Captain's Fury (40 page)

The door to the cabin snapped open with sudden, vicious force, striking Araris in the shoulder and sending him to the deck in a sprawl.

"And tell your swordmaster," Demos continued, eyes never wavering from Tavi's, "that if he draws steel on me again, he'd better be smart enough not to do it aboard this vessel."

Demos rose, drew the tip of his blade from the planks of the deck, and sheathed it. Turning to Araris, he said, "We both know you'd take me in a fair fight."

Araris rose slowly and sheathed his sword. He gave Demos a slight bow of the head. "When's the last time you were in a fair fight?"

Demos made a curt gesture at the deck, and the plank pinning Tavi's arm flexed and released him, returning to its original position. "I think I was twelve. I never saw the point. Good day, gentlemen."

Tavi glanced at the sun. "Another hour, and it'll be dark enough to go. There's a boardinghouse on Craft Lane. We'll stay there until we can get everything we need." Tavi frowned and lowered his voice. "How is she?"

"Better, since we've gotten away from the ocean," Araris replied.

Tavi shook his head. "The things she did, Araris. That was some major crafting. That thing with the shark… And I've never even heard of anyone moving through the water that way. I thought that the spray was going to start cutting my skin, we were moving so quickly."

"I saw Lady Placida do that once," Tavi said quietly. "But that's all. I mean, I knew Isana was a skilled healer, even when compared to Citizen healers, but this is the second time I've seen her do something on such a large scale that wasn't healing."

Araris nodded slowly. "When she flooded that little river, just before Second Calderon."

"Exactly. What she did out there wasn't exactly new. But it's certainly more than she's ever done before. More than even she thought she could do, I'm certain."

Araris drummed his fingers idly on the hilt of his sword. "A lot of times, you don't really know where your limits are until they're tested. I've known any number of people who had a tremendous gift in metalcraft, but who, for whatever reason, never used it." He shrugged his shoulders. "How often is one called upon to hurl an attacking shark onto the deck of a pirate ship, Tavi?"

Tavi flashed Araris a wry grin. "You've known her longer than I have," he said quietly. "Have you ever seen anything else like this? Something that would indicate that her crafting might be a more significant gift than anyone knew?"

Araris shook his head. "You mean to ask if your father ever said anything about it."

Tavi glanced away, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well. Yes."

Araris folded his arms and was silent for a long moment. "It was a long time ago. And… for a long time, it wasn't anything I cared to dwell on."

"But if there's anything you remember…"

Araris held up a hand and closed his eyes for a moment. "Once. When we were talking about what Sextus would say, when he learned about Isana. Your father had just told me of his intention to marry her and…" Araris glanced at Tavi, and the young man felt a flash of the
singulare's
discomfort and shame. "And I told him that there would be the crows to pay if he did. Gaius wouldn't have minded a bastard or two running around—the bloodline has never been a particularly fruitful one. But he definitely had plans in mind for Septimus's wife. He'd have chosen someone not only for political gain, but for their skill at furycraft as well, to keep the royal bloodline strong."

Tavi sighed. "I'm not holding advice you gave my father against you, Araris. Bloody crows, man, you know me better than that. Just tell me what he said."

Araris nodded. "He said that Isana was more than he expected. And that she would be more than Gaius had bargained for, either." He sighed. "But he wasn't necessarily talking about her crafting."

"It sounds like he was. What else could he have meant?" Tavi asked.

"There weren't many people willing to stand up to Septimus, but she was one of them. If she thought he was wrong, she'd call him on it. Not argue, exactly, but… he could get most people to go along with him through sheer force of personality. He couldn't bull his way through Isana like that. She never raised her voice, never really seemed to be in conflict with him—but she'd never give an inch, either." Araris shrugged. "Tavi, your father never set much store by furycraft when it came to the important things."

"He never had to work without it, either," Tavi said.

"True enough." Araris's frown deepened. "But… Tavi, I don't know if you know this. But the House of Gaius has always been gifted with… not prophecy, precisely. But a measure of insight, foresight, that went beyond what could be explained away as simple wisdom."

Tavi frowned. "I've never heard about that."

"It isn't something that's casually bandied about," Araris said. "Septimus was particularly… intuitive. He would just casually mention things that were going to happen, weeks or months later. Miles used to write them down. Keep track of them. Sometimes, Septimus would hardly remember mentioning it. I don't think it was anything he had control over."

"What's that got to do with Isana?" Tavi asked.

Araris shrugged. "Just that he might have made the remarks based on an intuition." The
singulare
smiled faintly. "You've got to admit, Isana's done quite a bit more than Gaius would expect out of a woman from a steadholt. She was instrumental in the events of Second Calderon. If not for her, in fact, Gaius would have died the night the Vord attacked his meditation chamber. And according to Countess Amara, only her warning saved her and your uncle from being killed by Kalarus's Immortals—and their actions helped tilt the balance of power in Kalarus's initial attack." He shook his head. "Or maybe he was talking about her furycraft. Maybe she had more power at her disposal than she knew. Or…" He frowned.

