Jim Butcher - Furies of Calderon

The light waned, shadows shifting over the floor by infinitely slow degrees. Isana let her head fall forward, her eyes closed. Her stomach turned and twisted with worry. Tavi and Bernard and Fade. Where were they? If they were alive, why hadn't Bernard followed her here? Had the ones attacking them been too much for her brother to handle? Bernard would never allow her to remain in Kord's hands-not while he lived.

Could he be dead? Could the boy be dead as well? Surely he had escaped ahead of the flood, surely he had evaded anyone who may have pursued him even after.

Surely.

Isana shook, and gave no voice to the sobs that racked her. No tears would fall. Her body had hoarded back all the moisture it could. She longed for the freedom to weep, at least. But she did not have it. She drifted that way, head bowed, sweltering and dizzy, and thought of Bernard, and of Tavi.

The grey of twilight was in the air when the bolt at the door rattled, and Aric entered. He held a tray in his hands, and he did not lift his face toward

Isana. Instead, he walked to the circle of coals and stepped over, setting the tray down.

There were two cups on the tray. Nothing more.

Isana looked steadily up at Aric. He rose and stood there for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his eyes down. Then he said, "Snow's starting up again. Heavier."

Isana stared at him, and said nothing.

He swallowed and stepped back out of the ring of coals. He went to the hod of coal and began scooping out buckets again, to spread them over the smoldering ring, fresh fuel. "How is she?" he asked.

"Dying," Isana said. "The heat is killing her."

Aric swallowed. He dumped out a bucket of coals onto the ring, spilling some out sloppily, and went for more. "The water's clean, at least. This time."

Isana watched him for a moment and then reached for one of the cups. She lifted it to her mouth and tasted, though it was all she could do not to start gulping frantically. The water was cool, pure. She had to steady herself with a deep breath and hold the cup in both shaking hands. She drank, slowly, giving each sip time to go down.

Isana only allowed herself half the cup. The rest she gave to Odiana, half-hauling the woman into a sitting position and urging her to drink, slowly, which she did with a listless obedience.

She looked up to see Aric watching her, his face pale. Isana lowered the collared woman back down and brushed a few loose strands of hair back from her neck. "What is it, Aric?"

"They're coming tonight," he said. "My father. They're going to finish the… Odiana and then put the collar on you."

Isana swallowed and couldn't stop the chill that went down her spine.

"After dinner," Aric said. He slopped more coals down. "It's like a celebration for him. He's handing out wine."

"Aric," Isana said. "It isn't too late to do something."

Aric pressed his lips together. "It is," he said. "There's only one thing left now." Without speaking, he finished carelessly dashing coals onto the ring of fire around them.

Kord's entrance was presaged by a low tremble in the floor of the smokehouse. Then the big Steadholder banged open the door with one fist and stepped inside, glowering. Without a word, he cuffed Aric's head, hard

enough to stagger the younger man against the wall. "Where is that tar, boy?"

Aric left his head down, his body held in a crouch, as though expecting to be hit again. "I haven't got it done yet, Pa."

Kord sneered at him, placing his fists on his hips. Isana noticed the drunken sway to his balance as he did. "Then you can just get it done while the rest of us eat. And if you fall off the crows-eaten roof in the dark, that's your own affair. Don't go crying to me about a broken leg."

Aric nodded. "Yes, Pa."

Kord growled something beneath his breath and then turned to Isana. "Better get that other glass of water before my new whore figures out it's there."

Odiana let out a soft noise, curling in on herself. Kord watched her with a smirk on his face. Isana saw the ugly glitter in his eyes as he prepared to speak again, and interrupted him. "Kord. She's nearly dead as it is. Leave her be."

Kord narrowed his eyes at Isana, lips lifting away from his teeth. He took a lurching step closer to her. "Still giving orders," he murmured. "We'll see. Tonight, after I'm done with that one, we'll see what it's like. We'll see who gives the orders and who takes them."

Isana met his eyes steadily, though his words made her heart thud with dull, exhausted fear. "You're a fool, Kord," she said.

"What are you going to do about it, huh? You're nothing. No one. What are you going to do?"

"Nothing," Isana said. "I won't have to. You've already destroyed yourself. It's just a matter of time now."

Kord flushed red and took a step toward Isana, his hands clenching into fists.

"Pa," Aric said. "Pa, she's just talking. She's just trying to get to you. It doesn't mean anything."

Kord rounded on Aric and swept his fist at him in a clumsy swat. Aric didn't dodge the blow, so much as he let it catch his shoulder and throw him to the floor.

"You," Kord growled, chest heaving. "You don't tell me. You don't talk to me. Everything you got, you got because I gave it to you. You will not disrespect me, boy."

"No, sir," Aric said, quietly.

Kord got his breathing under control and shot Isana another glare. "Tonight," he said. "We'll see."

The ground shook again as he turned and lumbered out.

Coals sizzled in silence for a few moments. Then Isana turned to Aric and said, "Thank you."

Aric flinched at the words, more than he had from his father's blows. "Don't thank me," he said. "Don't talk to me. Please." He gathered himself to his feet and picked up the bucket. "Still have to lay out the tar. The ice didn't stick to the roof, but I have to tar it tonight or he'll feed me to the crows."

"Aric-" Isana began.

"Be quiet," Aric hissed. He shot a glance at the door. Then said, to Isana, "Snow's starting up again."

He left, and bolted the door behind him.

Isana frowned at him, trying to puzzle out his meaning. She took the second cup of water and took a bit more for herself, then gave the rest to the semiconscious Odiana.

Outside, the wind rose. She heard men moving around the steadholt. One of them walked past the smokehouse and banged on the walls, letting out a few crude phrases. Odiana flinched and whimpered. More raucous talk and rough laughter went up from somewhere nearby-probably the steadholt's great hall. What sounded like a fight broke out, ending in cheers and jeers, and all the while it grew darker, until only the red coals gave any light to the smokehouse's interior.

There came a bang against the wall, wood against wood. Then steps. Feet on a ladder. Someone set down a weighty object on the roof, and then hauled himself onto it.

"Aric?" Isana called quietly.

"Shhhh," said the young man. "This is the one other thing."

Isana frowned, staring up. She followed his weight as he moved from the edge of the slightly sloped roof up toward its crown, directly over the circle.

Without warning, the naked blade of a knife sprang through the shingles, dropping bits of tar-stained wood and droplets of water in. The blade twisted, left and right, opening a larger hole. Then it withdrew again.

Aric proceeded around the roof slowly, and Isana could hear him slopping tar from a bucket he must have carried down onto the roof. But every moment or so, the knife would sink in again, opening a small hole between

shingles. Then it would withdraw. He repeated the action several times, and then without a word he clambered down from the roof again. His feet crunched through snow and into the night.

It only took a few moments for Isana to realize what Aric had done.