Chapter 9
"Tribune Antillar," Tavi said. "I need you."
Max looked up from his lunch, blinking in confusion at the tone of Tavi's voice. But though Max was Tavi's friend, he was also Legion. He rose at once, banged a fist to his chest in salute, and fell into step beside Tavi before he'd finished chewing his last bite of food. As Tavi stalked out of the mess hall, he spotted Crassus pacing across the camp, speaking earnestly to one of the Legion's centurions.
"Tribune Antillus!" Tavi barked. "Centurion Schultz! With me."
Crassus and Schultz reacted in almost precisely the same way Max had. Tavi never slowed his steps, and they hurried to fall into pace behind him and Maximus. Tavi headed for the Canim encampment without speaking further, but they hadn't gone a hundred yards before hooves thundered over the ground, and Kitai swung herself down from her horse, her expression dour. She stared intently at Tavi for a moment, then started walking next to him.
A surge of relief and pleasure at seeing her face briefly suppressed the anger and calculation that drove his current steps. "When did you get back?" he asked.
"Just now, Aleran. Obviously." She looked at him again, as though to reassure herself that he was still there. "I felt something."
"Two Canim just tried to kill me."
Kitai's lips peeled back from her teeth. "Varg?"
"No way to know for certain. But it isn't like him."
Kitai growled. "His people. His responsibility."
Tavi grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her. "Were you successful?"
She eyed him, and said, not without a measure of scorn, "Aleran."
Tavi bared his teeth in a fierce grin. "Of course. I apologize."
"As well you should," Kitai said. "What do you hope to accomplish?"
"I will get answers from Varg," Tavi said.
"What?" blurted Max. "The Canim tried to kill you?"
"About five minutes ago," Tavi said.
"Then why the crows are we walking toward their camp?"
"Because I need to move fast before this becomes something bad," Tavi said. "And because that's where Varg is."
"And if he did send them to kill you, what's going to stop him from finishing the job when you get there?"
"You are," Tavi said.
Max scowled. "Oh. I am."
"Don't be a hog about it," Tavi said. "Crassus and Schultz deserve to contribute, too."
Max let out a growling sound. "Bloody Legions," he muttered, under his breath. "Bloody Canim. Bloody crazy First Lords."
"If you want to stay here..." Tavi began.
Max glowered at him. "Of course not." He glanced over his shoulder. "Schultz is competent. But it would all go to the crows if my little brother was in charge, and he outranks Schultz."
"Technically speaking," Crassus said, "I also outrank you."
"Do not," Max said. "We're both Tribunes."
"I got there first."
"We got there at the same time. Besides, I got assigned to the First Aleran six months before it formed," Max replied.
Crassus snorted. "As a centurion. A fake centurion."
"Doesn't matter. Seniority's mine."
"Children," Tavi chided. "You don't see Schultz bickering about such things, do you?"
"If it please the captain, sir," the plain-faced Schultz said, "I am not a part of this."
Kitai grinned, showing her canine teeth. "Schultz has the best sense among them. He merits command for that alone."
Schultz ignored the comment with noncommissioned stoicism.
They strode out from the camp on the hill and went down toward the larger Canim encampment. The gate guards saw Tavi and the others coming. One of the guards, a Cane with whom Tavi was not familiar, held up a hand, signaling for Tavi to halt and be identified, standard procedure for the Canim camp.
Tavi took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was not making a standard visit.
Instead of halting, he called strength from the earth, leaned back, and kicked the wooden palisade gates open with a resounding crash. The two Canim on guard, caught behind the gates as they opened, were flung to the ground on either side - and every set of black and scarlet Canim eyes in view turned to focus on what had happened.
"I seek my gadara, Varg," Tavi stated in the snarling tongue of the wolf-warriors, loudly enough to be heard by the watching Canim. "Let any who wish to stand in my way step forth now."
The way toward the center of the Canim camp was abruptly vacated.
