Codex Alera 05 - Princeps' Fury Part 13

The High Lord closed his mouth and glared at Lady Placida. Then he looked away from her and shook his head.

"Perhaps you could use some rest," Aria suggested.

Raucus grunted. A moment later, he said, to Isana, "Your savage is here. Camped out with my savages. You're to meet in the morning. Garius will show you to your chambers."

He spun, his scarlet cloak flaring out, and stalked away, out of the torchlight. He spun, his scarlet cloak flaring out, and stalked away, out of the torchlight. Isana shivered again and rubbed her arms with her hands. Isana shivered again and rubbed her arms with her hands. "Ladies," Garius said, "if you'll follow me, please, I will show you to your rooms." "Ladies," Garius said, "if you'll follow me, please, I will show you to your rooms." The art of compromise? The art of compromise?

How in the world was she supposed to find a compromise when one side of the conflict, at least, simply did not want want to find a peaceful resolution? to find a peaceful resolution?

CHAPTER 15

Marcus paused outside the Princeps' cabin at the sound of raised voices within.

"What is it you think we're supposed to do, Magnus?" Maximus demanded in a blunt tone. "The Princeps-and every Cane in the range of Shuar, apparently-believes that it is necessary."

"It is an unacceptable risk," answered the Legion's valet, his voice crackling with precisely restrained anger. "The Princeps of Alera simply does not not wander the land of a foreign power alone, vulnerable and unsecured." wander the land of a foreign power alone, vulnerable and unsecured."

"It's not as though he's a helpless babe," pointed out Antillus Cra.s.sus's calmer, more measured voice. "Perhaps my brother has a point, Magnus."

Marcus smiled faintly. He knew Cra.s.sus well enough by then to know that the young man had a better head on his shoulders than to agree with Maximus about sending the Princeps into the heart of a Canim nation alone. But siding with his brother would neatly undermine Maximus's objection when Cra.s.sus capitulated.

"Octavian's life is irreplaceable," Magnus stated. "If every single life in this expedition had to be sacrificed to see him safely back to Alera again, it would be our duty to do everything in our power to make sure that it happened as rapidly and efficiently as possible. We are expendable, gentlemen. He is not."

"I am neither a gentleman nor expendable," the young Marat woman interjected. "Nor do I see how the deaths of all of your people could possibly get my Aleran safely home again. You've seen him on the open water. Do you honestly think he could manage a ship on his own?"

There was a beat of startled silence, then Magnus said, his tone sour, "I was speaking in hypothetical terms, Amba.s.sador."

"Ah," Kitai said, her tone wry. "Explain again to me the difference between hypothesis and make-believe."

"All right," said Octavian in his resonant baritone. Already, Marcus thought he could hear the gravity of greater authority settling into the young man's voice. "I think we've beaten this particular gargant to death."

"Your Highness-" Magnus began.

"Magnus," Octavian said, "I am, for all practical purposes, a prisoner-as is our fleet. The Shuarans control the harbor. If I do not go to see Warmaster Lararl after claiming the protection of his respect, there's nothing to stop them from turning those stone throwers on us and sending us all to the bottom of their harbor-including me. That isn't the way to get me safely back to Alera."

"We could win free," Magnus said stiffly.

"Perhaps. If we broke the truce and our word, betrayed the trust they've extended, and attacked them first." Octavian's voice hardened slightly. "That isn't going to happen, Magnus. It could prove every bit as dangerous in the long term."

"Your Highness-"

Octavian didn't raise his voice with his anger. In fact, it grew quieter, if sharper and more clearly p.r.o.nounced. "Enough."

Marcus lifted his hand, knocked once on the door, and opened it without waiting for a response, as he usually did. His entrance surprised everyone within. They all turned to blink at him.

Marcus saluted. "Your Highness. I overheard your discussion as I approached. If it isn't too forward of me, sir, may I offer a suggestion?"

Octavian's eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline. "Please." Octavian's eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline. "Please." "Sir, when Varg was at the capital, didn't he have a bunch of his own honor guards with him? Tokens of his station or some such?" "Sir, when Varg was at the capital, didn't he have a bunch of his own honor guards with him? Tokens of his station or some such?" "Certainly." "Certainly." "Seems to me you could claim the same." "Seems to me you could claim the same." Maximus scowled and shook his head. "The Canim told him that he had to travel alone." Maximus scowled and shook his head. "The Canim told him that he had to travel alone."

