Jim Butcher - Cursors's Fury

Max grunted, and the two of them ate. After a moment, he said, “Notice anything?”

“Like?”

“Every one of your legionares is either on his back or wishing he was there.”

Tavi frowned at the shadowed forms of recumbent soldiers. Even the sentries sagged wearily. “You aren’t sleeping,” Tavi pointed out.

“I’ve got the metalcraft to go without for days if I have to.”

Tavi grimaced at him.

“You’re missing my point. You aren’t sleeping, either,” Max said. “But you aren’t stumbling around. Your mouth is running faster than any horse in Alera.”

Tavi stopped chewing for a second, frowning. “You don’t mean that I’m using metalcraft?”

“You aren’t ,” Max said. “I could tell. But you’re rolling along just fine.”

Tavi took a deep breath. Then he said, “Kitai.”

“Granted, she’d put a bounce in any man’s step,” Max said. “But I’m serious. Whatever herb you’re using…”

“No, Max,” Tavi said. “It’s… I can do without sleep a lot better than I used to. Since Kitai and I have been-”

“Plowing furrows in the mattress?”

It was dark enough for Max not to be able to see Tavi’s sudden blush, thank the great furies. “I was going to say together. You ass.”

Max chortled and swigged from a skin. He passed it to Tavi.

Tavi drank and grimaced at the weak, watered wine. “I haven’t needed as much sleep. Sometimes I think I can see more clearly. Hear better. I don’t know.”

“Bloody odd,” Max said, thoughtfully. “If handy.”

“I’d rather you didn’t talk about it, “ Tavi said quietly.

“Course,” Max said, taking the skin back. “Surprised the crows out of me, to see her here. Figured she’d stay in the palace. She liked the toys.”

Tavi grunted. “She’s of her own mind about such things.”

“Least she’s safe back at Elinarch now,” Max said.

Tavi gave him a level look.

“She’s not?” Max asked. “How do you know?”

“I don’t. I haven’t seen her since she led us into town last night. But I know her.” He shook his head. “She’s out here somewhere.”

“Captain!” called one of the sentries.

Tavi turned and found his sword in his hand, a split second after Max’s weapon leapt from its own sheath. They eased back as the sentry called an all’s-well signal, then they heard hooves approaching.

A battered-looking, gaunt legionare appeared from the darkness, his age marking him as a veteran. His helmet had a smear of what looked like dark red Canim blood on it. He swung down from his horse, gave Tavi a weary salute, and nodded to Max.

“Captain,” Maximus said. “This is Legionare Hagar. I served with him on the Wall.”

“Legionare,” Tavi said, nodding. “Good to see you. Report.”

“Sir,” Hagar said. “Centurion Flavis sends his compliments, and advises you that his alae has encountered and dispatched fifty-four Canim raiders. Seventy-four refugees were given what assistance he could, and he directed them to seek refuge in the town of Elinarch. Two legionares were slain and eight wounded. The wounded are en route back to Elinarch.”

Tavi frowned. “Did you encounter any enemy regulars?”

Hagar shook his head. “No, sir, but Centurion Flavis suffered both of his fatalities and the majority of his unit’s injuries fighting three Canim garbed and equipped differently than the standard raiders.”

“ Three ” Max burst out.

Hagar grimaced. “It wasn’t long ago, Antillar, the light was starting to go grey on us. And these things… I’ve never seen anything that fast, and I saw Aldrick ex Gladius fight Araris Valerian when I was a boy.”

“They went down hard, eh?”

“Two of them didn’t go down at all. They got away, and Flavis let them go. It would have been suicide to send anyone out into the dark after them.”

Tavi felt a sensation almost akin to that of his mouth watering at the scent of a fine meal. “Wait. Differently garbed? How so?”

Hagar turned to his horse, and said, “I’ve got it here, sir. Flavis said you might want to see it.”

“Flavis was right, “ Tavi said. “Tribune, a lamp please.”

“It will give away our position, sir,” Max said.

“So will the scent of a hundred horses,” Tavi said drily. “I need to see this.”

Max nodded and fetched a lamp. He draped his cloak over it, then murmured, “Light.” Very little of the golden glow of the furylamp emerged from beneath the cloak, and the three of them hunkered down to examine the gear Hagar had brought.

A hooded black cloak big enough to make a small tent was first, wrapped around the rest. Within the cloak lay a pair of short fighting blades-or what would have been so, for a Cane. The blades of the weapons were three feet long, curved, and made of the tempered, scarlet bloodsteel from which the Canim forged their best equipment. The spines of the knives bore teeth like those of a wood saw, and the pommel of one was made in the shape of a wolf skull, complete with tiny scarlet gems for eyes. Half a dozen heavy, metal spikes were next, as long as Tavi’s forearm and as thick as his thumb. A Cane’s enormous arm could throw them entirely through a human target, or crack a man’s skull through a good helmet. Finally, the equipment included a matte black chain of some strange and enormously heavy metal that made almost no sound when link brushed against link.

Tavi stared down at them for a moment, thinking.

“Looks more like a Cursor’s gear,” Max said quietly. “Smaller than their normal stuff. Light. Perfect to disable a target and make an escape.”

“Mmm,” Tavi said. “Which is exactly what they used it to do. Add in how well they fought, and it indicates that they might be elite soldiers of some kind. Certainly scouts.”

“Either way, they’ve got regulars behind them somewhere.”

Tavi nodded grimly. “And now they know where we are.”

Max frowned and fell silent.

“Sir,” Hagar said, “I should also tell you that the scouts may have taken heavy losses.”

Tavi grunted and frowned. “How so?”

“Only about forty-five of the eighty that went out this morning made the rendezvous. Scouts are an independent bunch, and they can get pinned down in a hiding place for days, sometimes. No one saw any bodies, but a couple of them found signs that some of their companions had been attacked.”

“They want to keep us blind,” Tavi said, nodding. “Hold on.” Tavi rose and walked over to one of the horses they’d used to carry supplies. He unloaded a heavy square of leather wrapped around a bundle, untied the cord holding it closed, and drew out a pair of Canim sickle-swords and one of their axes. He brought them over and tossed them down beside the other gear. He squinted down at them for a long moment, tracking an elusive thought that danced about just beneath the surface of realization.

“If they know we’re out here,” Max said quietly, “we’d best not linger. We don’t want to get hit by a squad of their regulars in the dark.”

Hagar nodded. “Flavis is already on the way back to the Elinarch.”

Tavi stared at the weapons. There was something there. An answer. He knew it.

“Sir?” Max said. “We might need to get a move on. Whatever they’re doing or however many they are, they aren’t going to be able to sneak up on the town.”

Suddenly, realization hit Tavi in a flash, and he slammed a fist against his palm. “Crows, that’s it .”

Hagar blinked at him.

Tavi pointed at the sickle-swords and the Canim axe. “Max. What do you see.”

“Canim weapons?”

“Look closer,” Tavi said.

Max pursed his lips and frowned. “Urn. Bloodstain on that one. Edges are nicked up pretty bad on those sickle-swords. And there’s rust on…” Max paused and frowned. “What are those stains on the sickles and the axe?”