Codex Alera 05 - Princeps' Fury Part 9

"This is a terrible idea," Antillar Maximus growled. "I'd even go so far as to call it insane-even by your your standards, Calderon." standards, Calderon."

Tavi finished lacing up his armor, squinting a little in the dimness. The sun had not yet set, but for the first time in several weeks, the ma.s.s of the land to the west meant an actual twilight rather than the sudden darkness of a nautical sunset, and the shadows were thick inside his cabin.

He leaned down to peer out one of the small, round windows. The enormous, dark granite walls of the fjord rose above the ships on either side, and what looked a great deal like the old Romanic stone-throwing engines he and Magnus had experimented with back in the ruins of Appia lined the top cliffs on either side at regular intervals. The approach to the port of Molvar was a deadly gauntlet should their hosts decide to take umbrage with any visitors.

Only the Slive Slive and the and the Trueblood Trueblood had been permitted to enter the fjord itself. The rest of the fleet still waited in the open sea beyond the fjord-vulnerable to the weather threatened by the darkening skies. had been permitted to enter the fjord itself. The rest of the fleet still waited in the open sea beyond the fjord-vulnerable to the weather threatened by the darkening skies.

"The Shuarans haven't left us with many options, Max. They won't even discuss landing rights until they've spoken to the leaders of both contingents of the fleet, alone. We've got too many ships out there that aren't going to make it if we don't find a safe harbor."

Max muttered the cabin's sole furylamp to life and folded his arms, frowning. "You're walking into a city full of Canim by yourself by yourself. Just because it's necessary doesn't make it any less insane. Tavi . . ."

Tavi buckled his belt and began fastening the heavy steel bracers to his forearms. He gave his friend a lopsided smile. "Max. I'll be all right."

"You don't know that."

"The Canim are good about one thing-they don't make any bones about it when they want to kill you. They're quite direct. If they wanted me dead, they'd have started dropping rocks on the ship by now."

Max grimaced. "You shouldn't have sent the Knights Aeris out. We'll wish we had them if those stone throwers start up on us." Max grimaced. "You shouldn't have sent the Knights Aeris out. We'll wish we had them if those stone throwers start up on us." "Speaking of which," Tavi said. "Has your brother reported back yet?" "Speaking of which," Tavi said. "Has your brother reported back yet?" "No. And the wind is rising. We're going to lose men to the sea when they come back if they don't have solid ground to land on." "No. And the wind is rising. We're going to lose men to the sea when they come back if they don't have solid ground to land on."

"All the more reason for me to go now," Tavi said quietly. "At least we know that they're slowing the storm. Cra.s.sus wouldn't keep them up there if they weren't doing any good."

"No," Max admitted. "He wouldn't." "No," Max admitted. "He wouldn't." "How long can they stay aloft?" "How long can they stay aloft?" "Been there since noon," Max said. "Another three or four hours at most." "Been there since noon," Max said. "Another three or four hours at most." "Then I'd better hurry." "Then I'd better hurry." "Tavi," Max said, slowly. "What happens if they come back and we haven't worked something out with the Shuarans?" "Tavi," Max said, slowly. "What happens if they come back and we haven't worked something out with the Shuarans?"

Tavi took a deep breath. "Tell them to land onsh.o.r.e within sight of the fleet. Take some earthcrafters, create a way to the top, and get them back aboard."

"You want them to land on a hostile sh.o.r.e, while we craft a dock and an a.s.sault stairway in what is obviously intended to be an impregnable defense." Max shook his head. "The Shuaran Canim might call that an act of war."

"We'll be as polite about it as we can, but if they do, they do. I'm not letting our people drown over protocol." He finished buckling on both bracers and rose to slip the baldric to his gladius gladius over one shoulder. Then, after a moment's consideration, he picked up the strap to Kitai's over one shoulder. Then, after a moment's consideration, he picked up the strap to Kitai's gladius gladius and hung its baldric the opposite way, so that the additional weapon lay against his other hip. and hung its baldric the opposite way, so that the additional weapon lay against his other hip.

Max looked pointedly at the second weapon and arched an eyebrow.

"One for the Shuarans," Tavi said. "And one for Varg."

Tavi and Max were the only ones to climb into the longboat.

