by Jim Butcher
"Your Grace will find me a good deal more agile."
"Rats are agile," sniffed Aquitaine. "The oaf's real problem was that he thought he knew everything."
"Ah," Fidelias said. "You will not face that difficulty with me."
Aquitaine's dark eyes shone. "Because you really do know everything?"
"No, Your Grace. Only everything of importance."
The High Lord narrowed his eyes. He remained silent for two score of Fidelias's quickening heartbeats, but the Cursor refused to let his nervousness show. He took slow and even breaths and remained silent, waiting.
Aquitaine snorted and drank off his remaining wine with an effortless flick of his wrist. He held the goblet out to one side, waited a beat, then released it. The blocky man beside him reached out a hand, snake swift, and caught it. The stranger walked to the table on the dais and refilled the goblet from a glass bottle.
"My sources told me that you had a reputation for insouciance, Fidelias," Aquitaine murmured. "But I had no idea that it would be so readily forthcoming."
"If it please Your Grace, perhaps we might table this discussion for the moment. Time may be of the essence."
The High Lord accepted the goblet of wine from the stranger, glancing at the pretty slave, now kneeling on the floor before him, head bowed. Aquitaine let out a wistful sigh. "I suppose," he said. "Very well, then. Report."
Fidelias glanced at the stranger, then at the slave, and then at the hanging curtains. "Perhaps a more private setting would be more appropriate, Your Grace."
Aquitaine shook his head. "You can speak freely here. Fidelias, may I present Count Calix of the Feverthorn Border, in service to His Grace, High Lord of Rhodes. He has shown himself to be a shrewd and capable advisor and a loyal supporter of our cause."
Fidelias shifted his attention to the blocky man beside the High Lord's seat. "The Feverthorn Border. Isn't that where that illegal slaving operation got broken up a few years ago?"
Count Calix spared the former Cursor a thin-lipped smile. When he spoke, his voice came out in a light, rich tenor completely at odds with the heavy power evident in his body. "I believe so, yes. I understand that both the Slavers Consortium and the Dianic League gave you commendations for valor above and beyond the call of duty."
Fidelias shrugged, watching the other man. "A token gesture. I never was able to turn up enough information to bring charges against the slave ring's leader." He paused for a moment, then added, "Whoever he was."
"A pity," said the Count. "I imagine you cost someone a great deal of money."
"Most likely," Fidelius agreed.
"It could give a man good reason to hold a grudge."
Fidelius smiled. "I'm told those can be inimical to one's good health."
"Perhaps I'll put it to the test one day."
"Should you survive the experience, be sure to let me know what you learned."
Aquitaine watched the exchange, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. "I hate to interrupt your fencing, gentlemen, but I have other interests this evening, and we have issues to discuss." He took another sip of wine and waved at the other chairs on the dais. "Sit down. You, too, Aldrick. Should I have someone carry Odiana to her chambers so that she can rest?"
"Thank you, sir," Aldrick rumbled. "I'll keep her with me and take care of her later, if it's all the same to you."
They settled down into chairs facing Aquitaine. The High Lord gestured,
and the slave girl hurried to one side, returning with the traditional cloth and bowl of scented water. Then the girl settled at Fidelias's feet and unlaced his sandals. She removed the stockings beneath, and with warm, gentle fingers began washing Fidelias's feet.
He frowned down at the slave, pensively, but at a second gesture from the High Lord, Fidelias uttered a concise report of the events at the camp of the renegade Legion. Aquitaine's expression darkened steadily throughout, until, at the end it had grown to a scowl.
"Let me test my understanding of what you are telling me, Fidelias," Aquitaine murmured. "Not only were you unable to attain intelligence regarding Gaius's chambers from this girl-in addition, she escaped from you and every one of my Knights."
Fidelias nodded. "My status has been compromised. And she has almost certainly reported to the Crown by now."
"The second Legion has already been disbanded into individual centuries," Aldrick supplied. The slave moved to kneel at his feet and to remove his sandals and stockings as well. The single, long piece of scarlet cloth wound around her had begun to slip and gape, displaying an unseemly amount of supple, smooth skin. Aldrick regarded her with casual admiration as he continued. "They will meet at the rendezvous as planned."