"An honor guard is appropriate to a man of his station," Marcus replied. "What are they going to do? Back down because they're afraid of a few men he takes with him?"

Octavian smiled faintly and pointed a finger at Marcus. "Point. If it was phrased that way, they'd have little choice but to accept it or look like cowards. A few men couldn't be a threat to the Shuarans."

Magnus shook his head. "That's precisely the problem. I'd much rather the Princeps' bodyguard could annihilate a thousand attackers at least."

Octavian sat forward in his seat. "I don't need to annihilate thousands, Magnus. But a few men could could fly me out of trouble and back to the ships if they happened to be Knights Aeris. Or hide us and let us travel back hidden behind a veil if they were woodcrafters. I'd say I would need to take as much guile as power. Would you agree, Marcus?" fly me out of trouble and back to the ships if they happened to be Knights Aeris. Or hide us and let us travel back hidden behind a veil if they were woodcrafters. I'd say I would need to take as much guile as power. Would you agree, Marcus?"

"In essence," Marcus said. "Yes, sir. Even if the entire force was with you, sir, we couldn't fight a country full of Canim and win-but we do have strength enough to take and hold this port for a time, if we must. What you need is a group small enough to avoid alarming the Canim-but with enough muscle to get out of a tight spot and enough finesse and skill to get back here through a hostile countryside if need be."

Octavian nodded sharply. "That sounds quite reasonable."

"By what madman's standard? Reasonable relative to what what?" asked Magnus. His voice was dry, but the bitter undertones had gone out of it.

"Suggestions?" Octavian asked, giving Magnus an amused and tolerant glance. "Suggestions?" Octavian asked, giving Magnus an amused and tolerant glance. "Me," Maximus said at once. "Me," Maximus said at once. "Concur," Marcus agreed. The big Antillan was an engine of destruction in a fight of any scale. "Concur," Marcus agreed. The big Antillan was an engine of destruction in a fight of any scale. "Me," Cra.s.sus said a second later. "Me," Cra.s.sus said a second later. "Yes," Magnus said. "You said you'd need finesse as well." "Yes," Magnus said. "You said you'd need finesse as well." "I am going," Kitai stated. "I am going," Kitai stated. "Lady Amba.s.sador," Magnus began, "it might be better if-" "Lady Amba.s.sador," Magnus began, "it might be better if-"

"I am going," Kitai repeated, in exactly the same tone of voice, as she rose and walked over to the cabin's door. "The Aleran will explain it to you."

Marcus stepped aside as the Marat woman left the cabin and shut the door behind her. Marcus stepped aside as the Marat woman left the cabin and shut the door behind her. Octavian shook his head and sighed. "That's three. Who else, do you think? Radeus? A fast flier might be handy." Octavian shook his head and sighed. "That's three. Who else, do you think? Radeus? A fast flier might be handy." "Durias, sir," Marcus said, without hesitation. "Durias, sir," Marcus said, without hesitation. Octavian arched an eyebrow at the suggestion. Octavian arched an eyebrow at the suggestion. Cra.s.sus frowned. "He's . . . Isn't he the First Spear of the Free Aleran Legion?" Cra.s.sus frowned. "He's . . . Isn't he the First Spear of the Free Aleran Legion?" Marcus nodded. Marcus nodded.

"Ridiculous," Magnus said. "We know almost nothing about the man. He owes nothing to the Realm and has no interest in keeping the Princeps safe. In point of fact, he's a traitor."

"Let's not wave that brush around too wildly, Magnus," Octavian said. "You never know whom it will stain."

Marcus found himself smiling faintly, and Octavian answered the expression with one of his own. The young man would think Marcus was smiling about the young Princeps' actions of the year before, when he had infiltrated the Grey Tower in Alera Imperia and kidnapped Amba.s.sador Varg out from under the noses of the Grey Guard. Let him. Octavian had enough on his mind without burdening him with another bit of unpleasant knowledge.

"Why Durias, First Spear?" Octavian asked.

