“I believe they’ll save that for your words upon being dragged away to be locked in a tower as a raving madman,” Fidelias replied.
Tavi burst out into a quick belly laugh. “No, I’m not quite mad yet. How are the plans for the new program coming along?”
“Covert plans for the covert training of covert operatives? If I told you, I’d have to kill you, sire.”
Tavi grinned at him. “I’ll take that to mean ‘well enough.’ ”
Fidelias nodded. “Sha has been most helpful. I enjoy working with him. Though his ideas of teaching methods are rather different than mine.” He cleared his throat, and asked, “Sire? Do you really intend to wait before taking the battle to the vord in Canea? Senator Valerius—”
Tavi threw up his hands. “Augh. I am sick of hearing that man’s name. He wants me to lead an expedition to Canea to find the last queen, does he?”
“Exactly.”
“Thus getting rid of me, which should make his campaign to frustrate everything I’m trying to build somewhat simpler.” Tavi shook his head. “If we have taken all of Alera back in ten years, we’ll be doing well. And that’s vital. We absolutely cannot leave the vord supply caches lying all over the place. And I don’t like our chances in Canea anytime in the next thirty years or so. It’s huge over there. We don’t have enough bodies to get the job done.”
“But you do acknowledge that it must happen.”
“Probably,” Tavi said. “Eventually. But for now… the vord in Canea are just too bloody useful.”
Fidelias frowned. “Sire?”
“Right now we’ve got something the world has never seen before: a working alliance among the Canim, the Marat, the Icemen, and Alera. Over the past century or three, how many Alerans have been killed fighting them, hmm?”
“Using the vord to hold the Alliance together. Risky.”
Tavi spread his hands. “The fact of the matter is that none of us can stand up to the vord on our own. The only way we have a chance is together. And the only way we’ll ever be able to take the battle to them in Canea is to live in peace with one another now and build something capable of defeating them.”
“Build something. Like this universal Academy you’ve been talking about.”
“That’s one element, yes,” Tavi said. “Our peoples have a lot to teach each other. The Academy is an excellent way to do that.”
“I don’t see what we can teach the Canim or the Marat, Captain. It’s not as though we can give them lessons in furycraft.”
Tavi suppressed his own grin. “Well. You never know when some furyless freak is going to develop talent. Do you.”
Fidelias eyed him for a moment, then sighed. “You aren’t going to explain, are you.”
“It’s a First Lord’s sacred right. I get to be cryptic whenever I want. So there.”
Fidelias huffed out a short laugh. “All right. That’s an argument I’m not going to win.” His face sobered. “But… sire. Given my sentence… I thought you’d have settled my account by now.”
“Haven’t I?” Tavi asked him. “Fidelias ex Cursori is dead. His name is black and ruined. He betrayed a dead First Lord for the sake of a High Lord and Lady who are also dead. All that he wrought for either patron has been destroyed. The labor of a lifetime, gone.”
The man who wore Valiar Marcus’s face looked down. There was bitterness in his eyes.
“I sentence Fidelias ex Cursori to death,” Tavi continued quietly. “You will die in service to me, laboring under another name, a name that will be heaped with well-deserved honor and praise. I sentence you to go to your grave knowing how things might have been had you never strayed from my grandfather’s service. I sentence you to die knowing that the First Lord who should have crucified you six months ago is instead granting you trust, a staff, and an expense account that a fictional man deserves far more than you do.” He leaned forward. “You have too much talent to throw away. I need you. You’re mine. And you’re going to help me build the Alliance.”
Fidelias grunted. Then he asked, very quietly, “How do you know I won’t betray you?”
“The question is,” Tavi replied, “how do you know I won’t betray you?”
Fidelias looked a bit taken aback by that logic.
“I’m arrogant sometimes, but I’m not a fool. Don’t think that I’m not watching you very carefully. I’m simply willing to invest in the paranoia it takes to make sure I get full use out of you. The Realm needs it.” He lowered his voice. “The Realm needs heroes. The Realm needs you, Marcus. And I have no intention of letting you go to waste.”
The other man blinked his eyes once, and nodded. “Crows,” he said quietly. “If only Sextus had your courage.”
“Courage? He was no coward,” Tavi said.
“Not physically, no,” Marcus answered. “But… the courage to look at the truth and admit to himself what it was. The courage to strive for something that was right even if it seemed impossible. He never walked out of the bounds set for him by his father’s fathers. Never even considered that our future might be different than our past.”
Tavi smiled slightly. “Well. He didn’t have the benefit of my fine education and upbringing.”
“True.”
Marcus squared his shoulders and faced him. “For what it’s worth, I’m yours, Captain. Until death takes me.”
“That’s been true since the Elinarch,” Tavi replied quietly. “Please return to the party below and tell them that I’ll be down in a moment.”
Marcus saluted Legion style, despite his lack of uniform, and departed quietly.
Tavi sat down on a chair and closed his eyes for a moment. Now that the day was upon him, this entire notion of marriage seemed a great deal more… permanent than it had before. He took some slow breaths.
There was a ripple of water in the little pool in the room, and a ghostly voice whispered, “Young Gaius?”
Tavi rose and hurried to the pool. It was the only way Alera could still appear to him. Over the six months since Third Calderon, she had continued fading away, appearing less frequently and for less time. Tavi leaned over and smiled down at the water, where the ghostly reflection of Alera’s face had appeared.
“You are to be wed,” Alera said. “That is a significant moment. You have my warmest regards upon this day.”
“Thank you,” Tavi answered quietly.
She smiled at him, the expression kindly, and somehow satisfied. “We shall not speak like this again.”
A little pang went through Tavi’s chest at the words—but he had known that the day was coming. “I will miss speaking with you.”
“I cannot say the same,” Alera responded. “For which I find myself… somewhat grateful. It would be awkward.” She inhaled slowly, then nodded. “Are you sure you wish to continue on the path you have begun?”
“Well. You say I introduced you to Kitai, without realizing it, because of our bond. That’s why you can speak to her.”
“Indeed.”
“Then you should trust me. Interaction with the other Marat will be just as rewarding, on some level. As it will with the Canim. And the Icemen are already watercrafting, whether they realize it or not. It’s hardly any change at all.”
“I somehow do not think that the lords of your ancestral line would agree. Nor would they agree with the concept of… how did you phrase it?”
“Merit-based furycraft,” Tavi said. “Those who want more of it should be able to work to get it. It’s only fair. We’re losing the contribution of talented minds in every generation simply because they were not born with enough furycraft for their ideas to be respected. If that doesn’t change, we won’t survive.”
“I quite agree,” Alera replied. “And I’m willing to implement your plan before the end. I’m just… surprised to find the attitude in a mortal.”
“I’ve had everything,” Tavi said, gesturing at the room. “And I’ve had nothing. And I’ve made my peace with being in either place. That’s not something many of my ancestors can say.”