First Lord's Fury (Codex Alera 6)

Crassus exhaled through his nose and nodded stiffly. "As you wish."

Tavi turned back to the map. "Let's see," he said. "Vord are winning. Two-thousand-mile march. No supplies. Ten months to go before the survivors are wiped out." He turned back to them. "I think that's about it. Any questions?"

The last member of the campaign council wore the blue-and-red tunic of a Legion valet. His wispy white hair drifted around his mostly bald pate, his eyes were watery, and his hands, though covered with liver spots, were steady. "Ah. Your Highness?"

"Yes, Maestro Magnus?"

"As your de facto commander of intelligence, I..." He shrugged diffidently. "Believe that it's just possible that I should be aware of the source of your information."

He spoke the last several words through clenched teeth.

Tavi nodded soberly. "I can see why you'd feel that way." He looked around at the rest of them. "Crassus and his Knights Aeris have found us a decent patch of ground to land upon. We'll move in with the Legions and warriors first and debark the civilians as time allows." Tavi turned to Varg, and said, "We'll have to move quickly. I'll do everything I can to make sure that your folk have whatever shelter is available."

"So that the vord overrun them in a few days?" Nasaug asked.

Varg turned slightly toward his get with a faint, low growl of reproof. He faced Tavi without blinking. "His point is valid."

Tavi inhaled deeply and nodded. "You're right, of course. They'll need the protection of the city's walls."

Max shook his head gravely. "Old Vanorius is not going to like this."

"He doesn't need to like it," Tavi said bluntly. "He just needs to do it." He paused and softened his tone. "Besides, I can't imagine he'll be too upset about gaining several thousand Canim militia to help him defend the walls."

Varg let out an interrogative growl, his head tilting slightly.

Tavi regarded him steadily. "Did you think I'd expect you to leave your civilians here alone and unguarded?"

"And if you get us to do some of the fighting for you," Varg said, "so much the better for your folk."

"You aren't the vord," Tavi said, simply. "We can work out our problems later."

Varg stared at him for a moment, then tilted his head slightly to one side. "Tavar," he rumbled, rising. "I will see to the preparations as you suggest."

Tavi returned the Canim-style bow, careful to use exactly the same degree and duration as Varg. "It is appreciated, Warmaster. Good day. And to you, Nasaug."

"Tavar," the younger Cane growled. The pair of them left the cabin, almost seeming to fold in on themselves to fit through the door. The others took that as their cue to be about their own duties and also filed out.

"Magnus," Tavi said quietly. "A moment."

The old Cursor paused and looked back at Tavi.

"The door," Tavi said.

Magnus shut the door and turned to face him. "Your Highness?"

"I'm sorry I cut you off earlier. I hope I didn't entirely sever both legs."

"Your Highness." Magnus sighed. "This is no time for levity."

"I know," Tavi said quietly. "And I do need your help. My intelligence is... incomplete. I'll need you to speak to whoever Lord Vanorius has bringing in information and sort out exactly where Aquitaine is and how we might contact him."

"Your Highness - "

"I can't tell you, Magnus," Tavi said in a calm, quiet voice. "I'm quite certain my grandfather never revealed all of his sources to you."

Magnus regarded Tavi thoughtfully for a few moments. Then he bowed his head, and said, "Very well, Your Highness."

"Thank you," Tavi said. "Now. You've been giving Marcus odd looks for weeks. I want to know why."

Magnus shook his head. After a moment, he said, "I'm not sure I trust him."

Tavi frowned. "Crows, man. Valiar Marcus? Why not?"

"He..." Magnus sighed. "It's nothing I can quantify. And I've been trying for weeks. There's just... something off."

Tavi grunted. "Are you sure?"

"Of course not," Magnus replied, automatically. "Nothing's sure."

Tavi nodded. "But you haven't let go of it, either."

"It's my gut," Magnus said. "I know it. I just can't figure out how I know it." He lifted a hand and pushed white hair back from his eyes. "It's possible I'm going senile, I suppose." He peered at Tavi suddenly. "How long have you known about Sextus?"

"Since a few days after we escaped Canea," Tavi said quietly.

"And you said nothing."

Tavi shrugged. "What would it have changed except to frighten everyone and make us appear more vulnerable to the Canim?" He shook his head. "Everyone sitting on slow ships with nothing to do but chew on bad thoughts - we'd have had blood on the decks in a week. This way, by the time word gets around, we'll be in the middle of operations. Everyone will have work to turn his hand to."

Magnus sighed. "Yes. I suppose it was necessary to keep it quiet." He shook his head, his eyes gleaming faintly for a moment. "But please, Your Highness. Don't make a habit of such things. My heart can only take so much."

"I'll do what I can," Tavi said. He nodded to Magnus and turned back toward his desk. "Oh, Maestro."

"Hmm?"

Tavi looked up from a weary slump on his chair. "Valiar Marcus has saved my life. And I, his. I can't imagine that he would ever turn against the Legion. Or against me."

Magnus was silent for a moment. Then he said, quietly, "That's what everyone always thinks about traitors, lad. It's why we hate them so."

The old man left the cabin.

Aquitainus Attis, the man who had been striving to take the Crown of Alera for most of his lifetime, was now only a heartbeat away from taking it incontestably. Could there be one more knife lurking, awaiting the right moment to strike?

Tavi closed his eyes. He felt fragile. He felt frightened.

Then he rose abruptly, stalked across the room, and began donning his armor, a suit taken from a legionare who had perished of his wounds after the evacuation to replace the one he'd lost in the harbor city of Molvar. The familiar weight of Aleran lorica settled upon him, cold and solid. He slung his sword at his hip and felt the cold power of the steel singing quietly down the length of the blade.

There was work to be done.