First Lord's Fury (Codex Alera 6)

Gaius Octavian, the young First Lord of Alera, sat alone and followed the possible paths in his mind. He clenched his fists, hoping in vain for an answer to come, for certainty to suddenly flow through him.

But it didn't.

With a word and a savage slash of his hand, he darkened the tent's furylamps.

No one should see the First Lord weep.

Chapter 12

Amara and Lady Veradis descended onto the forward command center of the Legions surrounding Riva, where the banners of multiple High Lords declared the presence of the most potent powers of the Realm. A nervous young Placidan Lord in charge of aerial security nearly roasted them almost before they had a chance to give him the appropriate password. Amara had been forced to redirect the full force of her windstream into the young man's face, all but scattering him and the squad of Knights Aeris accompanying him from the sky. It was a flier's traditional means of communicating extreme displeasure at the stupidity of a fellow flier, providing a humiliating and discomforting but generally harmless rebuke.

"You're really quite amazing with windcrafting, Countess," Veradis said. The young healer had always seemed to be a woman of great self-possession to Amara, but there was something nervous and quick to the rhythm of her speech tonight. "Honestly. I don't think even my father controls his power that precisely."

"I'm a flier. Your father has several other furycrafts to practice and a city to administrate."

Veradis made no reply, and Amara cursed her thoughtless words. High Lord Cereus certainly had no city anymore. Ceres was a memory, its people a band of scattered and widely dispersed refugees - where they survived at all. "What I meant to say," Amara said quietly, "is thank you, lady."

Veradis gave her a strained nod as they moved out of the circled furylamps of the landing area. Other fliers were streaming in. Amara saw Lord and Lady Placida descending, an unlikely-looking couple: He was stout, plain, and blocky, a man who looked more like a blacksmith or woodworker than a High Lord of Alera. She was tall, regal, a fiercely beautiful woman with long red hair barely constrained by a long braid and an aura of fiery intensity. Both wore Legion armor and carried swords. She carried a slender dueling blade, while Lord Placida bore a great monster of a sword on a belt over one shoulder, a weapon suitable for felling gargants and medium-sized trees with a single stroke.

"Countess Calderon," Lady Placida said. She hurried off the landing area as other fliers descended, nodding to Amara and to Veradis. "Veradis, hello, child. Countess, do you have any idea what's going on?"

"Lady Aria, Lady Isana has been taken," Veradis said. "Men came to her quarters at the inn. They circumvented the furies watching it and took her and Sir Araris."

"What?" Lady Placida asked, her face growing darker.

"In the middle of all of this?" Lord Placida said, waving a hand around at the Legions. He looked up at his wife, and said, "She doesn't have significant strategic value. Could it be personal?"

"You're assuming it was the enemy who took her," Lady Placida said, glancing up at the banners overflying the command tent, foremost among them Lord Aquitaine's. "As the focus of Octavian's support here at Riva, she has a great deal of political value." Her hand strayed to her sword, and she snarled, "I'm going to - "

Placida frowned, staring at nothing, and put his hand over hers before she could draw the blade. "No," he said. "Temper, my love. Think. Attis is cold-blooded, not stupid. Raucus would take his head off." He paused, and allowed, "Or you might."

"Thank you," Lady Placida said, stiffly.

"Or I suppose I might," he mused, taking his hand from hers and drumming his fingers on the baldric of the greatsword. He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Which... could be what the enemy had in mind. Especially now that we know Octavian is on his way."

"Sow division among us? Could these creatures understand us that well?" Lady Placida asked. Some of the anger seemed to ease out of her.

"Invidia could," Placida pointed out.

"I should have called her out years ago," Lady Placida said, scowling.

Lord Placida harrumphed, uncomfortably. "It wouldn't have been very lady-like of either of you."

"There's no way to know what's happened yet," Amara said, cutting across them. "And no, Lady Placida, I don't know what's going on. I was hoping you would."

"The pickets must have seen an approaching force," Placida said confidently. "Our forces are already moving to man the outer palisades. That's the only thing that would have raised this much racket from the Legion captains."

"I thought they were more than a week away," Amara said.

"If it's any consolation, Countess, so did I," Lady Placida said. She glanced at the command tent again as more trumpet signals came drifting on the wind, clearly torn. "Our Legions are in the center of the defenses. We must be there to stand with them, Countess."

Amara nodded. Crafters with the power of the Placidas would be integral components of any battle plan. There was no one to substitute for them. "I'll keep you informed as to what I find."

"Do," Lady Placida said. She put a hand on Amara's shoulder and squeezed. "As soon as I'm free, I'll do whatever I can to help you."

Amara managed not to wince. It might have been a measure of how much pressure Lady Placida was under that she had misjudged the fury-enhanced strength of her own fingers.

Placida took his wife's arm and gestured toward the command tent. "We'll find out whatever we can from Attis. Dear?" The two of them nodded to Amara and Veradis and strode toward the command tent, passing a squad of heavily armed legionares.

"Should we go, too?" Veradis asked.

"Unfortunately, I don't have permission to be inside command," Amara said. "Something about being considered Gaius Sextus's personal assassin, I suppose." Indeed, the legionares on duty outside the tent were watching Amara closely. "And I doubt that you have permission, either."

"No. I'm supposed to be remaining here as a civilian watercrafter when the Legions enter battle." She frowned at the guards, and said, "If we wait here doing nothing, it may be hours before anyone can be sent to Lady Isana's aid."

"That's true."

Veradis frowned more severely. "I suppose we might go in anyway." She eyed the guards. "They seem like perfectly decent soldiers to me, though. I'm not sure I could do it without injuring them, and they haven't earned that. And I dislike the notion of creating work for some poor healer."