Princeps’ Fury

Magnus made a noise that seemed to be a grudging agreement. His worried eyes shifted from Marcus to the healer’s tent. “I’d best be inside, in case Crassus wakes.”

“Go ahead,” Marcus said. He glanced across the open ground to the walls of the city of Molvar, barely half a mile away. “There’s plenty of work to be done on the palisade, still, and we want it in place before we move the stores up from the ships.”

Magnus nodded. “What of the Narashans?”

“They’re making camp on the plain on the opposite side of the city,” Marcus said. “I’m making arrangements to establish runners between our camps.”

Magnus arched an eyebrow in silent question.

“They’re the closest thing we have to an ally,” Marcus said.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend?” the Cursor asked.

“The enemy of my enemy is just that,” Marcus replied. “It’s foolish to assume anything more. But we share a common interest that is threatened by a larger foe. If Narashan relations with the Shuarans fall to bits, Nasaug is practical enough to take any help he can get.”

“And if our relations with the Shuarans fall out, there is a bond between Nasaug and the Free Aleran,” Magnus murmured. “Enough of one to convince them to assist us?”

“No knowing,” the First Spear replied. “Can’t hurt to keep talking to them.”

“Agreed,” Magnus said. “I’ll send someone as soon as we know something. Meanwhile, let the Knights Aeris know that they may be needed to fly at a moment’s notice.”

“Aye.”

The elderly Cursor nodded and turned to head back into the healer’s tent.

Marcus watched him go, then raised a hand to rub at the wooden muscles on the back of his neck. Crows take it, what is the matter with me today? Magnus was right to be suspicious. Valiar Marcus might be a consummate soldier, a stalwart veteran, but such men did not tend to make such delicate and dangerous wagers with the safety of someone like the Princeps-or if they did make them, they put their money on the conservative side of the bet. What in the world had prompted him to fetch Lady Antillus to assist Crassus without first conceiving a convincing explanation as to why Marcus would bring her?

The First Spear turned on a heel and marched back out toward the palisades, taking a route that would let him walk past the barracks area of the Legion’s Knights.

There was plenty of work to occupy his mind-which was likely the problem.

* * *

Crassus survived.

Marcus strode into the healer’s tent three hours later, to find the young Tribune lying on a cot, covered by a blanket. Lady Antillus was nowhere to be seen, but Magnus was sitting on a camp stool beside the cot, a simple wooden framework with a sheet of canvas serving as the bed. Foss hovered nearby and seemed to be busy cleaning out a tub-but Marcus could all but feel the man itching to tell them to leave his patient to recover in peace.

Magnus nodded to the First Spear as he entered. “He’s dozing,” he said quietly. “But I wanted you here when I asked him to speak.”

“Certainly.” Marcus came to stand beside Magnus, frowning down at the young man. Crassus was pale, but whole. Where there had been three or four wounds on his shoulders and head, there was only the pink skin of freshly healed flesh. The wounds were all punctures-lines no more than two inches wide that had gaped like open mouths over deep wounds. Marcus would have thought them to be dagger wounds, had it happened to the boy on the streets of an Aleran city.

But what the crows had given the boy such wounds in the skies over Canea?

“Crassus,” Magnus said quietly, touching the boy’s shoulder. “Tribune. Report.”

Crassus opened his eyes, and took a moment to focus them, first on the roof of the tent, and then upon Magnus. “The Princeps. He’s imprisoned on the roof of a tower. Sent me to let you know what was going on, and to lead the Knights Aeris back to be ready to extract him if need be.”

Magnus spluttered, “If need be? He’s been imprisoned. What more need does he need?”

The First Spear firmly stopped himself from beginning his next sentence with the word “obviously.” “Could be that he thinks there might be some advantage to be gained if he stays where he is,” Marcus said.

Crassus looked up at him and nodded. In short, simple sentences, he described their journey to the fortified city of Shuar, what they had learned about the events of the past three years in Canea, and of their encounter with its master.

“He’s after information,” Magnus said. “Whatever the Shuarans know about the Vord. Crows take his arrogant eyes, that boy will be the death of me. He should never expose himself to such danger. This is why there are Cursors in the first place!”

“He’s the Princeps,” Marcus said firmly. “Crassus, what are his orders?”

“To bring the Knights Aeris back with me to Shuar,” Crassus replied. “But he doesn’t know everything.”

“At least someone realizes it,” Magnus muttered darkly.