Academ's Fury ca-2

by Jim Butcher

  Isana paused for a moment at the door, studying the scene. The large young man in the midst of a tale had to be Antillar Maximus, about whom Tavi had written much in his letters home. He had the kind of rugged good looks that made him look something of the rogue now, but which would, in time, weather into something stronger, more solemn, if no less appealing, and he was telling a story of some kind with the panache of a practiced raconteur. Beside him sat a slight young man with intelligent eyes and a wide smile, though there was something of a mouselike quality to the way he sat, and listened, as if he expected to be overlooked and liked it that way. Ehren, by Tavi's letters. A girl, plain but pleasant-looking, sat across from Max and Ehren, beside Tavi, her cheeks pink with laughter.

  On Tavi's other side sat an exotic beauty, and it took Isana a moment to recognize her as Kitai, the daughter of the Marat chieftain. She was dressed in a fine silken shirt and closely fitting pants, and her pale feet were bare. Her long, white hair had been plaited into a braid that fell straight down her spine, and silver gleamed on her throat and her wrists. There was mischief in her eyes-eyes precisely the shade of Tavi's, Isana noted.

  And Tavi sat listening to Max. He had grown, she saw at once, and in more than just height. There was a quality to his quiet that had nothing to do with insecurity. He sat listening to Max with a silent smile that rested partly upon his mouth but mostly in his eyes, and he held himself with an easy confidence she had not seen before. He interjected some comment when Max paused to take a breath, and the table exploded in laughter again.

  Isana felt a sudden presence beside her, and Gaius Sextus murmured, "It's a good sound. Laughter like that, from the young. It's been far too long since it has been heard in these halls."

  Isana felt her back stiffen as she turned to face the First Lord. "Your Majesty," she said, making the little curtsey Serai had taught her. On the day she died, Isana thought.

  "Steadholder," he said. He looked down her and back up and said, in a neutral, pleasant tone, "That's a lovely gown."

  The dress Lady Aquitaine had provided her was of the same exotic and expensive silk she'd shown off at the garden party, though in a much more modest cut. The deep scarlet of the silk darkened by degrees to black at the ends of the sleeves and the hem of the skirt. Scarlet and sable, the colors of Aquitaine.

  Gaius's own tunic was of red and blue, of course-the colors of the royal house of the First Lord.

  "Thank you," she replied, keeping her voice steady. "It was provided me by my host. It would have been impolite not to wear it."

  "I can see how that would be," Gaius said. There was both reserve and compassion in his tone. Again, she was struck with the impression that he understood much more than she said-and that she, in turn, understood much more than the overt meaning of his words. "You may be interested to know that I had Maximus pardoned and cleared of the charges against him. I offered Kalare an in-depth investigation of the happenings that night, and he shied away from it quite swiftly. So, in the absence of a willing accuser, I had the charges dismissed."

  "Does this matter to me?" Isana asked.

  "Perhaps not to you," Gaius said. "Perhaps someone you know would find it interesting."

  By which he meant the Aquitaines, of course. "Shall we join them?" she asked.

  Gaius looked up at the group of young people, still laughing. He watched them, his face unreadable, and though her own skill at watercrafting was insufficient to sense truly what he felt, Isana was struck with the sudden impression that his life, as the First Lord, had to have been, more than anything else, a horribly lonely one. "Let's wait a moment more," he said. "Their laughter would never survive our arrival."

  She regarded him for a moment, then nodded. The unspoken tension between them did not vanish, but it dwindled for a time.

  When they finally did enter the hall, she spent a very long time holding Tavi to her. He had grown unbelievably, and when before she had been a half hand taller than he, he was now at least half a foot taller than she was. His shoulders had widened by a similarly preposterous measure, and his voice was no longer the warbling tenor he'd had when he left home, but a steady baritone.

  But for all of that, Amara had been right. He was still Tavi. She could feel it in his warmth and smile, in the love for her as he hugged her in turn. The sparkle in his eyes, his sense of humor, his smile-though more serious, more thoughtful, it was all still his own. His time at the Academy had not taken anything from him. It had, perhaps, made him even more of what he had been: a young man with a swift mind, occasionally questionable judgment, and a good heart.

  The meal was excellent, and the conversation pleasant until the First Lord asked Tavi to share his story of the events of the past few days. Isana suddenly understood why the gathering had been as small as it was. Not even servants were allowed in the hall, as Tavi spoke.

  She could hardly believe what she heard, and yet it was all true. She could feel that much from him. Isana sat stunned that Tavi should have held so very, very much power in his hands. He had been only a young student, but the fate of the Realm itself had hung upon the choices he had made. Not solely upon him, to be sure, but by the great furies, he had once more acted as a hero.

