by Jim Butcher
"Max," Tavi hissed.
Max, his short hair still damp and plastered to his head, sat bolt upright in bed, and his jaw dropped open. "Tavi? How the crows did you get in here? What the crows are you doing here?"
"Breaking you out," Tavi said. He crossed to the barred door, while Kitai left the stairway door open a crack and stood watch. He started on the lock.
"Don't bother," Max said. "It's on the table on the north wall."
Tavi looked around, spotted the key, and fetched it. "Not terribly secure of them."
"Anyone who winds up in this cell is being held by politics more than anything," Max said. "The bars are just for show." He grimaced. "Plus furycrafting doesn't work in here."
"Poor baby, no furycrafting," Tavi said, taking the key to the lock. "Come on. Get dressed and let's go."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. We need you, Max."
"Tavi," Max said. "Don't be insane. I don't know how you got in here, but-"
"Aleran," Kitai hissed. "We have little time before dawn." She turned her head to Tavi, and her hood had fallen back from her face. "We must leave, with or without him."
"Who is that?" Max asked. He blinked. "She's a Marat."
"That's Kitai. Kitai, this is Max."
"She's Marat," Max breathed.
Kitai arched a pale brow, and asked Tavi, "Is he slow in the head?"
"There are days when I think so," Tavi replied. He entered the cell and went to Max's side. "Come on. Look, we can't let that idiot Brencis send the entire Realm into chaos. We get you out of here. We go down into the Deeps and come up near the palace and get you to Killian without anyone being the wiser. You get back to work and help my aunt."
"Fleeing custody is a Realm offense," Max said. "They could hang me for it. More to the point, they could hang you for helping me. And great bloody furies, Tavi, you're doing it with a Marat at your side."
"Don't mention Kitai to Killian and Miles. We'll fix the rest of it," Tavi said.
"How?"
"I don't know. Not yet. But we will, Max. A lot of people could get hurt if this situation goes out of control."
"Can't be done," Max said. "Tavi, you might have gotten in here, but the craftings to block the way out are twice as thick and strong. They'll sense anything I try to do, and-"
Tavi picked up a pair of loose linen trousers and flung them at Max's head. "Put these on. We got in here without using any furies at all. We'll go out the same way."
Max stared at Tavi for a second, skeptical. "How?"
Kitai made a disgusted sound. "Everyone here thinks nothing can happen without sorcery, Aleran. I say it again. You are all mad."
Tavi turned to Max, and said, "Max, you saved my life once already tonight. But I need more of your help. And I swear to you that once my family is safe, I will do everything in my power to help make sure that you are not punished for it."
"Everything in your power, huh?" Max said.
"I know. It isn't much."
Max regarded Tavi evenly for a second, then swung his legs down to the side of the bed and put on the linen trousers. "It's enough for me." He let out a hiss of discomfort as he rose, unsteady on his feet. "Sorry. They healed the wounds, but I'm still pretty stiff."
Tavi stuffed the bed's pillows under the blankets in a vague Max-sized lump, then got a shoulder under his friend's arm for support. With luck, the guards would leave "Max" to sleep in peace for hours before they noticed that the prisoner was no longer in his cell. They left, and Tavi locked the cell behind them and replaced the key.
"Tavi," Max mumbled, as they went up the stairs again, Kitai pacing along behind them. "I've never had a friend who would do something like this for me. Thank you."
"Heh," Tavi said. "Don't thank me until you see how we're going to leave."
Chapter 32
"And then we left the same way we came in, Maestro, and now we're here. We were not seen entering the Deeps or moving here, except at the guard post on the stairs." Tavi faced Killian, working hard to keep his expression and especially the tone of his voice steady and calm.
Killian, sitting in the chair beside Gaius's bed, drummed his fingers on his cane, slowly. "Let me see if I understand you correctly," the old teacher said. "You went out and found the Grey Tower. Then you entered through the seventh-floor window, by means of a grappling hook and rope thrown from the top of the aqueduct, shielding yourself from air furies with a salted cloak, and from earth furies by not touching the ground. You then searched for Antillar floor by floor and found him, freed him and extracted him, all without being seen."