"Are you sure about this, Aleran?" asked Kitai, her eyes worried.

Tavi looked across the short distance to the Trueblood Trueblood, where a larger longboat was being lowered to the water. He could recognize Varg's enormous figure in the prow. "As sure as I can be," he said. "Making a good first impression might do more to head off trouble than anything else we could do." He met Kitai's gaze. "Besides, chala chala, the ships are going to be back at sea. If it comes to a fight, having more men with the longboat wouldn't change anything."

"It's simpler if I'm working alone, Kitai," Max a.s.sured her. "That way if there's trouble, I don't have to play gentle. If the Shuarans start treating us the way Sarl did, I can just level everything that isn't His Royal Highness."

"His Royal Highness appreciates that," Tavi said. "Where's Magnus?"

"Still furious that you would not allow Maximus to take your place," Kitai said.

Tavi shook his head. "Even if he crafted himself into my twin, Varg would have known the second he got close enough to smell him."

"I know. Magnus knows. He is angry because it is true." Kitai leaned over the side of the longboat and kissed Tavi hard on the mouth, her fingers tight in his hair for a moment. Then she broke it off abruptly, met his eyes, and said, "Survive."

He winked at her. "I'll be fine."

"Of course he will," Maximus said. "If there's a lick of trouble, Tavi will set something on fire-it's easy to set something on fire, believe me-and I'll see the smoke, knock down all the buildings between him and the dock, come get him, and we'll leave. Nothing simpler."

Kitai gave Maximus a steady look. Then she shook her head, and said, "And the truly incredible part is . . . you actually believe it."

"Amba.s.sador," Max said, "in the course of my life, I have more than once been too ignorant to know that something was impossible before I did it anyway. I see no reason to jeopardize that success."

"It certainly explains your study habits at the Academy," Tavi noted. "We're ready, Captain."

Demos, who had been directing the affairs of the ship from nearby, called out an order to the crew, and the sailors of the Slive Slive lowered the boat to the chill waters of the fjord. lowered the boat to the chill waters of the fjord.

Tavi flung his scarlet cloak about his shoulders and hooked it to the clasps on his armor, while Max sat down at the rear of the boat. The big Antillan thrust one hand into the water for a moment, murmured something, and a second later the longboat surged silently forward, propelled by a burbling current that pressed against its stern.

Tavi rose to stand in the prow, and the wind threw his cloak back as the longboat glided silently for the sh.o.r.e. Tavi rose to stand in the prow, and the wind threw his cloak back as the longboat glided silently for the sh.o.r.e. "First impressions, eh?" Max muttered. "First impressions, eh?" Max muttered. "Right," Tavi said. "When they get close enough to get a look at you, try to look like someone who isn't impressed." "Right," Tavi said. "When they get close enough to get a look at you, try to look like someone who isn't impressed." "Got it," said Max. "Got it," said Max.

The longboat altered course to run parallel to the boat coming from Varg's vessel. Varg's boat was crewed by seven warrior-caste Canim, six of them pulling oars while a seventh held the longboat's tiller. Varg, like Tavi, stood in the prow of his boat. He wore no cloak, but the fading light of day managed, somehow, to glitter upon the bloodred gem hanging from a gold ring in one ear, here and there upon his black-and-crimson armor, and upon the hilt of the curved sword hanging at his side.

"Carrying a lot of bloodstone on him," Max noted.

"I get the impression that Varg hasn't made a lot of friends among the ritualists," Tavi said. "If I were he, I'd carry a lot of bloodstone, too."

"Beats being annihilated by red lightning or melted into sludge by a cloud of acid, all right. You brought your stone, right?" "Beats being annihilated by red lightning or melted into sludge by a cloud of acid, all right. You brought your stone, right?" "Got it in my pocket. You?" "Got it in my pocket. You?" "Cra.s.sus loaned me his," Max confirmed. "Do you really think that showing up with only two of us will impress the Shuarans?" "Cra.s.sus loaned me his," Max confirmed. "Do you really think that showing up with only two of us will impress the Shuarans?"

"It might," Tavi said. "Mostly, I feel better knowing that I'm not leaving anyone helpless to Canim sorcery standing around on the dock behind me to be taken prisoner or wounded and used to slow me down."

