When he settled down again, Isana said, "Tavi, I hope you know how proud we are of you. Your uncle and I. You've grown into a remarkable young man."
He blinked at her a couple of times, then carefully studied the surface of his tea. Isana's sense of his emotions revealed pleasure in the compliment, and pride, along with large helpings of embarrassment. His cheeks colored slightly. "Well," he said. "I couldn't have done any of it without you and uncle. Teaching me. Preparing me."
Isana felt a little stab of guilt. Preparing him was probably the single greatest thing she hadn't done.
She sipped a little more tea, and then frowned down at its surface. "Tavi," she said. "Is it safe to talk here?"
He cocked his head slightly to one side, and she felt the spike of curiosity that flashed through his thoughts. "Yes," he said, with total confidence. "No one can overhear us in here. Why, Aunt Isana?"
Isana took a deep breath. "There's something we need to talk about," she said.
Tavi's face turned red again. "Look, a lot of that is just rumor. I mean, the men get to talking over drinks and every little story grows in the retelling."
Isana blinked at him.
"I mean, it's not like I'm hosting revels or anything. Everyone likes a good story like that, though, and the truth of it isn't as much fun."
"Tavi," Isana said in a firm tone. "What in the wide world are you talking about?"
Tavi froze with his mouth open for a second. Acute chagrin flooded out from him in a wave Isana could practically see. Then he swallowed, and said, "Urn. Nothing?"
Isana arched an eyebrow at him.
Tavi sighed, blushing again. "I was talking about Kitai. She and I..."
"Ah," Isana said. "You're together."
"Urn. Yes."
"In more than one sense of the word, I take it?"
"Well. Yes," he said miserably. "But it isn't like we're... I mean, some of the Marat are, um, sort of indiscriminate when it comes to that kind of thing, and a lot of their riders are around me every time I move around, so it's inevitable that some idiots are going to start spouting rumors about it, but it isn't really like that." Tavi paused to take a breath. "Kitai and I are just... together."
Isana sighed. "Stop. Neither one of us wants you to elaborate, Tavi." She turned her teacup idly in her hands. "Well. This could become... very complicated. I should have had this talk with you sooner."
"Um," Tavi said. He might have become a fully grown man now, but Isana was familiar with his uncomfortable squirming. He'd always done that when he'd been caught red-handed as a child. "You don't have to have that talk. I had that much figured out by the time I was about ten. I mean, caring for the sheep and all..."
Isana shook her head and surprised herself with a quiet laugh. "No, no, not that talk," Isana said. "You don't understand-"
She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. She turned to find Araris standing in the door. "Captain," he said quietly, frowning. "We just got word from one of the men. Senator Arnos's singulares are on the way to see you."
Tavi's chin jerked up sharply. "Why?"
Araris shrugged. "No details yet. They're up at the front door now."
"This seems like a good time to speak to Maximus and Crassus about this week's training schedule. Send a runner to them."
Araris thumped his fist to his heart and departed. Tavi bit his lip, glancing around the little office. He opened the second door behind the desk, and said, "Auntie, could I convince you to wait in my chambers? I'd just as soon not explain to the Senator's flunkies what you're doing here."
"Of course," Isana said, rising. She paced quickly through the door. It was difficult to see much without any lamps, but the modest-sized chamber looked as functional and stark as his office, except for the rumpled, double-sized bed. If nothing else, she supposed, the Legions had done that much for him. Anyone who could convince Tavi to keep his room clean couldn't be entirely bad.
Tavi shut the door most of the way, put a finger against his lips in an entirely unnecessary gesture of caution, and then returned to the office. Isana heard him putting the chairs back into position, and heard a tinny clink as he presumably placed one of the tea cups back onto its shelf. His shadow moved across the narrow opening of the cracked door, and he settled down at his desk. Paper rustled. A few seconds later, the door opened again, and several sets of heavy footsteps entered the room.
"Just leave my breakfast tray on the shelf," Tavi said in an absentminded tone. "And none of your nagging. I'll get to it when I get to it."
There was a short, hard silence, broken only by the sound of Tavi's quill scratching on paper.
"Excuse me?" said a woman's voice. It was a quiet voice, one used to speaking in soft tones and whispers, but to Isana's ears, it carried such malice and barely contained rage that she actually flinched away from it.
"Oh," Tavi said. "I beg your pardon. You aren't the valet."
"No," said the woman's voice. "I am-"
"Did the valet send my breakfast with you by any chance?" Tavi asked, his tone innocent and friendly. "I'm starving."
"He did not," said the cold voice.
"I'm sure he meant to," Tavi said. "Do you think you could yell up the stairs and see if it's on the w-"
There was a loud, sharp sound of impact-a hand being slammed down onto the surface of Tavi's desk, Isana judged. There was a rustling, sliding sound of a neat stack of pages slithering off the edge of the desk and onto the floor.
"You are not funny," said the cold voice. "And I will cut your throat before I tolerate any more of it. Do you understand me?"
Isana shifted position slightly. She couldn't see the woman Tavi was talking to, but she could see his face in profile. He sat in his chair, hands on his desk, and regarded the speaker with a calm, remote expression. There was no mockery to it. There wasn't anything to it, despite the fact that his life had just been threatened, and it chilled Isana a little to see that expression on his face. He appeared to be relaxed and confident, and she couldn't catch even a hint of his true emotions.
"I understand," Tavi said quietly, "that if you continue to show disrespect unbecoming a soldier, ignoring even basic military courtesy-such as knocking on a commanding officer's door before entering-and speaking to me in that tone, I'll have you bound to a flogging post until the ants can crawl up your hair to get at your eyes."