"Yes, Maestro," Tavi said. He nudged Max with his hip.
"He didn't seem to leave much out," Max said. "Actually, the room they had me in was quite a bit nicer than any I've ever had to myself."
"Mmmm," Killian said, and his voice turned dry. "Gaius Secondus had a prison suite installed when he arrested the wife of Lord Rhodes, eight hundred years ago. She was charged with treason, but was never tried or convicted, despite interrogation sessions with the First Lord, three times a week for fifteen years."
Max barked a laugh. "That's a rather extreme way to go about keeping a mistress."
"It avoided a civil war," Killian replied. "For that matter, the records suggest that she actually was a traitor to the throne. Which makes the affair either more puzzling or more understandable. I'm not sure which."
Tavi exhaled slowly, relieved. Killian was pleased-and maybe more than pleased. The Maestro only turned raconteur of history when he was in a fine mood.
"Tavi," Killian said. "I'm curious as to what inspired you to attempt these methods."
Tavi glanced aside at Max. "Um. My final examination with you, sir. I had been doing some research."
"And this research was so conclusive that you bet the Realm on it?" he asked in a mild voice. "Do you understand the consequences if you had been captured or killed?"
"If I succeeded, all would be well. If I'd been arrested and Gaius didn't show up to support me, it would have exposed his condition. If I'd been killed, I wouldn't have to take my final history examination with Maestro Larus." He shrugged. "Two out of three positives aren't terrible odds, sir."
Killian let out a rather grim little laugh. "Not so long as you win." He shook his head. "I can't believe how reckless that was, Academ. But you pulled it off. You will probably find, in life, that successes and victories tend to overshadow the risks you took, while failure will amplify how idiotic they were."
"Yes, sir," Tavi said respectfully.
Killian's cane abruptly lashed out and struck Tavi in the thigh. His leg buckled, nerveless and limp for a second, and he fell heavily to the floor in a sudden flood of agony.
"If you ever," Killian said, his voice very quiet, "disobey another of my orders, I will kill you." The blind Maestro sat staring sightlessly down at Tavi. "Do you understand?"
Tavi let out a breathless gasp in the affirmative and clutched at his leg until the fire in it began to pass.
"We aren't playing games, boy," Killian went on. "So I want to make absolutely sure that you realize the consequences. Is there any part of that statement that you don't comprehend?"
"I understand, Maestro," Tavi said.
"Very well." The blind eyes turned toward Max. "Antillar, you are an idiot. But I am glad you have returned."
Max asked, warily, "Are you going to hit me, too?"
"Naturally not," Killian said. "You were injured tonight. Though I will hit you when the crisis is past if it makes you feel better."
"It doesn't," Max said.
Killian nodded. "Can you still perform the role?"
"Yes, sir," Max said, and Tavi thought his voice sounded a great deal more steady than his friend looked. "Give me a few hours to rest, and I'll be ready to go."
"Very good," Killian said. "Take the cot. We can't have you seen running back and forth to your room."
"Maestro?" Tavi asked. "Now that Max is here…"
Kil
lian sighed. "Yes, Tavi. I will write up orders to begin a full-scale search for Steadholder Isana. Will that be satisfactory?"
"Perfectly, sir."
"Excellent. I have some more missives for you to deliver. After that, I want you to get some more rest. Report back to me after your history examination. Dismissed."
"Yes, sir," Tavi said. He took up the stack of letters and turned to walk toward the door, favoring his still-throbbing leg.
Just as he got there, Killian said, "Oh, Tavi?"
"Sir?"
"Who else entered the Grey Tower with you?"
Tavi suppressed a rush of surprise and adrenaline. "No one, sir. Why do you ask?"
Killian nodded. "You stated that 'we' exited the way 'we' came in. It implies that someone else was with you."
"Oh. Slip of the tongue, Maestro. I meant to say that I was alone."
"Yes," Killian murmured. "I'm sure you did."
