Jim Butcher - Captain's Fury

Tavi felt himself rock back a little at the vehemence in Nasaug's voice. He had never really considered things from that point of view. Slavery, of course, had been a problem for years. It would likely continue to be one for years more. The furycrafting-based system of Citizenship, title, and privilege was utterly inflexible, and how well he had known the futility of laboring beneath it.

Nasaug continued. "We came upon those you had enslaved and set them free. And because we had done it, when they sought arms to defend that freedom, we supported them. But I know, and you know, that your Legions will not rest until they have been destroyed-for seizing what by rights should belong to all."

"That is the way of some Alerans," Tavi replied. "It is not my way-nor the way of my lord, Gaius Sextus."

"Perhaps not, gadara" Nasaug said. "But words are nothing but air."

"Unless they are followed by action," Tavi countered. "I am here only because you gave me your word."

"I have shown you my word is good," Nasaug said.

"Then let me show you the same of mine," Tavi said.

"How?"

"What would you consider sufficient action?"

Nasaug let out a thoughtful, rumbling growl. "One whose word I trust over my own was once a guest of honor in your land. I am told that he is held prisoner in some stinking house of stone in Alera Imperia."

"You mean Varg," Tavi said. "Yes. He is held prisoner."

"Varg did not behave dishonorably."

"How do you know that?" Tavi asked.

Nasaug flexed one paw-hand, extending his claws. "He is Varg."

Tavi was silent for a moment, then nodded. "He did not behave with dishonor. Quite the opposite. He warned us of the coming of a foe called the Vord."

"And he rots in a prison because of it," Nasaug snarled, baring his fangs. "Your word may be good, Captain. Perhaps we can make an arrangement whereby I can leave your haunted land peacefully. But it will not happen without Varg."

Tavi glanced down at Ehren, who shot a nervous glance up at him.

"If I bring you Varg," Tavi said quietly, "will you be willing to withdraw your strength from Kalarus? To draw back to Mastings, build your ships, and depart this land?"

Nasaug glanced aside, at the grizzled old Cane beside him. Neither of them said anything or moved, but Tavi felt sure they had communicated with one another nonetheless. Nasaug turned back to Tavi and nodded, once. "Yes. But this agreement will have no bearing on how I wage war against you. Until I see Varg and speak to him, face-to-face, your Legions will pay in blood for every step of ground they wish to take."

"I understand," Tavi said quietly. "If it can be done, it will take some time."

Nasaug nodded. "Then until that time, gadara , we will seek one another's throats." His fangs shone again. "Go from this place." He raised his voice, and called, in Canish, " Do not touch him ."

"Ehren," Tavi said quietly. "Mount up behind me."

He leaned down and gave the Cursor an arm up, and Ehren scrambled up onto the saddle behind Tavi. Tavi exchanged an Aleran-style nod with Nasaug, and then turned Acteon and rode calmly and quietly from the clearing. He passed Durias, who also nodded up at him, and then they moved steadily away.

Half an hour later, as they came out onto ground Tavi recognized, he let out a slow breath and pressed Acteon into a swifter pace over open plain.

"You came here alone?" Ehren demanded. "Are you insane?"

Tavi flashed a grin back at his friend. "You're welcome."

Ehren shook his head. "I really feel I should point out that there's no way you're going to get them to release Varg."

"But Gaius can," Tavi replied. "He'll see the sense of it at once."

"If you can reach him, maybe," Ehren replied. "What if you can't?"

Tavi opened his mouth to give Ehren a sharp-edged retort-and was cut off by a sudden blast of furious wind.

Acteon reared and skittered wildly to one side as a sudden gale threw up dirt and dust, blinding them all and deafening them with its roar. Acteon lunged and bucked, panicking, and Tavi lost his seat, crashing to the ground beside Ehren.

Tavi had to squeeze his eyes almost entirely shut, but he could just barely see the gleaming forms of Knights Aeris descending around them, along with an eight-harness air coach.

The coach landed, its bearers settling it to the ground, and one of them hurried to open the door.

Phrygiar Navaris emerged from the coach, slender in black, her face set in an odd little smile. Behind her, the rest of the Senator's singulares also appeared, to be followed, finally, by the Senator himself.

Arnos, still in his silk robes, walked calmly over to them, flanked by his bodyguards. He stood over Tavi for a moment, a chilly little smile of satisfaction on his face.

"And now we know how your supposedly gallant Legion managed to survive for so long against so many Canim," he said quietly. "You've been conspiring with them the whole while, Scipio."

"That isn't true," Tavi snarled. "And you know it."

Arnos swept his hand around at the circle of Knights Aeris. "I know no such thing. You were seen meeting with one of the Canim officers, and I have better than a dozen witnesses who will attest to it. Furthermore, you were engaging in parley with the enemy against my express orders to avoid giving any impression of weakness or lack of resolve on our part."

Arnos lifted his chin, staring down at Tavi. "It gives me no pleasure to do this, Rufus Scipio. But I place you under arrest for refusing to follow a direct order of your superior officer in time of war. You will be taken to the nearest stockade and held there until such time as a military tribunal can be assembled for your trial."

Tavi just stared at Arnos, shocked by what he was hearing, cursing himself for being careless. He'd warned Max that Arnos would have had watchers in place by that evening. He should have been smart enough to realize that Arnos already had him under surveillance-probably by several of his Knights Aeris, hidden behind crafted veils.

He'd taken a chance and gotten burned.

He'd failed.

"Navaris," Arnos said. "Take the prisoner into custody." An unmistakable glitter of malice danced across his eyes. "Find someplace to lock him away until we can find time to try him for treason."

Valiar Marcus glared at the young mother who had approached them from the group of prisoners. She had spotted his distinctive centurion's helmet with its scarlet crest, or the baton he carried in his hand as a symbol of his rank, and she walked over to him, trailing a young legionare . The plainly dressed woman had evidently overwhelmed the young man via sheer force of personality, and he gave Marcus a half-shamed, half-pleading look as he hurried to keep up with her.

"Centurion," she said. She made part of a curtsey, likely the best she could do while carrying her young daughter on one hip. The child was silent, her blue eyes very wide. "No one will speak to us. No one will tell us when we may return to our homes."

Marcus kept the glare going for a few moments, but it was a forlorn hope. The young mother was not going to be dissuaded. "Ma'am," Marcus said, "I'm going to have to ask you to return to your place with the other prisoners."

"I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers," she said quietly.

"Yes, ma'am, you are," Marcus said. "It's safest for you there."

The woman clenched her jaw in frustration. "I don't understand what else you need from us, centurion. None of us are armed or bore arms against the Legions. None of us know anything that you didn't find out hours ago. There's no reason for us to be sitting here, even if that nice young man is being so painstaking in asking about our Citizenship…"