Codex Alera 05 - Princeps' Fury Part 15

"That little female puppy opened up her jaws and just about tore that bad man's hand off at the wrist," Durias said. "She did did dislocate his shoulder in the process." dislocate his shoulder in the process."

Tavi lifted his eyebrows. "Strong little things."

"They don't develop the same way our children do," Durias said, nodding. "By the time they can run, their muscles are functioning almost at an adult level."

"What happened to the slave owner?" Kitai asked. "Was he found guilty at the trial?"

"No," Durias said shortly. "The puppy's mother was there. So was her uncle. Once the child was out of reach of the knife . . ."

Tavi winced. Not that he mourned the loss of any man who would take a child prisoner-even the child of an avowed enemy invader-but he couldn't imagine that a slave owner, no matter how benevolent or law-abiding, could have expected to survive a trial in the hands of a government composed of ex-slaves. Such pressure could drive any man to desperate acts.

"Don't trouble yourself, Captain," Durias said, a few seconds later, as though he had read the thoughts behind Tavi's expression. "The man was a rapist and worse. We did all that we could to spare the lives of those who hadn't actually abused women or taken a slave's life themselves."

Tavi shook his head and chuckled wryly. "There's going to be a lot of things to be worked out once we get home, you know."

"Slavery must end, sir," Durias said. His tone was quiet and respectful, but the words were made of granite and steel. "From there, we are willing to abide as any other freeman. But not until all Alerans are free."

"That isn't going to be simple or easy," Tavi said.

"Worthy things often aren't, sir."

They drew near the gates of the fortifications themselves-ma.s.sive things that rose forty feet above the level of the plateau. The falling rain had begun to coat them in ice. Low-burning torches blazed at wide intervals on the walls, providing barely enough light for the Alerans to see. That could become a problem. The Canim had excellent night vision. The light they preferred to use, when they used any at all, was a dim, red form of illumination that was hardly enough for Aleran eyes to separate solid shapes from shadows. There was no reason to suppose that the interior of their fortress would be lit well enough to prevent the Alerans from looking extremely foolish-which was to say, helpless and weak.

And that, Tavi thought, would be a very bad message to send to the Shuaran nation.

A horn blew atop the gates, and Anag bellowed for the column to halt. He began exchanging what sounded like formal greetings with the guard atop the gate, introducing their company.

"Max," Tavi said. "Cra.s.sus. Once we get into the dark, we'll need to see our way. I think your swords should strike the proper tone."

Cra.s.sus nodded and Max grunted in the affirmative. A moment later, the huge gates swung open, wide enough to allow the column of taurga to enter three abreast.

Max and Cra.s.sus fell in on either side of Tavi, with Durias and Kitai bringing up the rear. As they pa.s.sed into the blackness beneath the gates, into the tunnel that ran beneath walls a hundred feet thick, the two brothers drew their long blades and held them upright, at rest beside them. As they did so, bright tongues of flame suddenly rushed out from the hilts of the blades to their tips, golden white light that wreathed the steel and drove back the cavernous night beneath the Shuaran gates.

As the company rode out of the tunnel and into the city beyond it, they entered what looked like a large square or marketplace, where hundreds of Canim, makers and warriors alike, were hurrying past through the rain, purpose in their strides. As the light of the blazing swords began to cast harsh, long shadows against the buildings on the far side of the square, several dozen pa.s.sersby stopped to stare at the troop and the Alerans as they entered the city.

Then an Aleran Legion trumpet abruptly rang out behind Tavi, sharp and silvery, crying out against the dark stones of Shuar. The opening bars of the Anthem of Eagles, the clarion call of the Princeps of Alera, shivered through the rain and the night, proud and cold and defiant. Tavi shot a quick, surprised glance over his shoulder, to see Durias lowering the trumpet, returning it to hang from its baldric at his side. The young centurion inclined his head to Tavi with a very small smile and winked.

