Cursors's Fury

Veradis nodded back and turned to leave. She paused by the door. “I’ll send in a cot, and make sure there’s an attendant near your door.” She paused, just outside the room, and asked, “He is your protector?”

“Yes,” Isana said quietly.

“Then I ask you to consider one thing before you begin. Should you die attempting to heal him, you will render his death meaningless. He will have sacrificed his life for his lady for nothing.”

“I am not his lady,” Isana said quietly.

“Yet you will risk your own life for him?”

“I will not stand by and watch him die.”

Veradis smiled for just a second, and for an instant looked her age, young and lively. “I understand, Steadholder. Good luck.”

Chapter 21

Max looked blankly at Tavi for a second, then asked, “Are you insane?”

“This isn’t complicated,” Tavi told Max. “Take this hammer and break my crowbegotten leg.”

It was hard to tell in the wan light of predawn, but Tavi thought he saw his friend turn a bit green. Around them were the sounds of the First Aleran preparing to march. Centurions bellowed. Fish apologized. Veterans complained. Outside the walls, the camp followers, too, were preparing to march.

“Tavi,” Max protested. “Look, there’s got to be some other way.”

Tavi lowered his voice. “If there is, tell me. I can’t use the furies in the road for myself or my horse, I can’t ride in a wagon without looking awfully suspicious, and I sure as crows can’t keep pace on my own for more than an hour or three. A broken leg takes days to heal up well enough to march on it.”

Max sighed. “You’re insane.”

“Insane?” Tavi asked. “Have you got a better idea, Max? Because if you do, this would be a good time to share it with me.”

Max let out an exasperated sound, muttering several choice curses under his breath. “Bribery,” he said finally. “You grease the right palms, you can get out of almost anything. It’s the Legion way.”

“You can loan me some money, then?”

Max scowled. “Not right now. I lost it all to Marcus at a card game two nights ago.”

“Well done. “

Max’s scowl deepened. “Where’s your money?”

“I’ve been buying baths every night, remember? They aren’t cheap.”

“Oh.”

Tavi slapped the handle of a small smithy’s hammer into Max’s hand. “Lower leg. We’ll tell the medicos that a horse spooked and rolled a wagon wheel over it.”

“Tavi, “ Max protested. “You’re my friend. I don’t hit friends.”

“You hit me when we were training!” Tavi said, indignant. “You broke my wristl”

“That’s different,” Max said, as if the distinction was perfectly obvious. “It was for your own good.”

A column of mounted soldiers jogged by, tack and harness jingling. The riders were in a jovial mood, by their talk, and Tavi caught snippets of rude jokes, friendly insults, and easy laughter.

“The scouts have already left,” Tavi said. He nodded at the mounted troop. “There goes the vanguard. We’ll get the order to march in a minute, so stop acting like an old beldame and break my stupid leg. It’s your duty.”

“Crows take duty,” Max said easily. “You are my friend, which is more important.”

“Max, so help me, one day I’m going to beat some sense into your head with a rock,” Tavi told him. “A big, heavy rock.” He held out his hand for the hammer. “Give it.”

Max passed the tool back to Tavi, his tone relieved. “Good. Look, I’ll bet we could figure out some other way to-”

Tavi took the hammer in his grip, braced his right leg against the wheel of a nearby wagon, and before he could actually stop to think about it, he swung it hard into the side of his shin.

The bone broke with an audible crackling sound.

Pain flooded through Tavi’s senses in a sudden fire, and it was suddenly all he could do not to scream. His whole body felt shockingly weak for a moment, as if the blow had transformed muscle and sinew to water, and he dropped to his rear, clutching at the wounded limb.

“Bloody crows and carrion!” Max swore, his eyes huge with surprise. “You’re insane, man. Insane!”

“Shut up,” Tavi said through clenched teeth. “And get me to a medico.”

Max stared him for another long second, then shook his head and said, bewildered, “Right. What are friends for?” He stooped down and moved as though to pick Tavi up and carry him as one would a child.

Tavi glared.

Max rolled his eyes and grabbed one of Tavi’s arms instead, hauling it over his shoulder to support his weight.

A growling, rough voice said, “There you are, Antillar. Why the crows is your bloody century lined up beside Larus’s…” Valiar Marcus drew up short as he spotted Max and Tavi, and the battle-scarred old veteran’s ugly face twisted into a squint. “What the crows is this, Maximus?” He glanced at Tavi and threw him a casual salute. “Subtribune Scipio.”

Tavi grimaced and nodded in response to the First Spear. “I was loading the wagon,” he said, focusing on the words and trying to ignore the pain. “The horse spooked. Wheel went over my leg.”

“The horse spooked,” the First Spear said. He glanced at the horse hitched to the supply wagon.