Jim Butcher - Furies of Calderon

"Yes, Lady. Please, Your Grace. I need to speak to the First Lord."

Lady Caria shook her head. "Impossible," she said, her tone one of finality. "I'm afraid you'll have to speak to him later. Perhaps tomorrow."

"But, Lady-"

"He's swamped," the First Lady said, emphasizing each syllable. "If you feel the matter is an important one, Academ, then you may leave me a message and I will present it to him as soon as opportunity allows."

"Please forgive me, Lady, but I was told that if I ever used the coin, that the message was to be only for him."

"Mind your tongue, Academ," Caria said, her brows arched. "Remember to whom you speak."

"I have the orders from the First Lord himself, Your Grace. I only attempt to obey them."

"Admirable. But the First Lord is not a favorite professor you can simply visit yourself upon whenever you wish, Academ." She stressed the last word, very slightly. "And he has affairs of state to attend to."

Amara swallowed and said, "Your Grace, please. I will not be long in telling him. Let him judge if I am abusing the privilege. Please."

"No," Caria said. The sculpted figure looked over its shoulder. "You have

taken enough of my time, Academ Amara." The First Lady's voice gained a note of tension, hurry. "If that is all…"

Amara licked her lips. If she could hold on a moment more, perhaps the First Lord would overhear the conversation. "Your Grace, before you go, may I give you a message to pass on to him?"

"Be quick."

"Yes, Your Grace. If you would only tell him that-"

Amara didn't get any farther than that before the watery form of the First Lady grimaced and shot her a cool glance, her features becoming remote and hard.

The water beside Lady Caria stirred, and a second furycrafted shape rose from it. This one was a man, tall, with shoulders that had once been broad, but were now slumped with age. He carried himself with a casual pride and a confidence that showed in every line of his body. The water-figure did not appear in liquid translucence, as did Lady Caria's. It rose from the river in full color, and Amara thought, for just a moment, that the First Lord himself had somehow come, rather than sending a fury in his place. His hair was dark, streaked with silver-white strands, and his green eyes looked faded, weary, and confident.

"Here now," said the figure in a gentle, ringing bass. "What passes, my wife?" The figure of Gaius turned toward Amara, squinting. His features went completely still for a moment. Then he murmured, "Ah. I see. Greetings, Cursor."

Lady Caria shot her husband's image a glance at the use of that title, and then her remote gaze returned to Amara. "This one wished to speak with you, but I had informed her that you had a state dinner to attend."

"Your Majesty," Amara murmured, and curtseyed again.

Gaius let out a sigh and waved a hand, vaguely. "You go ahead, my wife. I'll be along shortly."

Lady Caria's chin lifted, tilting with a sharp little motion. "Husband. There will be considerable consternation if we do not arrive together."

Gaius turned his face toward Lady Caria. "Then if it pleases you, wife, you may wait elsewhere for me."

The First Lady pressed her lips together, but gave a graceful, proper nod, before her image abruptly fell back into the water, creating a splash that drenched Amara to the waist. The girl let out a surprised cry, moving to wipe uselessly at her skirts. "Oh, my lord, please excuse me."

Gaius made a tsking sound and his image moved a hand. The water fled from the cloth of her skirts, simply pattered out onto the ground in a steady rain of orderly droplets that gathered into a small, muddy puddle and then flowed back down into the river, leaving her skirts, at least, quite clean.

"Please excuse the First Lady," Gaius murmured. "These last three years have not been kind to her."

Three years since she married you, my lord, Amara thought. But aloud, she said only, "Yes, Your Majesty."

The First Lord inhaled, then nodded, the expression brusque. He had shaved his beard since Amara had seen him last, and the lines of age, faint on the mostly youthful features, showed as dark shadows at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Gaius appeared to be a hale forty years of age-in fact, Amara knew that he was twice that. And that no silver had been showing in his hair when she arrived at the Royal Academy, five years before.

"Your report," Gaius said. "Let's hear it."

"Yes, milord. As you instructed, Fidelias and I attempted to infiltrate the suspected revolutionary camp. We were successful in getting inside." She felt her mouth go dry, and she swallowed. "But… But he…"

Gaius nodded, his expression grave. "But he betrayed you. He proved to be more interested in serving the cause of the insurrectionists than in remaining loyal to his lord."

Amara blinked up at him, startled. "Yes, milord. But how did you-"

Gaius shrugged. "I didn't. But I suspected. When you reach my age, Amara, people show themselves to you very clearly. They write their intentions and beliefs through their actions, their lies." He shook his head. "I saw the signs in Fidelias when he was only a little older than you. But that seed has picked a particularly vicious moment to bloom."

"You suspected?" Amara asked. "But you told me nothing?"

"Could you have kept it from him? Could you have played that kind of charade with him, who taught you, for the duration of the mission?"

Amara clenched her teeth rather than speak in anger. Gaius was right. She never would have been able to keep such knowledge from Fidelias. "Why did you send me?" Her words came out clipped, precise.

Gaius gave her a weary smile. "Because you are the fastest Cursor I have ever seen. Because you were a brilliant student at the Academy, resourceful, stubborn, and able to think on your feet. Because Fidelias liked you. And because I was sure of your loyalty."

"Bait," Amara said, her words still with hard edges, points. "You used me as bait. You knew he wouldn't be able to resist trying to bring me with him. Recruit me."

"Essentially correct."

"You would have sacrificed me."

"If you hadn't come back, I would know that you had failed in your mission, probably because of Fidelias. Either that, or you would have cast your lot with the insurgents. Either way, I would be sure of the color of Fidelias's cloak."

"Which was the point of the exercise."

"Hardly. I needed the intelligence, as well."

"So you risked my life to get it?"

Gaius nodded. "Yes, Cursor. You swore your life to the service of the Crown, did you not?"

Amara looked down, her face coloring, anger and confusion and disappointment piling up in her belly. "Yes, milord."

"Then report. I do have to be at dinner shortly."

Amara took a breath, and without looking up, she recounted the events of the day-what she and Fidelias had seen, what she knew about the insurgent Legion, and especially of the strength and estimated numbers of the Knights accompanying it.

She looked up at the end of her report. Gaius's face looked older, the lines deeper, somehow, as though her words to him had drained out a little more of his life, his youth, his strength.

"The note. The one you were allowed to read," Gaius began.

"A diversion, milord. I know. An attempt to cast suspicion elsewhere. I do not believe Lord Atticus to have a hand in this."

"Perhaps. But remember that the note was addressed to the commander of the second Legion." Gaius shook his head. "That would seem to indicate that more than one of the High Lords is conspiring against me. This may be the effort of one to ensure that the blame for the entire matter falls on the other."

"Assuming there are only two, milord."

Gaius's eyes wrinkled further, at the corners. "Yes. Assuming all of them aren't in it together, eh?" The brief smile faded. "And that they wished details of my inner chambers from you seems to indicate that they believe they could accomplish an assassination, and so take power directly."