Cursors's Fury

“Good. While you’re at it, I want you to find out whatever you can about the master farrier and his staff. And that veteran squad from the fifth cohort.”

“I already did that last,” Tavi said. “They’re aphrodin addicts. They’ve been buying it at the bordello in the camp.”

Magnus hissed through his teeth. “Addicts can still be spies. Find out who deals with them there. Whom they talk to.”

Tavi coughed. “That’s really more in Max’s traditional waters than mine.”

“Great furies, man. I’m not letting Maximus anywhere near an aphrodin den at a time like this. He’ll get himself killed.”

“Sir, Max likes to chase the ladies and drink, and furies know how well I know it. Sometimes he’ll drink laced wine. But he isn’t… that doesn’t control him.”

“It’s got nothing to do with whether or not he’s able to control himself,” Magnus said. “But it will be far too easy for someone to arrange an accident for him if he’s lying drugged and besotted in a pleasure den when he should be watching for a knife in the back.”

“From his stepmother?”

“Careful,” Magnus said, looking around. “Has Max ever spoken to you of his family?”

“No,” Tavi said. “But I always thought the scars on his back said plenty about them.”

Magnus shook his head. “Maximus is the illegitimate, publicly acknowledged son of High Lord Antillus. The High Lord married three years after Maximus was born, a political arrangement.”

“Lady Antillus,” Tavi said.

“And Crassus was the product of their union,” Magnus said.

Tavi frowned. “She thinks Max is a threat to Crassus?”

“Maximus is popular in the northern Legions and with at least one other High Lord. He’s a powerfully gifted furycrafter, he may one day be one of the finest swordsmen in Aleran history, and he made a great many friends at the Academy.”

“Uh,” Tavi said. “He was friendly. I don’t know if most of those who spent time with him would count as ‘friends,’ per se.”

“You’d be surprised how many times alliances have been forged between former casual lovers,” Magnus replied. “More to the point, he is known to be friendly with the First Lord’s page, among others, and has a widely known defiant streak when it comes to authority.”

“Max doesn’t want to be a High Lord,” Tavi said. “He’d run screaming within half an hour. He knows it.”

“And yet,” Magnus said, “he has made allies. He has a power base of influence among several Legions, and with several Lords-including those in the personal retinue of Gaius himself. Forget your personal knowledge of him and think of it in terms of an exercise, lad. What if he decided that he did want it?”

Tavi wanted to protest, but he ran through the angles in his mind, playing things out in numerous possibilities directed by logic, instinct, and the examples of history, as he had been taught by the Cursors.

“He could do it,” Tavi said quietly. “If something happened to Crassus, Max would be the only reasonable choice. Even if it didn’t, if Antillus’s Legions favored Max over his little brother, if he had support from other High Lords and the First Lord, that would be the end of the matter, practically speaking. It wouldn’t even be particularly difficult for him.”

“Precisely.”

“But he doesn’t want that, Maestro. I know him.”

“You do,” Magnus said. “But his stepmother doesn’t. And this isn’t young Antillar’s first accident.” As he finished the sentence, they completed their brief circuit of the interior of the practice field, returning to the infirmary. They were in time to see Lady Antillus and Crassus cross the practice track and walk toward the infirmary tent.

“Max is afraid of her,” Tavi murmured.

“She’s had a lifetime to teach him fear,” Magnus said, nodding. “And she’s deadly clever, lad. Powerful, wicked, devious. Several disturbing fates have befallen her foes, and not a shred of evidence has been found, not a drop of blood stained her hands. There are few in the Realm as dangerous as she.”

“She looks familiar,” Tavi said quietly. “Like someone I should know.”

Magnus nodded and said, “There are many who say her nephew Brencis is almost a mirror image of her.”

Tavi clenched his teeth. “Kalarus.”

“Mmmm,” Magnus said, nodding. “Lord Kalare’s youngest sister-and only surviving sibling. “

Tavi shook his head. “And Max’s father married her?”

“As I said. A political marriage.” Magnus watched them approaching. “I doubt Lord Antillus likes her any better than Max does. And now, young Scipio, I’m off to attend to the captain and do a great many other things. I think you should entertain the Lady and her son until Maximus gains his feet and can face her in the open, in front of witnesses.”

Tavi grimaced. “I’m not good at smiles and charm.”

“Now, now. You’re a loyal servant of the Realm, Scipio. I’m sure you’ll manage.” Magnus smiled at him, but whispered, “Be careful.” Then he saluted Tavi and vanished into the normal, bustling industry of the Legion camp.