Max snorted. "You didn't say anything about that aboard the ship." Max snorted. "You didn't say anything about that aboard the ship." "Well. No." "Well. No." "Just did it to impress the girl, eh, Your Highness?" "Just did it to impress the girl, eh, Your Highness?"

Tavi threw a sly glance over his shoulder. "It was was a pretty good kiss." a pretty good kiss."

Max snorted, then they fell silent until they reached the sea-gate of Molvar.

Huge bars of black iron rose from the cold sea, supported on either side by walls made from hand-hewn granite blocks. Even without the use of furycraft, the Canim had been able, somehow, to raise the seabed into something solid enough to support ma.s.sive walls, built out from the sides of the fjord. Tavi could not imagine how much sheer, brute effort, how much raw sweat and muscle power had gone into their construction, or what techniques must have been used, even with the incredible strength of the Canim laborers, to maneuver the enormous blocks of stone. They made the ruins in Appia look like children's projects by comparison.

As the two boats approached, the sea-gates groaned and began to move, slowly parting. Phosph.o.r.escence flickered up and down the metal bars, and eerie, fluttering waves of light danced over the surface of the water. Metal rattled on metal, an eerie, regular thump-thump-thump as the gates opened, swirling water in their wake.

The boats pa.s.sed through, and Tavi spotted several Canim on the walls above them, in dark armor and strange, long, slippery-looking cloaks, all but hidden within their garments. Each of them bore one of the steel bolt throwers in his hands, the deadly balests that had claimed the lives of so many Knights and legionares legionares in the wars in the Amaranth Vale, and Tavi's shoulder blades developed a distinct itch as the boat pa.s.sed them. A bolt hurled by one of the deadly weapons could slam through his armor's backplates, his body, and his breastplate in an instant, and still carry enough momentum to kill a second armored man on the other side of him. in the wars in the Amaranth Vale, and Tavi's shoulder blades developed a distinct itch as the boat pa.s.sed them. A bolt hurled by one of the deadly weapons could slam through his armor's backplates, his body, and his breastplate in an instant, and still carry enough momentum to kill a second armored man on the other side of him.

Tavi did not allow himself to turn his head or alter his straight-backed, confident stance. Posture and gesture were of enormous significance among the Canim. Someone who looked as if he expected to be attacked quite possibly would would be, simply as an outgrowth of unspoken, unintended, but very real statements being made by his body. be, simply as an outgrowth of unspoken, unintended, but very real statements being made by his body.

A cold trickle of sweat slid along Tavi's spine. It was no time for bungled communications to spoil an otherwise reasonably fine day. After all-he was about to get off the b.l.o.o.d.y water for the first time in weeks.

He let out a little breath of laughter at the thought and calmed himself as his boat, along with Varg's, crossed the harbor of Molvar.

It was huge-half a mile across at the least, large enough to house the whole of his fleet and the Canim's, too. Indeed, in the failing light he counted at least thirty Canim ships of war, whose designs differed subtly from those designed and built by Varg's shipwrights. Granite bluffs framed the harbor, except for a long stretch of stone piers, as large as any Tavi had seen in Alera, where warships and other vessels, built more along the lines of merchants, were docked.

One pier was set apart from the others. Torches had been lit at its end and burned scarlet with more intensity than any normal fire. It was crowded with Canim, also in their odd, wet-looking cloaks, but Tavi caught glimpses of midnight blue steel armor beneath their cloaks and similarly tinted weaponry in their hands.

Varg's longboat headed for that pier, and without being told, Max altered his heading slightly to do the same. The two longboats pulled up on opposite sides of the pier in almost-total silence. The only sound was the rattle of wood and metal fittings as the rowers in Varg's craft shipped their oars.

From there, Tavi thought, looking up at the pier, it certainly looked like a great many more Canim were present than had been there a moment before. They also looked quite a bit taller. And their weapons looked a great deal sharper. Doubtless, he thought, it was all just a trick of the light.

"No fear," he muttered to himself. Then he took a long step up to the pier and stepped out of the longboat and onto the Shuaran stone.

