Captain's Fury
Chapter 53~54
Chapter 53
Marcus paused in the shadows outside of Senator Arnos's well-lit command tent, and listened, watching through the half-open flap.
"Well?" Arnos demanded of one of his cadre of flunkies. "You're my legal advisor. Advise me."
"I'm sorry, Senator," the plump little man said, from the midst of a stack of thick books. "All the legal precedents would seem to be on the Princep-"
"Scipio," Arnos snarled. "His name is Scipio."
"-Scipio's," the man corrected seamlessly, "side. He has... technically, of course... satisfied the legal requirements to establish his identity, and in the case of a threat of treason or dishonor to the Realm, Citizens of the rank of Lord and above have the right to issue a challenge to any Citizen of the Realm."
"I know that," Arnos snarled. "What do I do about it?"
The man tried to smile, and his voice came out in a squeak. "You could always renounce your Citizenship, sir."
Arnos slapped him. "Idiot. Get out before I have you flogged."
The little man went scrambling from the tent, and Marcus stepped back to let him pass.
"You could take his advice, you know," said a woman's voice. Marcus recognized Lady Aquitaine's disguise at once.
"Bloody crows and furies," snarled Arnos, his throat tight. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to see that you are in a spot, Arnos."
The Senator let out a fairly uncivilized growl. "I'm not backing away now. I'd lose everything I've worked years to build. In my professional opinion, it is time for you to intervene."
"And?" she asked.
"And make it go away," he said, his voice coming through clenched teeth.
"I believe I've made a mistake in you, Arnos. I knew you were a pompous egotist with delusions of grandeur, but I did believe you were at least competent."
Arnos stared in silence for a few seconds, then accused, "We had a deal."
"We had an understanding," Lady Aquitaine said. "But you've broken faith with me. You told me that you hadn't acquired any of your troops as mercenaries. But your extremely well-supplied and well-armed and well-paid cavalry seem to have taken it upon themselves to loot and pillage every human habitation they come across."
"Their Tribunes are acting independently of my orders," Arnos said.
"You're the commander of these Legions, dear. You're responsible for what they do. That's rather why one is able to attain glory and respect after a victory. Or don't they teach that at the Collegia."
"How dare you lecture me on-"
Lady Aquitaine's voice, though still quiet, turned cold. "Don't make me raise my hand, Arnos. When I slap someone, he doesn't scurry away after."
Arnos jerked up straight, and his face turned red. "You were willing enough to spill Aleran blood six weeks ago."
"I'm willing to make sacrifices in pursuit of a greater goal," Lady Aquitaine said. "That's not the same as condoning the rape and murder of entire stead-holts. There was no profit to those actions. No purpose. It's unprofessional. Idiotic. And I have difficulty tolerating idiots."
"Then you should agree that this conversation is unprofitable, given the circumstances. We need to focus on the matter at hand."
"Oh?"
"We're probably worried about nothing. Navaris is going to introduce our young captain to the crows, and that will solve the problems at hand."
"Will it?" she said in a flat voice. "I've made a decision about the problems at hand, Arnos."
The Senator's voice sounded wary. "What's that?"
"They're your problems," Lady Aquitaine said, her tone pitiless. "Solve them by yourself. If you manage to survive them, I may be willing to renegotiate our relationship. But until then, you're on your own."
Arnos's mouth opened and closed several times.
Lady Aquitaine appeared in the tent's doorway and faced Marcus. She gave him a small smile, then it vanished. She turned, and hissed to Arnos, "Someone is coming."
Marcus took that as his cue and briskly strode to the mouth of the tent. "Senator?" He held up a roll of paper. "I've brought the First Aleran's casualty list for you to look over."
Lady Aquitaine's simple gown was spotted with blood, doubtless from the wounded men to whom she had been carrying water. She took the paper with a little curtsey and passed it over to Arnos.
Arnos unrolled it and glanced at it. "Thank you, centurion. Dismissed."
Marcus saluted and withdrew from the tent. He found Lady Aquitaine walking beside him.
"Sloppy," he said quietly. "Speaking that openly. Someone could overhear."
She made a tsking sound. "I extended the windcrafting to include you."
Marcus grunted.
