Captain's Fury (Page 103)

"Yes, sire. I was always so much better at flying. Perhaps I didn’t put as much effort into the rest as I could have."

The feverish old man smiled and closed his eyes. "Or," he murmured, "perhaps you needed the proper tutor. Attend."

Chapter 40

Tavi lost track of several days. Not completely, but there was a definite blurring in his memory. He had to get the details from Kitai later, but the long and short of it was that they slipped quietly out of Alera Imperia two days after they took Varg from the Grey Tower.

Demos had delayed their departure until he had secured a cargo to freight down the river to Parcia-since it would look more than mildly suspicious for a ship to arrive and depart without loading or unloading anything. Tavi was only intermittently aware of what was going on, thanks to the extensive watercrafting he’d required after the rescue. He had a fairly clear recollection of the conversation with his mother while hiding in the river, and something about grabbing one of Varg’s ears as if he’d been a sheep being stubborn about shearing-but he mostly remembered being ravenously hungry, eating as much as he could fit in his stomach, then stumbling back to his bunk to sleep.

By the time hours had begun once again to proceed one after another in an orderly fashion, they had reached Parcia, and in less than half the time it had taken them to make the journey upriver. Demos unloaded his cargo and within hours they were once again in the open sea.

Tavi promptly got sick again.

He was lying on the open deck at night, several nights later, enjoying the cool breeze and gnawing on a ship’s biscuit as his nausea finally began to fade. Araris sat with his back against the mast, his sword on his lap, dozing. Tavi had just begun to consider life worth living again, when the door to the hold opened and Varg prowled onto the deck.

Tavi watched in silence as the Cane paced to the bow. The vast, dark-furred form, darker and more solid than the evening shadows, faced forward for a time, face lifted to the evening air.

Tavi rose. He held out a hand to Araris as he walked past him. The singulare passed over the hilt of his sword, and Tavi took it with him, casually carrying the weapon in its scabbard as he went to stand beside Varg.

The Cane glanced aside at Tavi and down to the sword. His chest rumbled with a sound that could have been amusement or approval. "I was wounded," Varg said. "Unto death."

"Not quite," Tavi said quietly.

Varg lifted a paw-hand in an approximation of an Aleran gesture of acceptance. "I was made whole by Aleran sorcery."

"By the Lady Isana," Tavi said.

"Your mother," Varg said.

Tavi blinked and stared at him.

Varg tapped one claw on the end of his nose. "Your scents are similar."

Tavi snorted out a breath.

Varg turned to face the sea again. "Almost as similar as your scent and that of Gaius Sextus."

Tavi frowned.

Varg let out another amused rumble. "I have said nothing of it to any ears but yours."

"Sometimes it feels like everyone knew but me," Tavi growled. "How long have you known?"

"Since the night you held a knife to my throat."

"I didn’t have much choice in the matter," Tavi said.

"You could have chosen to neglect your duty. You did not." Varg leaned his huge, clawed paw-hands on the ship’s rail and stared out to sea. "Why did you come down for me when I fell, Aleran?"

"Because you agreed to follow me," Tavi said.

"I might already have been dead."

"There was no way to know that until I went down to look."

Varg grunted. "You could have been killed in coming."

Tavi shrugged. "I wasn’t."

Varg bared his teeth. "I respect Gaius’s power. I respect his intelligence. But I most respect that he understands what it is to lead." He turned toward Tavi and bent his head gently forward, in the Aleran manner. "As I respect you, gadara."

Tavi inclined his head in reply. "Have you eaten?"

Varg coughed out a grunt of laughter. "You have learned what it is to lead warriors." He sounded amused. "These sailors do not like to come near me. I have chosen not to take food from them."

Tavi’s eyes widened as he considered what Kitai had told him about Varg’s extensive wounds and the crafting that had been required to repair them. "You must be starving."

"I have been hungry before."

Tavi turned to Varg and put the rest of his ship’s biscuit on the rail beside the Cane’s paw-hand. "Eat that," he said. "I’ll see about getting you something more solid."

Varg took the biscuit and tossed it into his jaws. The Cane’s teeth crunched the tough block of food as if it had been fresh bread. He flicked his ears in distaste as he worked his jaws, getting the crumbs from between his fangs. "Aler-ans may be hardier than I thought." He tilted his head and considered Tavi. "The Lady Isana," he growled. "If it is not improper, I would have you convey my respects for her skills."

"Why would you think it improper?" Tavi asked.

Varg picked another shard of ship’s biscuit from his teeth with one claw. "Your people have strange customs with regards to mates and offspring. A male may be mated, yet pursue other females. A female may be mated, but bear children of other males, yet pretend they are her mate’s offspring, while the mate outwardly acknowledges the children as his own. A man and woman may mate and bear children, but if it is recorded improperly, then shame is visited on the child."

"Shame?"

"Illegitimacy, I have heard it called," Varg said. "Bastard. And you, a child of the House of Gaius, were treated as an outcast. A menial. I do not know if your mother has been visited with shame, or if it would be inappropriate to acknowledge her. The values of such things make no sense to me."

"It’s… complicated," Tavi said. "Even by Aleran standards. But it would not be inappropriate for you to thank her for her assistance."

Varg bared his teeth and growled. "I do not offer thanks. Your people need me alive and healthy. It was not an act of charity."

"True enough," Tavi said. "I chose an imprecise phrase. It would not be inappropriate for you to convey your respect for her skills."

Varg narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment. "Among my people, a pack leader handles such matters."

Tavi turned to face Varg directly, hand on his sword. "Then I will do so."

The Cane’s chest rumbled again, and he flicked his ears in agreement, turning back to the sea. "It is well."