Tavi stalked forward, trying to appear as though he longed for nothing so much as an excuse to vent his rage upon any Cane luckless enough to draw his attention. He had enough experience with them to know how important body language and confidence was to communicating effectively with them. His main worry was that some young warrior might believe his stance and attitude were bravado, a bluff, and decide to call him on it.
He had already killed two Canim. Given how implacable Varg and the warrior caste had become about protecting what remained of their people, it might already be too late to salvage anything out of the situation. Once blood was spilled, the Canim could become less than rational.
Come to think of it, Alerans weren't much different.
Kitai fell into place beside Tavi, her green eyes narrowed, her expression hard. "You do not believe Varg is behind this," she said beneath her breath.
"No. If he wanted me dead, he'd bring a sword and do it himself."
Kitai nodded. "Therefore, someone else sent the killers."
"Yes," Tavi said.
Kitai frowned thoughtfully for a moment. Then she said, "I see. You fear that whoever sent the killers knew that they would die."
Tavi nodded. "Likely, they are already working to spread word among the Canim."
Kitai narrowed her eyes. "They will accuse you of murder."
"I've got to get to Varg first," Tavi said. "Before word has time to spread."
Kitai glared at a pair of warriors in blue-and-black steel armor, golden-furred Shuarans who had never faced Aleran Legions on the battlefield and who might therefore be more willing to challenge the Aleran party. One of the pair looked like he might - but his companion, a larger Cane, flicked his ears in amusement and watched the Alerans pass with unconcealed interest.
Kitai grunted in satisfaction. "And before word has time to spread among the Alerans, too."
Tavi nodded. "That's why we're doing this the noisy way."
She cast him a single worried glance. "Not all enemies are like Varg. Be cautious."
Tavi snorted out a breath through his nose and fell silent again as they finished their march through the camp uncontested.
As Tavi approached the center of the camp, he spotted a dozen of the most senior of the Canim warrior caste, their armor covered in so many scarlet patterns that little, if any, black steel could be seen. They were all resting in nonchalant poses around the entrance to the dugout shelter Varg used as a command post.
Several were sitting on their haunches, as if loitering in groups of two and three, passing the time. Two more were playing ludus on an oversized board with enlarged pieces. Another pair were facing one another with wooden practice swords. The two Canim did not engage their blunt blades. One was posed in a defensive stance, blade held across his body. His opposite held his own blade gripped over his head, parallel to the line of his spine.
As Tavi grew closer, the positions of each warrior shifted at what appeared to be precisely the same time. The first Cane slid a step to one side and shifted the angle of his blade. His partner eased half a step forward in dancelike synchronization, turning his body, and brought his own blade down and forward to a full extension, the sword's wooden tip stopping just short of the other Cane's blade. They both froze again, only to change positions once more a few breaths later. As the positions settled, the first Cane dropped his jaws open in an easy grin. The second let out a rumbling snarl of disappointment. The two lowered their blades, inclined their heads to one another in a Canim bow, and turned to observe the approaching Alerans as if their contest had concluded when it did by pure coincidence.
Tavi stopped a few feet beyond the range of a long lunge from one of the Warmaster's guardians, growled under his breath, and called, "Gadara! I would speak with you!"
Silence yawned for a moment, and the dozen guards faced the Alerans calmly, relaxed. Every one of them had a paw-hand on a weapon.
Varg emerged from the dugout in his crimson steel armor, prowling deliberately into the light. Nasaug followed his sire, his eyes focused on the Alerans. Varg came forward, toward Tavi, and stopped a fraction of an inch outside of his own weapon's reach.
Tavi and Varg exchanged a Canim-style salute, though it was barely detectable, heads tilting very slightly to one side.
"What is this?" Varg said.
"It is what it is," Tavi replied. "Two Canim just attempted to kill me in my command post. They entered posing as your messengers. One wore the armor of a Narashan warrior. The other wore the equipment of Nasaug's militia."
Varg's ears swiveled forward and locked into position. For a Cane, it was an expression of polite interest, but the stillness of the rest of Varg's body amounted to the equivalent of an expressionless mask, meant to give nothing of his thoughts away.
