Captain's Fury by Jim Butcher

most of our clashes have been more like heavy skirmishes than a pitched battle, while the Canim consolidated their positions. During that time, several of the Crown's Cursors who had been sent to assist the First Aleran infiltrated the occupied territory and began gathering intelligence."

    "What did they learn?" Arnos asked.

    "First, sir, that the Canim aren't letting everyone leave peaceably as we first thought. They've been holding back members of two professions, refusing to let them leave: carpenters and shipwrights."

    Arnos frowned heavily. "Then… their defense of the timber-cutting stead-holt had a definite purpose."

    Tavi nodded. "They were taking materials. Wood that had been seasoning in storage, mostly."

    "Seasoned wood?" Tribune Tactica Kellus was standing against a side wall, not far from Tavi. "Why seasoned wood, sir?"

    "Because, Tribune," Arnos said in a tight voice, "you can't build ships out of green wood."

    Tavi nodded, a little impressed despite himself. Arnos's mind worked swiftly—when he chose to use it. "Exactly, sir." He turned and marked a point on the rough map, at the very bottom of the slateboard, a distance of perhaps a hundred miles. "And we think they're building them here, at a town called Mastings. It has a long inlet from the sea, and already had the facilities in place to support the building of a dozen ships at a time. We think that its capacity has been expanded."

    "You think?" Arnos said.

    "It's conjecture, sir, but it stands up pretty well. The Canim have set up defensive positions at the mouth of the inlet, and they're turning away or appropriating any ships that try to sail to Mastings. Their patrols in the area are three times as thick as they are elsewhere, and the main body of their troops is located somewhere in the area. It's difficult to be sure, because they are refusing to let any Alerans into the city, unless they're one of the shipwrights or carpenters being pressed into service."

    "Then how do you know their main body of troops is there?" Arnos demanded.

    "The agents in question tracked food shipments, sir," Tavi said. "Either Mastings is playing host to an extremely large number of Canim, or its people have decided to abandon life as a seaport and take up the cattle trade."

    "Ships," grunted Captain Nalus again. "What do they want with bloody ships?"

    Tavi answered. "The Cane who led the initial incursion, Sarl, ordered their ships burned behind them when they landed. You could see the fires lighting up Founderport from five miles away."

    Arnos scratched at his chin, studying the rough map. "Ships will give them a number of options they don't have now," he said. "They'll be able to move swiftly up and down the coastline—the dogs can sail, I'll give them that. If they build enough of them, they'll be able to move their entire force to support Kalare in the south, or to keep us running in circles up here."

    "Or, sir," Tavi said. "They might… go home."

    Arnos turned a look of pure disbelief upon Tavi.

    "It's possible, sir. The majority of the Canim now in Alera did not want to be stuck here. That's why Sarl had to burn the ships. And they have their dependents to think about, too. They want what any of us would want in a similar situation." He shrugged. "They want to go home."

    Arnos simply stared at Tavi, saying nothing.

    Tavi ground his teeth. The good Senator was offering him plenty of rope to hang himself with, and he knew it—but he also knew that he had to at least try. So he took a deep breath, and pressed on. "Given how static the conflict has been over the past several months, we might have an opportunity here."

    The room was very quiet, until Arnos asked, in a polite voice, "What opportunity?"

    No use stopping now. "To negotiate," Tavi said.

    "Negotiate," Arnos said. "With the Canim."

    "Senator, we want the Canim gone. The possibility exists that they want to be gone. I think it's worth exploring."

    "Negotiate," the Senator repeated.