Codex Alera 01 - Furies Of Calderon Part 16

She shook her head and leaned against the wall for a moment. Tavi had a powerful personality, a formidable force of will that leant his pa.s.sions an extra weight, somehow, and forced her to struggle more sharply to keep them separate from her own. Not that it was surprising that she should feel him more keenly than anyone else, in any case. She loved him too much, had been near him too long.

To say nothing of the other reasons.

Isana shook her head firmly. Regardless of how drained she felt from last night's crafting, there was no time to waste. She should have remembered her purpose when speaking to the boy: to learn what she could of the previous day's events that Bernard could not remember.

She turned toward her brother's room and took a deep breath. Then she paced inside, determined.

Bernard had left the lamp burning on a low flame, and the room's interior was lit by soft, golden light. Bernard lived simply: He had, ever since Ca.s.sea and the girls had died. He had removed all of her things, packing them in a pair of trunks stowed underneath his bed. He lived out of a single trunk, now, as he had in the Legions. His weapons and gear were stowed on racks on one wall, across from the bare writing desk, all the records for the stead-holt stowed neatly in its drawers.

The girl slept in Bernard's bed. She was tall, with lean features that seemed particularly drawn in the light, dark circles like bruises beneath her eyes. Her skin glowed golden, almost the same shade as her hair. She was beautiful. A braid of leather circled her throat.

Isana frowned at her. Her brother had gotten down the extra blankets and piled them over the girl-though she had evidently stirred enough that her feet had slipped from beneath them. Isana stepped forward absently to cover her feet again and saw that they had been bandaged and covered in slippers of soft calfskin.

Isana stared down at the slippers for a moment. Pale white, st.i.tched neatly, with delicate beadwork tracing a design over the tops. She recognized it at once: She had done it herself, perhaps ten years before. The slippers had been a birthday gift for Ca.s.sea. They had been in the chest beneath the bed for more than a decade.

Isana stepped back from the bed. She wanted to speak to the girl- but her brother had warned her against disturbing her. She had hoped for years that he would find someone else, after he'd lost Ca.s.sea and the girls, but he never had. Bernard had continually kept a quiet distance between himself and anyone else, and those who lived in the Valley, those who remembered his wife and daughters, had simply given him the solitude he wished.

If her brother had found it in himself again to reach out to someone else-and from his words to her and the way he had treated the girl, it seemed that he had-could she so readily act against him?

Isana stepped forward and laid her hand across the girl's forehead. Even before she had reached out through Rill, she felt the mild fever in her. She shivered and slowly extended her senses out, through the fury, and into the sleeping slave.

Bernard had not been mistaken. The girl bore several injuries, from painful cuts upon her legs to a painfully swollen ankle to a sharp, vicious cut along her upper arm. Her body had been pushed to exhaustion, and even in sleep, Isana could feel that the girl was gripped by a terrible worry and fear. She murmured softly to Rill and felt the fury course gently through the girl, mending closed the smaller cuts and easing the swelling and pain. The effort left Isana's head light, and she drew her hand back and concentrated on remaining on her feet.

When she looked down again, the girl had opened her exhausted eyes and was staring up at her. "You," she whispered. "You're the water-crafter that healed the Stead-holder."

Isana nodded and said, "You should rest. I just want to ask you one question." Isana nodded and said, "You should rest. I just want to ask you one question." The girl swallowed and nodded. She let her eyes fall closed. The girl swallowed and nodded. She let her eyes fall closed. "Have you come for the boy?" Isana asked. "Are you here to take him?" "Have you come for the boy?" Isana asked. "Are you here to take him?"

"No," the girl said, and Isana felt the simple truth in her words as clearly as the tone of a silver bell. There was a purity to the way she spoke, a sense of sincerity that rea.s.sured Isana, let her shoulders unknot, if only a little.

"All right," Isana said. She adjusted the blankets over the girl, covering her feet once more. "Sleep. I'll bring you some food in a little while."

The girl did not reply, motionless on the bed, and Isana withdrew from the room, to the top of the stairs. She could hear voices, below, as the hold-folk gathered into the hall. Outside, thunder rumbled, low and ominous, from the north. The events of the night before, the Kord-holders' attack on her, came rushing back in memory, and she shivered.

