Captain's Fury (9 page)

"I'm going to remind them, Cursor." His eyes hardened. "I'm going to war. And you're going with me."

Chapter 5

Isana made sure her hood was well up, and was grateful for the unusually sharp chill that lingered in the springtime morning air. It gave her an unquestionable justification to have her hood around her face. She wasn't trying to avoid being seen visiting Captain Rufus Scipio, precisely, since the director of the relief column would quite naturally need to speak to
someone
on the First Aleran's staff. But Tavi felt it was better if she went unrecognized and attracted no notice—or questions—at all, and she heartily supported his caution.

As promised, Araris was waiting at the front doors and escorted her past the two
legionares
on sentry duty there.

"Good morning," she murmured, as he led her into the building. It was an almost ridiculously overfortified structure, all of the same battlecrafted stone that was generally used only for fortified walls. The halls were more narrow than most, the ceilings lower, and Isana noted with surprise that at the first staircase, Araris led her down, not up, to where a leader's quarters were typically located.

"Good morning," he replied. His posture and voice were both politely formal, but she could sense the warmth that lay beneath them, radiating out from him like heat from a banked fire. She was certain that he
knew
she could discern his actual emotions, as well, and the sense of sudden satisfaction in that unspoken trust was a pleasant little thrill, something akin to feeling his fingers intertwine with hers. "We go down two flights to get to his office."

"Did the Senator displace him?" Isana asked.

Araris shook his head. "The Canim's sorcery evidently proved quite dangerous. Some kind of lightning bolt wiped out the First Aleran's original officers. When the Legion's engineers built this building, they made sure to put yards and yards of fortified stone over and around the captain, to avoid any repetition."

Isana shivered. She'd heard about the attack. If Tavi hadn't been sent out to run messages for then-Captain Cyril… "I see," she replied.

Araris snorted. "The valets set up Arnos on the top level. I suspect they're privately hoping that the Canim will try another lightning bolt and brighten everyone's day."

"Oh, he was at my throat constantly—whenever I wasn't actually in the room," he said. "Arnos never had anything to say to my face." Araris reached up with one hand to rub lightly at the mark branded over one cheek. "He was always small-minded, egotistical. He hasn't changed."

He laid two fingers lightly over her lips and gave her a quiet smile. "Don't borrow trouble. Just talk to him. He loves you. It will be all right."

She closed her eyes tight for a second and brushed the faintest ghost of a kiss against his fingers. Then Isana took a steadying breath, nodded, and said, "Very well."

The office was supremely utilitarian, even stark. There was an old wooden desk, scarred from use, several chairs, and several shelves filled with books and papers and writing materials. The cold stone floor was covered by a few simple rugs, and a box beside the lit fireplace was filled with a neat stack of cordwood. A door led off into another room, and a plain, medium-sized mirror hung upon the same wall.

He sat at the desk, a quill in hand, scrawling something hurriedly across the bottom of a page. There were several stacks of them spread across the desk, evidence of what appeared to be several hours' work. He finished writing, set the quill aside, and rose with a broad smile.

Isana stopped in her tracks. The man who stood up was enormous, even taller than her brother Bernard, though he had a more wiry build and the slenderness of youth. His dark hair was cropped short, and he wore a suit of battered Legion armor and a sword on one hip. His features were angular, strong, attractive, though a fine white line across one cheek spoke of a wound too severe to heal without leaving a scar.

Tavi's eyes, though, had not changed. They were green and bright, lit from within by the intelligence of the mind behind them.

How like his father he looks
, Isana thought.

"Aunt Isana," Tavi said, and wrapped his arms around her.

She was about to caution him to be careful, but he was gentle, making sure not to crush any armored steel ridges against her. She made up for it by hugging him back as hard as she could. He was real, and safe. She hadn't seen him face-to-face in years, but there was no mistaking that he was her son, no hiding the genuine burst of warmth and love and delight that radiated from him as she hugged him.

They stood like that for a time, before Isana broke the embrace. She lifted her hands to cup his face, her eyes swimming with tears, her cheeks already aching from smiling. "Hello, Tavi."

He kissed her on top of the head. "Hello, Auntie. It's been a long time."

She leaned back to arm's length, looking him up and down. "Longer for some than others," she teased. "Goodness, you've grown even more. What do they put in the water here?"

He grinned. "Yeah. It sort of snuck up on me. But I think I've stopped growing, finally. These trousers have fit me for almost a year."

"Thank goodness. If you got much taller, they'd have to raise all the ceilings in here."

Tavi shook his head gravely. "Nonsense. This is the Legion. The ceiling is at regulation height. It is the responsibility of every
legionare
to be sure that he is regulation height as well."

Isana laughed. "I'm glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humor."

"Never that," Tavi said. "My mind has been gone for a while now, but that's no reason not to laugh at things. How's Uncle His Excellency?"

"Bernard is well, as are the folk at home. Which reminds me." She untied the pouch from her belt and opened it, rustling through several papers, before she drew out a folded, sealed letter. "Frederic asked me to give this to you."

Tavi smiled and took the letter. He cracked the seal and his eyes flicked rapidly over it. "That girl he rescued, eh? Beritte must be miffed. How's that working out for them?"

"About the way most marriages do. They have a lot to learn about how to treat one another."