"He knows the Canim, sir," Marcus replied. "He worked closely with them, marched beside them, trained with one. He'll know them better than any of us-even better than you, sir. Know their capabilities in comparison to ours, know their methods, know the way they think. He'll be better able than almost anyone in the expedition to tell you what the Canim do and do not know about Aleran capabilities, and unless I miss my guess, he's no slouch with his own earthcrafting or knowledge of fieldcraft."

The old Cursor stared quietly at Marcus for a long moment before he finally spoke. "The question is," Magnus said, "whether or not he'll be willing willing to share that knowledge with you, my lord. Durias has no love for Alera or her Citizens." to share that knowledge with you, my lord. Durias has no love for Alera or her Citizens."

"Nor would I, had I lived as he did," Octavian replied. "Alerans enslaved him. Varg's people freed him from bondage and taught him to fight so that he could protect that freedom. I'd be more than half-willing to let Alera hang, if I'd grown up in the same circ.u.mstances."

"Then I advise you to choose someone else," Magnus said.

Octavian shook his head. "The First Spear is right, Magnus. Max and Cra.s.sus, between them, have all the furycraft anyone could need. Kitai is one of the better scouts and trackers in the Legion. I'd trust her to be able to find her way back to the ship if the Canim blindfolded her and tossed her in a sack for the journey to visit their Warmaster." He thumped a finger against the side of his head. "What's more valuable to us now than any number of swords or furies is knowledge-all we can get. Durias has it. We need it. So we need him."

"And what makes you think he'll cooperate?" Magnus said. "And what makes you think he'll cooperate?" Magnus said. Octavian smiled. "I did him a good turn once." Octavian smiled. "I did him a good turn once." Maximus snorted. "Aye. His nose never did heal up straight from your good turn, either." Maximus snorted. "Aye. His nose never did heal up straight from your good turn, either."

"Leave Durias to me," the Princeps said, his tone confident. "Magnus, would you see to it that he gets a message. Invite him to come see me at his earliest convenience, please."

"Of course, my lord." "Of course, my lord." "Good. Gentlemen, if you would excuse me, I would speak with the First Spear for a moment." "Good. Gentlemen, if you would excuse me, I would speak with the First Spear for a moment." The others took their leave and departed the cabin, leaving Marcus alone with the Princeps. The others took their leave and departed the cabin, leaving Marcus alone with the Princeps. "Sir?" Marcus said, once they were alone. "Sir?" Marcus said, once they were alone. "Sit down, please," Octavian said, gesturing at the other chair in the cabin. "Sit down, please," Octavian said, gesturing at the other chair in the cabin. Marcus pulled up the chair and did so, frowning. "You about to demote me or something, sir?" Marcus pulled up the chair and did so, frowning. "You about to demote me or something, sir?"

Octavian's mouth turned up into a quick grin. "Something like that. Magnus tells me that you did some excellent work gathering intelligence during the voyage. That you managed to get a look at several of their charts-and that you were the one the Hunters contacted when they wanted to pa.s.s information along to us."

Marcus shrugged. "The Trueblood Trueblood is their largest vessel, and their flagship. It's got the most people coming and going, the most traffic, the most activity. I imagine anyone could have done what I did." is their largest vessel, and their flagship. It's got the most people coming and going, the most traffic, the most activity. I imagine anyone could have done what I did."

"Nevertheless, you were the one who did it," Octavian said. "You went beyond anything you could reasonably have been expected to do, Marcus." He folded his hands and frowned. "And I'm about to ask you to go even further."

Marcus frowned and waited. Marcus frowned and waited. "I'm leaving you in command of the Legions," Octavian said. "I'm leaving you in command of the Legions," Octavian said. Marcus lifted his eyebrows. "Sir? You can't do that." Marcus lifted his eyebrows. "Sir? You can't do that."

"The crows I can't. I'm the Princeps of b.l.o.o.d.y Alera and the commander of this expedition. I can establish whatever chain of command I think appropriate."

Marcus shook his head. "Sir, there are a number of Tribunes in the First who outrank me-and I'm not at all sure that the Captain of the Free Aleran is going to like the idea of a centurion in the First Aleran giving him orders."