"The duel is to be held on the south wall of the fortifications," Lady Aquitaine said. "This is the time for the balest, I suppose."
Marcus nodded. "Which?"
She shook her head. "There's something to be had on all fronts of this debacle. If Arnos is vindicated, our would-be Princeps has been dealt with. If Oc-tavian wins, he gets rid of a useless retainer who might well return to stab me in the back when I'm not looking."
Marcus understood the cold-blooded logic of it. "Wait until it's over. Shoot the winner."
"Problems solved," Lady Aquitaine said.
"There might be some problems you aren't considering," Marcus said. "About sixty thousand of them."
The mourning howls of the Canim army drifted through the night air.
She frowned, and rubbed her hands on her arms as if cold. "It's unfavorable. I'd rather not lose the Legions, but the odds would seem to be against it."
"You could improve them."
Lady Aquitaine stopped in her tracks and stared. "You can't be serious."
"Consider the advantages should we succeed," Marcus said. "Between this and the Vord attack in the citadel, you'll be establishing yourself as a true hero of the Realm. You'll gain even more allies."
"Assuming I'm not killed in the fighting, of course," she said. "No. That's not a chance I'm willing to take. Should the battle go ill, I'll take us both safely away."
No you won't, Marcus thought. I know you, Your Grace. Why remove two liabilities when it's as easy to manage three?
Marcus brooded for a moment, and when the privacy aircrafting Lady Aquitaine had been holding suddenly collapsed, he all but collided with the captain.
"Ah, there you are," the captain said. "I've been looking for you. Where did you get off to, First Spear?"
Tavi's eyes traveled to the disguised Lady Aquitaine, and his eyebrows rose in time with the corners of his mouth. "Ah-hah."
Lady Aquitaine dropped another curtsey, her eyes on the ground, and her cheeks turned pink.
Marcus coughed gruffly as he saluted. "Captain." He turned to Lady Aquitaine. "I must attend to my duties."
She nodded silently, still blushing-or pretending to be-and kissed Marcus on the cheek, curtseyed again to the captain, and hurried away.
"I didn't know you had a woman," Tavi said, grinning. "Ready to work?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. I-" The captain frowned suddenly, studying Lady Aquitaine as she left.
Marcus watched him frown pensively. "Sir?"
"Mmmm?" The captain shook his head. "Oh, nothing. She just seemed familiar to me for a moment."
"You may have seen her around the camp, sir."
"That's probably it." The young man rolled his shoulders beneath his armor. "The show starts in an hour. I'd like you to make sure the south wall is cleared of debris and ready."
Marcus saluted. "Will do, Captain."
The captain thumped a fist down on one of Marcus's armored shoulders. "What would I do without you, centurion? Carry on."
Marcus strode away to the wall, rounded up two spears' worth of legionares, and proceeded to clear it. Then he hurried back toward the wagons to get his gear. He'd already picked a likely spot from which to shoot. There should be just time enough to collect the balest and reach his position.
And after that, who knew.
He might even get to rest.
Chapter 54
As challenger to the duel, protocol required Tavi to arrive at the field first, and his knuckles were white as he climbed up the ladder to the southern wall.
It felt like a very long way up.
Tavi pulled himself up to the top of the wall and made room for Araris, who was coming up behind him. The structure was a standard Legion battle wall, at least in appearance. Given how much material they'd had to raise, and how little time they'd had to do it, Tavi was sure that it lacked the interlocking, interwoven layers of stone that would make it practically invincible to all but the most violent furycrafting. The wall itself was a flat shelf about eight feet across, and crenellation rose along its outer edge. The tops of the merlons rose to a few inches higher than Tavi's head, and the embrasures between them rose to the middle of Tavi's stomach.
The wall was a series of straight sections, each one at a slight angle to the next, following the terrain it had been built upon. It would not be difficult to keep track of the inner edge, which would be handy for avoiding a potentially fatal fall to the ground below. At Tavi's order, his men had left a series of fury-lamps along the length of the wall, providing plenty of light to see by.
He felt cold. Though spring was edging toward summer, the night was chilly, and the steel of his armor drew the heat from his body.
"Walk a bit," Araris suggested. "Stretch out. You don't want to go into it with your muscles cold and tight."