Then she straightened and walked down the stairs, to deal with the other strangers who had come to Bernard-holt.

Chapter 17

Fidelias waited until the big Stead-holder had padded up the stairs and out of his sight, carrying someone wrapped in a blanket. The former Cursor glanced around the hall. For the moment, at least, he and his companions had been left alone. He turned to Odiana and Aldrick with a frown.

Aldrick stood staring after the Stead-holder and murmured, "Well, I wonder what that was all about." Aldrick stood staring after the Stead-holder and murmured, "Well, I wonder what that was all about." "Fairly obvious," Fidelias said. He glanced at Odiana. "Fairly obvious," Fidelias said. He glanced at Odiana. "Fear," she whispered, and shivered as she leaned closer to Aldrick. "The most delicious fear. Recognition." "Fear," she whispered, and shivered as she leaned closer to Aldrick. "The most delicious fear. Recognition." "Amara." Fidelias nodded. "She's here. That was her." "Amara." Fidelias nodded. "She's here. That was her." Aldrick lifted his eyebrows. "But he never turned around. You never saw her face." Aldrick lifted his eyebrows. "But he never turned around. You never saw her face."

Fidelias gave Aldrick an even look and suppressed a surge of irritation. "Aldrick, please. Do you expect her to hang a sign on the door that she's here? It all fits. Three sets of tracks-the boy's, the Stead-holder's, and hers. She was limping. That's why he was carrying her."

Aldrick sighed. "All right then. I'll go up and kill those two, and we can be about it." He turned away and lifted a hand to his sword.

"Aldrick," Fidelias hissed. He seized the swordsman's arm at the biceps and reached down into the earth to borrow from his fury's strength. He stopped the larger man cold.

Aldrick glanced down at Fidelias's arm and relaxed. "That was the point, wasn't it?" the swordsman said. "Fidelias, we have have to stop them from reporting to Gram. Without the element of surprise, this entire campaign could be for to stop them from reporting to Gram. Without the element of surprise, this entire campaign could be for nothing nothing. We came here to find the Stead-holder and the boy who had seen our friend Atsurak, and kill them. Oh, and the agent of the crows-eaten Crown Crown if we happen to run across her, which we have." if we happen to run across her, which we have."

"Love," Odiana said. "We still don't know where this boy is, do we? If you go and kill the ugly little girl right now, won't the Stead-holder object? And then you'd have to kill him as well. And anyone else upstairs. And all these people here..." She licked her lips, her eyes bright, and said to Fidelias, "Why shouldn't we do this again?"

"Remember where you are," Fidelias said. "This is the most dangerous area of the Realm. Powerful furies, dangerous beasts. This isn't one of the old plantations of the Amaranth Vale. It breeds strong crafters. Did you see the way that boy handled those gargants out front? And he calmed our mounts when they got nervous-that wasn't me. And he did it without so much as stopping to make an effort. A boy boy. Think about it."

Aldrick shrugged. "They don't go armed. They're Stead-holders, not warriors. We could kill them all."

"Probably," Fidelias said. "But what if that retired Legionnaire Stead-holder is a strong crafter to boot? What if some of the other holders here are that strong? Odds are some of them would escape-and since we don't know who the boy we're looking for is is we'd never know if we got him." we'd never know if we got him."

"What about that boy out front?" Odiana asked. "That lovely strong tall one with the gargants."

"His feet are too big," Fidelias said. "The rain all but obliterated the tracks, but the ones from earlier today are clearer. We're looking for a smallish boy, not growing a beard yet-or possibly a girl. Atsurak probably wouldn't know the difference at that age, if a girl had been wearing breeches. The Marat don't make the same distinctions we do."

"He had big hands, too," Odiana mused, and leaned against Aldrick, her eyes heavy, drowsy. "May I have him, love?"

Aldrick leaned down and absently kissed her hair. "You'd only kill him, and then he'd be no good to you."

"Get the idea out of your heads," Fidelias said, his tone firm. "We have an objective. Find the boy. The storm is rolling in behind us, and everyone will be gathering into the hall. As soon as we find him, we'll take him, the Stead-holder, and the Cursor and leave."

Aldrick grunted a.s.sent. "And what if we don't? What if he's already gone off to Garrison to warn the local Count?"