"I'm glad for him," Tavi said. "If I get time, I'll write something to send with you when you go back. But in case I don't, would you give him my congratulations?"

"Of course."

Tavi smiled at her and gestured to the fireplace, where a kettle hung from a hook close enough to the flames to keep the liquid inside warm. "Tea?"

"Please."

Tavi drew out a couple of the room's chairs, putting them close together, and held one of them for her. Then he took a pair of tin cups down from a shelf and poured steaming tea from the kettle into each. He added a spoonful of honey to Isana's, the way she liked it, then splashed three of them into his own, before returning to her.

They shared a cup of tea, chatting quietly about people and places back home in the Calderon Valley. They talked for a time of Tavi's duties at the Elinarch, and of Isana's journey in assembling the relief column, until Tavi rose to get them both fresh cups of tea.

When he settled down again, Isana said, "Tavi, I hope you know how proud we are of you. Your uncle and I. You've grown into a remarkable young man."

He blinked at her a couple of times, then carefully studied the surface of his tea. Isana's sense of his emotions revealed pleasure in the compliment, and pride, along with large helpings of embarrassment. His cheeks colored slightly. "Well," he said. "I couldn't have done any of it without you and uncle. Teaching me. Preparing me."

Isana felt a little stab of guilt. Preparing him was probably the single greatest thing she
hadn't
done.

She sipped a little more tea, and then frowned down at its surface. "Tavi," she said. "Is it safe to talk here?"

He cocked his head slightly to one side, and she felt the spike of curiosity that flashed through his thoughts. "Yes," he said, with total confidence. "No one can overhear us in here. Why, Aunt Isana?"

Isana took a deep breath. "There's something we need to talk about," she said.

Tavi's face turned red again. "Look, a lot of that is just rumor. I mean, the men get to talking over drinks and every little story grows in the retelling."

Isana blinked at him.

"I mean, it's not like I'm hosting revels or anything. Everyone likes a good story like that, though, and the truth of it isn't as much fun."

"Tavi," Isana said in a firm tone. "What in the wide world are you talking about?"

Tavi froze with his mouth open for a second. Acute chagrin flooded out from him in a wave Isana could practically
see
. Then he swallowed, and said, "Um. Nothing?"

"Well. Yes," he said miserably. "But it isn't like we're… I mean,
some
of the Marat are, um, sort of indiscriminate when it comes to that kind of thing, and a lot of their riders are around me every time I move around, so it's inevitable that some idiots are going to start spouting rumors about it, but it isn't really like that." Tavi paused to take a breath. "Kitai and I are just… together."

Isana sighed. "Stop. Neither one of us wants you to elaborate, Tavi." She turned her teacup idly in her hands. "Well. This could become… very complicated. I should have had this talk with you sooner."

"Um," Tavi said. He might have become a fully grown man now, but Isana was familiar with his uncomfortable squirming. He'd always done that when he'd been caught red-handed as a child. "You don't have to have
that
talk. I had that much figured out by the time I was about ten. I mean, caring for the sheep and all…"

Isana shook her head and surprised herself with a quiet laugh. "No, no, not
that
talk," Isana said. "You don't understand—"

She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. She turned to find Araris standing in the door. "Captain," he said quietly, frowning. "We just got word from one of the men. Senator Arnos's
singulares
are on the way to see you."

Tavi's chin jerked up sharply. "Why?"

Araris shrugged. "No details yet. They're up at the front door now."

"This seems like a good time to speak to Maximus and Crassus about this week's training schedule. Send a runner to them."

Araris thumped his fist to his heart and departed. Tavi bit his lip, glancing around the little office. He opened the second door behind the desk, and said, "Auntie, could I convince you to wait in my chambers? I'd just as soon not explain to the Senator's flunkies what you're doing here."

"Of course," Isana said, rising. She paced quickly through the door. It was difficult to see much without any lamps, but the modest-sized chamber looked as functional and stark as his office, except for the rumpled, double-sized bed. If nothing else, she supposed, the Legions had done that much for him. Anyone who could convince Tavi to keep his room clean couldn't be entirely bad.

Tavi shut the door most of the way, put a finger against his lips in an entirely unnecessary gesture of caution, and then returned to the office. Isana heard him putting the chairs back into position, and heard a tinny clink as he presumably placed one of the tea cups back onto its shelf. His shadow moved across the narrow opening of the cracked door, and he settled down at his desk. Paper rustled. A few seconds later, the door opened again, and several sets of heavy footsteps entered the room.

"Just leave my breakfast tray on the shelf," Tavi said in an absentminded tone. "And none of your nagging. I'll get to it when I get to it."

There was a short, hard silence, broken only by the sound of Tavi's quill scratching on paper.

"Excuse me?" said a woman's voice. It was a quiet voice, one used to speaking in soft tones and whispers, but to Isana's ears, it carried such malice and barely contained rage that she actually flinched away from it.

"Oh," Tavi said. "I beg your pardon. You aren't the valet."

"No," said the woman's voice. "I am—"

"Did the valet send my breakfast with you by any chance?" Tavi asked, his tone innocent and friendly. "I'm starving."

"He did not," said the cold voice.

"I'm sure he meant to," Tavi said. "Do you think you could yell up the stairs and see if it's on the w—"