If the glare of light had slowed foot traffic around them, the cry of the trumpet stopped it completely. If the glare of light had slowed foot traffic around them, the cry of the trumpet stopped it completely. The square went deathly still and silent. Hundreds of dark Canim eyes stared intently at the visiting strangers. The square went deathly still and silent. Hundreds of dark Canim eyes stared intently at the visiting strangers. Varg nudged his mount forward, glancing once at Tavi. Varg nudged his mount forward, glancing once at Tavi. Without knowing precisely why, Tavi felt that the Cane wanted him to do the same. He guided his own taurg to stand beside Varg's. Without knowing precisely why, Tavi felt that the Cane wanted him to do the same. He guided his own taurg to stand beside Varg's.

"I am Varg of Narash," the grizzled Cane called out, his voice carrying throughout the city around them. "This is my gadara gadara, Tavar of Alera. We ride to seek audience with Warmaster Lararl. Let any who would bar our way stand forward now."

Within seconds, a path leading to one of the exits on the far side of the square was entirely unoccupied.

"Huh," Max muttered. "Guess they know him here."

Varg let out a satisfied sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl, and made a polite, beckoning gesture to Tavi. The two of them started their mounts forward, followed closely by Max and Cra.s.sus, with their burning blades, then Durias and Kitai, and finally followed by Anag's troops, formed into a hasty honor guard.

Word apparently rushed ahead of them as they rode. Though the cavern-dark city was filled to overflowing with Canim, the street before Tavi and Varg was, without exception, perfectly empty.

It was an eerie ride. What would have been familiar crowd murmur in Alera Imperia was instead the continuous chorus of rumbling growls and snarls that comprised the Canim tongue. Though the light cast by the brothers' swords was bright, outside of that circle there were only dark shapes and thousands and thousands of gleaming red eyes-and the occasional glimpse of white fangs.

The atmosphere was not helped by the fact that Max and Cra.s.sus, at Tavi's suggestion, had slowly decreased the intensity of the flames surrounding their swords, until the Alerans' eyes had adjusted more adequately to the dim red luminescence the Canim favored for light. They still could not see well well, but neither had they been entirely blinded as they entered the city, and avoiding moments of apparent weakness was critically important in any dealings with their predatory hosts.

Short of a miracle, there would be no chance whatsoever of escaping the fortress at night, Tavi realized. The simple lack of light would make it impossible, even if the sheer numbers of Canim hadn't made the entire idea laughable in the first place. To have enough light to see by, they'd have to light themselves up like a beacon, announcing to any Cane with eyes exactly where they were. And in daylight, of course, sneaking about was almost as unlikely. Which meant that they'd have to rely entirely upon furycraft, if it came to that-and surrounded by so much bleak stone, a woodcrafted veil would be out of the question, a windcrafted one frail and difficult to hold.

Best to avoid the need to escape, then.

If he could.

Anag took them down several steeply sloping streets that wound down the side of the plateau, all of them built with strong gates and battlements at regular intervals-the road through the pa.s.s that led up to the range of Shuar proper, until, near the base of the plateau, they stopped before the largest building they had seen so far, an enormous cube of black stone at least two hundred feet high.

After dismounting, they pa.s.sed through several guard stations and past several higher-ranking officers. It took them the better part of two hours to work through the chain of command, but eventually they were shown to a chamber somewhere toward the center of the building. It was a large room, stretching out beneath a high dome overhead. Tavi was impressed by the sheer skill involved in engineering such a thing. The weight from above must have been enormous, yet the chamber's smooth dome arched gracefully, apparently unsupported by any pillar or b.u.t.tress.

A red-coal fire burned in a pit in the center of the room. Beside it, a circular table no more than two feet high but nearly ten feet across sat, supporting the weight of a scale model of the fortress's defenses, complete with markers of blue stone for Canim troops, black stones for Vord, and colored green sand that, Tavi realized, represented the presence of the croach croach.

Several Shuarans, with their distinctive golden fur, were crouching on their haunches around the table, rumbling and growling at one another-except for one. That one, a rather small but burly specimen of his breed, his fur showing streaks of silver to mix with tawny gold, sat in silence, staring down at the pieces on the table, following the conversation around him with attentive twitches of his narrow ears.

Anag approached the table and inclined his head deeply to one side. "Warmaster."

