“Even if you had,” Max said, “it wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“And those bolt throwers.” Tavi’s stomach fluttered as he thought of the men they had slain. “Why did I sit around thinking that they would only have hand-thrown weapons for ranged combat.”
“Because that’s all they ever have used,” Max said. “No one could have seen that coming. This is the first time I’ve heard of it.”
“All the same,” Tavi said.
“No,” Max said. “Crows take it, Calderon. You’ve done a sight more than anyone expected you to do. Probably more than you should have been able to do. Stop blaming yourself. You didn’t send the Canim here.”
In the dark, another Cane’s scream came up from the river.
Tavi let out a tired laugh. “You know what bothers me the most?”
“What?”
“When I was at the riverbank, and those Canim were coming for me, and those lions came up. For just a second…” He shook his head. “I thought that maybe it was something I’d done. Maybe they were my furies. Maybe I wasn’t…” His throat tightened and closed almost shut.
Max spoke quietly from the darkness. “Father never let me manifest a fury. A creature, you know? Like your uncle’s stone hound, or Lady Placida’s fire falcon. But he never taught me anything about water, and in the library there was this old book of stories. There was a water lion like that in there. So… I pretty much taught myself all my watercraft. And since he wasn’t around, it came out like that lion. Named him Androcles.” Tavi couldn’t be sure in the dimness, but he thought he might have seen Max blush. “It was kind of lonely for me, when my mother died.”
“Crassus must have read the same book,” Tavi said.
“Yeah. Funny. Never thought I’d have anything in common with him.” He shifted his weight restlessly. “I’m sorry. That it wasn’t what you’d hoped.”
Tavi shrugged a shoulder. “It’s all right, Max. Maybe it’s time I stopped dreaming of having my own furies and got on with living. I’ve wanted them for so long, but… your furies don’t make things different, do they.”
“Not where it matters,” Max said. “Not on the inside. My father always told me that a man’s furycraft just makes him more of what he already is. A fool with furies is still a fool. A good man with furies is still a good man.”
“Old Killian tried to tell me something like that,” Tavi said. “The day of our combat final. The more I think about it, the more I think maybe he was trying to make me understand that there’s more to the world than furies. More to life than what I can do with them.”
“He was no fool,” Max said. “Calderon. I know what you’ve done. I owe you my life, despite all my furycrafting. You were the one who stood at the end. And that goes double for Gaius. You’ve killed assassins and monsters all by yourself. You faced down a Canim warlord without arms or furycraft to protect you, and I don’t know anyone else who would do that. That trap south of the bridge killed more Canim in an hour than the Legions have in the last ten years. And I still have no idea how you managed to stop their charge-I thought we were finished. And you did all of that without a single fury of your own.” Max’s fist lightly struck Tavi’s armored shoulder. “You’re a crowbegotten hero, Calderon. Furies or not. And you’re a born captain. The men believe in you.’
Tavi shook his head. “Believe what?”
“Plenty,” Max said. “They think you must be hiding some major furycraft to have survived that lightning strike. And not many of them really understood the whole plan with the sawdust and furylamps. They just saw you wave your hand, and the whole southern half of the town went up. You fought your way clear of the attack that killed the whole prime cohort-and some of those veterans were near Knight-level metalcrafters themselves.” Another Cane screamed in the river, more distantly. “I guarantee you that right now, rumors are going around that you’ve got furies in the river killing Canim.”
“I didn’t do any of that, Max,” Tavi said. “They’re believing a lie.”
“Balls,” Max said, his voice serious. “You’ve done those things, Tavi. Sometimes you had help. Some of them took a whole lot of work. None of it involved furycraft-but you’ve done them.” Max tilted his head toward the town. “They know what’s over there. Any sane man would be running for the hills. But instead, they’re angry. Their blood is up for a fight. You’ve been right there beside them in the battle. Struck blows against the Canim running on pure guts, and you’ve bloodied their slimy noses. The men think you can do it again. They’ll follow you, Calderon.”
“You’ve seen that force, Max. You know what’s still over there. And we’re tired, out of room, and out of tricks.”
“Heh,” Max said. “That’s how belief works. The worse the situation is, the more a man’s belief can do to sustain him. You’ve given them something to believe in.”
Tavi felt a little nauseous at the statement. “We have to take down the bridge, Max. We’ve got to get our engineers out to the top of the arch so that they can collapse it.”
“I thought we didn’t have enough bodies who could earthcraft,” Max said.
“If you will remember,” Tavi said, “the Pavilion has a rather large number of employees who are quite practiced at earthcraft.”
Max blinked. “But those are dancers, Calderon. Professional, ah, courtesans.”
“Who have practiced earthcrafting every day of their professional lives,” Tavi said. “I know, stonework isn’t the same thing, but you’ve always told me that any application of one area of furycraft carries over toward different uses of the same gift.”
“Well,” Max said. “Yes, but…”
Tavi arched an eyebrow. “But?”
“Crafting a room full of legionares into a frenzy is one thing. Altering heavy stonework is another.”
“I’ve had them practicing,” Tavi said. “They aren’t exactly engineers, but this isn’t a complicated crafting. It’s a demolition. All the engineers really need to get it done is earthcrafting muscle, and the dancers have got that. If we can get them and our engineers to the top of the bridge, they can take it apart.”
“Big if,” Max said quietly.
“Yes.”
Max lowered his voice in realization. “Someone will have to hold the Canim back while they work. Whoever does that will either go into the river or be trapped on the southern half of the bridge, when it goes.”
Tavi nodded. “I know. But there’s no way around it. It’s going to cost us to get it done, Max. We’ve got to hold through the night. If we can do that, we’re still going to take heavy losses pushing the Canim back through our own defenses. Maybe enough to break us.”
“Give the men some credit,” Max said. “Like I told you. They believe. Especially the fish. They’ll bloody well fight.”
“Even if they do,” Tavi said, “we might not be able to win through. It might not be possible.”
“Only one way to know for sure. “
“And if it is possible,” Tavi said, “whoever holds the Canim off is going to die.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’ll lead it. I’ll ask for volunteers.”
“It’s suicide,” Max said quietly.
Tavi nodded. Then he shivered again. “Any chance you could do something about this rain?”
Max squinted up. “It isn’t crafted. I think a strong enough crafter could change some things. But to do that, you have to be up inside it, and with those things floating around…”
“Right,” Tavi said. “Crows take this rain. Without it, they’d still be waiting for the town to burn down. Without it, we could build a massive fire on the bridge and let it hold them off until daylight.”
Max grunted. “What I wouldn’t give for twenty or thirty Knights Ignus right now, instead of all those Aeris. Thousands of Canim, all trapped on that narrow bridge. With a solid bunch of Knights Ignus, we could turn those dogs into kindling.”
An idea hit Tavi, so hard that the bowl tumbled from his suddenly numb fingers and shattered on the stone of the bridge.
“Calderon?” Max asked.
Tavi held up a hand, thinking furiously, forcing his weary mind to quicken and consider the notion, the possibilities.
It could work.
By crows and thunder, it could work.
“He told me,” Tavi heard himself say in amazement. “He bloody well told me exactly where to hit them.”