Captain's Fury (Codex Alera 4)

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 Aler-ans 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, ckala." 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."