Tavi followed the singulare's suggestion. "How many times have you fought in the juris macto, Fade?" He caught himself and shook his head. "I mean, Araris."
The older man smiled, his eyes wrinkling at their corners. "I don't mind it from you," he said. "And I've done it four times. I championed someone else in three of them."
"Four?" Tavi asked, still stretching. "That's all?"
"I don't enjoy hurting people."
Tavi shook his head. "That's not what I meant. From your reputation, I thought it would be dozens."
Araris shrugged. "Quality over quantity, I suppose. I fought the High Lord of Parcia's bastard half brother when he challenged the old man for the throne of his city. Antillus Raucus took offense at a young Knight, even younger than you, who had been sleeping with his sister. I had to intervene on the Knight's behalf."
"You beat a High Lord at the blade?" Tavi asked.
"Like I said. Quality over quantity." Araris frowned. "He's got a scar or two to show for it, but I didn't kill him. And I championed Septimus just before the Battle of Seven Hills broke out-"
"That was you?" Tavi said.
Araris shrugged again. "Kadius, a Placidan Lord, had decided that he needed to improve his lands by stealing his neighbors', and Septimus and the Crown Legion were sent to restore order. Kadius challenged the Princeps to compel him to withdraw-and when I killed him, his wife went insane with anger and sent every soldier in her army against the Crown Legion. They had a respectable force of Knights. It was a mess."
"And the fourth was Aldrick ex Gladius," Tavi said.
"With more than a hundred duels to his credit. He used to hire out as a champion, before he took up service with your father. That one got a lot of attention. We went for about ten hours, all the way around Garden Lane and Craft Lane both. Must have been fifty or sixty thousand people that came down to see it."
Tavi frowned, lifted a boot to one of the embrasures, and leaned, stretching out his leg. "But he challenged Sir Miles originally, right?"
"Yes."
"Over what?"
"A girl." Araris narrowed his eyes, looking down the wall past Tavi. "They're here."
A hundred feet down the wall, Navaris pulled herself up from the ladder and rose. The slender cutter wore close-fit armor of leather and light mail, rather than the heavy, steel-plated Legion lorica Tavi wore. She faced him from a hundred feet away, and her expression was empty, devoid of humanity. She carried a long blade and a gladius on two belts slung over her shoulder, just as Araris carried Tavi's. Neither of them would burden themselves with a scabbard in this duel.
Arnos climbed up the stairs behind her, and the climb up the ladder had evidently convinced him to rid himself of the tailored Senatorial robes. He was dressed in a coat of mail, and was puffing visibly from hauling himself and the armor up the ladder.
Tavi watched Navaris, willing all expression from his face as well. He was glad she'd come up so far away. It gave him time to get control of the sudden trembling in his hands before she could come close enough to see it. He took slow, steady breaths.
"She's human," Araris said quietly. "She's imperfect. She can be beaten."
"Can she?" Tavi asked.
"She's won a lot of duels," Araris said. "But most of them were the same duel, just with a different face. Someone relatively inexperienced, who let fear rule their thoughts and actions. They were over in seconds."
"I'm relatively inexperienced compared to Navaris," Tavi said drily. "For that matter, so are you."
Araris smiled. "Patience. Don't let the fear drive you. Don't initiate. Mind your footwork, keep your blades in tight, and wait for your opening."
"Suppose she doesn't give me an opening."
"Outthink her. Make one."
Tavi laid a hand on the merlon beside him. "Like you did at Second Calderon."
"Exactly. Very few people understand that swords aren't dangerous, Tavi, nor hands nor arms, nor furies. Minds are dangerous. Wills are dangerous. You are heavily armed with both."
Tavi frowned at that, staring at his opponent, mulling the thought in his head.
His hands stopped shaking.
The ladder behind them rattled, and Captain Nalus heaved himself onto the wall. He had a fresh bandage on his cheek, where a sickle had laid open his face all the way down to his skull. Tavi had heard he'd ordered them to stitch it closed with thread rather than "wasting a healer's energies on a minor injury when other men's lives were in jeopardy."
"Your Highness," Nalus said, nodding at Tavi. "You're ready?"