"Where are they?" Varg asked.
Tavi felt himself tense at the question but forced his body to remain confident, calm. "Dead."
Varg's throat rumbled with a low growl.
"I cannot let such a thing pass unchallenged," Tavi replied.
"No," Varg said. "You cannot."
"I would face the Cane responsible."
Varg's eyes narrowed. Several seconds of silence passed before he spoke. "Then you would face me. I lead my people. I am responsible for them."
Tavi nodded slowly. "I thought you'd say that."
Nasaug let out a low, rumbling growl.
"Peace," Varg rumbled, glancing over his shoulder.
Nasaug subsided.
Varg turned back to Tavi. "Where and when."
"Our forces must leave in two days," Tavi said. "Is that time enough to prepare such a thing?"
"In addition to what is already under way?" Varg asked. "No."
"Then we will meet as soon as you have made preparations. Single blade, open field, until one falls."
"Agreed," Varg said.
The two exchanged another barely detectable bow. Tavi took several slow steps back, never turning his eyes from Varg. Then he turned, made a gesture with one hand to his companions, and started back the way he had come.
Rumors were already flying among the Canim. Hundreds, if not thousands, of them came to stare at the Alerans as they returned. Though the mutter of basso voices speaking Canish was never a friendly, soothing sound, Tavi imagined that their general tone was considerably uglier than any he had heard before. He walked through the crowd of towering wolf-folk, his eyes focused ahead of him, his expression set in a clenched-jaw snarl. He was peripherally aware of Kitai at his side, of Max, Crassus, and Schultz at his back. They were all walking in time with him, boots striking the ground at the same time - even Kitai, for once.
The Canim did not try to stop them although Tavi spotted a large mob coming their way as they reached the edge of the camp, led by half a dozen ritualists in their mantles of pale human leather. He tracked it from the corner of his eye but did not alter their pace. If the Aleran party appeared to the Canim around them to be fleeing, it could trigger an attack - and no matter how powerful the individuals with him might be, they were only a handful of people, and there were hundreds of Canim around them. They would be torn to pieces.
Tavi went back through the broken gates and past the two guards there, both of whom were on their feet again and looking surly. Neither met Tavi's gaze or attempted to challenge him, though, and the ritualist-led mob was still a hundred yards off when Tavi went through and started back up the hill. It wasn't until they were out of range of a Canim-thrown stone or spear that he allowed himself to begin to relax.
"Bloody crows," breathed Schultz, from behind him.
"Crows and bloody furies," agreed Max. "Did you see that group with the ritualists? They'd have jumped on us in a heartbeat."
"Aye," Crassus said. "That would have gotten ugly."
"Which is why the captain broke the gates on the way in," Kitai said. "Obviously."
"I've never regretted making sure I had a quick way out," Tavi said. "Centurion."
"Sir," Schultz said.
Tavi nodded to the legionares on duty at the gate to the First Aleran's camp as they passed through. "I want you to speak to your Tribune. Let him know that I want the Battlecrows for detached duty. That's all he needs to know."
"Sir," Schultz acknowledged.
"Pack them up for a mounted march and take them up to the engineering cohort's position. It's on a beach north of Antillus. Secure the engineers and keep an eye out for any suspicious Canim. If they're going to make trouble for us, it will be at the staging area, so I want your men on station before nightfall."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, sir," Schultz said seriously. He saluted and turned to start walking. "On my way."
"Max, take the cavalry with him. Keep one wing ready to respond to an attack at all times. Don't be subtle about it, either. I want anyone who thinks about interfering with the engineers to know what they're in for if they try it."
Max nodded. "Got it. What are we guarding again?"
"You'll figure it out," Tavi said. "Crassus, I know they aren't going to like it, but I need the Knights to pretend they're engineers again. The next couple of days are going to be difficult. Go with Max and Schultz and report to the senior engineering staff."
Crassus sighed. "At least it won't be more ice ships."
Tavi glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Not... exactly, no."
Max and Crassus traded a look.