Opposite him, Varg was doing the same, albeit having less difficulty with the scale of the construction. He tilted his head slightly toward Tavi, who returned the gesture at precisely the same depth and timing. They turned simultaneously to face the warriors gathered on the pier.

Silence ruled. Silence ruled. Tension mounted. Tension mounted. No one stirred. No one stirred.

Tavi debated saying something to break the ice. His time in the Academy, both in academic studies and in training as a Cursor, had included considerable exposure to diplomacy and protocol. Both fields of knowledge offered several potential courses of fruitful action he might pursue. He mused over it for a moment, then discarded them entirely in favor of a lesson his uncle Bernard had taught him on the steadholt: that hardly a man ever made a fool of himself by keeping his b.l.o.o.d.y mouth shut.

Tavi held his tongue and waited.

A moment later, footsteps sounded, and a runner approached. He was a young adult Cane, lean and swift, running very nearly as fast as a horse might, his odd cloak flying behind him. His fur was a strange color that Tavi had never seen in the wolf-warriors, a kind of pale golden brown fading to white at the tips of his ears and tail. He loped up to the end of the pier, bared his throat deeply to one of the warriors, and growled, "It is done as agreed," in Canish.

The warrior in question flicked his ears in acknowledgment and stepped forward. He faced Varg, stopping a few inches outside the range of what Tavi judged would be the reach of Varg's sword, should he draw it.

"Varg," growled the strange Cane. "You are not welcome here. Go."

Varg's eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared for a few seconds. "Tarsh," he snarled, pure contempt in his voice. "Did Lararl lose his wits in the snow, that you you are pack leader here?" are pack leader here?"

Tarsh reached up a paw-hand to rip back the hood of his cloak, revealing another golden-furred Cane. This one's muzzle was heavily scarred, including an odd-looking ridge of scar tissue across the black skin of his nose. He was missing one ear halfway up, and Tavi noted that instead of a sword, he bore at his hip an axe with a long, vicious spike protruding from the back.

"Have a care, Varg," he spat, harshly. "A word from me will spill your blood into the sea."

"Only if someone listens," Varg replied. "I do not bargain with scavenging muzzle-lickers like you, Tarsh. You will order your men to prepare to receive my people. I will give you my pledge of peace. We will debark here and camp outside the walls of your city, so that you will feel safe. You will provide me with a priority courier, that I may send word to Lararl of our presence and our need for the presence of someone with the stature to treat with me."

Tarsh bared every fang in his head. "This is not Narash, tree-runner. You have no authority here."

"I am garada garada to Lararl, Tarsh," Varg rumbled. "And every warrior in your range knows it. Lararl will have the throat of anyone who denies him the pleasure of spilling my life's blood." to Lararl, Tarsh," Varg rumbled. "And every warrior in your range knows it. Lararl will have the throat of anyone who denies him the pleasure of spilling my life's blood."

Tarsh snarled. "I will send a courier to Lararl, of course. But that is all. You may abide here to await an answer. Your ships will stay where they are."

"Unacceptable!"

Tarsh coughed out a growling laugh. "You will will accept it, Varg. I am pack leader here." accept it, Varg. I am pack leader here."

"A storm approaches," Varg said. "Many of my vessels are damaged. Lives will be needlessly lost if they are not given the shelter of the harbor."

"What are they to Shuar, Narashan ape? My warriors have their orders. If your ships attempt to sail up the fjord, we will destroy them."

Varg's lips peeled back from his fangs. "Is this Shuaran hospitality, then? Shuaran honor?"

"If you do not care for it," Tarsh suggested, his voice openly mocking, "seek elsewhere."

Varg's eyes narrowed further. "Were I not honor-bound to take up quarrels with Lararl instead of with his pack leaders, I would have your throat."

Tarsh's leering snarl seemed to grow more self-satisfied. "Many decrepit old creatures have used such an excuse to hide their weakness."

Varg, instead of answering, glanced aside, just for an instant, at Tavi.

Tavi blinked.

Insults like those Tarsh was offering Varg were more than a mere invitation to a challenge to a fight-they were practically demanding it. Under any normal circ.u.mstance, any Cane who spoke to another that way could expect an instant and violent response. Varg, in particular, was not one to gladly suffer either insults or fools, and from what Tavi had seen, he didn't know how how to back down from a fight. Which meant that for whatever reason, something to do with the Canim concept of honor, Varg to back down from a fight. Which meant that for whatever reason, something to do with the Canim concept of honor, Varg couldn't couldn't act against this windbag. act against this windbag.