Tavi accepted his weapons from Araris and slung the belts over one shoulder. "I am."
"Follow me," Nalus said.
Tavi followed the captain, who had agreed to officiate under protest, down the length of the wall toward Navaris. At the same time, the cutter began walking toward them, slim and deadly.
In the ruins below, people had gathered-legionares, domestics, camp followers. Thousands of them. Several had climbed atop walls and dilapidated rooftops to get a better view of the top of the wall. He could only just see them in the darkness-but atop one of the nearest buildings, he could make out white hair, and Marat manes drifting on the gentle breeze-Kitai and her people. He nodded to them, and fists thumped simultaneously against leather-armored chests in response, the sound loud in the otherwise-silent night.
They reached the middle of the wall in time with Navaris. Tavi stopped far enough away from her to have time to avoid a sudden draw and lunge, while Captain Nalus stopped halfway between them.
"Phrygiar Navaris," he said. "Are you ready?"
Her flat eyes never left Tavi's. "I am."
"Gaius Octavian," Nalus said. "Are you ready?"
"I am."
Nalus glanced back and forth between them. "I remind you that this duel is to the death. I ask you both if you will concede the point of the duel and spare needless bloodshed."
"I will not," Tavi said.
Navaris only smiled a little and said nothing.
Nalus sighed. "Gaius Octavian, draw steel."
Tavi did so, and offered the hilts of the weapons to Nalus. The captain inspected them both for poison, and handed them back to Tavi, then slung the empty weapon belts over one shoulder.
"Phrygiar Navaris, draw steel."
He went through the same process with Navaris, and took her weapon belts as well.
"Very well," he said. "Neither party may move until I have stepped from between you and counted to ten. Once that is done, both participants are free to act. Do you understand?"
Both replied in the affirmative. Nalus stepped out from between them and hurried down the wall to descend to the ground. It took approximately forever, and Tavi held his gaze against Navaris's for the entire while.
"One!" called Nalus.
"Are you nervous, boy?" Navaris asked quietly.
"A little sleepy," Tavi replied. "A bit hungry. I'll get some breakfast in a bit and have a nap."
"You'll rest," Navaris said. "I promise you that. You won't be hungry, either."
"Two!" called Nalus.
"I'm curious," Tavi said. "How did you survive the sinking of the Mactis?"
"Araris killed his witchman. You only gutted yours. We got him into a boat and he hid us from the leviathans."
"Three!" called Nalus.
Her lips spread into a soulless smile. "It took him three days to die. Time enough to get us clear of the Run."
Tavi felt a surge of nausea at the description. Three days... Crows, that was a bad way to go. Though he supposed there weren't many good ones.
"I've been looking forward to this," Navaris said.
"Four!"
"Why's that?" Tavi asked.
"Because you're the bait, boy." Her eyes left his for a moment, focusing down the length of the wall behind him. "Once you're dead, Valerian there will come for me." She shuddered. "And that will be a fight worth watching."
"Five!"
"You have to get there first," Tavi said.
Navaris tilted her head, her eyes returning to his.
"Six!"
"I'm curious," she said. "Are you truly Princeps Octavian?"
Tavi gave her a copy of her little smile. "We'll know shortly."
"Seven!" Nalus called.
Navaris's breathing began to speed up. He watched her eyes dilate, and a series of eager little shivers ran through her body and down the length of both of her blades.
His mouth felt dry, but he focused on what Araris had told him. Patience. Control. He faced the cutter and touched lightly on the steel of his blade with his crafting, drawing his world into sharp, calm focus.
"Eight!"
Navaris's lips parted, and her body undulated strangely, as if it wished to fly straight into battle without consulting her feet.
"Nine!"
Tavi took a deep breath.
Kitai's voice rang out clear and vibrant in the silence between Nalus's counts, ringing from the stones so that every man, woman, and child looking on was sure to hear it. "Take her to the crows, Aleran!"
"Ten!"
The First Aleran spoke in a single, enormous, deafening voice that shook the stones as the Legion roared its encouragement for their commander.
Phrygiar Navaris's eyes glittered with sudden lust and fury, and her mouth opened in a wordless cry of something eerily like pleasure as she lifted her blades and darted at Tavi.