"Does he know how annoying that is?" Max asked.
"Oh, absolutely," Crassus said.
"You think we should say anything about it?"
"The burden of command is heavy," Crassus said soberly. "We should probably let him have his sick fun."
Max nodded. "Especially since he's going to do it anyway."
"He is the mighty First Lord," Crassus said. "We are but lowly legionares. We obey without question."
"We do?"
"That was a question. You're questioning."
"Right," Max said. "Sorry."
"Just get up there, both of you," Tavi said. "The vord will be here in force in two days. We need to be on the move by then. I need you to help make it happen."
The brothers rapped fists to breastplates and marched off, continuing to bicker lightly with one another as they walked.
Kitai watched them for a moment and smiled. "They have become friends. I like that."
"They're brothers," Tavi said.
She looked at him, green eyes serious. "It is not the same for everyone. Blood draws some together. Their blood came between them."
Tavi nodded. "They weren't always this way, no."
Kitai smiled faintly. "They are your friends as well. They went when you asked them to go."
"They know what is at stake. They're afraid. Schultz, too. That's why they're joking."
"They're joking because they just followed you into a horde of angry Canim and walked back out again in one piece," she replied. "The battle energy had to go somewhere."
Tavi grinned. "True."
She tilted her head. "I'm curious. What did you accomplish, other than arranging a duel with one of the more dangerous beings we have encountered?"
"I started a conversation," Tavi said.
Kitai eyed him for a moment, then said, "They are right. It is annoying when you do that."
Tavi sighed. "It'll work, or it won't. Talking about it can't help."
She shook her head. "And your other plan. Will it work? Will we get there in time?"
Tavi stopped walking and regarded her. "I think there's a chance. A good chance." He turned to her, bowed formally, and asked, "Ambassador, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for a late dinner this evening?"
Kitai arched a white eyebrow. A slow smile spread over her lips. "Dinner?"
"It is the way things are properly done," he said. "You might wear your new gown."
"Gown?"
"I had it delivered to your tent while you were gone. I think it's lovely. Tribune Cymnea assures me it is elegant and tasteful."
Both her eyebrows lifted now. "In all of this, amidst everything you are doing, you made time to get me a gift."
"Obviously," Tavi said.
Kitai's mouth curved up into another slow smile. She turned and sauntered away, hips swaying a little more than was necessary. She paused to say, "There is hope for you yet, Aleran." Then she continued on her way.
Tavi frowned after her. "Kitai? So... you're coming to dinner?"
She didn't answer, except to laugh and keep walking.
Chapter 10
Amara suppressed an irrationally intense urge to have Cirrus choke off Senator Valerius's supply of air. She supposed she didn't absolutely need to choke him. Not fatally, anyway. She might be satisfied enough with merely watching him turn purple and collapse - but the man was so detestable that she scarcely trusted herself. So instead of murder, or a pleasant near murder, she folded her hands calmly into her lap and forced herself to remain calm.
Bernard leaned over, and murmured, "If I asked you politely, do you think you could strangle that smug idiot from all the way up here?"
She tried to suppress the giggle that surged up out of her belly at his words but was only partly successful. She covered her hand with her mouth but nonetheless earned a number of irritated glances from those in the amphitheater's audience.
"Tonight's script is for a tragedy," Bernard scolded her quietly, leaning close to put a restraining hand on her arm. "Not a comedy. Contain yourself before you upset the audience."
She fought down another laugh and punched his arm lightly, turning her attention back to the ancient Senator Ulfius's quavering recitation of obscure lineage. " - son of Matteus, whose title did not pass to his eldest, illegitimate son, Gustus, but to his younger and properly invested son, Martinus. Thus, is the precedent established, my fellow honored Senators, my lords in attendance."
Senator Valerius, a saturnine man of middle years and tremendously dignified appearance, began to applaud with long, elegant hands, and there was irregularly spread support of the gesture. "Thank you, Senator Ulfius. Now if there are no further - "
One of the seventy or so men seated on the floor of the amphitheater cleared his throat loudly and rose in place. His hair was a thicket of white spikes, his nose was laced with red from drinking too much wine, and his knuckles were swollen almost grotesquely from repeated brawling. A bandage on his right hand testified that not all of it had been in his youth, either.
