"Yes, lord" Odiana turned adoring eyes to Aldnck and watched as the swordsman knelt down to wipe his blade clean of blood on Calix's cloak The man clenched his fingers and let out a bubbling gasp Aldnck ignored him
Fidelias rose and went to Aquitaine's side "Was that to your satisfaction, Your Graced"
"Calix was useful," Aquitaine said Then he glanced at Fidelias and asked, "How did you know'"
Fidelias tilted his head "That he was planning to kill you' Were you able to sense it in him?"
Aquitaine nodded "Once I knew to look for it He fell apart as you described the role Rhodes had assigned him We'll probably find a furybound dagger in his coat with my likeness and name etched into the steel "
Aldrick grunted, rolled the not-quite dead Calix onto his back, and rummaged through his jacket The telltale bulge Fidelias had seen earlier proved to be made by a small dagger with a compact hilt Aldnck let out a hiss as he touched the knife and set it down hurriedly
Fidelias asked, "Furybound'"
Aldrick nodded "Nasty one Strong I think the knife should be destroyed "
"Do it," Aquitaine said "Now, tonight Odiana, go with him I wish to speak to Fidelias alone "
The pair rested fist over their hearts and bowed their heads Then Odiana slipped up to the swordsman's side and pressed to him until he circled her shoulders with one arm The two left, without looking back
On the floor, Calix let out his death rattle, and his eyes glazed over, mouth hanging slightly open
"How did you know'" Aldrick repeated
Fidelias glanced back at the dead Rhodesian Count and shrugged "To be honest, Your Grace I didn't know I guessed "
Aquitaine half-smiled "Based upon what'"
"Too many years in this line of work And I've met Rhodes He wouldn't step an inch from his way to help someone else, and he'd cut off his own nose just to spite his face Calix was being-"
"-too pleasant," Aquitaine murmured. "Indeed. Perhaps I should have seen it sooner."
"The important thing is that you acted promptly when you did see it, Your Grace."
"Fidelias," Aquitaine said. "I do not like you."
"You have no reason to."
"But I think I can respect you, after a fashion. And if it's to be a choice of who will put the knife in my back, I would rather it be you than Rhodes or one of his lackeys, I think."
Fidelias felt his mouth tug up at the corners. "Thank you."
"Make no mistake, man." Aquitaine turned to face him. "I prefer to work with someone to forcing them to my will. But I can do it. And I can kill you if you become a problem. You know this, yes?"
Fidelias nodded.
"Good," Aquitaine said. The High Lord covered his mouth with his hand and yawned. "It is late. And you are right about moving quickly, before the Crown has a chance to act. Get a few hours sleep. At dawn, you leave for the Calderon Valley."
Fidelias bowed his head again. "Your Grace-I don't have any chambers here, as yet."
Aquitaine waved a hand toward the slave. "You. Take him to your chambers for the night. Give him whatever he wants and see to it that he is awake by dawn."
The slave bowed her head, without speaking or looking up.
"Have you studied much history, Fidelias?"
"Only a bit, Your Grace."
"Fascinating. The course of a century of history can be set in a few short hours. A few precious days. Focal events, Fidelias-and those people who are a part of them become the ones to create tomorrow. I have sensed a distant stirring of forces from the direction of the Valley. Gaius is already arousing the furies of the Calderon, perhaps. History is stirring. Waiting to be nudged in one direction or the other."
"I don't know about history, Your Grace. I just want to do my job."
Aquitaine nodded, once. "Then do it. I will expect word from you." And without another word, the High Lord strode from the hall.
Fidelias watched him go and waited until the doors had closed behind
him to turn to the slave girl He offered her a hand, and she took it, her fingers warm and soft, her expression uncertain
Fidelias straightened his posture, bent, and placed a formally polite kiss to the back of the slave's fingers "Your Grace," he said "High Lady Invidia May I convey to you my heartfelt admnation "
The slave's expression flickered with shocked surprise Then she threw back her head and laughed Her features changed, subtle and significant, until the woman standing before him appeared to be several years older, her eyes holding a great deal more wisdom Her eyes were grey, like ashes, and her hair had delicate feathers of frost all through it, though her features looked no older than a woman nearmg her thirtieth year-all of the great Houses had that kind of skill at watercraftmg (or nearly any other form of furycraftmg one could name)
"How did you guess?" she asked "Not even my lord husband saw through the disguise "
"Your hands," Fidelias replied "When you washed my feet, your fingers were warm No slave in her right mind would have been anything less than anxious in that room She would have had chilly fingers And no one but you, I judged, would have had the temerity or skill to attempt such a thing with His Grace "
High Lady Aquitaine's eyes shone "A most astute assessment," she said "Yes, I had been using Calix to find out more about what Rhodes was up to And tonight was the night I thought I might get rid of him I made sure that my husband was in a mood he would not enjoy being taken from and waited for the Rhodesian fool to shove his foot down his own throat Though I must say, you seemed to pick up on what was happening and ensure that it carried through without any hints from me And not the least bit of furycrafting to assist you "
"Logic is a fury all its own "
She smiled, but then her expression grew serious, intent "The operation in the Valley Will it succeed?"
"It might," Fidelias said "If it does, it might accomplish what no amount of fighting or plotting could He could win Alera without ever spilling Aleran blood "
"Not directly, in any case," said Lady Aquitaine She sniffed "Attis has few compunctions about blood He is as subtle as a roaring volcano, but if his strength can be properly focused
Fidelias inclined his head. "Just so."
The woman studied him for a moment then took his hand. Her features shimmered and slid back into the mask of the slave girl she had worn before, the grey smoothing out of her hair, her eyes shading toward a dark, muddy brown, rather than grey. "In any case. I have my orders regarding you this night."
Fidelias hesitated, "Your Grace-"
Lady Aquitaine smiled. She touched her fingertips to his mouth and said, "Don't make me press the point. Come with me. I will see to it that you rest deeply in what time you have." She turned and started walking again. "You have far to go, come the dawn."
Chapter 8
When twilight fell, Tavi knew that he was still in danger. He had not seen or heard either of his pursuers since he had slithered down an almost sheer rock cliff, using several frail saplings to slow what would have been a deadly plummet to a careening slide. It had been a perilous gamble, and Tavi had counted on the saplings' frailty to betray the heavy Marat warrior, killing or at least slowing him.
The plan had been only a partial success. The Marat looked once at the cliff and set off at a run to find a safe place to descend. It bought Tavi enough of a lead to attempt to lose his pursuer, and he thought that he had begun to widen his lead. The Marat were not like the Alerans-they had no ability at furycrafting, though they were reported to possess an uncanny understanding of all the beasts of the field. It meant that the Marat had no vast advantage-like Tavi, he had only his wits and skill to guide him.
The storm settled over the valley in a glowering veil as the light began to fade. Thunder growled forth, but there was no rise of wind, no fall of rain or sleet. The storm waited for night to fall in full, while Tavi kept a nervous eye on both the sky and the barrens around him. His legs ached and his chest burned, but he had avoided the Marat, and just before sundown he emerged from the barrens onto the causeway several miles west of the lane to Bernardholt. He found a deep patch of shade beside a windfall and crouched there, panting, allowing his tired muscles a brief rest.