Cursor's Fury (21 page)

Lady Placida smiled, though there was sadness at the edges of it. “That’s the way of things. It’s easy to see what choices one should have made after it is too late to go back. I shall miss Serai. We were not close, but I respected her. And I enjoyed her talent for puncturing pompous windbags.”

Lady Placida spread her hand in a languid, seed-scattering gesture. “He impressed me with his intelligence. Cleverness. Determination. He is a most well spoken young man. I share a similar respect for several of the young people
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who are his friends. You can tell a great deal about a person by looking at the people who share his life.”

Isana did not miss the implication of Lady Placida’s statement, and she nodded in thanks of the compliment. “Tavi’s always been very bright,” Isana said, smiling despite herself. “Too much so for his own good, I think. He’s never let anything hold him back.”

“His . . . condition,” Lady Placida said with deliberately delicate phrasing. “I have never heard of anything quite like it.”

“It’s always been a mystery,” Isana agreed.

“Then I assume his situation has not changed?”

Isana shook her head. “Though goodness knows, there are plenty of people with many crafting skills who never do anything constructive with them.”

“Very true,” Lady Placida agreed. “Will you be in Ceres for long?”

Isana shook her head. “A few more days at most. I’ve been away from my steadholt too long as it is.”

Lady Placida nodded. “I’ll have a mountain of work waiting for me as well. And I miss my lord husband.” She shook her head and smiled. “Which is somewhat girlish and silly of me. But there it is.”

“Not silly,” Isana said. “There’s nothing wrong with missing loved ones. I hadn’t seen my brother in nearly a year. It was nice to visit him here.”

Lady Placida smiled. “That must have been a relief from what Invidia has you doing.”

Isana felt her back stiffen a little. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Lady Placida gave her an arch look. “Isana, please. It’s clear she’s managed to attach some strings, and equally clear that you don’t care for the situation.”

Strictly speaking, Isana should have denied it. Part of her agreement with Lady Aquitaine had been to support her publicly. But this was hardly a public forum, was it? So instead, she remained silent.

Lady Placida smiled and nodded. “Isana, I know how difficult this kind of situation can be. Should you need to talk to anyone about it, or if it progresses to something you are not willing to tolerate, I would like to offer you my support. I don’t know the particulars, so I cannot know how I might be of help to you—but if nothing else, I could at least listen to what you chose to share and offer advice.”

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“I sometimes grow bored with tactful evasions,” Lady Placida explained.

Isana nodded, then said, “Assuming that you are sincere: Why would you offer such help to me?”

Lady Placida tilted her head to one side and blinked. Then she took Isana’s hand, met her eyes, and spoke. “Because you may need it, Isana. Because you seem to me to be a decent person in unenviable circumstances. Because I can judge from the child you raised that you are a person worthy of my respect.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Not terribly aloof and aristocratic of me, I know, but there. The truth.”

Isana watched Lady Placida steadily and in growing surprise. Through the touch of her hand, Isana could sense the clear, chiming tone of absolute truth in her voice. Lady Placida met her eyes and nodded before withdrawing her hand.

“I . . . Thank you,” Isana said. “Thank you, Aria.”

“Sometimes, just knowing that the help is there, if you need it, is help enough in itself,” she murmured. Then Aria closed her eyes, inclined her head in a little bow, and departed the little garden, gliding away into the streets of Ceres.

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
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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
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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 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 . . .”