Authors: Jim Butcher
Tags: #Fantasy, #Fiction, #General, #Science Fiction And Fantasy, #Fantasy - Epic, #Epic, #Fantasy - General, #Fiction - Fantasy
Captain's Fury (66 page)
"
What
?" Araris demanded. Horror pulsed off of him in a nauseating cloud.
"The
juris macto
," Kitai said seriously. "It means 'trial of the fist.' Though it isn't a literal fistfight. I still do not understand why your people insist on naming things by calling them something else. It is insane."
"I
know
what the
juris macto
is."
"Araris," Isana asked, her voice shaking. "What's wrong?"
"He's the challenger," Araris spat. "What is he
thinking?"
"I don't understand," she said. "Can't you stand for him? Champion him?"
"No!" Araris half shouted. "He's the
challenger
. He can't have a champion. He
has
to engage in it personally, or the law won't recognize its outcome as valid."
"Tavi can't have a champion?" Isana felt the bottom of her stomach fall out. "But Arnos can." She went cold. "Great furies. Navaris will be his champion."
Araris spat to one side. "That's what she does."
"I told him he should have let me handle it," Kitai said. "But after escaping one prison and stealing Varg from another, suddenly Aleran law is important again."
Feeling had begun to return to Isana's legs and feet, and she shrugged her supporters away, walking on her own. "Is he likely to be hurt, Araris?"
"Hurt?" Araris shook his head grimly. "It's to the death."
Isana stopped in her tracks and stared at Araris. "Can he beat her?"
Araris clenched his fists, frustration and worry pouring off him like heat from a bonfire.
"Araris," she pled quietly.
The
singulare
said nothing, and Isana knew why.
She would have known if he lied to her.
Kitai led Isana and Araris to the First Aleran's command tent, which was by tradition the captain's quarters. It looked like it had been set up in great haste, several of its ropes hanging rather loosely. Inside was nothing more than a furylamp, a camp stool, and a bedroll.
"I think I know what you want to tell him," Kitai said quietly. "I think you know he won't listen."
"I will speak to him all the same."
Kitai frowned, but nodded. "I understand." Then she left.
She returned with Tavi a few minutes later, and the tall young man immediately enfolded Isana in an embrace.
"Thank the great furies you're both all right," Tavi said.
Isana hugged her son back. "And you."
The tent opened and Ehren appeared, carrying a scribe's writing case. He plunked himself down, opened the case, and took out a pen, inkpot, and several sheets of paper.
Tavi released Isana with a smile, and asked, "Well?"
"It looked like the testimony of six different truthfinders wasn't going to be enough," Ehren said. "Until I showed Nalus the affidavits from the witnesses to the attacks on the steadholts. He's thrown his support behind the validity of the charges and the challenge."
"Meaning?" Isana asked quietly.
Ehren bared his teeth in a wolf's smile. "Meaning that if Arnos doesn't accept, he can kiss all his efforts good-bye. He'll have to stand down from his command, just like Tavi had to step down, and wait for a trial." He inhaled and let out a satisfied breath. "I love the symmetry."
"What are you writing?" Tavi asked.
"A declaration of identity and intent," Ehren said. "Retroactively giving yourself permission to release yourself on your own recognizance in order to defend the honor of the Realm. It's going to block Arnos's next move, to claim that you are a prisoner under suspicion and that your presence, and therefore your challenge, is illegal."
"I can do that?"
"Unless someone overrules you, and the only one who can do
that
has been out of touch for a while."
"Good."
Ehren nodded. "I'm just glad Arnos forced us to brush up on the pertinent laws when this mess started. Give me about ten minutes. Then we'll need the signet dagger."
A slender, older gentleman in the tunic of an officer's valet entered the tent, lugging a heavy leather sack. "Ah, there you are, sir," he said. He dropped the sack near Tavi's feet with a sigh of relief. "Your reserve lorica, sir."