Tavi said nothing to that, and the old Maestro stared at him with those unseeing eyes for a solid minute of silence.
Killian chuckled then, and lifted a hand, his voice mild and not at all amused. "As you wish. We can take this up again later." He flicked his hand in a curt dismissal.
Tavi hurried from the meditation chambers and set about delivering the letters. Before the morning's second bell tolled, he delivered his last letter, another missive to Ambassador Varg in the Black Hall.
Tavi approached the guard post and found the same pair who had been there the day before. There was something about their expressions and bearing that seemed odd, somehow, and Tavi stared around the entrance to the Canim embassy until it dawned on him what was out of place.
The Canim guards were not present. The Alerans stood as always, facing the Canim embassy, but their Canim mirrors were gone. Tavi slipped in and nodded to them, dropping the letter through the bars and into the basket waiting there. Then he turned to the Alerans on duty and asked, "Where are the guards?"
"No idea," one of them said. "Haven't seen them all morning."
"That's odd," Tavi said.
"Tell me about it," the guard said. "This place is odd enough without adding anything else to it."
Tavi nodded to the men and hurried out of the palace, back to the Academy to return to the room he shared with Max.
On the way, he suddenly found himself trembling, and his breathing started coming swiftly, though he was only walking. His belly twisted around inside him.
Aunt Isana, taken and missing. And if he'd been faster, or more clever, or if he had slept a little more lightly to hear her messenger arrive, she almost certainly would not have been abducted. Assuming she had been abducted. Assuming she hadn't simply been taken elsewhere to be killed.
Tears blurred his vision, and his steps faltered for a second. His mind had run out of things to occupy it, he thought dully. As long as he'd been in motion, hunting Kitai, entering the Grey Tower, rescuing Max, and lying to Maestro Killian, he had been focused on the task at hand. Now, though, he had a temporary respite from those duties, and all the feelings he had forced down rose up into his thoughts, inevitable as the tides.
Tavi slammed open the door to his room, swung it shut, and leaned his back against it, eyes lifted to the ceiling. The tears wouldn't stop. He should have been able to control himself, but he couldn't. Perhaps he was simply too strained, too tired.
In the unlit room, Tavi heard movement, and then a moment later Kitai asked softly, "Aleran? Are you unwell?"
Tavi swept his sleeve over his eyes and looked at Kitai, who stood before him with a puzzled expression. "I… I'm worried."
"About what?"
He folded his arms over his stomach. "I can't tell you."
Kitai's pale eyebrows shot up. "Why not?"
"Security," he replied.
She looked at him blankly.
"Dangerous secrets," he clarified. "If Gaius's enemies learned them, it could get a lot of people hurt or killed."
"Ahhh," Kitai said. "But I am not Gaius's enemy. So it is all right to tell me."
"No, Kitai," Tavi began. "You don't get it. It…" He blinked for a second and thought it over. Kitai obviously was not a threat to Gaius. In fact, of everyone in Alera Imperia, she was probably the only person (other than Tavi himself) who he could be sure was not an enemy of the Crown. Obviously, Kitai would have no political leanings, no power or authority at stake, no conflicts of interest. She was a stranger to the Realm, and because of that, Kitai was immune to the influence of political and personal pressures.
And he wanted to talk to someone, very much. If only to get the twisting knot of serpents out of his belly.
"If I tell you," he said, "will you promise me never to speak of it with anyone but me?"
She frowned a little, her eyes intent on his face, then nodded. "Very well."
Tavi breathed out very slowly. Then he let himself slide down the length of the door to sit on the floor. Kitai settled cross-legged in front of him, her expression a mixture of interest, concern, and puzzlement.
Tavi told her all that had happened to him in recent days. She sat patiently through it, stopping him only to ask questions about words or people she didn't know.
"And now," Tavi finished, "Aunt Isana is in danger. It may already be too late to help her. And what's worse is that I'm almost certain that she wanted to reach the First Lord because there was some kind of trouble back in Calderon."
"You have friends there," Kitai said quietly. "And family."
