Cursors's Fury

Isana sat for a moment more, enjoying the murmur of the fountain, the cool shadows beneath the trees. She had grown weary of fulfilling her obligations to Lady Aquitaine over the past three years. There had been many distasteful things about it, but the most distressing facet of the matter was the helplessness of it. There were few people in all Alera as powerful and influential as Lady Aquitaine.

The First Lord, of course, would never be a source of support or comfort. His actions had made that quite clear. Other than Gaius, there were fewer than a score of people whose power approached that of the Aquitaines, many of them already allies. There was no more than a handful of folk who had both the power and the inclination to defy Aquitaine Invidia.

The High Lady Placidus was one of them.

Aria’s presence, and her offer, had provided a sense of comfort and confidence that felt like a cold drink in the middle of a hot, endless day. Isana felt surprised at her reaction. Aria had done nothing more than speak idle words during a casual meeting, and nothing about them would bind her to them. Yet Isana had felt the truth in the woman’s voice and manner. She sensed Aria’s genuine compassion and respect.

Isana had once shared a similar contact with Lady Aquitaine. Isana had indeed felt the truth in her voice, but the sense of the woman had also been utterly different. Both women were the sort to keep their word-but what was primarily integrity in Aria was, in Lady Aquitaine, simple calculation, a kind of enlightened self-interest. Lady Aquitaine was an expert at negotiations, and to negotiate one needed a reputation of keeping one’s end of the bargain, for good or ill. She had a steely resolve to make sure that she paid what she owed-and more to the point, to be paid what was owed her. Her honesty had more to do with calculating debt and value than it did with right and wrong.

It was one of the things that made Lady Aquitaine particularly dangerous, and Isana suddenly realized that she feared her patron-and not merely for what Lady Aquitaine might do that would touch upon Isana’s loved ones. Isana feared her, personally, sickeningly.

She’d never realized that. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she’d never allowed herself to realize it before now. Aria’s simple offer of support had created another possibility for the future. Perhaps it was the relief Isana had needed to allow herself to face the fear she had kept hidden away. Isana had found hope again.

She shivered and put her face in her hands. Silent tears came, and she did not try to stop them. She sat in the peace of the little garden and let some of her bitter fear wash out with her tears, and in time, when the tears had passed, she felt better. Not buoyant, not ecstatic-but better. The future was not set in stone, no longer unremittingly dark.

Isana murmured to Rill to cleanse the tears from her eyes and restore the reddened skin of her face to its natural color, and left the garden to face the world.

Chapter 11

Max regarded Tavi, grinning. “They say if you breathe through your mouth instead of your nose, it will help you keep your breakfast down.”

Tavi sighed. He looked down at himself. His trousers were soaked to above midthigh and stained with the most vile effluvia imaginable. More of it had splattered onto his tunic, arms, neck, and he felt sure there was some in his hair and on his face. “And slog around in that with my mouth open? Smelling it is bad enough. I don’t want to taste it, too.”

Max lounged on a camp stool next to the practice grounds, watching Schultz and his spearmates drilling with live steel and their shining new armor. Schultz was running the drill, while Max watched over the recruits. “Schultz!” Max called. “Relax a little. You hold your shoulders that tight, it’s going to slow down your thrust.”

Tavi grunted. “He still thinks you’re going to kill him?”

“It was fun at first,” Max said. “Useful, too. But it’s been almost a month. I think he’s getting it figured out now.”

Tavi grunted and grabbed a ladle in a nearby bucket of water.

“Hey,” Max protested. “Downwind.”

Tavi idly flicked the ladle of water at Max, then drank one of his own, being careful to swallow in small, controlled motions. He had learned to his own dismay that gulping down liquid on a stench-soured stomach could produce unpleasant results.

“What’s he got you doing now?” Max asked.

“Inspections.” Tavi sighed. “I have to take measurements of each latrine, make sure it’s got the right dimensions. Then estimate volume and compare the rate that they’re all filling up. Then I have to supervise the digging of new ones and filling in the old ones.”

“That stomach bug clear up?” Max asked.

Tavi grimaced. “Finally. Took four days. And the captain’s asked Foss to brew me up some kind of tea to help me fight off other sicknesses.”

“How’s that working out?”

“I’d almost rather get the diseases. You should smell that stuff Foss makes.”

Max grinned. “And if you think it smells bad…”