Jim Butcher - Captain's Fury

Araris made another choking sound.

Kitai nodded. "Ah."

Isana folded her arms beneath her cloak. "Is… is that altogether wise?"

Kitai rolled her eyes. "Why should he start now?"

"The security has been tightened there," Ehren said. "I read a report on it somewhere, three or four years ago."

"I know," Tavi said. "I wrote it. Gaius had it redesigned based on some of my recommendations."

Ehren pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Oh. That does raise some interesting possibilities, then."

Tavi nodded. "But I need each of you there. That's why I've asked you along."

"That," Kitai said, "is the least unwise thing you have said tonight." She peered up at the Slive , her eyes tracing the dim shapes of the ropes and the sailors moving nimbly among them. "I have never been on a ship."

"Nor have I," Tavi said. "Ehren, what-"

"Down!" barked Araris, even as his blade cleared its sheath. He swept it in a single, smooth cut, and there was a snapping sound as it cleaved an arrow streaking down the length of the dock.

Tavi crouched as Araris shattered two more arrows with as many sweeps of his blade and looked around them wildly. There were figures out there at the riverbank end of the dock, crouching in thick shadow.

"The ship," Tavi snapped. "Everyone aboard! Move!"

Another arrow hissed, and Kitai let out a breathless cry. Tavi felt a sudden, vague shock of pain run through the left side of his body. The Marat girl staggered.

"Go, go!" shouted Araris.

Tavi seized Kitai, tossed her unceremoniously over a shoulder, and dashed up the gangplank. Isana followed him, but stumbled. Ehren was there at once, supporting her. Tavi made the deck of the ship and hurried to get out of sight of the archer's shooting position. Araris came up the gangplank last, sword still in hand.

Demos took one look, saw what was happening, and began barking orders to cast off. His crew, evidently men who were familiar with the procedures for precipitous departures, leapt into action, and within a minute the ship was being warped away from the dock and out into the slow current of the Tiber.

"Light!" Tavi called, laying Kitai down on the deck. "I need a light here!"

Demos appeared a few moments later, bearing a covered lantern. He handed it to Tavi without a word and went back to calling orders.

Tavi opened the lantern and found a plain candle burning inside. It gave him enough light to see Kitai's injury. The arrow had pierced her left arm, on an angle through the biceps muscle. Her teeth were clenched, though there was more outrage than pain in her face.

"Doesn't look bad," Tavi said.

Isana knelt beside him, and examined the Marat girl's wound. "The head isn't poisoned or barbed, but it's sharp. It's close to the artery. If we try to draw it back through, we could open it ourselves."

Tavi nodded. "Break the arrow?"

"Let me get a proper tub of water first," Isana said. "It's possible that the arrow itself is staunching the wound. I can make sure it isn't a problem."

"Araris?" Tavi asked.

"I'll find a tub," the singulare said, sheathing his weapon.

Tavi leaned down and kissed Kitai's hair again. "Give us just a minute," he said quietly. "Then we'll get it out of you."

Kitai set her jaw, nodded once, and closed her eyes.

Ehren leaned down and picked up the lantern. He frowned and moved it. "There. Do you see?"

Tavi looked up to where the candle's light fell upon the fletching of the arrow that had wounded Kitai. The feathers were black, green, brown, with a black band at their base.

He'd seen them before, at close quarters in the Senator's wind coach.

"Iris the Hawk," Tavi said quietly.

"Good thing Demos didn't have any lights up," Ehren murmured. "Even shooting in the dark, she hit one of us."

Tavi made sure the light of the little lantern was blocked from the docks behind them, then rose, staring back at the dock they'd just departed.

A slender figure, sword in hand, stood at the end of the dock, barely visible in the light of the furylamps on the boardwalk: Phrygiar Navaris. Several others came to stand beside her-the rest of Arnos's singulares . Tavi fancied he could feel Navaris's serpentine hatred drifting over the water.

"It would seem," Ehren said, "that someone doesn't want you making this trip."

"Then someone," Tavi replied, "is going to be disappointed."

Amara crouched beside Bernard in the wavering light of his woodcrafting as another patrol wound slowly through the forest and away from them. As the last of them went out of sight, she murmured, "Have I mentioned how attractive you've been, the last several da-"

Bernard moved suddenly, and his hand clamped gently over her mouth. He let out a soft breath that nonetheless conveyed a warning, and Amara fell silent. The forest sighed around them, the thickening leaves rustling in a low breeze. She saw nothing, heard nothing. She turned to Bernard, her face set in a question.

He touched a finger to his lips. Then, his eyes unfocused, he raised his bow.

Amara stared at him, hardly daring to move.

Bernard glanced down at the ground beneath him, and she saw his face grow intent. His lips moved.

The earth suddenly rippled out from him in a circle-not a violent upheaval, but a single, rippling pulse, as if someone had struck the ground with a large hammer.

Bits of dust and old leaves leapt up from the ground in a low shower. Not twenty feet in front of them, some of the bracken struck against something solid but unseen.

In the same instant, Bernard's bow bent and thrummed. There was an immediate, ugly sound of impact, and then a man appeared, dressed in leathers and bearing a bow of his own. Bernard's broad-headed, thick-shafted arrow protruded at an angle from the man's back.

Bernard moved, a single bound that took him most of the way to the other man, and Amara could see that he had dropped his bow and drawn his hunting knife from the sheath at his side. The other man straightened, turning, but before he could cry out or bring his own weapon to bear, Bernard was on his back, and bore him to the ground. Amara watched as, with brutal efficiency, Bernard reached around with his knife and cut his throat.

Bernard held the other man down, grinding his face into the dirt until his struggles ceased half a minute later. Then he straightened, slowly, his head up, eyes focused in the direction the rest of the patrol had gone. After another full minute had passed, Bernard turned to Amara and nodded once, beckoning.

Amara turned behind her. "Sire."

Gaius came out of the woods behind them, moving more easily than he had since the first days of their journey, though he still carried the walking staff. The First Lord moved up to stand beside Bernard and looked down at the body. He touched the fallen man's powerful bow with the end of his staff.

"A Knight Flora," the First Lord said quietly. "Like you."

"Never served as a Knight, sire," Bernard said, shaking his head. "Centurion in the auxiliary cohort."

Gaius glanced at him. "Mmmm. But obviously you had the skill for it."

Bernard shrugged. "Knights in my Legion… seemed a little full of themselves, sire. Didn't feel like spending all my time with them."

Amara walked up to stand beside her husband, still somewhat shocked at the suddenness of what had happened. She had seen violence before, but she had never seen Bernard engaged in it against another man. She knew he had been a soldier, in his past, but for some reason she had never pictured him killing in such a way. For a moment, his idle chat with the First Lord seemed wildly inappropriate-but only until she saw the faintly sickened expression in his eyes.

She touched his elbow. "Are you all right?" she asked.