Valerius adjusted the drape of purple cloth that denoted his status as Senator Callidus and eyed the other man. "Senator Theoginus. What is it?"
"I thought I might exercise my right as a member of this Senate to voice my thoughts," Theoginus drawled, his slow Ceresian accent coming through with broadly overdone exaggeration - a deliberate counterpoint to Valerius's classically trained, firmly northern intonations. "Assuming the Senator Callidus still intends to chair this august body in accordance with the rule of law, of course."
"Every moment wasted is a moment that could have been used preparing ourselves to face the enemy," Valerius responded.
"Indeed," Theoginus said. "Does that include the moments spent on your quite excellent manicure, Senator? I'm sure the shine of your nails will dazzle the vord before they can get anywhere near us."
A low laugh, as scattered as the previous applause, went through the audience. Amara and Bernard both added their own voices to it. The bandages on Theoginus's knuckles made an even more stark contrast to Valerius's appearance. "I think I like him," Amara murmured.
"Theoginus?" Bernard replied. "He's a pompous ass. But he's on the right side, today."
Valerius was far too polished to show any reaction to the laughter. He waited for it to vanish, and for another quarter minute after that before answering. "Of course, Senator, we will hear what you have to say. Although I ask, for the sake of the brave young men preparing to face the enemy, that you keep your commentary concise and to the point." He bowed his head slightly, gestured with a single hand, and seated himself gracefully.
"Thank you, Valerius," Theoginus replied. He hooked his thumbs in the folds of his robes, thus ensuring that the bandages on his right hand remained highly visible. "With all due respect to Senator Ulfius for his prodigious knowledge of Aleran history and Aleran law, his argument is specious and deserves to be laughed out of this amphitheater."
Ulfius rose, making spluttering sounds, his bald, speckled pate turning bright red.
"Now, now, Ulf," Theoginus said, giving the other Senator a broad, jowly smile. "I meant to go about that more gently, but Valerius says we've got no time to spare for your feelings. And you know just as well as I do that Parciar Gustus was a slobbering madman who murdered half a dozen young women, while Parcius Fidelar Martinus was the first serving Citizen to be named to the House of the Faithful after the Feverthorn Wars - and that was only after he twice declined Gaius Secondus's invitation to join the House of the Valiant."
Senator Theoginus snorted. "Trying to compare those two to Gaius Octavian and Gaius Aquitainus Attis strikes me as pure desperation - especially given that you have no evidence to prove that Octavian's birth was illegitimate."
Valerius rose to his feet, raising a hand. "A point of order, honored Theoginus. The burden of proof to establish legitimacy falls upon the parents, or if they are not living and able to do so, upon the child. Legitimacy, especially among the Citizenry, must be established."
"Which it has been," Theoginus said. "With the signet ring of Princeps Septimus, the eyewitness testimony of Araris Valerian, and by the signed hand of Princeps Septimus himself." Theoginus paused as a low mutter ran through the amphitheater, among Senators and observers alike, then eyed Valerius, waiting.
"Gaius Sextus never formally presented Octavian to the Senate," he replied smoothly. "By law, he has not been legally recognized."
"As a Citizen in his own right," Theoginus countered. "Which has no bearing whatsoever on Gaius's choice of an heir - which is a clear matter of public record."
"It is to be hoped," Valerius replied, "that the First Lord of the Realm should have the grace to be a Citizen as well."
"Semantics, Senator. We have all seen ample demonstration of Octavian's evident skills with our own eyes. The proof was, after all, good enough for Gaius Sextus. Why should it not be good enough for the rest of us?"