"You've got more field experience than any two Tribunes in either Legion," the Princeps replied. "And there aren't many men alive who are members of the Crown's House of the Valiant. Even in the Free Aleran, the name of Valiar Marcus carries respect."

Marcus frowned and looked down at the scarred knuckles of his hands.

"It's more or less an open secret by now," Octavian continued. "Magnus isn't really a mere valet."

"Cursor?" Marcus asked, purely for form. Valiar Marcus would need to confirm a suspicion, after all. He wouldn't be one hundred percent certain.

The Princeps nodded. "My grandfather appointed him my advisor in political matters. I intend his decisions to guide the expedition in diplomatic matters while I am gone. You have authority over security or military decisions. In the end, though, Marcus, I expect you to keep everything together until I get back."

Marcus exhaled slowly. "Understood, sir."

"I'll be meeting with the Tribunes shortly, to let them know how I expect things to run in my absence-and with the officers of the Free Aleran, after that. All things considered, I think they'll be nervous enough at being surrounded by hostile Canim to be willing to be cooperative, provided they're treated with respect."

"I'll break enough heads to get that point across, sir," Marcus promised. "I'll break enough heads to get that point across, sir," Marcus promised. "Good," Octavian said, rising, and Marcus mirrored the gesture. "Good," Octavian said, rising, and Marcus mirrored the gesture. "Sir?" Marcus asked. "May I ask you a question?" "Sir?" Marcus asked. "May I ask you a question?" "Of course." "Of course." "Do you really expect to come back from this meeting with the Shuaran Warmaster alive?" "Do you really expect to come back from this meeting with the Shuaran Warmaster alive?" The young Princeps' face became an expressionless mask. "You don't think he's going to meet with me in good faith?" The young Princeps' face became an expressionless mask. "You don't think he's going to meet with me in good faith?" "Your Highness," Marcus said, "from what I've heard, there is a b.l.o.o.d.y idiot in charge of the warrior caste here." "Your Highness," Marcus said, "from what I've heard, there is a b.l.o.o.d.y idiot in charge of the warrior caste here." "Yes," the Princeps said. "That's true." "Yes," the Princeps said. "That's true." Marcus grimaced. "Then they're hiding something, sir." Marcus grimaced. "Then they're hiding something, sir." "Why do you say that, First Spear?" "Why do you say that, First Spear?"

"Think about it. If you had one b.l.o.o.d.y fortified port on your entire sh.o.r.eline, would you leave an incompetent in charge of it? Or would you put the best commander you could find in that position."

Octavian frowned, his brow furrowing.

"Doesn't make any sense," Marcus said. "There's got to be some kind of pressure forcing that kind of appointment. Which says to me that this Warmaster doesn't have the kind of control he would like to have. If I were you, sir, I'd want to know why not. Might be important."

"You're right," Octavian said quietly. "I hadn't thought of it in quite those terms, but you're right. Thank you."

Marcus nodded. "Sir."

"I'll be departing within two hours," Octavian said. "In that time, I want you to make me a list of anything you think you'll need my approval to get done. Draw them up as separate items, and I'll sign off on them before I go."

"Yes, sir," Marcus said. "Best of luck on your journey, sir."

"To both of us, Marcus. Though I'd rather neither of us needed it."

CHAPTER 16

The journey from Molvar to Shuar took four days, all of them along a stretch of hilly, windy country that supported little but yellowed gra.s.s, peeking up through early snows, and rounded black stone. By the end of the third day, the taurg Tavi was riding had only tried to kill him twice-since lunchtime. By the standards of Canim cavalry, the beast was behaving admirably.

The taurg most closely resembled a bull, Tavi had decided. It was a bit bigger, and considerably humpier about the shoulders. Its rear quarters were much more heavily muscled, as well, and its legs were longer, springier, more in proportion to a hare's than to anything so large as it was. The beast was covered with thick, curly fur that ranged from deep grey on its blunt muzzle to blue-black on its shoulders and haunches. Its neck was thick, its head was rather tiny, and its brow was half-encircled by a ma.s.sive, bony ridge that was capable, so the Canim claimed, of smashing through stone walls. Its eyes were tiny and pink and hostile, its wide nostrils drooled a constant stream of s...o...b..ry mucus, and its cloven hooves struck at a speed that rivaled that of any warhorse in Alera-and hit with several times the power.

