Academ's Fury (25 page)

Chapter 16

"I don't understand this," Isana said. "He's an academ. He's at the Academy. It isn't all that enormous. What do you mean that you can't find my nephew?"

The runner Serai had hired grimaced. He was a boy too young to labor on the docks but too old to be free of the need to work, and his sandy hair was limp with sweat from running back and forth between the Citadel and the private manor in the Citizens' Quarter.

"Pardon, my lady Citizen," the boy panted. "I did as you asked and inquired after him in every place in the Academy visitors are allowed."

"Are you sure you checked his quarters in the dormitories?"

"Yes, my lady," the boy said, apology in his tone. "There was no answer. I slipped your note under his door. He may be in examinations."

"Since
dawn
?" Isana demanded. "That's ridiculous."

Serai murmured, from nearby, "Antonin's suggestion has merit, Stead-holder. Final examination week is extremely demanding."

Isana settled down lightly onto the raised wall of flagstones surrounding the garden's central fountain, her back straight. "I see."

Birds chirped in the background, bright and cheerful in the warm afternoon that almost had the feel of spring to it. The manor to which Serai had brought Isana was a small one, by the standards of the capital, but its designer had crafted the home with an elegance that made the larger, richer homes surrounding it seem gaudy by comparison.

Isana opened her eyes. Though still marked by the chill of winter night, the garden had begun to awaken to the spring. Buds had already formed on the early-blooming plants and upon all three of the carefully pruned trees. Like the house, the garden was modest and beautiful. Surrounded upon all sides by the three-story manor, hanging and climbing vines hid the silvery marble of the building almost completely, so that the garden seemed more like a glade in a heavy forest than part of a metropolitan household. The bees had not yet awakened from their winter slumber, nor had most of the birds returned from their yearly journey, but it would not be long before the garden would be full of motion, bustling with the business of life.

Spring had always been her favorite time of year, and her own happiness had been infectious. Isana always felt her family's emotions quite clearly, regardless of the season, but in the spring they were the most happy.

That thought led her to Bernard. Her brother was walking into danger, and leading holders she had known for most of her life as he did. He would arrive at Aricholt today—and perhaps he already had. His men might be racing the danger the vord represented as early as the next morning.

And Isana could do nothing but sit in a garden, listening to the rustling waters of an elegant marble fountain.

She rose and paced the length of the garden and back, while Serai paid Antonin with five shining copper rams. The boy pocketed the coin in a flash, bowed to Isana and Serai, and retreated quietly from the garden. Serai watched him go, then settled down at the fountain again with her sewing. "You're going to wear a path in the grass, darling."

"This is taking too long," Isana said quietly. "We have to do something."

"We are," Serai said, her tone placid. "Our host, Sir Nedus, has dispatched word to the proper channels to request an audience."

"That was hours ago," Isana said. "It seems simple enough. How long can it take to give an answer?"

"The Wintersend ceremonies are extensive, Steadholder. There are thousands of Citizens visiting the capital, and there are quite literally hundreds of them also seeking an audience for one reason or another. It is quite prestigious to be granted an audience with Gaius during the festivities."

"This is different," Isana snapped. "He sent for me. And you are his envoy." Serai's eyes snapped up in a warning glance, and she cast a significant look at the house around them. Isana felt a flash of foolish embarrassment. "It is different," she repeated.

"Yes, it is," Serai said. "Unfortunately, the First Counselor's staff is not privy to the details of why. We must approach him through the usual channels."

"But we might not get through to him," Isana said. "We should present our request in person."

"Isana, only this morning a professional assassin attempted to take your life. If you leave this house, your chances of reaching the Citadel without further attempts are dubious, at best."

"I am prepared to take that risk," Isana replied.

"I am not," Serai said placidly. "In any case, it simply isn't how one approaches the First Lord of Alera, Steadholder. Were we to do as you suggest, it is most likely that we would be ignored."

"Then I will be insistent," Isana answered.

Serai's fingers moved with steady, calm speed. "In which case we would be arrested and held for trial until the end of the Festival. We must have patience."

Isana pressed her lips together and regarded Serai levelly for a moment. Then she forced herself to walk back to the fountain. "You're sure this is the fastest way?"

"It is not the fastest way," Serai said. "It is the only way."

"How much longer must we wait?"

"Nedus has friends and allies in the Citadel. We should have some kind of answer soon." She set the sewing down and smiled at Isana. "Would you care for a bit of wine?"

"No, thank you," Isana said.

Serai glided to a small table nestled in a nook of the garden, where glasses and a crystal decanter of wine rested. She poured rose-colored wine into a glass and sipped very slowly.

Isana watched her, and it was only with an effort that she could sense the woman's apprehension. Serai carried her wine over to the fountain, and settled beside Isana.