  She sat bemused by the tale, hardly surprised that Tavi had been training as a Cursor. It was very much in line with what she had supposed would happen when he came to the capital. She listened to Tavi, but spent much of the time judging the expressions and emotions of the others at the table. She suspected, as well, that Tavi was leaving things out, here and there, though she was not sure why he would conceal portions of Max's masquerade as the First Lord or the death of the Maestro, Killian.

  The hour was very late when the First Lord suggested that the evening had gone on long enough. Isana loitered until everyone had departed but Tavi and the First Lord.

  "I had hoped," she said quietly to Gaius, "to speak to Tavi alone for a while."

  Gaius arched an eyebrow and regarded her gown for a time. Isana had to have Rill's help to keep her face from flushing, but met Gaius's gaze without moving.

  "Steadholder," he said gently, "this is my house. I would hear what you have to say to one of the Cursors."

  Isana pressed her lips together, but inclined her head. She had no wish to speak of this in front of Gaius-but that was part of the price she would now have to pay to have secured the aid of the Aquitaines. So be it.

  "Tavi," she said quietly, "I have concerns about your friend. Gaelle, I believe. I can't pinpoint it, but there is something… not right, about her."

  Tavi glanced at Gaius, to Isana's annoyance. The First Lord nodded to him. "I know, Aunt Isana," he said, his voice quiet and very serious. "She isn't Gaelle. Or at least she isn't the real Gaelle."

  Isana frowned. "How do you know?"

  "Because the men who took me and Kitai in the tunnels were Kalare's," he said, "and they were waiting for us. Maestro Killian told me, as he died, that Kalare's chief assassin was still close, and that he had paid a terrible price to establish the assassin within the Citadel. He was playing the traitor to Kalare, hoping to learn more about the enemy through his contact with the chief assassin-a woman named Rook. Whoever Rook was, it had to be a woman, someone often in contact with the Maestro to avoid arousing suspicion, and someone who had seen me enter the tunnels that night, and who knew where I would have to start marking the walls to find my way. In short, it almost had to have been one of the trainees."

  "That was the price Killian mentioned," Gaius murmured. "The actual girl selected for the training was replaced by Rook, by means of watercrafting herself into a double. She was probably killed a few days after her selection as a trainee."

  Isana shook her head. "That's… Your Majesty, you know as well as I that anyone with that much watercraft would have a strong contact with the emotions of those around them."

  "It would be an enormous advantage in convincing those around you that you are merely a harmless girl," Gaius murmured.

  "Yes.
And if one killed often enough, it would almost certainly drive one mad."

  "More than likely," Gaius said, nodding.

  "You allowed that poor girl to be killed," Isana said, "so that you could gain some kind of advantage?"

  "Killian never spoke to me of it," Gaius said. "He did it on his own."

  Isana shook her head, disgusted. "All the same. It's monstrous."

  "Yes," Gaius said, without a trace of shame. "It is. But Killian felt it necessary."

  Isana shook her head. "This killer. Rook. When will you arrest her?"

  "We won't," Tavi said quietly. "Not at once, in any case. Right now, Rook does not know we are aware of her identity. We can use that against her, and against Kalare."

  "She's an assassin," Isana said quietly. "Quite likely a madwoman. And you would have her roaming loose?"

  "If the First Lord removes her," Tavi said, "has her arrested or exiled, Kalare will only recruit someone else and try it again-and this time we might not be lucky enough to discover them. There is less danger in leaving her than not. At least for the moment."

  "Monstrous," Isana said. She felt tears in her eyes and did not bother to hide them.

  Tavi saw her expression and flushed, looking down. Then he looked up, and said, "I hope you are not too much disappointed in me, Aunt Isana."

  She smiled slightly. "I hope you are not too much disappointed in me, Tavi."

  "Never," he said quietly. "I understand why you…" He waved a vague hand. "You did what was necessary to protect the people you loved."

  "Yes," Isana said quietly. "I suppose I should not be the first to cast stones." She stepped up close to him, cupped his face in her hands, kissed his forehead, and said, "Promise me that you will be careful."

  "I promise," he said quietly.

  She held him again, and he hugged her back. Gaius made an unobtrusive exit, while Tavi escorted her down to the entrance, where the Aquitaines' coach was waiting once more. She walked with her hand on Tavi's politely extended arm, and he provided a supporting hand when she stepped up to the carriage.

  "Tavi," she said, before the door closed.

  "Yes, Aunt Isana?"

  "I love you very much."

  He smiled. "I love you, too."

  She nodded. "And I am proud of you. Never think that I am not. I worry for you. That's all. But you're growing up so tall."

  He grinned. "Cost the First Lord a fortune keeping me in pants," he said.

  Isana laughed, and he leaned up to kiss her cheek again. She ruffled his hair and said, "Write often. Regardless of where we find ourselves, it will never change what you mean to me."

  "I feel that, too," he assured her. He stepped back and nodded with a quite natural authority to the coachmen, who began closing it up. "Write me as often as you can. Be safe."

