Academ's Fury

Chapter 39



"Come on," Tavi said. "We've got to go."



"Not yet," Kitai said. She turned to the entry of the tunnel and slipped down into it.



"Crows," Tavi muttered. He set the bottle aside and followed her, hissing, "It drops off on the right. Stay to your left."



He followed Kitai back into the ledge above the alien chamber, and crouched beside her as she stared down at the croach, the slow-moving wax spiders, the motionless Canim.



"By the One," she whispered, her eyes wide. "Aleran, we must go."



Tavi nodded and turned to go.



A wax spider appeared over the rim of the ledge, between them and the way back, and moved with lazy grace down the stone ledge toward Tavi.



Tavi froze. The wax spiders were venomous, but, more to the point, they worked with others of their kind. If this one signaled its companions, they would all come after him together-and while he might escape the slow-moving spiders, he would never outrun the bewitched Canim. He might be able to kill the spider, but not without its alerting the rest of its kind.



He glanced back over his shoulder at Kitai. She could only stare back at him, her eyes wide.



And then the spider's front leg touched lightly down on Tavi's hand, and he had to clench his teeth over a scream.



The spider stopped, luminous eyes whirling. It touched his hand with one forelimb for a moment, then used two of its front legs to gently run over his arm and shoulders. He remained rigidly still. The spider's limbs traced lightly over him, darting from his skin to the underside of its head and back several times, before it simply moved forward, stepping on his hand, elbow, then shoulder and crawled over him without attacking, without raising its whistling alarm cry, and without seeming otherwise to notice him.



Tavi turned his head slowly, only to watch the spider repeat its performance upon Kitai, then glide over her and down to the end of the ledge where it crouched and vomited out a patch of pale green croach, which it then began spreading over the ledge.



Tavi traded a long stare with Kitai, perplexed, and wasted no more time in heading back into the tunnel and away from the croach-filled cavern.



"Why did it do that?" Tavi blurted as soon as he had left the tunnel. "Kitai, it should have raised a warning and attacked. Why didn't it?"



Kitai emerged from the tunnel a second later, and even in the sullen light of the Canim lamp, he could see that she was pale and trembling violently.



Tavi stood absolutely motionless for a second. "Kitai?" he asked.



She rose, her arms wrapping around herself as if cold, and her eyes did not focus upon anything. "It must not be," she whispered. "It must not be."



Tavi reached out to her, laying his hand upon her arm. "What must not be?"



She looked up at him, her expression fragile. "Aleran. If... the old tales. If my people's tales are correct. Then these are the vord."



"Um," Tavi said. "The what?"



"The vord," Kitai whispered, and shuddered as she did. "The devourers. The eaters of worlds, Aleran."



"I haven't ever heard of them."



"No," Kitai said. "If you had, your cities would lie in ashes and ruin. Your people would be running. Hunted. As ours were."



"What are you talking about?"



"Not here, Aleran. We must go back." Her voice rose in panic. "We cannot stay here."



"All right," Tavi said, trying to sound soothing. "All right. Come on." He took up Varg's lamp and headed back up out of the Deeps, looking for the markings he'd left on the walls at intersections as they walked.



It took Kitai several moments to slow her breathing again. Then she said, "Long ago, our people lived elsewhere. Not in the lands we have today. Once we lived in a manner like your own people. In settlements. In cities."



Tavi arched an eyebrow. "I've never heard that. I didn't think your folk had any cities."



"No," Kitai said. "Not anymore."



"What happened to them?"



"The vord came," Kitai said. "They took many of our people. Took them as you saw those wolf-creatures in that cavern. They, too, had been taken."



"Taken," Tavi said. "You mean controlled? Enslaved, somehow?"



"More than that," she said. "The wolf-creatures you saw have been devoured. Everything within them that made them who they were is gone. Their spirit has been consumed, Aleran. Only the spirit of the vord remains-and the taken are without pain, or fear, or weakness. The vord spirit gives them great strength."



Tavi frowned. "But why would the vord do such a thing?"



"Because that is what they do. They spawn. Make more of themselves. They take, devour or destroy all life, until there is nothing else under the sky. They create themselves into new lives, new forms." She shuddered. "Our people have kept the tales of them. Dozens of horrible stories, Aleran, preserved over lifetimes beyond knowing. The kind that make even Marat stay close to their fires and huddle shivering in their blankets at night."



"Why keep those stories, then?" he asked.



"To help us remember them," Kitai said. "Twice, the vord all but destroyed our people, leaving only small bands running for their lives. Though it was long ago, we keep the stories to warn us should they come again." She bit her lip. "And now they have."