Marcus paused in the shadows outside of Senator Arnos's well-lit command tent, and listened, watching through the half-open flap.
"Well?" Arnos demanded of one of his cadre of flunkies. "You're my legal advisor. Advise me."
"I'm sorry, Senator," the plump little man said, from the midst of a stack of thick books. "All the legal precedents would seem to be on the Princep-"
"Scipio," Arnos snarled. "His name is Scipio."
"-Scipio's," the man corrected seamlessly, "side. He has... technically, of course... satisfied the legal requirements to establish his identity, and in the case of a threat of treason or dishonor to the Realm, Citizens of the rank of Lord and above have the right to issue a challenge to any Citizen of the Realm."
"I know that," Arnos snarled. "What do I do about it?"
The man tried to smile, and his voice came out in a squeak. "You could always renounce your Citizenship, sir."
Arnos slapped him. "Idiot. Get out before I have you flogged."
The little man went scrambling from the tent, and Marcus stepped back to let him pass.
"You could take his advice, you know," said a woman's voice. Marcus recognized Lady Aquitaine's disguise at once.
"Bloody crows and furies," snarled Arnos, his throat tight. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to see that you are in a spot, Arnos."
The Senator let out a fairly uncivilized growl. "I'm not backing away now. I'd lose everything I've worked years to build. In my professional opinion, it is time for you to intervene."
"And?" she asked.
"And make it go away," he said, his voice coming through clenched teeth.
"I believe I've made a mistake in you, Arnos. I knew you were a pompous egotist with delusions of grandeur, but I did believe you were at least competent."
Arnos stared in silence for a few seconds, then accused, "We had a deal."
"We had an understanding," Lady Aquitaine said. "But you've broken faith with me. You told me that you hadn't acquired any of your troops as mercenaries. But your extremely well-supplied and well-armed and well-paid cavalry seem to have taken it upon themselves to loot and pillage every human habitation they come across."
"Their Tribunes are acting independently of my orders," Arnos said.
"You're the commander of these Legions, dear. You're responsible for what they do. That's rather why one is able to attain glory and respect after a victory. Or don't they teach that at the Collegia."
"How dare you lecture me on-"
Lady Aquitaine's voice, though still quiet, turned cold. "Don't make me raise my hand, Arnos. When I slap someone, he doesn't scurry away after."
Arnos jerked up straight, and his face turned red. "You were willing enough to spill Aleran blood six weeks ago."
"I'm willing to make sacrifices in pursuit of a greater goal," Lady Aquitaine said. "That's not the same as condoning the rape and murder of entire stead-holts. There was no profit to those actions. No purpose. It's unprofessional. Idiotic. And I have difficulty tolerating idiots."
"Then you should agree that this conversation is unprofitable, given the circumstances. We need to focus on the matter at hand."
"Oh?"
"We're probably worried about nothing. Navaris is going to introduce our young captain to the crows, and that will solve the problems at hand."
"Will it?" she said in a flat voice. "I've made a decision about the problems at hand, Arnos."
The Senator's voice sounded wary. "What's that?"
"They're your problems," Lady Aquitaine said, her tone pitiless. "Solve them by yourself. If you manage to survive them, I may be willing to renegotiate our relationship. But until then, you're on your own."
Arnos's mouth opened and closed several times.
Lady Aquitaine appeared in the tent's doorway and faced Marcus. She gave him a small smile, then it vanished. She turned, and hissed to Arnos, "Someone is coming."
Marcus took that as his cue and briskly strode to the mouth of the tent. "Senator?" He held up a roll of paper. "I've brought the First Aleran's casualty list for you to look over."
Lady Aquitaine's simple gown was spotted with blood, doubtless from the wounded men to whom she had been carrying water. She took the paper with a little curtsey and passed it over to Arnos.
Arnos unrolled it and glanced at it. "Thank you, centurion. Dismissed."
Marcus saluted and withdrew from the tent. He found Lady Aquitaine walking beside him.
"Sloppy," he said quietly. "Speaking that openly. Someone could overhear."
She made a tsking sound. "I extended the windcrafting to include you."
Marcus grunted.