Tavi dumped out the sack without preamble, revealing a much-newer-looking set of armor than the one he currently wore. "Excellent. The Free Alerans have decent gear, all things considered, but this set has seen better days. Give me a hand here, Magnus?"
"Of course, Captain," the valet said. "Or is it 'Your Highness,' now?"
Tavi arched an eyebrow at the man. "You don't believe me?"
"That isn't the issue," the valet replied. He glanced aside at the others.
"I'm not keeping secrets from anyone here," Tavi said. He glanced at Isana, and she felt a little knife of resentment accompanying the words. He pushed it down at once, but it had still been there.
Isana winced. However well-intentioned she had been, some mistakes took time to correct. She would have to live with that.
Magnus sighed. "Very well. May I have your permission to speak candidly, Your Highness?"
Tavi's frown deepened. "Of course."
Magnus nodded. "This stunt is idiocy on the grandest and most irresponsible scale in the history of mankind."
Tavi's eyebrows shot up.
"Entirely setting aside the fact that this is the worst possible time and place for you to go public, there are other considerations. The Princeps of the Realm is
not
someone who engages in duels. He does
not
put his person at risk. He does
not
take such chances. He is far too valuable to do so."
"The Realm has had a Princeps again for about twenty minutes, Magnus," Tavi said. "The only people who know about it are within these walls. Even if I lose, the Realm won't—or not much, at any rate."
"Tavi," Isana said, stepping forward. "Listen to him, please. Magnus is right."
Tavi glanced aside at her, and a frown with a trace of uncertainty to it formed a small line between his brows. He nodded slowly and gestured for the valet to continue.
"With all due respect to Princeps Septimus," Magnus continued, "your father made this choice as well." His voice hardened. "And he was wrong to do it. He died. And as a result, Alera has known twenty years of plotting and betrayal and conflict. It has all but shattered as High Lords maneuver for power, inflicting hardship and suffering, and triggering disputes and wars that have resulted in the deaths of thousands—to say nothing of those lost when our enemies sensed that we were becoming increasingly divided and acted upon it."
"Tavi," Isana said quietly. "There must be some other solution to this problem."
Tavi chewed on his lower lip, his eyes unreadable.
"Navaris is one of the best I have ever seen," Araris said, speaking for the first time. "In my judgment, if I fought her, even in a controlled duel, it could go either way. You've got talent and training, but you're still learning. Your chances are not good."
"Agreed," Magnus said. "Risking yourself in a battle is one thing. Throwing your life away in a fight only a fool would place money upon is something else altogether."
Tavi looked at each of them, his expression serious. Then he glanced at Kitai.
"I would be displeased should you be killed,
chala
." She shrugged. "You will do as you think best."
Tavi nodded slowly. Then he took a deep breath, and pointed his finger at the wall of the tent. "Out there," he said, "are tens of thousands of frightened, angry Canim. And thousands more frightened, angry, vengeful ex-slaves. They've got all three of our Legions dead to rights, and in a few hours, they're going to kill us.
"Unless," he said, "I can show them a reason to believe that we're more than a bunch of murdering, crowbegotten bastards who deserve to be killed. Unless I can give them the men responsible for those massacres and get these Legions to stand down and stop threatening the Canim's only means of going home."
"But Tavi," Isana said. "There must be some other way to—"
"While Arnos is in command, there isn't," Tavi said, his voice certain. "He can't back down and leave the Canim in peace now. He'll continue the fight and kill every man in the Legions if that's what it takes to get his victory, and I'm not willing to let that happen."
"Then arrest him," Isana said.
"I don't have the grounds to do so yet," Tavi said. "And if I tried to arrest him illegally, his own people would fight to protect him. We'd do the Canim's work for them. And then they'd wipe out whoever was left standing. After that, the war would continue. More will suffer. More will die.
"The
juris macto
gets us around all of that, and it's the only way I can strip him of his legal authority without taking it to a courtroom."
"But—" Magnus began.
