Captain's Fury (Page 131)

Schultz gestured at the ruins and battered men around them. "And leave all this?"

Instant sounds of feigned disappointment and disgust fell from the walls and the ruined structures in the immediate area.

Schultz had understood what Tavi was doing, and abetted him, releasing some of the pressure on the men. It had been good thinking for a man his age, after the day he’d had, and Tavi nodded his approval at him. "As you were, centurion. You’ll have your marching orders soon enough."

"Yes, sir," Schultz said, saluting. The sound of marching boots came nearer, and Schultz faded back as a party arrived, which proved to be Antillus Crassus, flanked by several Knights Terra, and followed by the blunt, stocky form of Valiar Marcus.

"Schultz?" Crassus demanded, his voice strained with anger. "Pulling me out of a command meeting? This had better be good. And who the crows authorized that light to be-"

Crassus came to a dead stop as he reached the edge of the torchlight, and his eyes widened as he recognized Tavi and Ehren. His mouth opened, as if for an exclamation, but then he clenched his lips shut with a visible effort of will and gave Tavi a terse nod instead. "Centurion. Has his identity been verified?"

"No, sir," Schultz replied. "Tribune Foss sends his compliments and asks me to tell you that he is too crowbegotten busy to wander around the camp on errands, sir."

"True enough, tonight." Crassus sighed.

Tavi dismounted and shifted his tea to his left hand, waiting quietly.

Crassus made sure that the Knights Flora were covering him, and then approached Tavi, offering his right hand. Tavi traded grips with the younger man.

"Your name?" Crassus asked.

Tavi’s world froze for an instant.

Every detail came into crystal clarity-the scent of greasy woodsmoke from Ehren’s torch, the clank of a legionare’s armor against the stone battlements, the dim gleam of torchlight on battered armor. A patch of Crassus’s hair had been burned down to stubble, close to his scalp, and the red stones in the hilt of the Cane-sized dagger on his belt twinkled in the scarlet light. The moon and the stars hung, for an instant, entirely suspended, and Tavi was left alone, in all the universe with a single fact for company:

He’d lived most of his life surrounded in a cloak of lies and half-truths.

After this moment, after this breath, everything would change.

"Most of my life," he said quietly, "I have been known as Tavi of Bernard-holt, in the Calderon Valley of Riva. Then I became Tavi Patronus Gaius, and Tavi ex Cursori. In the time you have known me, Crassus, my name was Rufus Scipio, Third Subtribune and later Captain of the First Aleran."

The hilltop, the ruin, was perfectly silent, perfectly still.

Tavi’s voice flowed into that stillness, confident and steady, and he could hardly believe it was his own. "But my name," he said, raising his voice so that it rang from the battlecrafted walls and fallen stones, "is Gaius Octavian, son of Gaius Septimus, son of Gaius Sextus, First Lord of Alera."

And as that name fell onto the evening air, the sky bloomed into scarlet light.

Tavi wasn’t sure what had happened, but the light was directly behind him, to the south, and it illuminated the entire southern sky as if he’d called the sun itself back from its nightly journey into darkness to herald his presence. It washed over the ruins, revealing the exhausted, startled, awestruck faces of le-gionares covered in grime and blood. It threw his shadow out before him, engulfing Valiar Marcus, and Crassus, and the Knights escorting them.

And it revealed, approaching through the ruins, a second and larger group of men, consisting of a number of armored legionares of the Senatorial Guard, Captain Nalus and his seniormost officers-and Senator Guntus Arnos, his singulars, and his hangers-on.

Crassus, who had been seeking the sound of truth with his watercrafting senses, went absolutely white with shock, his fingers tightening almost painfully on Tavi’s. A beat later, the young Tribune dropped to one knee, and after a baffled second his Knights, the First Spear, then the whole of the First Aleran followed suit. The clank and clatter of arms and armor was like a roar of surf on a stony shoreline.

The Senator stood staring in slack-jawed shock. The hem of his Senatorial robes dropped from his numbed fingers, and landed in dirt made muddy with blood.

"I am Princeps Gaius Octavian," Tavi said, his voice loud and cold. "And I am here to bring a treasonous slive to account for his deeds."

As Tavi spoke, there was a rumble in the earth, so low-pitched that it shook his teeth, and the ground began to a tremble. Tavi’s heart leapt, and he almost followed suit in fear of plummeting stonework, seeking shelter under a nearby archway that had somehow survived.

If he scrambled for cover, though, it wouldn’t make a terribly regal impression upon those watching. Tavi elected to roll with the situation. He had no idea what was happening, but bloody crows, it certainly added something to the delivery.

He pointed a finger at the stunned senator. "Guntus Arnos! For conspiring with enemies of the Crown in plots that resulted in the deaths of hundreds of serving legionares, for the assault upon and the subsequent abduction of the rightful First Lady of Alera by subordinates under your direct command, and for ordering the murder of Aleran freemen, holders, and their families, I call you a traitor to your lord, your Realm, and your people!"

Arnos’s mouth twitched, and incoherent gobbling noises came from it.

"I call you to account, traitor!" Tavi thundered, and a nearby wall gave way beneath the shuddering earth and fell. "I call you to the juris macto! And may the crows feast on the unjust!"

Chapter 52

"If you kill me now," Araris said quietly to Navaris, "no one will ever know."

The sword-slender woman stared at Araris with dead eyes.

Then she shrugged.

"I’ll get over it."

Isana felt the cutter’s decision the instant she’d made it, and a blossom of mad, unholy glee flared out from Navaris as she turned to Araris and lifted her sword.

"No!" Isana cried, struggling against the ropes.

Without warning, the earth suddenly shook.

Navaris staggered, reaching out to seize the tent’s central pole to keep from falling. The tent sagged to one side, and its flap fell open, revealing a lurid twilight outside. The earth continued to rumble, and Isana could hear stone falling on stone. Somewhere in the background, a strident male voice thundered in furious speech.

Navaris stared around in angry surprise and shuffled to the tent’s opening over the still-trembling ground, eyes roaming back and forth.