The burly Cane lifted his eyes-odd, for a Cane's, since they were bright blue against the bloodred background-to the young officer and inclined his head slightly in response. The other Canim at the table immediately fell silent. "Pack second," rumbled the Warmaster. His voice was extremely deep, even for a Cane. "Where is your pack leader?"

"At Molvar, my lord," Anag replied, his tone neutral and polite. "Wounded."

"Unto death, one supposes?"

"I am uncertain, my lord," Anag responded. "Though if I may volunteer: I am no healer, my lord, but I have yet to hear of a warrior expiring from a clean, properly attended injury to the foot."

"For that to happen," the Warmaster replied, "he would need to be a warrior. Not the sp.a.w.n of a forced mating of some jackal of a ritualist to a female barely more than a pup."

"As you say, my lord." "As you say, my lord." "Bring me better news next time, Anag." "Bring me better news next time, Anag." "I will do my best, my lord." "I will do my best, my lord."

The Cane rose to his feet and prowled over to them. He moved with a slight limp, though Tavi judged that only a fool would think him crippled, slow, or incapable. His armor, like Varg's, was ornate, battered, and heavily decorated with bloodred gemstones. Also like Varg's, most of the dark steel had been enameled in color, though in his case it was deep blue instead of Varg's crimson.

He inclined his head slightly-very slightly-to Varg, who matched the gesture with precise timing. He inclined his head slightly-very slightly-to Varg, who matched the gesture with precise timing. "Varg," the Warmaster rumbled. "Varg," the Warmaster rumbled. "Lararl," Varg replied. "Lararl," Varg replied. Lararl turned his attention to the others, eyes probing, his nose quivering. "We thought you long dead." Lararl turned his attention to the others, eyes probing, his nose quivering. "We thought you long dead." "Not before I kill you." "Not before I kill you."

Lararl's eyes went back to Varg, and he bared his fangs in a slow, almost-leering smile. "I am pleased to see that the demons across the sea have not deprived me of the pleasure of showing your guts to the sky."

"Not yet," Tavi said. "But who knows? The night is young."

Lararl's ears quivered back and forth in a gesture of brief surprise, and his gaze shifted to Tavi. "You speak our tongue, little demon?"

"I speak it adequately. I understand it fairly well."

Lararl narrowed his eyes. "Interesting."

"Lararl, of Shuar," Varg growled. "Tavar of Alera. He is gadara gadara to me, Lararl." to me, Lararl."

"As Varg is to me," Tavi added, guessing that it was the proper thing to say.

Lararl's ears quivered again, and he shook his head. "Tavar, is it? A demon gadara gadara." He glanced back at the table and the model there. "Sometimes I think that the world is changing. That I am too old to change with it." He shook his head. "Varg, your word of peace for this night?"

"You have it."

Lararl nodded. "And you mine. Will you vouch for Tavar and his pack?" Varg looked at Tavi. "Will you give your word that you and your people will abide peacefully here tonight, so long as no harm is offered to you?"

"Of course," Tavi said. "Provided we receive the same word in return." "Of course," Tavi said. "Provided we receive the same word in return." "He will," Varg told Lararl. "He will," Varg told Lararl. The golden-furred Warmaster nodded. "And will you vouch for my word to him?" The golden-furred Warmaster nodded. "And will you vouch for my word to him?" Varg looked at Tavi. "I will. Lararl keeps his word." Varg looked at Tavi. "I will. Lararl keeps his word." Tavi nodded. "Done, then." Tavi nodded. "Done, then." Lararl nodded to the other Canim in the room. "Leave us." Lararl nodded to the other Canim in the room. "Leave us." His officers filed out rapidly and quietly. Anag was the last out the door, and he shut it behind him. His officers filed out rapidly and quietly. Anag was the last out the door, and he shut it behind him. Lararl crossed to the coal fire and crouched beside it, holding out his hands. "Sit, sit." Lararl crossed to the coal fire and crouched beside it, holding out his hands. "Sit, sit."

They did so. Tavi was grateful for the fire's warmth. The interior of Lararl's command tower was quite literally as cold as a cavern.