"The testimony of Gaius Sextus's personal physician has established that Sextus had been a victim of long-term poisoning by means of refined helatin," Valerius said soberly. "Helatin damages the entire body, including the mind. It is entirely possible that Gaius Sextus was non compos mentis during the last year of his life - "
Valerius's voice was lost in a sudden uproar of protest, and Amara found herself wanting to strangle the weasel again. First, he made everyone languish through Ulfius's argument, then attempted to press and close the issue in a rush, citing the need for prompt action. Granted, such tactics had been successful in the Senate before, though generally not in the face of any serious opposition. But this... calling Gaius's mental competency into question was a masterful stroke. If enough of the Senate was willing to go along with the idea, it would mean that nearly anything Gaius had done during the vord invasion could be found an illegal action, invalidated by the power-thirsty Senate. After all, Sextus could hardly defend his actions now.
There was a way to head off Valerius's true thrust, though, if Theoginus was clever enough to see it.
Theoginus raised a hand, a silent call for order, and the noise diminished to a susurrus of rapid whispers. "Honored brother of the Senate," Theoginus said, scorn open in his voice, "nearly every Lord and High Lord of the Realm worked in Gaius Sextus's presence during the entire campaign last year. Surely you do not suggest that so many Citizens of the Realm, the majority of them gifted watercrafters, could have simply failed to notice madness when they saw it?"
"Brother - " Valerius began.
"And if he was gone to his dotage," Theoginus continued, "then surely his adoption of Aquitainus Attis into his house must be viewed in a manner every bit as suspect as his declaration of Octavian's legitimacy."
"Hah," Amara said, baring her teeth in a grin and pounding her fist on Bernard's thigh. "He saw it."
Bernard enfolded her fist in his hands. "Easy, love, you'll leave bruises."
"Aquitainus Attis," Theoginus continued, turning to speak to the seated Senate at large, "is without a doubt one of the finest examples of talent, ability, and effective leadership that the Citizenry has to offer. His skill and personal courage in battle against the vord cannot be questioned." He drew in a deep breath, and spoke in a voice like thunder. "But those facts give no one the grace to defy the law of the Realm! Not Aquitaine. Not the Citizenry. And not the Senate." He turned in a slow circle to face each of the seated Senators. "Make no mistake, honored Senators. To defy the will of Gaius Sextus now is to betray the laws that have guided the Realm since its founding - laws that have allowed us to overcome centuries of turmoil and war."
"For tradition's sake," interrupted Valerius, "we ought to needlessly throw away the lives of our fighting men. Is that what you're saying, Senator?"
Theoginus faced Valerius squarely. "Half of our Realm is gone, sir. Lives beyond counting have been lost. Alera Imperia herself has fallen and been devoured by earth and fire. But most of what is left of the Realm is beyond the reach of any foe. It is carved into the intangible bedrock of the mind and heart - the law. It is within the good steel of those Legions outside the city walls, ready to give their lives in Alera's defense. It flows within the veins of her Citizenry, called to arms and ready to face whatever foe should try to harm her people." He swept his hand in a dramatic gesture, to the west. "And it is out there, in the living monument of the House that has guided the Realm since time immemorial. It is in Gaius Octavian."
True silence had fallen on the amphitheater. Theoginus knew how to speak to a crowd. He knew how to draw upon their emotions - and the constant hum of low fear that permeated all of Alera in these desperate months left them primed for just such an approach.
Theoginus's eyes raked the gathered Senate again. "Remember that, when you vote. Remember the oaths you have sworn. Remember the simple truth - that Sextus's lawful heir is coming to defend our lands and our peoples. Turn aside from the law, from what the Realm has always been, and Alera will be no more. Whether we stand, whether we fall, Alera will be gone. And we here will have murdered her: murdered her with quiet words, loud speeches, and raised hands. Remember."
Theoginus gave the Senator Callidus a glare that might have set the man on fire. Then he took his seat once more and folded his arms.
Valerius stared at his opponent for a long, silent moment. Then he gazed at the rest of the Senate. Amara could practically read his thoughts. Theoginus had employed a dangerous gambit. One could never be sure that an impassioned speech would move an audience in the intended direction - but the Ceresian senator had spoken well. The power of his words still resonated in the room. Any opposition Valerius raised, at this point, would earn him nothing but angry glares. His best course of action was almost certainly to move ahead and count upon the support he'd gathered in the days previous to this confrontation. It was a close vote. He might already have done enough to tip the scales.