"Except for the Windwolves," Fidelias said. "I advised Aldrick to send them ahead to the staging area."
"What!?" snarled Aquitaine, rising. "That was not according to the plan."
The blocky Calix came to his feet as well, his eyes bright. "I warned you, Your Grace. If the mercenaries are not seen in Parcia over the winter, there will be nothing to link them to anyone but you. You have been betrayed."
Aquitaine's furious gaze settled on Fidelias. "Well, Cursor? Is what he says true?"
"If you consider adjusting to changing conditions in the field treachery, Your Grace," Fidelias said, "then you may name me traitor, if it pleases you."
"He twists your own words against you, Your Grace," Calix hissed. "He is using you. He is a Cursor, loyal to Gaius. If you keep listening to him, he will lead you to your death at Gaius's feet. Kill him before he poisons your thoughts any further. He, this murderous thug, and his mad whore-they all want nothing but your destruction."
Fidelias felt his lips tighten into a smile. He looked from Aquitaine to Calix-then to Aldrick, where the slave crouched at his feet, her lips parted,
her eyes staring. Over Aldrick's lap, Odiana neither stirred nor spoke, but he could see her mouth turn up into a smile.
"Ah," Fidelias said, his own smile spreading wider. He folded one ankle over the other knee. "I see."
Aquitaine narrowed his eyes and stalked over to stand over Fidelias's chair. "You have interrupted a pleasant moment with the anniversary gift given me by my own dear wife. You have, it would seem, failed miserably in what you said you would do for me. Additionally, you have dispatched my troops in a fashion which could embarrass me acutely before the rest of the Lords Council, not to mention the Senate." He leaned down toward Fidelias and said, very gently, "I think it would be in your own best interest to give me a reason not to kill you in the next few seconds."
"Very well," Fidelias said. "If you will indulge me briefly, Your Grace, I may be able to let you decide for yourself whom you can trust."
"No!" sputtered Calix. "My lord, do not allow this deceitful slive to so use you."
Aquitaine smiled, but it was a cold, hard expression. His gaze swept to the Rhodisian Count, and Calix dropped silent at his glance. "My patience is wearing very thin. At the rate we're going, gentlemen, someone will be dead by the end of this conversation."
Heavy tension fell onto the room, thick as a winter blanket. Calix licked his lips, throwing a wide-eyed glare at Fidelias. Odiana made a soft sound and stirred artlessly on Aldrick's lap before settling again-leaving Aldrick's right arm free to reach for his sword, Fidelias noted. The slave seemed to take notice of the tension as well and crawled a bit backward, until she was no longer between the High Lord and anyone else in the room.
Fidelias smiled. He folded his hands and rested them on his knee. "If it please Your Grace, I will need paper and pen."
"Paper and pen? What for?"
"Easier to show you, Your Grace. But if you remain unsatisfied after, I offer you my life as penance."
Aquitaine's teeth flashed. "My esteemed wife would say that your life is lost in either case, were she here."
"Were she here, Your Grace," Fidelias agreed. "May I proceed?"
Aquitaine stared down at Fidelias for a moment. Then he gestured toward the slav
e, who went scurrying, returning a moment later with parchment and pen. Aquitaine said, "Be quick. My patience is rapidly running out."
"Of course, Your Grace." Fidelias accepted the paper and pen, dipped the quill into the inkpot, and swiftly made a few notes on the paper, careful to let no one see what he was writing. No one spoke, and the scritching of the quill seemed loud in the hall, along with the crackle of the fire pits, and the impatient tapping of the High Lord's boot.
Fidelias blew on the letters, then folded the paper in half, and offered it to Aquitaine. Without looking away from the man, he said, "Your Grace, I advise you to accelerate your plans. Contact your forces and move at once."
Calix stepped forward at once, to Aquitaine's side. "Your Grace, I must disagree in the strongest terms. Now is the time for caution. If we are discovered now, all will fall into ruin."
Aquitaine stared down at the letter, then lifted his eyes to Calix. "And you believe that by doing so you will protect my interests."
"And those of my Lord," Calix said. He lifted his chin, but the gesture meant little when the High Lord towered over him. "Think of who is advising you, Your Grace."
