Jim Butcher - Captain's Fury

The "opening" in the wall proved to be a blank section of stone like any other-except that, as Tavi approached, the stone of the wall itself melted like wax and flowed down and away, leaving an opening in the wall just wide enough to let a horse squeeze inside. Tavi rode through, his knees scraping stone on both sides, and recognized all six of the First Aleran's Knights Flora on the wall above the opening, bows in hand, ready to send deadly accurate arrows winging into anyone who might have tried to take advantage of the opening.

Almost before Ehren's horse was through, the engineers of the First Aleran, half a dozen weary-looking men on each side of the opening, sealed the wall again, coaxing the stone back up into position. Two of the Knights Flora above turned to keep an eye on Tavi and Ehren-as they should have, until their identities had been verified.

Tavi was content to stay right where he was for the moment, in the circle of firelight cast by Ehren's sputtering torch, where several hundred legionares could see him clearly. The chatter on the walls had risen in volume, almost drowning out the crow calls and bird cries echoing around the ruins.

Schultz appeared out of the darkness. The young centurion of the Battle-crow Cohort had been a raw recruit when at the battle of the Elinarch. Now he had scars and commendations enough to do him proud in any Legion in the Realm. The centurion bore a tin soldier's mug in either hand, and both of them were steaming in the cool night air. He offered the first to Tavi, and the second to Ehren, and Tavi took the mug of strong tea gratefully.

"There you go, Captain," Schultz said with a salute. "Alleged captain," he corrected himself.

Tavi grinned at him. "Bless you, man." He swallowed some of the hot brew, studying Schultz's manner and bearing, contrasting them against the weary fear that was pouring off of him. The man was putting on an act of carelessly brave indifference in front of the men of the Legion, but he was clearly worried-and with good reason. Tavi didn't see half as many men on the wall as the area covered demanded, which implied that the First Aleran had lost a lot of soldiers to injury and exhaustion. And the tea was too crowbegotten thick. No one took it that strong, no matter how tired they were. The Legion was short on water.

They were afraid. Fear could take the life from a Legion more quickly than any blade, and Tavi reacted at once to combat it as he sipped the tea and spoke within hearing of the men. "Mmm. Were you planning on using this stuff as mortar later?"

"Bricks," Schultz replied. "But that pansy Gregus watered it down."

"I don't want to know with what," Tavi shot back.

A chorus of quiet chuckles rippled up and down the wall.

Schultz grinned and glanced around. "Sir… if I might ask… why are you back, Captain?"

Tavi sipped more tea. He hadn't realized how achingly tired he was, until he felt some of the drink restoring a bit of life to his limbs. "Hmmm? Come on,

Schultz. You never get a straight answer from captains. You should know that by now." He swallowed more tea as the men laughed quietly again. "The Crown's found an even worse mess out there for us to be in, and our orders are to get there right away."

Schultz gestured at the ruins and battered men around them. "And leave all this?"

Instant sounds of feigned disappointment and disgust fell from the walls and the ruined structures in the immediate area.

Schultz had understood what Tavi was doing, and abetted him, releasing some of the pressure on the men. It had been good thinking for a man his age, after the day he'd had, and Tavi nodded his approval at him. "As you were, centurion. You'll have your marching orders soon enough."

"Yes, sir," Schultz said, saluting. The sound of marching boots came nearer, and Schultz faded back as a party arrived, which proved to be Antillus Crassus, flanked by several Knights Terra, and followed by the blunt, stocky form of Valiar Marcus.

"Schultz?" Crassus demanded, his voice strained with anger. "Pulling me out of a command meeting? This had better be good. And who the crows authorized that light to be-"

Crassus came to a dead stop as he reached the edge of the torchlight, and his eyes widened as he recognized Tavi and Ehren. His mouth opened, as if for an exclamation, but then he clenched his lips shut with a visible effort of will and gave Tavi a terse nod instead. "Centurion. Has his identity been verified?"

"No, sir," Schultz replied. "Tribune Foss sends his compliments and asks me to tell you that he is too crowbegotten busy to wander around the camp on errands, sir."

"True enough, tonight." Crassus sighed.

Tavi dismounted and shifted his tea to his left hand, waiting quietly.

Crassus made sure that the Knights Flora were covering him, and then approached Tavi, offering his right hand. Tavi traded grips with the younger man.

"Your name?" Crassus asked.

Tavi's world froze for an instant.

Every detail came into crystal clarity-the scent of greasy woodsmoke from Ehren's torch, the clank of a legionare's armor against the stone battlements, the dim gleam of torchlight on battered armor. A patch of Crassus's hair had been burned down to stubble, close to his scalp, and the red stones in the hilt of the Cane-sized dagger on his belt twinkled in the scarlet light. The moon and the stars hung, for an instant, entirely suspended, and Tavi was left alone, in all the universe with a single fact for company:

He'd lived most of his life surrounded in a cloak of lies and half-truths.

After this moment, after this breath, everything would change.

"Most of my life," he said quietly, "I have been known as Tavi of Bernard-holt, in the Calderon Valley of Riva. Then I became Tavi Patronus Gaius, and Tavi ex Cursori. In the time you have known me, Crassus, my name was Rufus Scipio, Third Subtribune and later Captain of the First Aleran."

The hilltop, the ruin, was perfectly silent, perfectly still.

Tavi's voice flowed into that stillness, confident and steady, and he could hardly believe it was his own. "But my name," he said, raising his voice so that it rang from the battlecrafted walls and fallen stones, "is Gaius Octavian, son of Gaius Septimus, son of Gaius Sextus, First Lord of Alera."

And as that name fell onto the evening air, the sky bloomed into scarlet light.

Tavi wasn't sure what had happened, but the light was directly behind him, to the south, and it illuminated the entire southern sky as if he'd called the sun itself back from its nightly journey into darkness to herald his presence. It washed over the ruins, revealing the exhausted, startled, awestruck faces of le-gionares covered in grime and blood. It threw his shadow out before him, engulfing Valiar Marcus, and Crassus, and the Knights escorting them.

And it revealed, approaching through the ruins, a second and larger group of men, consisting of a number of armored legionares of the Senatorial Guard, Captain Nalus and his seniormost officers-and Senator Guntus Arnos, his singulars , and his hangers-on.

Crassus, who had been seeking the sound of truth with his watercrafting senses, went absolutely white with shock, his fingers tightening almost painfully on Tavi's. A beat later, the young Tribune dropped to one knee, and after a baffled second his Knights, the First Spear, then the whole of the First Aleran followed suit. The clank and clatter of arms and armor was like a roar of surf on a stony shoreline.

The Senator stood staring in slack-jawed shock. The hem of his Senatorial robes dropped from his numbed fingers, and landed in dirt made muddy with blood.

"I am Princeps Gaius Octavian," Tavi said, his voice loud and cold. "And I am here to bring a treasonous slive to account for his deeds."