Jim Butcher - Cursors's Fury

“EXCELLENT ADVICE,” boomed a voice that seemed to resonate up from the water of the pool. It rang off the walls around the little garden, unpleasant and sharp.

The pool stirred once more, and at its far side another shape rose-forming into a man Amara recognized as Kalarus Brencis, High Lord of Kalare. In person, he was not a particularly imposing figure of a man-tall, but thin, and his eyes always seemed sunken in shadows, giving his face a gaunt, stark look, his hair straight, fine, and limp. The figure formed from the waters of the fountain, though, was taller by half than the other forms there, and built with more apparent muscle than the actual Kalarus carried. “Gentlemen. Ladies. I trust, by now, that the shape of things to come is obvious to… well, not to everyone so much as to everyone who has survived .” The image’s teeth showed in a vulpine smile. “Thus far, at any rate.”

Amara shot a glance at the image of Gaius. The First Lord looked from her to Cereus. The old High Lord sat very still and very quiet, not moving.

“Brencis,” the First Lord said, his tone calm, “am I to understand that you are confessing before those here that you are to blame for these murders? And that you have unlawfully set your forces against those of your fellow High Lords?”

Kalarus’s image turned to the First Lord’s, and said, “I’ve looked forward to this since I was a boy, Gaius.” He closed his eyes and exhaled in pleasure. “Shut your crowbegotten mouth, old man.”

Kalarus’s image clutched his hand into an abrupt fist, and the water-image of Gaius suddenly exploded into individual droplets that splashed back down into the pool.

Amara, and everyone else in the garden, drew in a sudden, sharp breath at Kalarus’s display of power. He had simply cut the First Lord’s contact through the pool, a show of furycrafting strength whose implications were terrifying. If Kalarus truly held as much or more power than the First Lord…

“Out with the old,” Kalarus said, his image turning to address those in the garden. “And in with the new. Think carefully, fellow Alerans, which you would choose to be. We all know that the House of Gaius has failed. He has no heir and plays games with all the Realm at stake rather than accept his fall from power-and would drag each of you down to the grave with him. You can be a part of the next great age of Aleran civilization-or you can be paved under it.”

Senator Arnos rose and faced Kalarus’s image. “Your Grace,” he said. “While your power and temerity are very much in evidence, surely you must see that your military position is untenable. Your opening moves have been audacious, but you cannot hope to prevail against the joined might of the other cities of the Realm and their Legions.”

Kalarus let out a booming laugh. “Joined might?” he asked. “Ceres will fall within the day, and I will press on to Alera Imperia herself. There is not enough free might to prevent it.” The image turned to Lord Placidus, and said, “Sandos, I had no idea that Aria had a birthmark on her left thigh.” His gaze swiveled to the image of Lord Atticus. “Elios, may I compliment your daughter on a particularly lovely head of hair-a small section of which will be delivered to you by messenger, so that you may know that she is in my protective custody.”

“Protective custody?” Amara asked sharply.

Kalarus nodded. “Quite. My lords Atticus and Placidus, my quarrels have never been with you or your cities, and I desire none now. I am holding those two as guarantors against your neutrality. I do not ask you to forsake any vow or to turn against the First Lord-only stand from my way. I give you my word that if you do so, when matters settle down, they will be returned to you, otherwise unharmed.”

Cereus rose slowly to his feet and walked down to the edge of the pool. “This is why you have come here, Kalarus?” he asked quietly, not looking at the image. “To make promises to your neighbors that you will not attack them, even while you assault another before their very eyes?”

“I am delivering my terms to them ,” Kalarus said. “My terms for you are somewhat different.”

“I am listening,” Cereus said quietly.

“Yield your city to me now,” Kalarus said. “And I will spare your life and that of your family. You will be free to depart and make what life you would elsewhere in the Realm.”

Cereus’s eyes narrowed. “You would seek to cast me from my family’s home? To force me to abandon my people?”

“You should be grateful I’m giving you a choice,” Kalarus replied. “Defy me, and it will go hard for you, and for your line. I promise to be thorough. I know all of their names, old man. Your three daughters. Your son. Your eleven grandchildren.”

“You would threaten babes in arms, Kalarus? You’re a madman.”

Kalarus barked out a laugh. “A madman? Or a visionary. Only history will decide-and we all know who writes the histories.” Kalarus’s teeth showed again. “I’d prefer you to fight so that I might destroy you. But we both know that you aren’t a fighter anymore, Macius. Walk away while you still can.”

High Lord Cereus faced Kalarus’s image for a silent minute before he lifted a hand, clenched it into a fist, and snarled, “Get out of my garden.”

The waters of the pool rippled, and Kalarus’s image, like Gaius’s had, fell back into droplets of water that splashed back into the pool.

“Threaten my granddaughter. I’ll wring your skinny throat, you cowardly slive.” Cereus growled at the pool. Then he turned to face the assembly. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have a city to defend. I welcome any help you might give. But if you don’t intend to fight, you should depart the city as quickly as possible.” He turned a hard look at the pool where Kalarus had stood. “If you can’t help, then stay the crows out of my way.”

Then the old man, his anger wrapped around him like a cloak, spun on his heel and strode from the garden barking orders to his startled-looking men, his voice ringing from the walls.

The others in the garden just stared after Cereus, startled at the change in the man. Then they began to speak quietly, most moving to leave. Amara turned to the images of Lords Placidus and Atticus. “My lords, please. Before you go, a word on behalf of the First Lord?”

The water-forms nodded, and Amara waited until the garden had emptied again. “My lords, may I ask your intentions?”

Lord Placidus, a plain, stocky man of unremarkable height and crystal blue eyes shook his head. “I’m not sure, Countess. But if he has Aria then…” The High Lord shook his head. “There are a number of dangerously volatile furies who are restrained from doing harm by my wife’s will. If she dies without taking the proper measures to keep them neutralized, several thousand of my holders would perish. I have no qualms about sending my Legions into harm’s way-but I am not willing to sacrifice the populations of entire steadholts. Women. Children. Families.”

“You would let the Realm fall instead?” Amara asked.

“The Realm will stand, Countess,” Placidus said, his voice hardening. “Only the face beneath the crown will change. I have never made it a secret that I wish nothing to do with the politics of the crown. In point of fact, if Gaius’s page hadn’t publicly manipulated us into supporting him, my wife might now be with me, safe and unharmed.”

Amara ground her teeth, but nodded once. “Very well, Your Grace.” She turned to High Lord Atticus. “And you, sir?”

“I gave one daughter to Gaius already,” Atticus said, his voice bitter. “My Caria, taken to wife and held hostage in the capital. Now Kalarus has taken the other daughter. I see little difference between the two. But Gaius asks me to sacrifice men and blood, while Kalare wishes me merely to stand aside.” He bared his teeth, biting off the words. “So far as I am concerned, you can all cut each other to shreds and let the crows pick clean your bones.”