Jim Butcher - Academ's Fury

"I don't see what that has to do with me attending Festival in the capital."

"The balance of power has begun to shift in the Senate. Gaius needs the support of the Dianic League if he is to prevent it from flying out of control. So he needs you there, at Festival, highly visible to everyone in the Realm, to show how strongly you support him."

"No," Isana said flatly. "I have more vital duties here."

"More vital than protecting the stability of the Realm?" Amara asked in a mild tone. "My. You must be very busy."

Isana rose sharply to her feet, her eyes narrowed, and snarled, "I don't need a child like you to tell me my duty."

Bernard rose, staring at Isana in shock. " 'Sana, please."

"No, Bernard," Isana said. "I am not Gaius's pet dog to sit up and hop through hoops when he snaps his fingers."

"Of course not," Amara said. "But you are the only person who might give him the advantage he needs to prevent the Realm from falling into a civil war. Which is why someone ordered you killed in the first place-or hadn't that occurred to you?"

Bernard put a warm hand on Isana's shoulder to steady her, but Amara's words struck her like a cup of icy cold water. "Civil war? Has it come to that?"

Amara pushed her hair back tiredly. "It grows more likely each day. The Slaver's Consortium is supported by several of the southern cities, and the northern and Shieldwall cities favor the Dianic League. It is imperative that Gaius maintains control over the Senate's majority, and the Dianic League is the lever he needs. My orders were to give you this information, then accompany you and your brother to the capital."

Isana sat down again slowly. "But that has now changed."

Amara nodded. "If Doroga is right about the vord, they could be a deadly threat. They must be dealt with without delay, so Bernard and I will stay here and do so, and join you as soon as we are able."

"And," Bernard rumbled, "we think we know where the third group of vord is going."

Isana arched an eyebrow.

Bernard reached into a sack he'd brought with him and drew out an old, battered leather pack. "Doroga's scouts found this along a trail leading directly toward the capital."

Isana blinked at the pack. "Isn't that Fade's old pack?"

"Yes," Bernard said. "But Fade gave it to Tavi before he entered the Wax Forest. Tavi lost it during the battle there. His scent is all over it."

"Blood and crows," Isana swore. "Are you telling me that this creature is following him?"

"It appears so," said Amara. "The Knights Aeris will arrive in the morning. Isana, you need to get to the capital and gain an audience with Gaius as soon as possible. Tell him about the vord, and make him believe you. He needs to find their nest and stop them."

"Why can't you send a courier to him instead?"

"Too risky," Bernard answered. "If the courier is delayed, or if Gaius is preoccupied with preparations, we'd be better off having the extra help here."

Amara nodded. "He will see you, Holder Isana. You may be the only one who will be able to cut through protocol and get to him immediately."

"All right. I'll do it. I'll talk to him." Isana said. "But not until I am sure Tavi is safe."

Amara grimaced but nodded. "Thank you. It was never my intention to send you into that snake pit alone. There will be a lot of people interested in you. Some of them can be quite deceptive and dangerous. I can provide you with an escort-a man I trust, named Nedus. He'll meet you at the Citadel and should be able to help you."

Isana nodded quietly and rose. "Thank you, Amara. I'll manage." She took a step toward the door and wavered, nearly falling.

Bernard caught her before she could. "Whoa. Are you all right?"

Isana closed her eyes and shook her head. "I just need to rest. It will be an early morning." She opened her eyes and frowned up at her brother. "You will be careful?"

"I'll be careful," he promised. "If you promise that you will."

She smiled faintly at him. "Done."

"Don't worry, 'Sana," he rumbled. "We'll make sure everyone is kept safe. Especially Tavi."

Isana nodded, and started for the door again, steadier. "We will."

Presuming, of course, that they weren't already too late.

Between the time he saw Steadholder Isana found by her people and the time the sun set, Fidelias had run more than a hundred miles and left the Calderon Valley behind him. The furycrafted stones of the causeway lent their strength to his own earth fury, and through it to Fidelias. Though he was a man of nearly threescore years, the long run had cost him comparatively little effort. He slowed down when the hostel came into sight and walked the last several hundred yards, panting, his legs and arms burning lightly with exertion. Grey clouds rolled across the flaming twilight, and it began to rain.

Fidelias flipped his cloak's hood over his head. His hair had grown even thinner in the past few years, and if he didn't cover it, the cold rain would be both unpleasant and unhealthy. No self-respecting spy would allow himself to catch cold. He imagined the deadly consequences had he sneezed or coughed while inside the barn with Isana and her would-be assassin.

He didn't mind the thought of dying on a mission, but he'd stake himself out for the crows if he would ever allow it to happen because of a petty mistake.

The hostel was typical of its kind in the northern half of the Realm-a ten-foot wall surrounding a hall, a stables, a pair of barracks houses and a modest-sized smithy. He bypassed the hall, where travelers would be buying hot meals. His stomach rumbled. The music, dancing, and drinking wouldn't start until later in the evening, and until they did, he would not risk being recognized by bored diners with nothing better to do than observe and converse with their fellow travelers.

He slipped up the stairs of the second barracks house, opened the door to the room farthest from the entrance, and bolted it behind him. He eyed the bed for a moment, and his muscles and joints ached, but duty came before comfort. He sighed, built the fire laid in the fireplace to life, tossed aside his cloak and poured water from a pitcher into a broad bowl. Then he withdrew a small flask from his pouch, opened it, and poured a few splashes of water from the deep wellsprings beneath the Citadel in Aquitaine into the bowl.

The water in the bowl stirred almost immediately, rippling, and a long blob of liquid extruded from the surface of the contents in the bowl, wavering slowly into the miniature form of a woman in evening robes, striking rather than beautiful, apparently in her late twenties. "Fidelias," the woman's form said. Her voice sounded faint, soft, very far away. "You're late."

"My lady Invidia," Fidelias replied to the image, inclining his head. "I'm afraid the opposition wasn't overly considerate of our time constraints."

She smiled. "An agent had been dispatched. Did you learn anything of him?"

"Nothing stone solid. But he was carrying a Kalaran gutting knife, and he knew what he was doing," Fidelias said.

"A Kalaran bloodcrow," said the image. "Then the rumors are true. Kalarus has his own breed of Cursor."

"Apparently."

She laughed. "Only a man of great integrity could resist saying, 'I told you so.'"

"Thank you, my lady."

"What happened?"

"It was a near thing," Fidelias said. "When his first plan failed he panicked and went after her with that gutting blade."

"The Steadholder was slain?"

"No. She sensed him just before he struck, and killed him with a pitchfork."

The image's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Impressive."

"She's a formidable woman, my lady, watercrafting aside. If I may ask, my lady, what were the results of the League's summit?"