Fidelias grimaced and looked around. "I grew up on a stead-holt, and you'd never keep something like that a secret. If that's what has happened, we'll hear about it when everyone gathers in."

"But what if-"

"We've borrowed trouble enough," Fidelias sighed. He shook his head and slapped Aldrick's arm gently, releasing him. "If the boy has already left, the storm will be as dangerous to him as anyone. We'll catch him, and the result will be the same." His eyes glittered. "But Aldrick. Why don't you take Odiana out to make sure the horses are all right? I'll handle things in here, and if there's killing to be done, I'll let you know who and where."

Aldrick frowned down at him. "You sure about this? In here by yourself- what if you need help?"

"I won't," Fidelias a.s.sured him. "Go on to the stables. Make it clear that you're looking for a bit of privacy. I'm sure they'll let a couple of newlywed travelers have it."

Aldrick arched his brows. "Newlywed?"

The water witch's eyes smoldered. Odiana flashed a smile to Fidelias, then turned to Aldrick with a sway of her hips and took one of his hands in hers. She kissed his fingers as she walked backward, toward the doors to the hall. "I'll explain it to you, love. Let's go find the stables. There will be hay there. Would you like to see the hay in my hair?"

Aldrick's eyes narrowed, and he let out a low and not unpleased sound. "Ah." He started out, keeping hold of Odiana's hands. "I knew there was a reason I liked working with you, old man."

"Just be listening," Fidelias warned quietly.

The witch nodded and replied, "Keep a cup in your hands, and drink in the cup. I'll hear." Then she and the swordsman vanished toward the stone stables.

No sooner had they left than Fidelias heard a heavy tread on the stairs leading down into the hall, and the Stead-holder appeared again, his face set in something between a frown and a scowl. He looked around and said, "Sorry about that. Just had to take care of someone hurt."

"Ah," said Fidelias, studying the man. He stepped with the faintest trace of hesitation on his left side, as though it pained him slightly to do so. If he had been wounded, as Atsurak had indicated, then the wound had been crafted shut-which meant that a reasonably powerful water-crafter resided in the stead-holt as well. "Nothing too bad, I hope."

The man shook his head and said, "Nothing we can't handle." He extended a hand to several seats by the fire. "Sit down, sit down. Let me get you a cup of something hot."

Fidelias murmured a thanks and settled down by the fire with the large man. "Stead-holder... Bernard, I a.s.sume?" Fidelias murmured a thanks and settled down by the fire with the large man. "Stead-holder... Bernard, I a.s.sume?" "Just Bernard, sir." "Just Bernard, sir." "Please. Just Del." "Please. Just Del." The Stead-holder half-smiled. "Del. So what brings you out to Garrison this late in the year, Del?" The Stead-holder half-smiled. "Del. So what brings you out to Garrison this late in the year, Del?"

"Business," Fidelias replied. "I represent a group of investors who fronted several prospectors money to locate gems in the wilderness over the summer. They should be coming back in, with the weather turning worse, and we'll see what they've found."

Bernard nodded. "I thought you had a couple more with you. Where did your friends go?"

Fidelias gave him a warm grin and a wink. "Ah yes. My guardsman is a newlywed, and I let him bring his wife with him. They went out to check on the horses."

The Stead-holder gave Fidelias a polite smile. "To be young again, eh?" The Stead-holder gave Fidelias a polite smile. "To be young again, eh?" Fidelias agreed, "My days of creeping off to stables with blushing maids are long past." Fidelias agreed, "My days of creeping off to stables with blushing maids are long past." "The storm's coming in. I want to have everyone here in the hall, just to be safe." "The storm's coming in. I want to have everyone here in the hall, just to be safe." Fidelias nodded. "I'm sure they'll be along in a little while." Fidelias nodded. "I'm sure they'll be along in a little while." The Stead-holder nodded. "See to it that they are. I'll have no one harmed while under my roof." The Stead-holder nodded. "See to it that they are. I'll have no one harmed while under my roof."

Fidelias detected a slight edge to the words, one the Stead-holder himself probably wasn't aware of. His instincts twinged, a low and subtle alarm lending an edge of tension to him, but he nodded and smiled and said, "Of course."

"If you'll excuse me, then. I need to make the rounds and make sure everything's secured before the storm comes down."

