that emptiness where his parents should have been-all of it came back to him at the same instant, in the same place, the concentrated heartache of a lifetime.

  Tavi turned his head and clutched a hand at his chest, fingers sliding over the plates of his armor. The pain wasn't physical, of course-but that made it no less real, and no less terrible.

  "Her sister was killed in the Marat attack at First Calderon," Araris said. "Almost everyone was. You were born that same night, in fact. '' His face clouded with an old sadness. "Isana believed that Septimus was betrayed by another Aleran and that if his enemies learned that he might possibly have sired an heir, you would surely be killed. So she hid you. She lied about who your mother was. She watercrafted you during your baths, to slow down your growth. She wanted anyone who looked at you to think that you were too young to be Septimus's child, born too long after his death. "

  Araris stepped forward and put a hand on Tavi's shoulder. "I helped her," he said quietly. He gestured at his scarred, branded face. "I did this to myself, Tavi. Araris Valerian was thought to be dead, and if anyone recognized me, they would have been awfully curious to note that I was watching over a boy. So I became Fade. A simple slave. The scar was part of the disguise. No one ever looked past it. "

  Tavi could only stare at the older man. Then he heard himself say, "That's what she wanted to talk about the other day. "

  Araris grimaced and nodded. "She was trying. She was afraid of what it might mean if she told you. "

  Tavi's vision blurred over, and the tears seemed to magnify the pain bursting through his chest. "All those years and. . . and she was lying to me. She was lying. " He jerked his head upright as another thought flashed through his mind like a thunderbolt. "That's why I was never able to. . . she crafted me. She slowed my growth. She stunted my talents-and I never knew. . . "

  "Tavi," Araris said, his voice carefully calm. "Wait. You've got to understand that she did what she did because she loves you. She had very few resources to draw upon, and she did everything in her power to protect you. "

  "No," Tavi spat. She'd done it to him. The years of humiliation, the bewildered pain as he bore the stigma of a freak, unable to furycraft, scorned and held in contempt by people wherever he went. He hadn't been born a freak, born unlucky, a victim of terrible mischance as he always thought.

  Someone had done it to him.

  His mother had done it to him.

  Part of Tavi was listening to Araris's words, and part of him knew that the singulare was probably right-but it was a very small, very distant part. The pain, the outrage, and the humiliation left very little room for anything else.

  "Tavi," Araris said, "you've got to calm down. She did the best she could. "

  "No!" Tavi spat, the anger giving his voice a vicious edge. "She lied to me
. She took my crafting. " His voice gained volume, independently of his control. "Do you know how many nights I couldn't sleep, how many times I suffered because I was the furyless freak? Do you have any idea, all the humiliation I had to go through? How alone I was?"

  "Tavi," Araris said, voice quiet, as one speaking to a spooked horse, "you've got to control yourself. Think, man. She's out there, right now, and she's ripped apart inside. You don't know what is going to happen when you leave on campaign. You don't know if you're ever going to see her again. You need to see her. You need to make this right while you still can. "

  Tavi only stared at him incredulously. "Right? Make this right? She's been lying to me since before I could stand up, and I'm supposed to make that right?" He mopped a hand over his face and felt it shaking as it smeared tears. "You bring this to me today. When we're about to march, and I've got five thousand men to consider. You throw this in my face today. "

  "Tavi," Araris said. "She's your mother. She needs this. "

  No. Tavi found himself shaking his head. The list came pouring back through his thoughts. This was too much. It was all far, far too much. He had barely slept in the past two days. He was already faced with an enormous and most likely insoluble dilemma in his assignment from the First-from his grandfather. Thousands of lives were dependent upon him. If he truly was the Princeps's son and heir, it meant that millions of lives were or would become his responsibility. Not only that, but he had just gained a veritable pantheon of foes who were more like demigods than human beings.

  And his aunt-his mother-had been lying to him for his entire life.

  The voice of reason, of understanding, lost the battle to govern Tavi's decisions.

  "She had twenty years to talk to me if she needed it so badly," Tavi said, his voice rough. "She had a lifetime. And I have a Legion to move. "

  "Tavi-" Araris began, his voice a gentle protest.

  "Captain Scipio," Tavi snarled. "I have a job to do. Either come with me or get out of the way. Or was the loyalty you pledged me another lie?"

  Araris stiffened at that. His eyes flashed with sudden anger. Without a word, he unlocked the door, stepped back, and opened it for Tavi, coming to rigid attention.

  Tavi started to stride angrily out the door, but hesitated. He didn't- couldn't-look at Araris, but he could see the man regarding him on the periphery of his vision. Tavi went quiet, listening to the silence. There were no more footsteps above, no sound of voices or doors opening and closing. The command center felt eerily empty.

  "It was right there in front of me," Tavi said. "All the pieces. Even inside my name. "

  Araris said nothing.

  "I can't," Tavi said quietly. "Not. . . not now. There's too much. " The geyser of confusion and hurt threatened to roar out of control again, and Tavi struggled to slow his breathing, to control it. He glanced aside at Araris.

  The singulare's face remained impassive as a stone.

  "I'll talk to her when I get back. "

  Araris said nothing.

  "I have duties that must come first," he said quietly. "So do you. "

  Araris was silent for an endless moment. Then, quite deliberately, he lifted his fist to his heart, knuckles thumping gently against his armor. When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper, and his words sent a shiver running down Tavi's spine.

  "Hail," he said quietly. "Hail, Gaius Octavian, Princeps of Alera. "