Anag raised a hand and signaled for the group to halt near a circle of standing stones beside the road-the campsite for the night. Forty taurga drew off the road at their long-legged, swaybacked walk, in a maneuver as familiar to them as making camp was to any legionare legionare, and began filing into a circle within the standing stones, three beasts to each. Three blued-steel rings had been set into each stone, each to tether a single taurg.

Tavi slid down from the saddle, keeping a hand on it to control his descent to the ground. He winced at the shock to sore muscles as he landed. The first couple of days in the strange saddles, made for large Canim riders, had been nightmarish, but his body had finally begun to adjust.

The taurg promptly whipped its head at Tavi in an effort to crush his windpipe with the heavy ridge of bone on its skull.

Tavi ducked the attempt without really thinking about it and slashed at the taurg's vulnerable nose with the ends of his reins, still gripped in his hand. The taurg jerked its head away and tried to kick him with one of its rear legs, lashing a cloven hoof forward in an effort to disembowel him, but Tavi had already slipped forward, alongside the taurg's head, slipped the reins through the ring in its slimy, sensitive nose, and tied them securely through the ring on the standing stone.

Thus secured, the taurg settled down placidly onto its belly, as most of the rest of the riding beasts were doing.

"Crows take you, Steaks," Maximus snarled from the far side of the taurg beside Tavi. The beast was dancing in place, shuffling its ma.s.s left and right, evidently trying to kick at Max with the rear leg on the far side of its body. "One more kick out of you and I'm walking the rest of the way with a full stomach."

Tavi stepped forward, slapped the other taurg's ear to startle it, then seized its nose ring with his hand and jerked firmly. The taurg let out a startled little bawl of ba.s.so discomfort, and Maximus appeared, stuffing the reins through the ring and securing the beast as Tavi had, muttering a dark string of curses beneath his breath as he did. "Roasted. Spit on a nice long lance and roasted over a roaring fire. Then boiled. Boiled in a pot big enough to fit your entire lazy, ornery, smelly a.s.s."

"You're taking it awfully personally," Tavi murmured. "I think Steaks and New Boots is probably treating you the same way he does everyone else."

"It isn't that's he treating me badly," Max growled. "It's that he's too stupid to understand something everything with brains enough to see the sky should know."

Tavi found himself grinning. "What's that?"

"Legionares are not afraid of dinner," Max growled, giving the taurg a dire glare. "Dinner is afraid of are not afraid of dinner," Max growled, giving the taurg a dire glare. "Dinner is afraid of legionares legionares."

Steaks and New Boots returned Max's glare with a placid stare, and began chewing cud where it lay in place.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Max muttered, and began unfastening the straps of the high-cantled saddle. "Spends all day trying to murder me, and still gets to sack and and chow before I do." The pace and volume of his complaints began to increase steadily. "If I didn't need his legs, I'd carve them into steaks and serve them up with a nice red wine. Though I'll bet he doesn't taste any good, when you get right down to it. Why, I'll bet you could . . ." chow before I do." The pace and volume of his complaints began to increase steadily. "If I didn't need his legs, I'd carve them into steaks and serve them up with a nice red wine. Though I'll bet he doesn't taste any good, when you get right down to it. Why, I'll bet you could . . ."

As Max's complaints grew steadily louder and more outrageous while he tended to the taurga, Tavi gathered the saddles from his beast, Max's, and Durias's, next to Max's, and began brushing them down from the day's use.

"Well?" he asked Durias quietly, under cover of Max's noise.

The Free Aleran centurion was a rather short man, with shoulders so wide that he almost looked deformed. His neck was thicker than a lot of women's waists, his blocky face plain and scarred here and there with the irregular, fine, jagged cuts of a life spent under slavery, where the lash had wrapped around. He had dark, very intelligent eyes, and thick-knuckled, capable hands that immediately set to the task of cleaning and coiling the saddle straps.

"I counted four more supply trains today," Durias said. "All of them military, all of them escorted, all of them headed the same direction we are. None of them were ones we've pa.s.sed before."

"That makes eighteen, total," Tavi said. "How sure are you about the estimates on what a Canim soldier needs for rations?"