"How do you know? I mean, Kitai. If the Marat have worked so hard to remember them, why didn't you just point at them two years ago, and say, 'Oh look, it's the vord'?"



She let out an impatient hiss. "Am I speaking only to myself?" she demanded. "I told you, Aleran. They renew and reshape their forms. They are shapechangers. Each time the vord destroyed my people, they appeared as something different."



"Then how do you know it's them?"



"By the signs," she said. "Folk going missing. Being taken. The vord begin their work in secret, so that they are not discovered before they have a chance to multiply and spread. They strive to divide those who oppose them so that their enemies may be weakened." She shuddered. "And they are led by their queens, Aleran. I understand it only now: That creature, the one from within the heart of the Valley of Silence, the one you burned-it was the vord queen."



Tavi paused to look for the next marking. "I think I saw it. Here."



"In the cavern?"



"Yes. It was covered in a cloak, and issuing orders to a Cane who had not been... been..." He made a vague gesture.



"Taken," Kitai said.



"Taken." Tavi told her about the conversation between the cloaked figure and Sarl.



Kitai nodded. "You saw it. The vord plans to kill your headman. It wishes to create enough chaos to increase their numbers without being noticed. Until it is too late."



Tavi found his paces quickening. "Crows. Could they do such a thing?"



"The second time they ravaged my people, we were not able to stop them-and we had faced them before. Your people know nothing of them. So they seek to weaken you, divide you."



"The vord queen is using Sarl," Tavi murmured. "Divide and conquer. He provided her with soldiers to begin her work, and his caste has been hurling storms at Gaius in order to weaken him and force him to spend most nights in his mediation chamber, so that they have an idea of where he will be when they try to kill him. And the queen knows that if Alera is weakened, the Canim will attack us. She wants the Canim to attack and weaken us further-and in the process they will take losses as well. They'll leave themselves more vulnerable to the vord."



Kitai nodded. "In our tales they turned our peoples upon one another in much the same way."



"Crows," he swore quietly. Tavi thought of the long stair down to the First Lord's meditation chamber. After the first guard station, there were no other entrances or exits from the stairwell or the chambers below.



It was a death trap.



Tavi walked even faster. "They know where Gaius is. Twenty Canim might be able to fight their way to him. We have to stop them."



Kitai kept pace. "We will warn your warriors, lead them here, and destroy the vord."



"Sir Miles," Tavi said.



Kitai looked at him blankly.



"He's a war leader," Tavi clarified. "But I'm not sure he'll attack."



"Why would he not?"



Tavi clenched his jaw and pressed ahead, in a hurry but not stupid enough to go sprinting through the tunnels until he was hopelessly lost. "Because he doesn't like me very much. He might not believe me. And if I tell him I got the information from a Marat, I'll be lucky if he only storms out of the room."



"He hates us," Kitai said.



"Yes."



"Madness," Kitai said. "The vord are a threat to one and all."



"Sir Miles will understand that, too," Tavi said. "Eventually. I'm just not sure there's enough time for him to be stubborn." Tavi shook his head. "Maestro Killian is the one to convince. If I do that, he'll order Miles to do it."



They reached the last marking Tavi had left on the wall and entered familiar tunnels again. Tavi picked up his pace to an easy run, mind racing over what he had to do, how best to get it done.



He registered a sudden motion in front of him, and he flinched to one side just as a hooded attacker with a heavy truncheon appeared from behind a veil of furycrafting and swung it at him. The club glanced off his left arm, and Tavi felt it go suddenly numb. Kitai snarled somewhere behind him. Tavi hit the wall, stumbled, and barely managed to keep from falling. He drew his knife and turned to confront the attacker, just in time to see the truncheon in motion only inches from his face.



There was a flashing burst of bright lights, then everything went black.



Chapter 40



Dawn had not yet come when Amara and Bernard woke together. They shared a slow, soft kiss, then without a word they both rose and began to don their arms and armor. Just as they finished, there was a step outside the makeshift room, and Doroga pushed the curtain of cloaks aside. The Marat's broad, ugly face was grim.



"Bernard," he rumbled. "It is dawn. They come."



Chapter 41



Isana accompanied the assassin to a wine club on a quiet, dimly lit section of Mastercraft Lane, where the finest craftsmen in all of Alera plied their trades to the wealthy clientele of the city. The wine club itself was located between a small complex of buildings specializing in statuary and a furylampmaker's workshop. There was no sign over its door, no indication that it was anything but a service entrance or possibly the entrance to a countinghouse or some other business that did not require walk-in customers.



