Now, Invidia Aquitaine commanded him once more.
Kill the captain.
Marcus ached to his bones with fatigue, but he lay staring up at the sloping canvas walls of his tent, utterly unable to sleep.
Chapter 3
"Captain," Valiar Marcus said. "They're ready for you."
Tavi rose and straightened the hem of his rich crimson tunic, beneath the armor, and made sure that his formal half cape draped properly. He'd never actually had occasion to wear his dress uniform before, and after two years of regular use, his battered armor looked rather shabby when framed by the splendid crimson fabric.
"Sword, sir," Marcus said. The old centurion's weathered face was sober, but Tavi thought he saw amusement in his eyes.
Tavi glanced down and sighed. Regulations called for a sword to hang straight along the seam of the trousers, but he'd taken his cue from Marcus and several other veterans, and belted his scabbard on at a slight angle. The change made a small difference in the ease of drawing a blade, and a smart soldier sought every advantage he could. Regulations, however, were regulations, and Tavi took a moment to resecure the weapon properly. Then he nodded to the First Spear and strode into the conference room.
The conference room had been built in the heavy stone command building back when the First Aleran had repulsed the initial Canim onslaught. The room, with its large stone sand table, and its classroom-style slateboards on the walls, had been intended to host the command staff of a pair of Legions-twice what had ever actually put the room to use. Now, though, the place was stuffy and close, and crowded with twoscore of the most powerful men and women in Alera.
Tavi recognized only a few of them by sight, though he could deduce most of the others from their colors and reputations. Gaius, of course, sat at the front of the room, on a small platform raised a few inches over the floor. He was flanked by a pair of Crown Guardsmen, and Sir Cyril, as the nominal host of the proceedings, sat beside him, his metalcrafted replacement leg gleaming in the light of the furylamps.
Around the room were several other notables of the Realm: High Lord and High Lady Placida were front and center in the first row, seated beside the elderly High Lord Cereus. Sir Miles, Captain of the Crown Legion, sat beside him, though Tavi had no idea why Miles's mouth was hanging open like that. After all, surely someone had told Miles about Tavi's role as Rufus Scipio. Toward the back of the room, leaning indolently against the wall, like a bored schoolboy, was a man that could only be High Lord Aquitaine. Several men whose body language declared them cronies of Aquitaine stood nearby him. On the other side of the room from Aquitaine was Countess Amara, standing in precisely the same posture, probably as a subtle mockery of the second-most-powerful man in the Realm-and certainly in a position where she would be able to watch everything the High Lord and his associates were doing. Senator Arnos, head of the War Committee, and a dozen aides and associates occupied the entire second row, and Tavi could feel the man's cold, calculating eyes lock onto him as he entered.
"Ah," Gaius said, his deep, mellow voice filling the room when he spoke. "Welcome, Captain Scipio. Thank you for coming."
Tavi bowed deeply to the First Lord. "Of course, sire. How may I serve?"
"We've been briefing everyone on the recent developments in the course of the rebellion," Gaius replied. "Sir Cyril assures me that you are the best man to give us a concise recounting of events here." Gaius gestured at the front of the room. "If you please."
Tavi bowed his head again and strode to the front of the room. He bowed to the assembled nobles and Legion captains, took a deep breath, ordered his thoughts, and began. "As you all know, the First Aleran has been holding the Tiber against the Canim incursion since it originally landed on the Night of the Red Stars, two years ago.
"Since that time we have fought a number of sizeable engagements against the Canim, and have seen many smaller actions. It has not been easy-"
"It can't have been too difficult," Senator Arnos said. The Senator was a small man, his fashionably long hair slicked back and held in a tail. "After all, a novice commander held off an invasion force that outnumbered his own half-trained Legion ten to one or better-assuming your force estimates are accurate."
Tavi felt a flash of worry and anxiety at the hard, annoyed tone in the Senator's voice-and felt it quickly transform into a surge of anger at what his words were implying. Tavi reminded himself that if anyone intended to discredit him, baiting him into an emotional reaction would be an ideal way to go about it, and he reined in his emotions. "A number of factors played to our favor," Tavi responded, his voice calm and even. "Most important of which was a schism in the Canim leadership, between the leader of the warrior caste, Nasaug, and the leader of the ritualist caste, Sarg. We were able to play them off against one another and foil their initial attack. Their numbers are not in question, Senator. They have been verified from multiple sources in the time since."
"Yes, yes," Arnos said impatiently. "The question I'm sure everyone's eager to have answered, Captain, is why you haven't swept the dogs into the crowbe-gotten sea by now. Numbers advantage or not, your Knights trump anything the Canim have."
Tavi just looked at the man for a moment. Then he took a deep breath, and said, "Centurion."
Marcus entered, carrying a T-shaped metal contraption the size of a cart horse's yolk. He took up position beside Tavi and held the object up for everyone to see.
"This," Tavi said, "is a Canim weapon. It's an innovation on a standard bow, and we call it a balest. It's capable of throwing a solid steel projectile nearly two-thirds of a mile, if the wind is favorable, and it hits with enough force to punch cleanly through a breastplate, the man beneath, and out the other side."
Arnos rolled his eyes and made a faint sound of derision.
"I've had more Knights killed by this weapon, Senator, than any other in the Canim arsenal," Tavi said. "They're used by highly trained specialists, and almost always at night. If our Knights Aeris try to approach, every crowd of Canim seems to have one of their marksmen hidden in it, and they go out of their way to protect them. This weapon is the only one we've managed to capture over the course of two years-and the Cane who used it managed to escape."
"Captain," drawled High Lord Placidus in his easy, mellow voice, "could you give us an idea of just how effective these marksmen of theirs are?"
"They don't have the precision of a skilled Knight Flora, Your Grace," Tavi replied. "But they're very close. And the raw power of these weapons more than compensates. Given that they apparently have orders to wait for Knights to make their appearance before firing, they have proven to be an effective tactical countermeasure."