  She nodded and smiled at him, then the coachmen had closed things up, and the carriage was rolling away from the palace. She leaned slowly back in her seat, her eyes closed. She felt very, very alone in the Aquitaines' carriage.

  She was alone there.

  "Be safe," she whispered, her eyes closing, holding the image of his smile in her mind. Her hand drifted to the shape of the ring, still on its chain around her neck, still hidden. "Oh, be safe, my son."

  Epilogue

  Miles came down the last few steps and crossed the antechamber to the First Lord's meditation chamber. There were still scorch marks on the floor from the fires Tavi and Kitai had started, but the various kinds and colors of blood had been cleaned away. The door to the meditation chamber was half-open, but Miles paused outside it and knocked quietly.

  "Come in, Miles," came Gaius's voice.

  Miles pushed the door open and went in. Gaius sat in a chair by the little desk, lips pursed thoughtfully as he wrote something on a page. He finished it, signed it, and calmly folded the page and sealed it shut with wax and the hilt of his signet dagger. "What brings you here, Miles?"

  "The usual," Miles said. "We have found nothing in the Deeps, beyond that odd cavern the vord had taken as a nest. There has been no sign of them elsewhere, but I have dispatched word to the Legions of every city to exercise extreme caution should anything happen that might indicate a vord presence."

  "Fine," Gaius said. After a moment, he mused, "Did you know that the vord, in one form or another, utterly ignored Tavi's presence in at least three instances?"

  Miles frowned. "I saw him scamper out of a crowd of them. At the time, I just assumed he'd been quick enough to get away. And they did attack him immediately after."

  "But not until he struck at the queen with a spear," Gaius mused.

  "You aren't suggesting that the boy is in league with them, are you?" Miles said.

  Gaius arched an eyebrow. "Naturally not. But it is an anomaly which I do not yet understand. Perhaps it was nothing-mere luck. But what if it wasn't? It might tell us something important about them."

  "Do you think they are yet here?"

  "I am not entirely certain. It's odd," Gaius said, thoughtfully. "I've looked for their presence. I haven't sensed it."

  "According to Count Calderon, they were very difficult to detect with crafting, sire."

  Gaius nodded and waved a hand. "Well. We are aware of them. We are on the watch for them. It is all we can do for the time being."

  "Yes, sire." He looked around the room. "It cleaned up nicely."

  Gaius sighed. "I can't believe those two employed my entire liquor cabinet as a weapon against the enemy."

  Miles pursed his lips and frowned. "Sire, may I-"

  "Speak candidly, yes, yes." He waved an irritated hand. "How many times must I tell you that you do not need to ask?"

  "Once more at least, Sextus," Miles said. "I don't mourn your liquor cabinet. Blessing in disguise. You were drinking too much."

  The First Lord frowned pensively, but did not dispute the captain.

  "You did it on purpose, didn't you?" Miles said.

  "Did what?"

  "You brought Fade here. You arranged for Tavi to share a room with Antillar Maximus. You wanted them to become friends."

  Gaius smiled faintly, but he said nothing.

  "Is he what I think he is?" Miles asked.

  "He's a Cursor, Miles. He's a former apprentice shepherd."

  "Crows, Sextus," Miles said, irritated. He scowled at the First Lord. "You know what I mean."

  The First Lord gave Miles a very direct look. "He has no crafting, Miles. So long as that is true, he will never be anything more than what he is."

  Miles frowned and looked away.

  "Miles," Gaius chided, "is it such a bad thing, what he is now?"

  "Of course not," Miles said, and sighed. "It's just that…"

  "Patience, Miles. Patience." Gaius took the letter he'd written in hand and rose. Miles fell in beside him as the First Lord walked to the door. "Oh," Gaius said. "Which reminds me. Don't restock that liquor cabinet. Have it removed."

  Miles stopped in his tracks and blinked. "You aren't…" He gestured vaguely at the mosaic.

  Gaius shook his head. "I need my rest."

  Miles frowned faintly at the First Lord. "I don't understand."

  "I must bear up a little longer, Miles. To do that, I need my health." He looked back at the mosaic, and there was sudden grief in his expression. "It was arrogant of me, to behave as if I had no limits. If I don't respect them now…" He shrugged. "The next time I might not wake up."

  "Bear up a little longer?" Miles asked.

  Gaius nodded. "Hold on. Prevent Aquitaine and Kalare from sinking us into a war of succession-and there will be one, Miles, once I am gone. But I can buy time."

  "For what?"

  "For a change in the boy."

  Miles frowned. "If he doesn't change?"

  Gaius shook his head. "Then he doesn't. Unless matters change, no one hears of this, Miles. Even rumor and suspicion would make him a marked man. We must protect him, inasmuch as we can."

  "Aye, sire," Miles replied.

/>   Gaius nodded and started walking steadily up the stairway.

  Miles followed the First Lord back up the steps to the palace, silently afraid of the future.

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