"Ad hominem," noted Aquitaine, "is a notoriously weak logical argument. And is usually used to distract the focus of a discussion-to move it from an indefensible point and to attack the opponent."
"Your Grace," Calix said, ducking his head. "Please, listen to reason. To act now would leave you at somewhat less than half your possible strength. Only a fool throws away an advantage like that."
Aquitaine lifted his eyebrows. "Only a fool. My."
Calix swallowed, "Your Grace, I only meant-"
"What you meant is of little concern to me, Count Calix. What you said, however, is another matter entirely."
"Your Grace, please. Do not be rash. Your plans have been well laid for so long. Do not let them fall apart now."
Aquitaine glanced down at the paper and asked, "And what do you propose, Your Excellency?"
Calix squared his shoulders. "Put simply, Your Grace-stick to the original plan. Send the Windwolves to winter in Rhodes. Gather your legions when the weather breaks in the spring and use them then. Bide. Wait. In patience there is wisdom."
"Who dares wins," murmured Aquitaine back. "I cannot help but wonder at how generous Rhodes seems to be, Calix. How he is willing to host the
mercenaries, to have his name connected with them, when the matter is settled. How thoroughly he has instructed you to protect my interests."
"The High Lord is always most interested in supporting his allies, Your Grace."
Aquitaine snorted. "Of course he is. We are all so generous with one another. And forgiving. No, Calix. The Cursor-"
"Former Cursor, Your Grace," Fidelias put in.
"Former Cursor. Of course. The former Cursor here has done a very good job of predicting what you would tell me." Aquitaine consulted the paper he held. "I wonder why that is." He moved his eyes to Fidelias and arched his eyebrows.
Fidelias watched Calix and said, 'Your Grace. I believe that Rhodes sent Calix here to you as a spy and eventually as an assassin-"
"Why you-" Calix snarled.
Fidelias overrode the other man, his voice iron. "Calix wishes you to wait so that there is time to remove you over the winter, Your Grace. The mercenaries will have several months to be tempted by bribes, meanwhile robbing you of their strength. Then, when the campaign begins, he will have key positions filled with people beholden to Rhodes. He can kill you in the confusion of battle, and therefore remove the threat you represent to him. Calix, here, was likely intended to be the assassin."
"I will not stand for this insult, Your Grace."
Aquitaine looked at Calix and said, "Yes. You will." To Fidelias, he said, "And your advice? What would you have me do?"
Fidelias shrugged. "South winds rose tonight where there should have been none. Only the First Lord could call them at this time of year. At a guess, he called the furies of the southern air to assist Amara or one of the other Cursors north-either to the capital or to the Valley itself."
"It could be coincidence," Aquitaine pointed out.
"I don't believe in coincidence, Your Grace," Fidelias said. "The First Lord is far from blind, and he has powers of furycrafting I can hardly begin to accurately assess. He has called the south winds. He is hastening someone north. Toward the Calderon Valley."
"Impossible," Aquitaine said. He rubbed at his jaw with the back of one hand. "But then, Gaius was always an impossible man."
"Your Grace," Calix said. "Surely you aren't seriously considering-"
Aquitaine lifted a hand. "I am, Your Excellency."
"Your Grace," Calix hissed. "This common born dog has called me a murderer to my face."
Aquitaine surveyed the scene for a moment. Then, quite deliberately, took three or four steps away from them and turned his back, as though to study a tapestry hanging on one wall.
"Your Grace," Calix said. "I demand your justice in this matter."
"I rather tend to believe Fidelias, Your Excellency." He sighed. "Work it out among yourselves. I will deal appropriately with whoever is left."
Fidelias smiled. "Your Excellency, please allow me to add that you stink like a sheep, that your mouth froths with idiocy and poison, and that your guts are as yellow as a springtime daffodil." He steepled his fingers, regarding Calix, and said, very soft and distinctly, "You… are… a… coward."
Calix's face flushed red, his eyes wild, and he moved, a sudden liquid blurring of his arms and hips. The sword at his side leapt free of its scabbard and toward Fidelias's throat.