But perhaps Tavi could.

It seemed that this was the moment for diplomacy.

"Varg is correct," Tavi said calmly, stepping forward. "There is no time for this foolishness. His people and mine seek safety from the winter and give you our word that our intentions are peaceful. We need to work out the best way to get them all into the harbor before the storm arrives."

Every set of eyes on the pier swiveled to Tavi and hit him like a physical weight. Every set of eyes on the pier swiveled to Tavi and hit him like a physical weight. "Oh b.l.o.o.d.y crows," Maximus whispered, somewhere behind him. "Oh b.l.o.o.d.y crows," Maximus whispered, somewhere behind him. "This creature," Tarsh said after a moment. "It is the Aleran leader?" "This creature," Tarsh said after a moment. "It is the Aleran leader?" "I am," Tavi said. "I am," Tavi said. Tarsh growled and turned to the warriors behind him. "Kill it." Tarsh growled and turned to the warriors behind him. "Kill it."

Oh, b.l.o.o.d.y crows, Tavi thought. Tavi thought.

Uncle Bernard had been right after all.

CHAPTER 11

The nearest Cane, a particularly muscled brute, drew and threw his axe in the same underhanded motion, a smooth and professional cast that sent the weapon through a single tumble before its razor edge sliced at Tavi's face.

Tavi had both of his short blades free of their sheaths before the axe had begun to fly. Rather than dodging aside, he deflected the heavily tumbling weapon back upward and over his head. Tavi had time for the brief thought that most sensible men would, at that point, dive for the boat and run like mad for the Slive Slive.

Instead, Tavi borrowed speed from the cold wind circling the cauldron of Molvar's harbor, and as time seemed to slow, he launched himself toward Tarsh.

The warriors on the dock tried to stop him. Two more axes tumbled toward him, spinning gracefully. Tavi rolled his shoulder from the path of one weapon, though its blade cut a perfectly straight slice from the hem of his cloak. The other he deflected with a sweep of his armored forearm. The shock of impact shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth, but he simply tightened his jaw and moved on.

The heavily muscled warrior who had first thrown his axe managed to step in front of Tarsh, but Tavi was on him before he could get his secondary weapon into a proper guard position. As he closed, Tavi could sense the strange midnight blue metal of the warrior's sword, and instinctively sensed a flaw in its manufacture, a weak point a few inches above the tang. He thrust high, forcing the Cane to lift the weapon to protect his throat and face. Tavi then swung with his other weapon, striking the weak spot of the sword, shattering it.

The Cane reeled as flying shards of steel cut into his face. Tavi laid a whipping slash across one of the warrior's thighs-painful, but not deadly, forcing him to put his weight upon his other leg. Then, with a single, powerful motion, he called upon the earth for strength enough to sweep that foot from beneath the Cane with his own leg, toppling the wolf-warrior to the ground.

The sweep likely saved the Cane's life. Tarsh's wavy-bladed sword thrust straight for Tavi's throat, and would have transfixed the Canim warrior's left lung had he still been standing.

Tavi never lost his forward momentum, dropping under the thrust, reversing his grip on one blade as he went. He fended off the Cane's sword with the blade in his left hand, while with fury-a.s.sisted strength, he drove the sword in his right hand down like a spike through Tarsh's paw-foot and into the stone of the pier.

Tarsh howled in agony and hacked down at Tavi with his blade. The blow was swift and as powerful as any earthcrafter's-but it was not nearly as skilled as Tavi would have expected. It lacked the instantaneous reflex response that would have made it a deadly counterattack, and Tavi was able to strike it aside with his gladius gladius, then surge to his feet and shove the point of his weapon up and into the soft underside of Tarsh's throat.

"Do not move!" Varg thundered in a voice whose raw authority rang from the stones and echoed around the harbor. And as swiftly as that, the dock was motionless, the other warriors, one in the very act of drawing his arm back to throw his weapon, holding their positions as if frozen in a sudden arctic gale.