clever it makes me want to put a nice dent in your face."
"Jealousy is common among lesser men," Tavi said, with a small smile. Max mimed a punch, and Tavi ducked his head a little. "How long have you been shadowing me?"
"A couple of hours. Lost you when you moved off the roof."
If Killian knew you'd shown yourself to me, he'd fail you on the spot."
Max rolled one shoulder in a shrug. "It's just a test. I've been dealing with tests of one kind or another since I could walk."
"High Lord Antillus wouldn't be pleased if you failed."
"I'm sure to lose sleep now," Max drawled.
Tavi half smiled. "Is there really a widow?"
Max grinned. "Even if there wasn't, I'm pretty sure I could find one. Or make one, if it came to that."
Tavi snorted. "What are your plans for the night, then?"
Max pursed his lips. "I could follow you around some more, but it doesn't seem fair." He drew an X over his belly. "Soothword. I'll leave you alone instead of making you spend an hour of your sleep shaking me."
Tavi nodded and gave his friend a grateful smile. Max had sworn himself to truth, an old northern custom. He would never so much as consider breaking a promise given under his soothword. "Thank you," Tavi said.
"But I will find out what you're up to," Max said. "Not so much for Killian, as it is because someone needs to show you that you aren't nearly as clever as you think you are."
"Better get to bed then, Max. That's only going to happen in your dreams."
Max's teeth flashed in the dimness as Tavi accepted the challenge. He struck his chest lightly with a fist, the salute of a legionare , then vanished into the misty night.
Once Max was gone, Tavi rubbed at his aching chest, where the hurled plate had struck him. From the feel of it, there was going to be a bruise. A big one. But at least he'd get a decent meal for his pains. He stepped up onto the threshold of Domus Malleus.
The enormous chimes upon the top of the Citadel began to toll out the hour, each stroke sending out a low, vibrating pressure that could shake water within a bowl, accompanied by a shower of high, shivering tones, beautiful and somehow sad.
The chimes sounded nine times, and Tavi spat an oath. There would be no time to stop for a meal. If he set out at his best pace, it would take him nearly another hour to wind his way up through Alera's streets to the First Lord's Citadel, and subsequently descend into the depths beneath the stronghold. He would arrive smudged and stained from his skulking, covered in sweat and most of an hour late to his duties to the First Lord.
And he had a history examination in the morning.
And he still hadn't caught Killian's thief.
Tavi shook his head and started jogging back up through the capital.
He'd only gone a couple of hundred yards when the skies rumbled, and drops of slow, heavy rain came down in sheets.
"Some hero of the Realm you are," Tavi muttered to himself, and set off to attend the First Lord.
Panting, dirty, and late, he paused at the door to the First Lord's chamber. He tried to straighten his cloak and tunic, then regarded them helplessly. Nothing short of a legion of cleaning experts could make him presentable. He chewed on his lip, shoved his dark mop of wet hair back from his face, and went inside.
Gaius stood upon the whirling colors of the mosaic tiles again. He stooped, as though with great weariness or pain. His face was ashen, and the stubble of his beard no longer seemed to contain any hairs but those gone white. But it was his eyes that were the worst. They were sunken, dark pits, the whites shot with blood around eyes whose colors had become faded and dull. Fell, sickly fires burned within them—not the determination, pride and strength to which Tavi had become accustomed, but something more brittle, more frightening.
Gaius scowled down at him, and snapped, "You're late."
Tavi bowed his head deeply and left it that way. "Yes, sire. I have no excuse, and offer my
"Jealousy is common among lesser men," Tavi said, with a small smile. Max mimed a punch, and Tavi ducked his head a little. "How long have you been shadowing me?"
"A couple of hours. Lost you when you moved off the roof."
If Killian knew you'd shown yourself to me, he'd fail you on the spot."
Max rolled one shoulder in a shrug. "It's just a test. I've been dealing with tests of one kind or another since I could walk."
"High Lord Antillus wouldn't be pleased if you failed."
"I'm sure to lose sleep now," Max drawled.
Tavi half smiled. "Is there really a widow?"
Max grinned. "Even if there wasn't, I'm pretty sure I could find one. Or make one, if it came to that."
Tavi snorted. "What are your plans for the night, then?"
Max pursed his lips. "I could follow you around some more, but it doesn't seem fair." He drew an X over his belly. "Soothword. I'll leave you alone instead of making you spend an hour of your sleep shaking me."
Tavi nodded and gave his friend a grateful smile. Max had sworn himself to truth, an old northern custom. He would never so much as consider breaking a promise given under his soothword. "Thank you," Tavi said.
"But I will find out what you're up to," Max said. "Not so much for Killian, as it is because someone needs to show you that you aren't nearly as clever as you think you are."
"Better get to bed then, Max. That's only going to happen in your dreams."
Max's teeth flashed in the dimness as Tavi accepted the challenge. He struck his chest lightly with a fist, the salute of a legionare , then vanished into the misty night.
Once Max was gone, Tavi rubbed at his aching chest, where the hurled plate had struck him. From the feel of it, there was going to be a bruise. A big one. But at least he'd get a decent meal for his pains. He stepped up onto the threshold of Domus Malleus.
The enormous chimes upon the top of the Citadel began to toll out the hour, each stroke sending out a low, vibrating pressure that could shake water within a bowl, accompanied by a shower of high, shivering tones, beautiful and somehow sad.
The chimes sounded nine times, and Tavi spat an oath. There would be no time to stop for a meal. If he set out at his best pace, it would take him nearly another hour to wind his way up through Alera's streets to the First Lord's Citadel, and subsequently descend into the depths beneath the stronghold. He would arrive smudged and stained from his skulking, covered in sweat and most of an hour late to his duties to the First Lord.
And he had a history examination in the morning.
And he still hadn't caught Killian's thief.
Tavi shook his head and started jogging back up through the capital.
He'd only gone a couple of hundred yards when the skies rumbled, and drops of slow, heavy rain came down in sheets.
"Some hero of the Realm you are," Tavi muttered to himself, and set off to attend the First Lord.
Panting, dirty, and late, he paused at the door to the First Lord's chamber. He tried to straighten his cloak and tunic, then regarded them helplessly. Nothing short of a legion of cleaning experts could make him presentable. He chewed on his lip, shoved his dark mop of wet hair back from his face, and went inside.
Gaius stood upon the whirling colors of the mosaic tiles again. He stooped, as though with great weariness or pain. His face was ashen, and the stubble of his beard no longer seemed to contain any hairs but those gone white. But it was his eyes that were the worst. They were sunken, dark pits, the whites shot with blood around eyes whose colors had become faded and dull. Fell, sickly fires burned within them—not the determination, pride and strength to which Tavi had become accustomed, but something more brittle, more frightening.
Gaius scowled down at him, and snapped, "You're late."
Tavi bowed his head deeply and left it that way. "Yes, sire. I have no excuse, and offer my
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