As fast as Calix was, Aldrick moved faster. His arm alone whipped into motion, drawing the blade from his hip, across the limp form of the woman on his lap. Steel met steel in a ringing chime only inches from Fidelias's face. Aldrick slid to his feet, Odiana curling her legs beneath her as she lowered herself to the floor. The swordsman's face remained upon Calix's.
Calix eyed Aldrick and let out a sneer. "Mercenary. Do you think you can best an Aleran lord in battle?"
Aldrick kept his blade lightly pressed to Calix's and shrugged. "The only man who has ever matched me in battle was Araris Valerian himself." Teeth shone white in Aldrick's smile. "And you aren't Araris."
There was a rasp, and then steel glittered and blurred in the dim light of the hall. Fidelias watched, hardly able to keep up with the speed of the attacks and counters. In the space of a slow breath, their swords met a dozen times, chiming out, casting sparks from one another's blades. The swordsmen parted briefly, then clashed together again.
And the duel was over. Calix blinked, his eyes widening, and then lifted a hand to his throat as scarlet blood rushed from it. He tried to say something else, but was unable to make any sound.
Then the Rhodesian Count fell to the ground and lay unmoving, but for a few, faint tremors as his faltering heartbeat pumped the blood from his body.
Odiana looked up at Aquitaine with a small, dreamy smile, and asked, "Ought I save him, Your Graced"
Aquitaine glanced back at Calix and shrugged "There seems to be little point in it, dear "
"Yes, lord" Odiana turned adoring eyes to Aldnck and watched as the swordsman knelt down to wipe his blade clean of blood on Calix's cloak The man clenched his fingers and let out a bubbling gasp Aldnck ignored him
Fidelias rose and went to Aquitaine's side "Was that to your satisfaction, Your Graced"
"Calix was useful," Aquitaine said Then he glanced at Fidelias and asked, "How did you know'"
Fidelias tilted his head "That he was planning to kill you' Were you able to sense it in him?"
Aquitaine nodded "Once I knew to look for it He fell apart as you described the role Rhodes had assigned him We'll probably find a furybound dagger in his coat with my likeness and name etched into the steel "
Aldrick grunted, rolled the not-quite dead Calix onto his back, and rummaged through his jacket The telltale bulge Fidelias had seen earlier proved to be
made by a small dagger with a compact hilt Aldnck let out a hiss as he touched the knife and set it down hurriedly
Fidelias asked, "Furybound'"
Aldrick nodded "Nasty one Strong I think the knife should be destroyed "
"Do it," Aquitaine said "Now, tonight Odiana, go with him I wish to speak to Fidelias alone "
The pair rested fist over their hearts and bowed their heads Then Odiana slipped up to the swordsman's side and pressed to him until he circled her shoulders with one arm The two left, without looking back
On the floor, Calix let out his death rattle, and his eyes glazed over, mouth hanging slightly open
"How did you know'" Aldrick repeated
Fidelias glanced back at the dead Rhodesian Count and shrugged "To be honest, Your Grace I didn't know I guessed "
Aquitaine half-smiled "Based upon what'"
"Too many years in this line of work And I've met Rhodes He wouldn't step an inch from his way to help someone else, and he'd cut off his own nose just to spite his face Calix was being-"
"-too pleasant," Aquitaine murmured. "Indeed. Perhaps I should have seen it sooner."
"The important thing is that you acted promptly when you did see it, Your Grace."
"Fidelias," Aquitaine said. "I do not like you."
"You have no reason to."
"But I think I can respect you, after a fashion. And if it's to be a choice of who will put the knife in my back, I would rather it be you than Rhodes or one of his lackeys, I think."
Fidelias felt his mouth tug up at the corners. "Thank you."
"Make no mistake, man." Aquitaine turned to face him. "I prefer to work with someone to forcing them to my will. But I can do it. And I can kill you if you become a problem. You know this, yes?"
Fidelias nodded.
"Good," Aquitaine said. The High Lord covered his mouth with his hand and yawned. "It is late. And you are right about moving quickly, before the Crown has a chance to act. Get a few hours sleep. At dawn, you leave for the Calderon Valley."
Fidelias bowed his head again. "Your Grace-I don't have any chambers here, as yet."