Valerius nodded slowly and raised his voice. "I call the vote of the Senate upon the issue of the legitimacy of Gaius Septimus's alleged marriage to one freeman Isana of the Calderon Valley. A vote of yes will confirm the legal status of the marriage. A vote of no will deny it."
Amara found herself holding her breath.
"All those who would vote no?" Valerius asked.
Hands began to rise, scattered throughout the seated Senators. Amara found herself counting them furiously.
"How many?" Bernard whispered.
"They need thirty-six," she replied, still counting. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four.
Valerius added his hands to those raised.
"Thirty-five," she hissed.
"Those who would vote yes?" Valerius asked.
Hands began to rise - and trumpets began to howl.
A wave of worried whispers washed up around Amara. Heads began to turn. One distant trumpet was joined by another, and another, and another. The whispers became a murmur.
"What is that?" asked a matron seated behind Amara of her husband. "The signal?"
The old gentleman patted her arm. "I'm not sure, dear."
Amara turned to Bernard, her eyes grave. He met her gaze, his own face calm but resigned. He recognized the standard Legion trumpet call just as well as she did.
The Legions outside the southern wall of the city of Riva were sounding a call to arms.
"They can't be here," Amara said. "Not already."
Bernard gave her a half smile and rose. Around her, other Citizens were doing the same thing, moving with brisk, worried efficiency toward the amphitheater's exits, the matter before the Senate forgotten. "They seem to have formed a habit of surprising us. Let's prepare for the worst and hope for the best."
She took his hand and rose. They were just leaving the theater when a young woman came rushing toward them through the crowd, being jostled roughly several times in her haste. She was a slender young woman, with a long, rather serious face and long, cobweb-fine hair of pale gold. "Count Calderon!" Lady Veradis called. "Count Calderon!"
Bernard caught sight of her waving hand and waded through the crowd, moving through it easily enough by dint of pure mass. Amara stayed close to him, in his wake, avoiding the minor collisions that would otherwise have rattled her.
"Veradis!" Bernard called. He took the girl by the shoulders, a supportive, steadying gesture. She was clearly shaken, her face pale, her eyes wide. "What happened?"
"The First Lady, Count," she sobbed. "It's chaos over there, and I can't find the Placidas, and I don't know whom to trust."
Bernard looked around for a moment, and followed Amara's pointed finger to an alley between two buildings, an eddy in the stream of humanity flowing around them. Bernard moved them over into the relatively quiet space, and said, "Slow down, Veradis. Slow down. What happened?"
The girl gained control of herself with a visible effort, and Amara remembered that Veradis was an extremely gifted watercrafter. The emotions of the frightened crowd were probably an ongoing torment to her. "Your sister, sir," she said, her voice steady. "Your sister's been taken. Araris, too."
"Taken," Amara asked sharply. "Taken by who?"
The horn signals continued to blow, growing louder and more numerous.
"I don't know," Veradis said. "When I got back to her chamber, the door had been broken down. There was blood - probably not enough of it to have killed anyone. And they were gone."
Amara heard, among the other calls, the trumpets of High Lord Riva's Legion sounding the assembly, from deeper in the city. As Citizens in service to Riva, Bernard and Amara had been assigned to the support of the First Rivan Legion. Bernard glanced up. He'd heard the sound, too. "I'll go," he said. "See what you can find out."
Amara bit her lip but nodded and turned back to Veradis. "Lady, can you fly?"
"Of course."
Amara turned back to her husband, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. He returned it with brief, fierce intensity. When they broke off the kiss, he touched her cheek with the back of one hand, then turned and vanished into the crowds.
Amara nodded to Lady Veradis. "Show me," she said.
The two of them lifted off into the night, two small shapes among many who were flitting through the skies over Riva, while the Legion horns continued to blare.