"May I ask you something?" Isana said.

"Of course."

"At the landing port. How did you know that man was an assassin?"

"The blood on his tunic," Serai said.

"I don't understand."

The tiny courtesan moved her free hand, to touch her side lightly, just under her arm. "Bloodstains, here." She glanced up at Isana. "Probably the result of a knife thrust to the heart, between the ribs and up through the lungs. It's one of the surest ways to kill a man quietly."

Isana stared at Serai for a moment, then said, "Oh."

The courtesan continued, her tone quiet and conversational. "If it isn't done perfectly, there can be quite a bit of excess blood. The assassin must have needed a second thrust to finish the dockworker whose tunic he stole. There was a long stain down the length of the fabric, and that was what made me take a second look at him. We were quite fortunate."

"A man died so that someone could try to murder me," Isana said. "In what way is that fortunate?"

Serai rolled her shoulder in a shrug. "His death was no doing of yours, darling. We were fortunate in that our assassin was both inexperienced and hurried."

"What do you mean?"

"He went to considerable lengths to acquire a tunic in order to disguise himself. With time to plan, he would never have jeopardized his mission with an unnecessary killing, nor approached with his disguise marred with a suspicious stain. It sharply limited his ability to be part of the background, and an older, more experienced operative would not have attempted it. We were also fortunate in that he was wounded."

"How can you know that?"

"The assassin was right-handed. He threw the knife at you with his left."

Isana frowned, then said, "The bloodstain was on the right side of the tunic."

"Precisely. The assassin approached the dockworker from behind and struck with the blade in his right hand. We know that the kill was not a clean one. We know that the dockworker was probably an earthcrafter. It is reasonable to assume that he struck back at his attacker with furycrafted strength—likely a glancing blow back with his right arm or elbow, striking the assassin's arm in the process."

Isana stared down at Serai. The practical, quiet tone of the courtesan's voice in discussing calculated violence and murder was chilling. A current of fear coursed through Isana, and she sat down at the fountain again. Men of terrible skill and intent were determined to end her life, and her only protection was a frail-looking slip of a woman in a low-cut silk gown.

Serai sipped again at her wine. "Had he been able to get any closer before being seen, or had he been throwing with his preferred arm,
you
would be dead, Steadholder."

"Great furies preserve us," Isana whispered. "My nephew. Do you think that he is in danger?"

"There's nothing to suggest that he is—and within the Citadel he's as safe as anywhere in the Realm." Serai touched Isana's hand with hers. "Patience. Once we contact Gaius, he will protect your family. He has every reason to do so."

Bitter, old sadness washed through Isana, and the ring on the chain about her throat suddenly felt very heavy. "I'm sure he has the best of intentions."

Serai's back straightened slightly, and Isana sensed a sudden wash of comprehension and suspicion from the courtesan. "Isana," Serai said quietly, dark eyes intent, "you know Gaius. Don't you."

Isana felt a flutter of panic in her belly, but she held it from her voice, expression, and posture as she rose and paced away. "Only by reputation."

Serai rose to follow her, but before she could speak the courtyard was filled with the sound of the house bells ringing. Voices called out from the street outside, and only a moment later, an elderly but robust-looking man in fine robes limped quickly into the garden.

"Sir Nedus," Serai said, performing a graceful curtsey.

"Ladies," Nedus replied. Tall and slim, Nedus had been a Knight Captain for thirty years before retiring, and his every precise and efficient movement still reflected it. He bowed slightly to each of them, and grimaced, an expressive gesture given his bushy silver eyebrows. "Did you drink all my wine again, Serai?"

"I may have left a splash in the bottle," she said, walking to the little table. "Please, my lord, sit down."

"Steadholder?" Nedus asked.

"Of course," Isana replied.

Nedus nodded his thanks and thumped down on the stone bench around the fountain, rubbing at his hip with one hand. "I hope you don't think me rude."

"Not at all," she assured him. "Are you in pain?"

"Nothing that doesn't happen every time I spend hours on my feet dealing with fools," Nedus said. "I must have talked for hours." Serai passed Nedus a glass of wine, and the old knight downed it in a long swallow. "Furies bless you, Serai. Be a dear child and—"

Serai drew the bottle from behind her back, smiling, and refilled Nedus's glass.

"Wonderful woman," Nedus said. "If you could cook, I'd buy your contract."

"You couldn't afford me, darling," Serai said, smiling, and touched his cheek in a fond gesture.

Isana refrained from voicing a curse aloud and settled for asking, "What happened, sir?"

"Bureaucracy," Nedus spat. "The First Counselor's office was packed to the roof. If someone had set the building on fire, half the fools of the Realm would have burned to ash together and left us the richer for it."