"The duel is to be held on the south wall of the fortifications," Lady Aquitaine said. "This is the time for the balest, I suppose."
Marcus nodded. "Which?"
She shook her head. "There's something to be had on all fronts of this debacle. If Arnos is vindicated, our would-be Princeps has been dealt with. If Oc-tavian wins, he gets rid of a useless retainer who might well return to stab me in the back when I'm not looking."
Marcus understood the cold-blooded logic of it. "Wait until it's over. Shoot the winner."
"Problems solved," Lady Aquitaine said.
"There might be some problems you aren't considering," Marcus said. "About sixty thousand of them."
The mourning howls of the Canim army drifted through the night air.
She frowned, and rubbed her hands on her arms as if cold. "It's unfavorable. I'd rather not lose the Legions, but the odds would seem to be against it."
"You could improve them."
Lady Aquitaine stopped in her tracks and stared. "You can't be serious."
"Consider the advantages should we succeed," Marcus said. "Between this and the Vord attack in the citadel, you'll be establishing yourself as a true hero of the Realm. You'll gain even more allies."
"Assuming I'm not killed in the fighting, of course," she said. "No. That's not a chance I'm willing to take. Should the battle go ill, I'll take us both safely away."
No you won't, Marcus thought. I know you, Your Grace. Why remove two liabilities when it's as easy to manage three?
Marcus brooded for a moment, and when the privacy aircrafting Lady Aquitaine had been holding suddenly collapsed, he all but collided with the captain.
"Ah, there you are," the captain said. "I've been looking for you. Where did you get off to, First Spear?"
Tavi's eyes traveled to the disguised Lady Aquitaine, and his eyebrows rose in time with the corners of his mouth. "Ah-hah."
Lady Aquitaine dropped another curtsey, her eyes on the ground, and her cheeks turned pink.
Marcus coughed gruffly as he saluted. "Captain." He turned to Lady Aquitaine. "I must attend to my duties."
She nodded silently, still blushing-or pretending to be-and kissed Marcus on the cheek, curtseyed again to the captain, and hurried away.
"I didn't know you had a woman," Tavi said, grinning. "Ready to work?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. I-" The captain frowned suddenly, studying Lady Aquitaine as she left.
Marcus watched him frown pensively. "Sir?"
"Mmmm?" The captain shook his head. "Oh, nothing. She just seemed familiar to me for a moment."
"You may have seen her around the camp, sir."
"That's probably it." The young man rolled his shoulders beneath his armor. "The show starts in an hour. I'd like you to make sure the south wall is cleared of debris and ready."
Marcus saluted. "Will do, Captain."
The captain thumped a fist down on one of Marcus's armored shoulders. "What would I do without you, centurion? Carry on."
Marcus strode away to the wall, rounded up two spears' worth of legionares, and proceeded to clear it. Then he hurried back toward the wagons to get his gear. He'd already picked a likely spot from which to shoot. There should be just time enough to collect the balest and reach his position.
And after that, who knew.
He might even get to rest.
Chapter 54
As challenger to the duel, protocol required Tavi to arrive at the field first, and his knuckles were white as he climbed up the ladder to the southern wall.
It felt like a very long way up.
Tavi pulled himself up to the top of the wall and made room for Araris, who was coming up behind him. The structure was a standard Legion battle wall, at least in appearance. Given how much material they'd had to raise, and how little time they'd had to do it, Tavi was sure that it lacked the interlocking, interwoven layers of stone that would make it practically invincible to all but the most violent furycrafting. The wall itself was a flat shelf about eight feet across, and crenellation rose along its outer edge. The tops of the merlons rose to a few inches higher than Tavi's head, and the embrasures between them rose to the middle of Tavi's stomach.
The wall was a series of straight sections, each one at a slight angle to the next, following the terrain it had been built upon. It would not be difficult to keep track of the inner edge, which would be handy for avoiding a potentially fatal fall to the ground below. At Tavi's order, his men had left a series of fury-lamps along the length of the wall, providing plenty of light to see by.
He felt cold. Though spring was edging toward summer, the night was chilly, and the steel of his armor drew the heat from his body.
"Walk a bit," Araris suggested. "Stretch out. You don't want to go into it with your muscles cold and tight."
