Jim Butcher - Academ's Fury

Serai drew the bottle from behind her back, smiling, and refilled Nedus's glass.

"Wonderful woman," Nedus said. "If you could cook, I'd buy your contract."

"You couldn't afford me, darling," Serai said, smiling, and touched his cheek in a fond gesture.

Isana refrained from voicing a curse aloud and settled for asking, "What happened, sir?"

"Bureaucracy," Nedus spat. "The First Counselor's office was packed to the roof. If someone had set the building on fire, half the fools of the Realm would have burned to ash together and left us the richer for it."

"That many?" Serai asked.

"Worse than I've ever seen," Nedus confirmed. "The office wanted every request in writing, and they weren't supplying paper and ink to manage it with. The Academy refused to give any away during examinations, every shop in the Citadel was sold dry of them, and errand boys were gouging applicants for a bloody fortune to run and get them in the Merchants' Quarter, bless their avaricious hearts."

"How much did it cost you?" Serai asked.

"Not a copper ram," Nedus replied. "Something strange was up. The First Counselor's demands were just an excuse."

"How do you know'?" Isana asked.

"Because I bribed a scribe in the office with a dozen golden eagles to find out," Nedus replied.

Isana blinked at Nedus. Twelve golden coins could buy supplies for a steadholt for a year or more. It was a small fortune.

Nedus finished the second glass of wine and set it aside. "Word came down that no further audiences with the First Lord were to be granted," he replied. "But that he'd commanded the First Counselor not to reveal the fact. The fool was stuck with figuring out how to prevent anyone from seeing the First Lord without giving them an excuse as to why. And from the looks of the folk in the office, he didn't expect to last the day without someone setting his hair on fire."

Serai frowned and exchanged a long glance with Isana.

"What does it mean?" Isana asked quietly.

"That we cannot reach him that way," Serai said. "Beyond that, I am not sure. Nedus, did you learn anything at all about why the First Lord would do such a thing?"

Nedus shook his head. "Rumor was strong among the Counselor's staff that the First Lord's health had finally broken, but no one knew anything solid." He took the bottle from Serai's hand and drained the rest of it in a single pull. "I tried to find Sir Miles and speak to him, but he was nowhere to be found."

"Sir Miles?" Isana asked.

"Captain of the Royal Guard and the Crown Legion," Serai supplied.

"He was a water boy for Gaius's Knights, back in the my day," Nedus added. "He and his brother Araris. Miles was a hopeless squire, but he grew up pretty good. He remembers me. Might have helped out, but I couldn't find him. I'm sorry, child. I failed you."

Serai murmured, "Of course you didn't, darling. Gaius is making himself scarce, and his captain is nowhere to be found. Clearly something is afoot."

"Not all that scarce," Nedus said. "He presided over the qualifying runs of the Wind Trials this morning, as always."

"Perhaps," Serai said, her brow furrowed in thought. She glanced back at Isana, and said, "We must now consider more dangerous means of reaching him." She opened a small purse affixed to her belt, withdrew a folded piece of paper, and offered it to Isana.

"What is this?" she asked.

"An invitation," Serai replied. "Lady Kalare is hosting a garden party this evening."

Nedus's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Crows, woman. How did you manage to get an invitation?"

"I wrote it," the courtesan replied serenely. "Lady Kalare's hand is quite simple to reproduce."

Nedus barked out a laugh, but said, "Dangerous. Very dangerous."

"I don't want to go to a party," Isana said. "I want to reach the First Lord."

"Without being able to schedule an audience or reach your nephew, we must attempt something less direct. Each of the High Lords has an audience with the First Lord every year, as do the Senator Primus, the Regus of the Trade Consortium, and the head of the Dianic League. Most, if not all of them will be at the fete."

Isana frowned. "You want to talk one of them into letting us accompany them on their audience?"

"It isn't uncommon," Serai said. "You would not be privileged to speak to the First Lord under normal circumstances, but then once we are actually in Gaius's presence, we should be able to resolve matters in short order."

"Very. Dangerous," Nedus said.

"Why?" Isana asked.

"Gaius's enemies will be there, Steadholder."

Isana inhaled slowly. "I see. You think someone might take the opportunity to kill me."

"It's possible," Serai confirmed. "Lord and Lady Kalare will be in attendance. Kalare is at odds with both Gaius and the Dianic League, and is probably the man behind the attempts upon your life. And you are already, I believe, acquainted with the political leanings of Lord and Lady Aquitaine."

Isana felt her hand clench into a fist. "Indeed. They will be there as well?"

"Almost certainly," Serai said. "Gaius's most loyal High Lords rule the Shield cities in the north. It is a rare year that more than one can attend, and this winter has been a particularly hard one on the northern High Lords."

"You mean that Gaius's supporters may not be there to protect me."

"In all probability," Serai said.

"Is there any chance at all of successfully reaching Gaius if we go to this party?"

"Slim," Serai said, her tone frank. "But it definitely exists. And your favor with the Dianic League should not be forgotten, either. They have long waited for a woman to attain Citizenship outside the structure of marriage or the Legions. It is in their interest to preserve and support you."

Nedus growled, "Is the League going to walk the street next to her and make sure your assassin doesn't take her on the way there?"

Isana felt her fingers shaking. She pressed them against her forehead, and said, "You're sure we can't reach Gaius by any other means?"

"Not quickly," Serai said. "Until Wintersend is over, our options are severely limited."

Isana forced herself to ignore her fear, her worry. She had no desire to die, but she could not allow anything to stop her message, regardless of the danger. Wintersend would not conclude for days. Tavi could be in danger even now, and her brother would surely face it before another day had passed. She did not have time to wait. They did not have days.

"Very well," Isana said. "It would appear that we must go to a party."

It was late afternoon by the time Fidelias returned from gathering information from his contacts in the rougher parts of Alera Imperia. He emerged from the labyrinthine passages in the Deeps into the wine cellar of Aquitaine's manor, and it was a relief to arrive in an area where prying eyes were most unlikely to single him out for attention. He moved directly up the servant's staircase to the top floor of the mansion, where the lavish master suite of High Lord and Lady Aquitaine lay sprawled in luxurious splendor.

Fidelias entered the sitting room of the suite, walked across to the cabinet where a selection of spirits was kept, and helped himself to the contents of an ancient bottle of blue glass. He poured the clear liquid within into a broad, shallow glass, and took it over to a thickly padded chair before broad windows.

He sat down and closed his eyes, sipping slowly at the liquid that felt ice-cold to his lips.

A door opened behind him. Light footsteps moved into the room. "Icewine," murmured Lady Aquitaine. "You never struck me as the type."

"I arranged signals with my contacts a long time ago-in this case, ordering a drink. Back then I was fool enough to drink five or six firewines in a night."