Despite the late hour, the door opened promptly when the assassin knocked, and a liveried servant conducted them down a hall and into a private room without speaking to them.



The room was cozy and lavishly appointed-a circle of small divans meant to be lounged upon on one's side while chatting and sipping wine. One of the divans was occupied.



Invidia Aquitaine lay upon her side, beautiful in the same silk gown she had worn at Kalare's fete. A crystal goblet in her hand was half-filled with a pale wine. Additionally, she wore a translucent drape of fabric over her features-a veil, Isana judged, meant to provide the legal pretense of anonymity should the evening's discussion somehow come under the scrutiny of the law.



Lady Aquitaine looked up as they entered and inclined her head pleasantly. "Welcome, Steadholder. I presume that my associate talked you into the meeting."



"He was persuasive-under the circumstances," Isana replied.



Lady Aquitaine gestured toward the divan across from her. "Please, relax. Would you care for a taste of wine? This is an excellent vintage."



Isana stepped over to the indicated divan but did not recline upon it. Instead, she sat upon its very edge, her back rigidly straight, and frowned at Lady Aquitaine. "I've no stomach for most wine," she replied. "Thank you."



Lady Aquitaine's pleasant smile faded into a neutral mask. "This might be easier for you if you indulged somewhat in the pleasantries, Steadholder. They do no harm."



"Nor serve any purpose, except to waste time," Isana replied. "And time is of importance to me at the moment. I came here to discuss business."



"As you wish," Lady Aquitaine replied. "Where would you like to begin?"



"Tell me what you want," Isana said. "What would you have of me?"



She took a slow sip of wine. "First, your public support of Aquitaine and my lord husband," she said, "who would become your political patron. It means that you would appear in public wearing the colors of Aquitaine-particularly at the presentation at the conclusion of Festival. You may be asked to attend dinners, social functions, that sort of thing, with my husband providing transport and covering any of your expenses."



"I work for a living," Isana said. "And I am responsible for a steadholt with more than thirty families in it. I'd do poor service to them constantly running off to social occasions."



"True. Shall we negotiate upon a reasonable number of days each year, then?"



Isana pressed her lips together and nodded, forcing herself to contain her emotions carefully.



"Fine. We'll work that out. Secondly, I would require your support as a member of the Dianic League, which would require you to attend a convocation of the League once each year and engage in written discourse over the course of the rest of the year."



"And within the League, you wish me to support you."



"Naturally," Lady Aquitaine said. "And finally, we may ask you to support certain candidates for the Senatorial elections in Riva. As your home city, you will be able to vote in the elections, and your opinion will inevitably carry some weight with your fellow Citizens."



"I want something understood, Your Grace," Isana said quietly.



"What might that be?"



"That I know full well the extent of you and your husband's ambitions, and have no intention of breaking the laws of the Realm to help you. My support and participation will extend as far as the letter of the law-and not an inch farther."



Lady Aquitaine raised both eyebrows. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of asking you for that."



"I'm sure," Isana said. "I simply want us to understand one another."



"I think we do," Lady Aquitaine replied. "And what would you ask in return for your support?"



Isana drew in a deep breath. "My family is in danger, Your Grace. I came here to contact the First Lord and get help sent back to Calderon, and to warn my nephew of a potential threat to his life. I have been unable to contact either of them on my own. If you would have my support, then you must help me protect my kin. That is my price."



Lady Aquitaine took another slow sip of wine. "I shall need to know more about what you require, Steadholder, before I can make any promises. Please explain the circumstances in greater detail."



Isana nodded, then began to recount everything Doroga had told them about the vord, the way they spread, where they had gone, and the danger they represented to the whole of the Realm. When she finished, she folded her hands in her lap and regarded the High Lady.



"That's... quite a tale," she murmured. "How certain are you of its truth?"



"Completely," Isana said.



"Even though what you know of it came from, if I understand you correctly, a barbarian chieftain."



"His name is Doroga," Isana said quietly. "He is a man of integrity and intelligence. And his wounds were real enough."



Lady Aquitaine murmured, "Fidelias, what assets have we near Calderon?"



The assassin spoke up from where he had taken an unobtrusive position against the wall beside the door. "The Windwolves are on training maneuvers in the Red Hills, Your Grace."



"That's... twenty Knights?"



"Sixty, Your Grace," he corrected her.



"Oh, that's right," she said, her tone careless, though Isana did not believe for a moment that she hadn't remembered precisely what resources she had, and where. "They've been recruiting. How long would it take them to reach Calderon?"



