Jim Butcher - Furies of Calderon

"I get the feeling that when I get back home, I'm going to wish I hadn't," Tavi said, his voice choking, wry. He blinked away the tears and summoned up a smile for the young woman.

She returned it. "Can I ask you something?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"Why endanger what you'd been working toward? Why did you agree to help this Beritte if you knew it could cause problems for you?"

"I didn't think it would," Tavi said, his voice plaintive. "I mean, I thought I could have done it all. It wasn't until nearly the end of the day that I realized I was going to have to pick between getting all the sheep in and those hollybells, and I'd promised her."

"Ah," said the slave, but her expression remained dubious.

Tavi felt his cheeks color again, and he looked down. "All right," he

sighed. "She kissed me, and my brains melted and dribbled out my ears."

"Now that I can believe," Amara said. She stretched her foot toward the water, flicking idly at its surface with her toes.

"What about you?" Tavi asked.

She tilted her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged and looked up at her again, uncertain. "I've been doing all the talking. You haven't said a thing about yourself. Slaves don't usually wander around this far from the road. Or a steadholt. All alone. I figured that, uh, you must have run away."

"No," the young woman said, firmly. "But I did get lost in the storm. I was on my way to Garrison, to deliver a message for my master."

Tavi squinted up at her. "He just sent you out like that? A woman? Alone?"

"I don't question his orders, Tavi. I just obey them."

Tavi frowned, but nodded. "Well, okay, I guess. But, do you think you could come along with me? Maybe talk to my uncle? He could make sure you got to Garrison safely. Get you a hot meal, some warmer clothes."

The slave's eyes wrinkled at the corners. "That's a very polite way to take someone prisoner, Tavi."

He flushed. "I'm sorry. Especially since you probably saved my life and all. But if you are a runaway, and I don't do something about it, the law could come back to hurt my uncle." He pushed his hair back from his eyes. "And I've done enough to mess things up already."

"I understand," she said. "I'll come with you."

"Thank you." He glanced up at the doorway. "Sounds like the rain's stopped. Do you think it's safe to go?"

The slave frowned and looked outside for a moment. "I doubt it's going to get any safer if we wait. We should get back to your steadholt, before the storm gets bad again."

"You think it will?"

Amara nodded, the motion confident. "It has that feel to it."

"All right. Are you going to be all right, walking?" He glanced at her and down at her foot. Her ankle was swollen around a purpling bruise.

Amara grimaced. "It's just my ankle, not the rest of the foot. It hurts, but if I'm careful I should be all right."

Tavi blew out a breath and pushed himself to his feet. All the cuts and injuries twinged and ached, muscle protesting. He had to brace his hand on

the wall for a moment, until he got his balance back. "Okay, then. I guess it isn't going to get any easier."

"I guess not.' Amara let out a small, pained sound as she got to her feet as well. "Well. We make a fine pair of traveling companions. Lead the way."

Tavi headed out of the Memorium and into the chill of the northern wind blowing down from the mountains in the north and the Sea of Ice beyond. Though Tavi had kept the scarlet cloak from the Memorium, the wind was still almost enough to make him turn back inside and seek shelter. Frozen blades of grass crunched beneath his feet, and his breath came out in a steamy haze before his mouth, swiftly torn apart by the winds. There could be no more argument on the subject: Winter had arrived in full force upon the Calderon Valley, and the first snow could not be far behind.

He glanced at the slave behind him. Amara's expression seemed remote, distracted, and she walked with a definite limp, bare feet pale against the icy grass. Tavi winced and said, "We should stop before long, to get your feet warmed up. We could strip one of the cloaks, at least try to wrap them."

"The wrappings would freeze," she said, after a moment's silence. ''The air will keep them warm better than cloth. Just keep going. Once we get to your steadholt, we can warm them up."

Tavi frowned, more at the way her attention seemed fixed on things elsewhere than at what she had to say. He resolved to keep a close eye on her: Frozen feet were nothing to scoff at, and if she was used to life in the city, she might not realize how dangerous it could be on the frontier, or how quickly frostbite could claim her limbs or her life. He stepped up the pace a little, and Amara kept up with him.

They reached the causeway and started down it, but had walked for no more,than an hour when Tavi felt the ground begin to rumble, a tremor so faint that he had to stop and place his spread fingers against the flagstones in order to detect it. "Hold on," he said. "I think someone's coming."

Amara's expression sharpened almost at once, and Tavi saw her draw the cloak a little more closely against her, her hands beneath it and out of sight. Her eyes flickered around them. "Can you tell who?"

Tavi chewed on his lip. "Feels kind of like Brutus. My uncle's fury. Maybe it's him."

The slave swallowed and said, "I feel it now. Earth fury coming."

In only a moment more, Bernard appeared from around a curve in the road. The flagstones themselves rippled up into a wave beneath his feet,

which he kept planted and still, his brow furrowed in concentration, so that the earth moved him forward in one slow undulation, like a leaf borne upon an ocean wave. He wore his winter hunting clothes, heavy and warm, his cloak one of thanadent-hide, layered with gleaming black feather-fur and proof against the coldest nights. He bore his heaviest bow in his hand, an arrow already strung to it, and his eyes, though sunken and surrounded by darker patches of skin, gleamed alertly.

The Steadholder came down the road as swiftly as a man could run, his pace only slowing as he neared the two travelers, the earth slowly subsiding beneath his feet until he stood upon the causeway, walking the final few paces to them.

"Uncle!" Tavi cried, and threw himself at the man, wrapping his arms as far around him as they could go. "Thank the furies. I was so afraid that you'd been hurt."

Bernard laid a hand on Tavi's shoulder, and the young man thought he felt his uncle relax, just a little. Then he gently, firmly pushed Tavi back and away from him.

Tavi blinked up at him, his stomach twisting in sudden uncertainty. "Uncle? Are you all right?"

"No," Bernard rumbled, his voice quiet. He kept his eyes on Tavi, steadily. "I was hurt. So were others, because I was out chasing sheep with you."

"But Uncle," Tavi began.

Bernard waved a hand, his voice hard if not angry. "You didn't mean it. I know. But because of your mischief some of my folk came to grief. Your aunt nearly died. We're going home."

"Yes, sir," Tavi said quietly.

"I'm sorry to do it, but you can forget about those sheep, Tavi. It appears that there are some things you aren't swift to learn after all."

"But what about-" Tavi began.

"Peace," the big man growled, a warning anger in the tone, and Tavi cringed, feeling the tears well in his eyes. "It's done." Bernard lifted his glower from Tavi and asked, "Who the crows are you?"

Tavi heard the rustle of cloth as the slave dipped into a curtsey. "My name is Amara, sir. I was carrying a message for my master, from Riva to Garrison. I became lost in the storm. The boy found me. He saved my life, sir."

Tavi felt a brief flash of gratitude toward the slave and looked up at his uncle, hopefully.