"Of course. Again, thank you for your hospitality. If I can be of any a.s.sistance to you, let me know."

Bernard grunted and rose, his expression preoccupied. Fidelias watched the man carefully, but could read little of him through his body language. Tense, to be sure, but wouldn't any Stead-holder be, when facing a threat to his holders? He carried his leg stiffly, still, as he moved out of the hall and into the courtyard, and just before he left, the big man glanced over his shoulder, toward a staircase in the far corner of the hall.

Fidelias watched him and waited until the Stead-holder had left the hall to glance at the staircase himself. Interesting.

A moment later, a pretty young girl brought a steaming mug out to Fidelias's seat by the fire, presenting it to him with a slight curtsey. "Sir."

He smiled at her and accepted the mug. "Thank you, young lady. But please, call me Del."

She smiled at him, a winsome expression. "My name is Beritte, sir-Del."

"A lovely name for a lovely girl." He sipped at the drink, a tea he vaguely recognized. "Mmmm, wonderful. I suppose you've had an interesting few days here, with the storm and all that's happened."

She nodded, folding her hands in front of her and inhaling just enough to let her bodice round out her young b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Between all the excitement yesterday and then last night, it's been one thing after another. Though I suppose it isn't anything compared to the life of a gem merchant, sir."

His eyebrows lifted, and he said, letting a small smile touch his mouth, His eyebrows lifted, and he said, letting a small smile touch his mouth, "I don't remember mentioning that to you, Beritte. I thought I was alone with the Stead-holder." "I don't remember mentioning that to you, Beritte. I thought I was alone with the Stead-holder." Her cheeks colored bright scarlet. "Oh, sir-I'm sorry. I've a little wind-crafting you see and..." Her cheeks colored bright scarlet. "Oh, sir-I'm sorry. I've a little wind-crafting you see and..." "And you listened in?" he suggested. "And you listened in?" he suggested.

"We so seldom have visitors to Bernard-holt, sir," the girl said. She looked up, her eyes direct. "I'm ever so interested in new, exciting people."

Who are wealthy gem merchants, Fidelias thought wryly. "Completely understandable. Though honestly, from the things I've heard..." He leaned closer to her, looking left and right. "Was the Stead-holder really hurt yesterday?"

The girl knelt down beside the chair, leaning toward him just enough to let him see the curve of her bosom should he look down. "Yes, and it was terrible. He was so pale that when Fade-Fade's our idiot, sir, the poor man- first dragged him in here, I thought the Stead-holder was dead. And then Kord and his sons went mad, and the Stead-holders all set to fighting one another with their furies." Her eyes gleamed. "I've never seen anything like it. Perhaps later, after dinner, you'd like to hear more about it."

Fidelias nodded, meeting her eyes. "That sounds very exciting, Beritte. And the boy? Was he hurt as well?" Fidelias nodded, meeting her eyes. "That sounds very exciting, Beritte. And the boy? Was he hurt as well?" The girl blinked at him for a moment, expression confused, and then asked, blankly, "Tavi, sir? Is that who you mean?" The girl blinked at him for a moment, expression confused, and then asked, blankly, "Tavi, sir? Is that who you mean?" "I'd only heard there was a boy hurt as well." "I'd only heard there was a boy hurt as well."

"Oh... I suppose you mean Tavi, then, but he's no one. And even though he's the Stead-holder's nephew, we don't really like to talk about him very much, sir. He and simple Fade."

"The boy's an idiot as well?"

"Oh, he's clever enough, I suppose-just as Fade is handy enough with a smith's hammer. But he's never going to be much more than Fade is." She leaned closer to him, so that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed against his arm, and whispered importantly, "He's fury-less, sir."

"Entirely?" Fidelias tilted his head, holding his cup where he could be sure his voice would strike the drink within it squarely. "I've never heard of such a thing. Do you think I could meet him?"

Beritte shrugged. "If you really want to. He went up to his room, when the Stead-holder brought him and that slave home. I suppose he'll be down for dinner."

Fidelias nodded toward the stairs the Stead-holder had glanced at. "Upstairs there? Do you know if the slave is up there as well?"

Beritte frowned at him. "I suppose. They'll be down for dinner, I expect. I'm cooking tonight, and I'm a very good cook, sir. I'd love to hear what you think of-"

A new voice interrupted the girl, confident and smooth. "Beritte, that will be quite enough from you. You've ch.o.r.es in the kitchen. Attend to them."