Tavi turned to the old valet, scowling. "It's this simple, Magnus: The Canim are coming. Either I give them Arnos, or they kill us all and take him. The duel is my only way to get at Arnos." He looked at each of them singly and separately. "Does anyone here see another way? Anyone?"
No one spoke.
Tavi nodded slowly. "I'm going through with this. Support me or get out of the way."
He swept his gaze around the room again, and Isana stared, fascinated. She had never seen him like this before. She had never seen
anyone
speak with that much authority and strength. Not since Septimus died.
"I can't," said Araris, his voice very quiet. "I can't let you do this. I'm not going to fail again."
Tavi met Araris's gaze steadily and spoke in a very quiet voice. "This is my fight. My responsibility. Or did you plan on pushing me in front of a wagon to stop me."
Araris's face went pale, and he averted his eyes.
Ehren blew gently on the sheet of paper, then fanned the air with it slowly, to help the ink dry. "Ready for your signature and that seal."
Tavi nodded and turned to Isana.
"I don't have the dagger," she told him quietly. "It was in my bag. I haven't seen it since we were captured."
Kitai stepped past Isana quietly, shrugging her pack off of her shoulders. She reached into it and retrieved a dagger, the steel of its blade and its hilt both showing traceries of scarlet and blue. The dagger's pommel was engraved with the signet of the House of Gaius, an eagle in flight. Kitai passed it to Tavi.
Isana took a slow breath. Then she said, "You took it from my pack."
"I thought I might need it," Tavi said quietly.
"You didn't trust me."
Tavi looked down, turning the dagger over in his hand. "You've had a lot of… reservations, about this part of my life. I didn't want to see them get the better of you at a bad moment."
"You didn't trust me," Isana repeated. She shook her head. It was not as though she had given him a great deal of reason to do so, but all the same, it stung.
Tavi signed the document and marked it with the pommel of his signet dagger. He folded it and sealed it closed the same way. "Three hours from now," Tavi said. "On the walls. I want everyone to see this."
"Got it," Ehren said. He took the sealed letter and hurried out.
"If you don't mind," Tavi said to the tent, "I'd like a few minutes alone to change."
Everyone murmured their farewells and left—but Isana paused at the entrance to the tent, and turned to face Tavi.
"Can you win?" she whispered.
He smiled crookedly. "I've never lost a duel to the death. Not one."
"Tavi."
The smile faded, but his eyes didn't waver. "I've got to. For all of us." He glanced down again, and said, "I have a favor to ask of you."
Isana nodded. "Of course."
"My friend is hurt," Tavi said. "Max. And a lot of my men. Do you think…"
Isana bowed her head to him. "I'll go to the hospital now."
Tavi closed his eyes. "Thank you." He licked his lips, then suddenly his reserve shattered, and his emotions came pouring through to her. They were achingly familiar to Isana—the fear and insecurity that had greeted her whenever Tavi, as a child, had woken from a nightmare in the darkest hours of night.
She went to him at once and hugged him as tightly as she could. She felt him lean some of his weight against her.
"I'm frightened," he whispered.
"I know," she said.
"Don't tell anyone. They mustn't see."
"I know," she said. "I love you, Mother."
Isana could feel it as he spoke it, and she held him even tighter. "And I love you, my son."
Marcus paused in the shadows outside of Senator Arnos's well-lit command tent, and listened, watching through the half-open flap.
"Well?" Arnos demanded of one of his cadre of flunkies. "You're my legal advisor. Advise me."
"I'm sorry, Senator," the plump little man said, from the midst of a stack of thick books. "All the legal precedents would seem to be on the Princep—"
"
Scipio
," Arnos snarled. "His name is Scipio."
"—Scipio's," the man corrected seamlessly, "side. He has… technically, of course… satisfied the legal requirements to establish his identity, and in the case of a threat of treason or dishonor to the Realm, Citizens of the rank of Lord and above have the right to issue a challenge to any Citizen of the Realm."