"Oh, yes," Araris said, nodding. "The way furies can be passed from generation to generation on a steadholt. Remember when Old Frederic passed Thumper to Young Frederic?"

"I thought that only happened, you know. Out in the country, where people name their furies."

"As far as I know, there's no reason that someone couldn't pass more furies along to someone else, whether they were discrete beings or amorphous. It's just rarely done among the Citizenry. A child with a high potential generally attracts many furies to himself all on his own, of course—Septimus certainly did. But his power would have been significantly greater when his father died or stepped aside and willed the majority of his power to pass on."

Tavi frowned. "And… what? You think my father might have willed some of his furies to her when he was killed?"

Araris shook his head. "I just don't know, Tavi. But I think it's significant that both times she demonstrated extraordinary strength, your life was in danger." His eyes went distant, and he smiled very faintly. "It would be just like Septimus, to find a way to protect his son, even years after his own death."

Tavi frowned at that. Araris had said more about his father in the past moments than he had in most of the previous two years. It was a lot to think about.

He closed his eyes for a moment as a sharp little ache went through him. Was his father still there, somehow, watching over him? The very thought was incredibly reassuring, almost unbearably sad, sweetly painful. It was the kind of thing he had dreamed about when he was lonely, uncertain, or afraid.

Like now. He was about to set out to break Varg out of the most secure prison in all of Alera. The Grey Tower was home to some of the most dangerous swordsmen to be found—and, partially in thanks to his own recommendations, its furycrafted defenses were some of the most deadly to be had. And even if the rescue was successful, they would have to elude the pursuit that was sure to be sent after them. As if all of that wasn't enough, there was Varg to consider. Tavi was not at all certain what the Canim warrior's reaction would be once he was free. Varg might well decide his best course of action would be to tear Tavi's throat out and make his own way from there.

Tavi smiled faintly at Araris, and said quietly, "I'll take all the help I can get."

Chapter 31

For Isana, visits to the largest cities of Alera had never been pleasant. The constant pressure of the various emotions of so many people packed into such a small area was a constant distraction. It was a low but steady "noise," like being constantly accompanied by half a dozen nightmarishly persistent crickets. It was never horribly loud, but it didn't
stop
, and the intrusive sensations could make it maddeningly difficult to sleep or concentrate.

Isana feared that she might desperately need all of her concentration in the hours to come.

The rooms Tavi had rented for them were plain, but roomy and well kept. They were outrageously expensive by the standards of the steadholts of the Calderon Valley, but her travels had broadened her outlook somewhat even if they hadn't fattened her purse. By the standards of Alera Imperia, the price was more than reasonable—even if each day's rent would also have paid for the food of an entire steadholt for a day.

The boardinghouse, however, was apparently frequented by merchants who were particularly close about their money. Negotiations of one kind or another were in progress in rooms below and above her, as well as in the house's tiny garden, and from the feel of it, they were ferocious affairs. She tried to rest as best she could, once they were there, but the constant, surging flutter of the city made it problematic.

Isana rose quietly from the bed in the room she shared with Kitai, slipped into her shoes, and donned her dress and cloak. Perhaps if she stretched her legs a little, she would tire enough to rest. She drifted to the window and looked out. The lane below, though it was nearly midnight, was well lit with furylamps, and she could see two different pairs of men in the uniform of the civic legion patrolling. The street would be safe enough.

"Partly," Isana said, and the word came out with more of an edge than she had intended. She paused, softened her tone, and said, "Mostly."

Kitai tilted her head. Her green eyes were almost luminous in the dim light from the street's furylamps. "Are you leaving the city, then?"

Ten minutes later, they were walking together down Craft Lane. The home of the majority of skilled labor in the city, the houses were almost universally dark and quiet. Few people were on the street. Those few were mostly younger men, late apprentices and early journeymen, presumably returning to their beds after time spent in less sober quarters of the city.

"Kitai," Isana said quietly, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you about."

"Yes?" she asked. She wore her cloak with the hood up, hiding both her decidedly conspicuous hair and the canted eyes of her Marat heritage.

"Because… because of things I am not free to share with you, your… your friendship with him could cause… relations could be a factor in…" She shook her head in frustration. "What does your relationship with him mean to you, precisely? Where do you see it leading you in the future?"

"Ah," Kitai said in a tone of comprehension. "
Those
kinds of relations. If you wished to know if we were mating, you should have asked."

Isana blinked, then stared at Kitai, mortified. She felt her cheeks burn. "No. No, that isn't what I meant at—"

"Not nearly often enough, of course," Kitai said with an exhalation somewhere between a sigh and a growl. "Not since we left the fortress. We can't on the ship. Never when the Legion was in the field." She kicked a small stone at the buildings on the other side of the street with a scowl. "Alerans have a great many foolish rules."

"Kitai, that isn't what—"

"He was very clumsy at first," Kitai confided. "Except for his mouth." She smirked, and added drily, "But then, he's always been clever with that."

Isana began to feel somewhat desperate.

"It was as if no one had taught him what it was he ought to do. Which I suppose could be another problem you Alerans have. After all, if no one has any idea how to go about it, no wonder you all get so nervous just talking about it."