The girl flushed an angry and embarra.s.sed pink, rose to give Fidelias a swift curtsey, and then fled the hall, back toward the kitchens.

Fidelias lifted his eyes to see a tall, girlish figure wearing a dressing gown. Long, dark hair spilled over her shoulders, down to her waist. Her face was youthful, with a pleasingly full mouth. She carried herself with quiet confidence, and he noted the threads of silver in her hair. This would be the water-crafter, then.

At once, Fidelias drew in his emotions, carefully controlling them, veiling them from her perceptions, even as he rose to bow to her. "Lady Stead-holder?"

She regarded him with a cool expression, her own features every bit as masked as he knew his own were. "I am the Stead-holder's sister, Isana. Welcome to Bernard-holt, sir."

"A pleasure. I hope I did not steal away the girl for too long." "A pleasure. I hope I did not steal away the girl for too long." "As do I," Isana said. "She has a tendency to talk when she should listen." "As do I," Isana said. "She has a tendency to talk when she should listen." "There are many like her across the Realm," he murmured. "There are many like her across the Realm," he murmured. "May I inquire as to your business in Bernard-holt, sir?" "May I inquire as to your business in Bernard-holt, sir?"

The question was innocuous enough, but Fidelias sensed the trap in it. He kept tight rein on his feelings and said, blithely, "We seek shelter from the coming storm, lady, and are pa.s.sing through on our way to Garrison."

"I see." She glanced after the girl and said, "I hope you have no plans to make away with any of our young people, sir."

Fidelias let out a low laugh. "Naturally not, lady."

Her eyes moved back to his and remained there, steady, for several long beats. He regarded her in reply with a blank, pleasant smile.

"But where are my manners?" the woman said. "A moment, sir." She crossed to the fire and took from a shelf near it a pan, some clean cloths. She filled the pan from the pipe that pa.s.sed through the rear of the fireplace, the water steaming, and moved back to him. She knelt in front of him, setting the pan aside, and began unlacing his boots.

Fidelias frowned. Though the gesture would have been common enough in a city, it was rarely observed in the stead-holts, particularly those this far from civilization. "Really, lady, this isn't necessary."

She looked up at him, and he thought he caught a glimmer of triumph in her eyes. "Oh, but it is. I insist, sir. It is to our very great honor that we treat our guests with courtesy and hospitality."

"You're already doing enough," he said.

She tugged his boot off and tossed it to one side. The other soon joined it. "Nonsense. My brother would be horrified if I did not treat you with all the honor you deserve."

Fidelias settled back with his tea, frowning, but unable to voice any particular protest against the ritual. As she washed his feet, people began to trickle into the hall by threes and fours and fives; families, mostly, he noted. The stead-holt was a prosperous one. Though the seats around the fire were given a respectful s.p.a.ce, the rest of the large hall was soon filled with motion and sound and quietly festive talk-the mark of a folk who knew that they were safe, while outside the thunder rolled, the wind was rising, and the storm chimes were clanging away in steady rhythm.

Isana finished and said, "I'll just have these brushed clean, sir, and send them right back to you." She rose, taking his boots in hand. "I'm afraid we can offer only clean blankets and a place beside the fire this night. We'll have our dinner together and then turn in for the night."

Fidelias glanced at the stairs and then back to the water-crafter. Simple enough, then. Once everyone was sleeping, even the suspicious water-crafter, it would be an easy enough matter to slit three throats in the darkness and slip away before morning light. "Everyone together at dinner." He smiled at her and said, "That sounds per-"

The doors to the hall abruptly slammed open, and Aldrick stormed in, letting in the howling wind. Rain and sleet pounded down around his broad shoulders and across the threshold with him. Odiana clung to his side. Both looked disheveled, straw littering their hair and clothing. Aldrick cut through the crowded hall and came straight to Fidelias, the holders scattering out of his way, like sheep before a running horse.

"Fidelias," Aldrick breathed, keeping his voice low. "Someone has let our horses out. They know."

Fidelias let out a curse and looked toward the water-crafter-only to see her holding her skirts with one hand while she dashed up the far staircase, his boots in her other.