"There is much work for me to do," Lararl said. "What would you have of me?" "There is much work for me to do," Lararl said. "What would you have of me?" "First, your protection," Varg said. "I am here with nearly one hundred thousand of my people." "First, your protection," Varg said. "I am here with nearly one hundred thousand of my people." Lararl froze for a second, blue eyes locked on Varg. "Where?" Lararl froze for a second, blue eyes locked on Varg. "Where?" "Molvar," Varg replied. "We arrived five days ago." "Molvar," Varg replied. "We arrived five days ago." Lararl sat in silence for several seconds. "And what protection do you ask of me?" Lararl sat in silence for several seconds. "And what protection do you ask of me?"

"My intention when I came here was to ask only for room enough to debark until our ships could be repaired to a condition suitable to return to Narash. Now . . ."

Lararl nodded. "No longer. Narash is no more. None of them are anymore, Varg. It's all . . ." His hand lashed out behind him and struck at the table, cracking its surface and scattering green sand. "All that hideous offal. And those things. Those Vord."

"You're sure?" Varg asked. "You're sure?" Varg asked. "Yes." "Yes." "How did it happen?" Tavi asked quietly. "How did it happen?" Tavi asked quietly.

"It started in Narash," Lararl replied. "The ritualists and their sects among the makers rose up against the Warmasters, with these Vord as their allies. But soon it became clear that ritualists from the other ranges were eagerly smuggling more Vord into their lands to help with their own uprisings. Soon, Warmasters in every range were putting down one rebellion after another."

Tavi could see where this was leading. "And once the Vord had a solid foothold everywhere, they turned on the ritualists."

Lararl nodded. "The stupid taurga. Now, they are all but extinct. Within days, every range was in flames. Battlepacks roamed over every portion of the countryside. There was no communication, no order. Some fought longer than others, held on longer than others-your own line, Varg, longer than any, even though the poison began in their own range. But in the end, it didn't matter. They fell. One by one, they all fell."

Tavi shivered and held his hands closer to the coals.

After a silent minute, Varg said, "Then I must ask you for sanctuary for the makers under my charge. And pledge my warriors to aid in your defense."

Lararl grunted. His eyes flicked to Tavi. "And you, Tavar?"

"I would like to ask your permission to spend a few days here, resupplying my ships and repairing damage. Then I intend to sail back to my home and, with any luck, never bother you again."

Lararl grunted, stood, and walked to the door. They all watched him. Lararl grunted, stood, and walked to the door. They all watched him. He paused at the door. He paused at the door. "Varg. There is not enough food in my range to feed my own people, much less yours." "Varg. There is not enough food in my range to feed my own people, much less yours." Varg's lips peeled away from his fangs. Varg's lips peeled away from his fangs.

"There may not be many ritualists left," Lararl continued. "But they are mine, now. Your people are going to die, Varg. At least I can make their deaths have meaning. At least I can give their blood to the ritualists to use to defend Shuar."

"Lararl," Varg snarled, rising. "Do not not do this." do this."

"My people are dying," Lararl spat. "My duty is to them. Not to you. Were our positions reversed, you would do the same, and you know it."

Tavi rose. "And what of us? What of my people?"

Lararl turned and gave Tavi a look that was pure, cold, bloodthirsty hate.

"Demon," he snarled. "Do you think we are so foolish that we do not know know that the Vord came to Canea upon one of that the Vord came to Canea upon one of your your ships? Do you think us so stupid that we have not puzzled out that it is ships? Do you think us so stupid that we have not puzzled out that it is you you who unleashed this terror upon us, to destroy our people?" who unleashed this terror upon us, to destroy our people?"

"That is not not true!" Tavi snarled. true!" Tavi snarled.

"Aleran demon," Lararl spat, "you have no honor. Every word from your lips is a lie. I have a range to defend, and no time to waste on your deceit. But your people's blood will serve as well as Varg's people's." He slammed open the doors. "Guards!"

A great many warrior Canim appeared in the doorway.

Lararl turned to face them. "You will go with these guards, or you will die, here and now. Choose."

CHAPTER 18

The Shuaran guards offered them no violence or disrespect. They simply escorted Varg and the Alerans to the roof of Lararl's dark granite tower, closed the heavy metal door, and locked it, sliding home large bolts that would make it impossible to open.