Tavi followed the singulare's suggestion. "How many times have you fought in the juris macto, Fade?" He caught himself and shook his head. "I mean, Araris."
The older man smiled, his eyes wrinkling at their corners. "I don't mind it from you," he said. "And I've done it four times. I championed someone else in three of them."
"Four?" Tavi asked, still stretching. "That's all?"
"I don't enjoy hurting people."
Tavi shook his head. "That's not what I meant. From your reputation, I thought it would be dozens."
Araris shrugged. "Quality over quantity, I suppose. I fought the High Lord of Parcia's bastard half brother when he challenged the old man for the throne of his city. Antillus Raucus took offense at a young Knight, even younger than you, who had been sleeping with his sister. I had to intervene on the Knight's behalf."
"You beat a High Lord at the blade?" Tavi asked.
"Like I said. Quality over quantity." Araris frowned. "He's got a scar or two to show for it, but I didn't kill him. And I championed Septimus just before the Battle of Seven Hills broke out-"
"That was you?" Tavi said.
Araris shrugged again. "Kadius, a Placidan Lord, had decided that he needed to improve his lands by stealing his neighbors', and Septimus and the Crown Legion were sent to restore order. Kadius challenged the Princeps to compel him to withdraw-and when I killed him, his wife went insane with anger and sent every soldier in her army against the Crown Legion. They had a respectable force of Knights. It was a mess."
"And the fourth was Aldrick ex Gladius," Tavi said.
"With more than a hundred duels to his credit. He used to hire out as a champion, before he took up service with your father. That one got a lot of attention. We went for about ten hours, all the way around Garden Lane and Craft Lane both. Must have been fifty or sixty thousand people that came down to see it."
Tavi frowned, lifted a boot to one of the embrasures, and leaned, stretching out his leg. "But he challenged Sir Miles originally, right?"
"Yes."
"Over what?"
"A girl." Araris narrowed his eyes, looking down the wall past Tavi. "They're here."
A hundred feet down the wall, Navaris pulled herself up from the ladder and rose. The slender cutter wore close-fit armor of leather and light mail, rather than the heavy, steel-plated Legion lorica Tavi wore. She faced him from a hundred feet away, and her expression was empty, devoid of humanity. She carried a long blade and a gladius on two belts slung over her shoulder, just as Araris carried Tavi's. Neither of them would burden themselves with a scabbard in this duel.
Arnos climbed up the stairs behind her, and the climb up the ladder had evidently convinced him to rid himself of the tailored Senatorial robes. He was dressed in a coat of mail, and was puffing visibly from hauling himself and the armor up the ladder.
Tavi watched Navaris, willing all expression from his face as well. He was glad she'd come up so far away. It gave him time to get control of the sudden trembling in his hands before she could come close enough to see it. He took slow, steady breaths.
"She's human," Araris said quietly. "She's imperfect. She can be beaten."
"Can she?" Tavi asked.
"She's won a lot of duels," Araris said. "But most of them were the same duel, just with a different face. Someone relatively inexperienced, who let fear rule their thoughts and actions. They were over in seconds."
"I'm relatively inexperienced compared to Navaris," Tavi said drily. "For that matter, so are you."
Araris smiled. "Patience. Don't let the fear drive you. Don't initiate. Mind your footwork, keep your blades in tight, and wait for your opening."
"Suppose she doesn't give me an opening."
"Outthink her. Make one."
Tavi laid a hand on the merlon beside him. "Like you did at Second Calderon."
"Exactly. Very few people understand that swords aren't dangerous, Tavi, nor hands nor arms, nor furies. Minds are dangerous. Wills are dangerous. You are heavily armed with both."
Tavi frowned at that, staring at his opponent, mulling the thought in his head.
His hands stopped shaking.
The ladder behind them rattled, and Captain Nalus heaved himself onto the wall. He had a fresh bandage on his cheek, where a sickle had laid open his face all the way down to his skull. Tavi had heard he'd ordered them to stitch it closed with thread rather than "wasting a healer's energies on a minor injury when other men's lives were in jeopardy."
"Your Highness," Nalus said, nodding at Tavi. "You're ready?"