"As little as three hours, Your Grace, or as long as seven, depending upon wind currents."



Lady Aquitaine nodded. "Then please inform His Grace, when you report to him, that I am dispatching them to the relief and reinforcement of Calderon's garrison on behalf of our new client."



Fidelias regarded her for a moment, then said, "Lord Riva might not appreciate our sending troops into action in his own holdings."



"If Riva was doing his job, his own troops would already be there to reinforce the garrison," Lady Aquitaine said. "I am quite certain he would much rather snub the new Count Calderon than respond with a swift and expensive mobilization, and I should dearly love to openly humiliate Riva in front of all the Realm. But assure my husband that I will order the men to keep the lowest profile possible, and thereby only humiliate him in front of all the peerage."



The assassin smirked. "Very good, Your Grace."



She nodded. "The next order of business will be to find the Steadholder's nephew and make sure that he is safe from both this vord creature and from Kalare's bloodcrows."



"Alleged bloodcrows, Your Grace," Fidelias corrected her. "After all, we don't know for a fact that they belong to Lord Kalare."



Lady Aquitaine gave Fidelias an arch look. "Oh yes. How thoughtless of me. I presume you have Kalare's holdings in the capital under surveillance?"



Fidelias gave her a mildly reproachful look.



"Of course you do. Find out what your watchers have seen most recently and put absolutely anyone you can spare on this matter at once. Secure the boy and ensure his safety."



He ducked his head into a polite bow. "Yes, Your Grace. Though if I may offer a thought before I leave?"



Lady Aquitaine waved her hand in an acquiescing gesture.



The assassin nodded. "My investigation since arriving here revealed a pattern of unusual activity in the Deeps. A significant number of people have gone missing over the winter, and in my judgment it wasn't as a result of infighting between the local criminal interests. These creatures the Marat warned about could be involved."



Lady Aquitaine arched an eyebrow. "Do you really think so?"



Fidelias shrugged. "It certainly seems possible. But the Deeps are extensive, and given our limitations in manpower, it would require a considerable amount of time to search them."



Lady Aquitaine flicked her finger in a gesture of negation. "No, that will not be for us to accomplish. The security of the Deeps will certainly be of concern to the Royal Guard and Crown Legion. We will advise them of the potential danger at the first opportunity. For now, focus on the boy. He is our interest here."



"Yes, my lady." The assassin inclined his head to her, nodded to Isana, and departed the room.



Isana sat in silence for a moment and found her heart pounding too swiftly. She felt her hands shaking and clasped them together, only to feel a clammy sweat prickling over her brow, her cheeks.



Lady Aquitaine sat up, frowning as she stared at Isana. "Steadholder? Are you unwell?"



"I am fine," she murmured, then swallowed a bitter taste from her mouth, and added, "my lady."



Lady Aquitaine frowned, but nodded to her. "I'll need to go shortly in order to contact our field commander via water."



Isana paused in startled shock. She herself had been able to send Rill out through the streams of most of the Calderon Valley-but that was largely because she had lived there for so long and knew the local furies so well. With effort, Isana could perhaps have communicated through Rill as far as Garrison, but Lady Aquitaine was casually speaking about sending her furies five hundred times as far as the extreme limits of Isana's talents.



Lady Aquitaine regarded Isana for a moment more, before saying, "You really do believe that they are in mortal danger. Your family."



"They are," Isana said simply.



Lady Aquitaine nodded slowly. "You would never have come to me, otherwise."



"No," Isana said. "No, I would not."



"Do you hate me?" she asked.



Isana took a slow breath before answering, "I hate what you represent."



"And what is that?"



"Power without conviction," Isana replied, her tone lifeless, matter-of-fact. "Ambition without conscience. Decent folk suffer at the hands of those like you."



"And Gaius?" Lady Aquitaine asked. "Do you hate the First Lord?"



"With every beat of my heart," Isana replied. "But that is for a different reason entirely."



Lady Aquitaine made a noise in her throat to indicate that she was listening and nodded, but Isana did not continue. After a moment of silence, the High Lady nodded again, and said, "You seem to be one who appreciates forthright honesty. So I will offer you that. I regret what happened in Calderon two years ago," she said. "It was a senseless waste of life. I opposed it to my husband, but I do not rule his decisions."



"You opposed it out of the goodness of your heart?" Isana asked. She tasted the faint sarcasm on her words.



"I opposed it because it was inefficient and could too easily fail and recoil upon us," she said. "I would much prefer to gain power through the building of solid alliances and loyalties, without resorting to violence."