Tavi nodded. "But I don't know what to do. That bothers me."
Kitai leaned her chin against the heel of one of her hands and studied him, frowning faintly. "Why?"
"Because I'm worried that there's something I'm missing," he said. "Something else I could be doing that would help. What if there's a way to solve this whole situation, and I'm just not smart enough to think of it?"
"What if a stone falls from the sky and kills you where you sit, Aleran?" Kitai said.
Tavi blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"That not all things are in your control. That worrying about those things will not change them."
Tavi frowned and looked down. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe."
"Aleran?"
"Yes?"
Kitai chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "You say this creature, Varg, has been acting strangely?"
"Looks that way," Tavi said.
"Is it possible that he does so because he is involved in what is happening to your headman?"
Tavi frowned. "What do you mean?"
Kitai shrugged. "Only that of all the things you describe, Varg is the one with no stomach to match his hands."
Tavi blinked. "What?"
She grimaced. "It is a Horse Clan saying. It does not translate well. It means that Varg has no reason to act as he has. So the question you must ask is why does he do this?"
Tavi frowned, mind racing. "Because maybe he does have a reason to do all these things. Maybe we just can't see it from where we're standing."
"Then what might that reason be?" Kitai asked.
"I don't know," Tavi said. "Do you?"
"No," Kitai said, undisturbed. "Perhaps you should ask Varg."
"He isn't exactly the type to engage in friendly conversation," Tavi said.
"Then watch him. His actions will speak."
Tavi sighed. "I'll have to speak to Maestro Killian about it. I don't think he can spare me to follow Varg around. And in any case, it isn't important to me."
"Your aunt is," Kitai said.
Aunt Isana. Tavi suddenly ached from head to foot, and his anxiety threatened to overwhelm him once more. He felt so helpless. And he hated the feeling with a burning passion of a lifetime of experience. His throat seized up again, and he closed his eyes. "I just want her to be safe. I want to help her. That's all." He bowed his head.
Kitai moved quietly. She prowled over to sit down beside him, her back against the door. She shifted, pressed her side to his, and settled down, relaxing, sayi
ng nothing but providing the solid warmth of her presence in a silent statement of support.
"I lost my mother," Kitai said after a time. "I would not wish that pain on anyone, Aleran. I know that Isana has been a mother to you."
"Yes. She has."
"You once saved my father's life. I am still in your debt for that. I will help you if I am able."
Tavi leaned against her a little, unable to give a voice to the gratitude he felt. After a moment, he felt warm fingertips on his face and opened his eyes to stare into Kitai's from hardly a handbreadth away. He froze, not daring to move.
The Marat girl stroked her fingers over his cheek, the line of his jaw, and tucked errant, dark hairs into place behind his ears. "I have decided that I do not like it when you hurt," she said quietly, her eyes never leaving his. "You are weary, Aleran. You have enemies enough without tearing open your own wounds over things you could not have prevented. You should rest while you have a chance."
"I'm too tired to sleep," Tavi said.
Kitai stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "Mad. Every one of you."
Tavi tried to smile. "Even me?"
"Especially you, Aleran." She smiled back a little, luminous eyes bright and close.
Tavi felt himself relaxing a little, leaning more toward her, enjoying the simple warmth of her presence. "Kitai," he asked. "Why are you here?"
She was quiet for a moment, before she said, "I came here to warn you."
"Warn me?"
She nodded. "The creature from the Valley of Silence. The one we awoke during the Trial. Do you remember?"
Tavi shivered. "Yes."
"It survived," she said. "The croach died. The Keepers died. But it left the Valley. It had your pack. It had your scent."
Tavi shivered.
"It came here," Kitai said quietly. "I lost its trail in a storm two days before I came here. But it had run straight for you the entire way. I have been looking for it for months, but it has not appeared."
Tavi thought about it for a moment. Then he said, "Well something like that could hardly have gone unnoticed in the capital," he said. "A giant, hideous bug would tend to stand out."
"Perhaps it also died," Kitai said. "Like the Keepers."