Tavi accepted his weapons from Araris and slung the belts over one shoulder. "I am."
"Follow me," Nalus said.
Tavi followed the captain, who had agreed to officiate under protest, down the length of the wall toward Navaris. At the same time, the cutter began walking toward them, slim and deadly.
In the ruins below, people had gathered-legionares, domestics, camp followers. Thousands of them. Several had climbed atop walls and dilapidated rooftops to get a better view of the top of the wall. He could only just see them in the darkness-but atop one of the nearest buildings, he could make out white hair, and Marat manes drifting on the gentle breeze-Kitai and her people. He nodded to them, and fists thumped simultaneously against leather-armored chests in response, the sound loud in the otherwise-silent night.
They reached the middle of the wall in time with Navaris. Tavi stopped far enough away from her to have time to avoid a sudden draw and lunge, while Captain Nalus stopped halfway between them.
"Phrygiar Navaris," he said. "Are you ready?"
Her flat eyes never left Tavi's. "I am."
"Gaius Octavian," Nalus said. "Are you ready?"
"I am."
Nalus glanced back and forth between them. "I remind you that this duel is to the death. I ask you both if you will concede the point of the duel and spare needless bloodshed."
"I will not," Tavi said.
Navaris only smiled a little and said nothing.
Nalus sighed. "Gaius Octavian, draw steel."
Tavi did so, and offered the hilts of the weapons to Nalus. The captain inspected them both for poison, and handed them back to Tavi, then slung the empty weapon belts over one shoulder.
"Phrygiar Navaris, draw steel."
He went through the same process with Navaris, and took her weapon belts as well.
"Very well," he said. "Neither party may move until I have stepped from between you and counted to ten. Once that is done, both participants are free to act. Do you understand?"
Both replied in the affirmative. Nalus stepped out from between them and hurried down the wall to descend to the ground. It took approximately forever, and Tavi held his gaze against Navaris's for the entire while.
"One!" called Nalus.
"Are you nervous, boy?" Navaris asked quietly.
"A little sleepy," Tavi replied. "A bit hungry. I'll get some breakfast in a bit and have a nap."
"You'll rest," Navaris said. "I promise you that. You won't be hungry, either."
"Two!" called Nalus.
"I'm curious," Tavi said. "How did you survive the sinking of the Mactis?"
"Araris killed his witchman. You only gutted yours. We got him into a boat and he hid us from the leviathans."
"Three!" called Nalus.
Her lips spread into a soulless smile. "It took him three days to die. Time enough to get us clear of the Run."
Tavi felt a surge of nausea at the description. Three days... Crows, that was a bad way to go. Though he supposed there weren't many good ones.
"I've been looking forward to this," Navaris said.
"Four!"
"Why's that?" Tavi asked.
"Because you're the bait, boy." Her eyes left his for a moment, focusing down the length of the wall behind him. "Once you're dead, Valerian there will come for me." She shuddered. "And that will be a fight worth watching."
"Five!"
"You have to get there first," Tavi said.
Navaris tilted her head, her eyes returning to his.
"Six!"
"I'm curious," she said. "Are you truly Princeps Octavian?"
Tavi gave her a copy of her little smile. "We'll know shortly."
"Seven!" Nalus called.
Navaris's breathing began to speed up. He watched her eyes dilate, and a series of eager little shivers ran through her body and down the length of both of her blades.
His mouth felt dry, but he focused on what Araris had told him. Patience. Control. He faced the cutter and touched lightly on the steel of his blade with his crafting, drawing his world into sharp, calm focus.
"Eight!"
Navaris's lips parted, and her body undulated strangely, as if it wished to fly straight into battle without consulting her feet.
"Nine!"
Tavi took a deep breath.
Kitai's voice rang out clear and vibrant in the silence between Nalus's counts, ringing from the stones so that every man, woman, and child looking on was sure to hear it. "Take her to the crows, Aleran!"
"Ten!"
The First Aleran spoke in a single, enormous, deafening voice that shook the stones as the Legion roared its encouragement for their commander.
Phrygiar Navaris's eyes glittered with sudden lust and fury, and her mouth opened in a wordless cry of something eerily like pleasure as she lifted her blades and darted at Tavi.