Isana frowned at her. "Why should I believe you?"



"Because I'm telling you the truth," Lady Aquitaine said. "Gaius is old, Steadholder. There is no need for violence to remove him from the throne. Time will eventually play the assassin for us, and he has no heir. Those in the strongest position to rule when Gaius passes may be able to assume the throne without allowing matters to devolve into an armed struggle for power." She offered Isana her hand. "Which is why I am quite serious when I tell you that your loyalty places upon me an obligation to protect your family as if it was my own. And I will do so by every means at my disposal." She nodded to her hand. "Take it and see. I'll not hide myself from you."



Isana stared at the High Lady for a moment. Then she reached out and took her hand. She felt nothing for a second, then there was a sudden gentle pressure of emotion from Lady Aquitaine.



"Are you telling me the truth?" Isana asked her quietly. "Do you intend to help me and my kin?"



"I am," Lady Aquitaine said. "I do."



Through their clasped hands, Isana felt Lady Aquitaine's presence as a subtle vibration on the air, and her words rang with the clarity of truth and confidence. It was not an affectation of furycrafting. That tone of truth was not something that could be falsified, not to someone of Isana's skill. Lady Aquitaine might have been able to conceal falsehoods behind vague clouds of disinterest and detached calm, but there was the quivering power of sincerity in her statements, and nothing cloudy about it.



She might be ambitious, calculating, relentless, and merciless-but Invidia Aquitaine meant what she said. She fully intended to do everything in her power to help Bernard, to protect Tavi.



Isana shuddered and could not stop a slow sob of relief from surging through her. The past days had been a nightmare of blood and fear and helpless frustration, a struggle to reach the man with the power to protect her family. She had reached Lady Aquitaine instead.



But, Isana realized, if Invidia could do as she claimed, if she could make certain that Bernard and Tavi were safe, then Isana would have no choice but to return that loyalty in good faith. She would become a part of something meant to tear down the First Lord, and willingly, if that was the price for protecting her own. She had committed herself.



But that didn't matter. As long as Tavi and her brother were safe, it was worth the price.



Lady Aquitaine said nothing, and did not withdraw her hand, until Isana finally looked up again. The High Lady then rose, glanced down at her gown, and frowned at it until its color darkened from scarlet to a red so deep it was almost black and better suited to avoiding notice in the night. Then she regarded Isana with cool eyes not entirely devoid of compassion, and said, "I must see to our communications, Steadholder. I've arranged for you to be taken under guard to my manor, where quarters await you. I will bring you word of your brother and your nephew the moment I have it."



Isana rose. Her head's pounding had eased significantly, and the lack of pain was a powerful soporific. She wanted little more than to get some rest. "Of course, my lady," she said quietly.



"Come with me, then," she said. "I'll walk you to the coach."



Isana followed Lady Aquitaine out of the building and found a coach waiting outside. It featured positions for half a dozen footmen, and each was occupied by an armed man with a hard expression and confident hands. Lady Aquitaine steadied Isana with one hand as she mounted the steps into the coach, and the footman closed the door behind her.



"Rest if you are able," Lady Aquitaine said, making a curt gesture to the night with one hand. A tall grey steed walked amicably out of the darkness, stopping to nuzzle Lady Aquitaine's shoulder. She pushed the beast's head away from her dress with an expression of annoyed fondness. "I will do all in my power to act immediately, and I will do everything I am able to get immediate word to the First Lord regarding the dangers here and in Calderon. You have my promise."



"Thank you," Isana said.



"Do not thank me, Steadholder," Lady Aquitaine said. "I do not offer this to you as a gift of patron to client. We have entered into a contract as peers-and one that I hope will benefit us both for years to come."



"As you wish, my lady."



Lady Aquitaine mounted gracefully, inclined her head to Isana, and said to the driver, "Martus, be cautious. Hired cutters have already sought her life once this night."



"Yes, Your Grace," the driver answered. "We'll see her there safe."



"Excellent." Lady Aquitaine turned her horse and set off at a brisk trot down the street, veil and gown flowing around her. One of the footmen drew down heavy leather curtains over the side of the coach, plunging it into darkness and preventing anyone from getting a look at its passenger. The driver clucked to his team, and the coach jolted into motion down the streets.



Isana leaned her head back against a cushion and lay limp, too exhausted to do more. She'd done it. She had paid a price that she knew would haunt her, but it was done. Help was on its way to Tavi and Bernard. Everything else was immaterial.



She was asleep before the coach was out of sight of the wine club.