Then they left them there, on the flat, open expanse of the cubic building's roof. It was nearly the size of a cohort's training field, and overlooked every other structure in the fortified city. Tavi did not need to look to know that there would be no way to climb down, no other building close enough to leap onto. There was no need for bars, locks, or guards. One would need to be able to fly to escape this prison cell.

Max stared at the closed door for a moment, then said, "They can't possibly be serious."

Cra.s.sus nodded. "It does seem a tad ingenuous. A trap?"

"They're trapping us into taking advantage of an opening that will give us a chance to warn our people and possibly escape?" Tavi asked. "That's clever of them." He shook his head and looked at Varg. "They don't know what Alerans are capable of doing, do they?"

Varg twitched one shoulder in a shrug. "Shuarans are stubborn, proud, narrow-minded. As they must be to survive this range. They have never been to your sh.o.r.es. They regard our reports of Aleran demons as tall tales. They do not believe you are capable of anything beyond what our ritualists can do. Our ritualists cannot fly. Therefore, you cannot either."

"I think it is nice that Alerans are not the only arrogant fools on Carna," Kitai said.

Tavi gave her an arch look. "It's a small piece of fortune that isn't going to last," he said. "Anag and some of the other Shuarans saw our Knights Aeris come back in from holding off that storm. He'll tell Lararl sooner or later. They'll realize that this is a mistake and take steps." Tavi turned to Cra.s.sus. "How long will it take you to get there and back?"

Cra.s.sus squinted up through the chilling rain at the overcast sky, evidently thinking out loud. "Depends on the weather. I can't see in this soup. I'll have to follow the road to find my way back. That means flying low. That's hard work, and slower. Also means I'll have to veil or risk getting a balest bolt shot through me." He nodded. "I can be back to Molvar by midmorning, and have our Knights Aeris back here by sundown tomorrow. Faster, if the weather clears."

"If one of our people is missing, Lararl might take it badly," Kitai pointed out. "If one of our people is missing, Lararl might take it badly," Kitai pointed out. "I took being imprisoned and sentenced to death badly," Tavi said. "It's going around." "I took being imprisoned and sentenced to death badly," Tavi said. "It's going around." Kitai flashed a swift, fierce grin at him. Kitai flashed a swift, fierce grin at him.

Tavi winked at her, and turned to Cra.s.sus. "Whatever happens, we've got to open up some options. Tamper with the weather if you need to-but do not not begin action against the Shuarans unless you absolutely must. Tell Magnus and the First Spear that as well." begin action against the Shuarans unless you absolutely must. Tell Magnus and the First Spear that as well."

"Understood, Your Highness." "Understood, Your Highness." Tavi turned to Varg. "Warmaster," he said formally, in Canish, "is there any word you wish pa.s.sed on to your people?" Tavi turned to Varg. "Warmaster," he said formally, in Canish, "is there any word you wish pa.s.sed on to your people?" Varg showed a flash of teeth for a bare instant, then looked away, saying nothing. Varg showed a flash of teeth for a bare instant, then looked away, saying nothing. "You antic.i.p.ated this contingency," Tavi concluded aloud. He looked at Cra.s.sus. "Go now." "You antic.i.p.ated this contingency," Tavi concluded aloud. He looked at Cra.s.sus. "Go now."

Cra.s.sus nodded, saluted sharply, clapped a hand against his brother's shoulder, and frowned in concentration. He vanished from sight behind a windcrafted veil, and a moment later a miniature gale rose, whipping droplets of falling rain into a painful, stinging mist. Then the winds faded as the young heir of Antillus took to the skies.

Max stood silently looking up into the rain for a long moment after his brother had departed, his expression blank. Perhaps it was the rain. Tavi's ability to sense others' emotions was nowhere near as reliable as he would like it to be, but he could clearly feel the conflicting welter of worry and affection and sadness and pride and seething jealousy that poured off his friend.

Max looked down to find Tavi watching him. He averted his eyes, and Tavi felt Max close down on his emotions, walling them away from observation.

"Wish I could do that," Max said.