"He hates us," Kitai said.
"Yes."
"Madness," Kitai said. "The vord are a threat to one and all."
"Sir Miles will understand that, too," Tavi said. "Eventually. I'm just not sure there's enough time for him to be stubborn." Tavi shook his head. "Maestro Killian is the one to convince. If I do that, he'll order Miles to do it."
They reached the last marking Tavi had left on the wall and entered familiar tunnels again. Tavi picked up his pace to an easy run, mind racing over what he had to do, how best to get it done.
He registered a sudden motion in front of him, and he flinched to one side just as a hooded attacker with a heavy truncheon appeared from behind a veil of furycrafting and swung it at him. The club glanced off his left arm, and Tavi felt it go suddenly numb. Kitai snarled somewhere behind him. Tavi hit the wall, stumbled, and barely managed to keep from falling. He drew his knife and turned to confront the attacker, just in time to see the truncheon in motion only inches from his face.
There was a flashing burst of bright lights, then everything went black.
Chapter 40
Dawn had not yet come when Amara and Bernard woke together. They shared a slow, soft kiss, then without a word they both rose and began to don their arms and armor. Just as they finished, there was a step outside the makeshift room, and Doroga pushed the curtain of cloaks aside. The Marat's broad, ugly face was grim.
"Bernard," he rumbled. "It is dawn. They come."
Chapter 41
Isana accompanied the assassin to a wine club on a quiet, dimly lit section of Mastercraft Lane, where the finest craftsmen in all of Alera plied their trades to the wealthy clientele of the city. The wine club itself was located between a small complex of buildings specializing in statuary and a furylampmaker's workshop. There was no sign over its door, no indication that it was anything but a service entrance or possibly the entrance to a countinghouse or some other business that did not require walk-in customers.
Despite the late hour, the door opened promptly when the assassin knocked, and a liveried servant conducted them down a hall and into a private room without speaking to them.
The room was cozy and lavishly appointed-a circle of small divans meant to be lounged upon on one's side while chatting and sipping wine. One of the divans was occupied.
Invidia Aquitaine lay upon her side, beautiful in the same silk gown she had worn at Kalare's fete. A crystal goblet in her hand was half-filled with a pale wine. Additionally, she wore a translucent drape of fabric over her features-a veil, Isana judged, meant to provide the legal pretense of anonymity should the evening's discussion somehow come under the scrutiny of the law.
Lady Aquitaine looked up as they entered and inclined her head pleasantly. "Welcome, Steadholder. I presume that my associate talked you into the meeting."
"He was persuasive-under the circumstances," Isana replied.
Lady Aquitaine gestured toward the divan across from her. "Please, relax. Would you care for a taste of wine? This is an excellent vintage."
Isana stepped over to the indicated divan but did not recline upon it. Instead, she sat upon its very edge, her back rigidly straight, and frowned at Lady Aquitaine. "I've no stomach for most wine," she replied. "Thank you."
Lady Aquitaine's pleasant smile faded into a neutral mask. "This might be easier for you if you indulged somewhat in the pleasantries, Steadholder. They do no harm."
"Nor serve any purpose, except to waste time," Isana replied. "And time is of importance to me at the moment. I came here to discuss business."
"As you wish," Lady Aquitaine replied. "Where would you like to begin?"
"Tell me what you want," Isana said. "What would you have of me?"
She took a slow sip of wine. "First, your public support of Aquitaine and my lord husband," she said, "who would become your political patron. It means that you would appear in public wearing the colors of Aquitaine-particularly at the presentation at the conclusion of Festival. You may be asked to attend dinners, social functions, that sort of thing, with my husband providing transport and covering any of your expenses."
"I work for a living," Isana said. "And I am responsible for a steadholt with more than thirty families in it. I'd do poor service to them constantly running off to social occasions."
"True. Shall we negotiate upon a reasonable number of days each year, then?"
Isana pressed her lips together and nodded, forcing herself to contain her emotions carefully.
"Fine. We'll work that out. Secondly, I would require your support as a member of the Dianic League, which would require you to attend a convocation of the League once each year and engage in written discourse over the course of the rest of the year."
"And within the League, you wish me to support you."
"Naturally," Lady Aquitaine said. "And finally, we may ask you to support certain candidates for the Senatorial elections in Riva. As your home city, you will be able to vote in the elections, and your opinion will inevitably carry some weight with your fellow Citizens."
"I want something understood, Your Grace," Isana said quietly.
"What might that be?"
"That I know full well the extent of you and your husband's ambitions, and have no intention of breaking the laws of the Realm to help you. My support and participation will extend as far as the letter of the law-and not an inch farther."
Lady Aquitaine raised both eyebrows. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of asking you for that."
"I'm sure," Isana said. "I simply want us to understand one another."
"I think we do," Lady Aquitaine replied. "And what would you ask in return for your support?"
Isana drew in a deep breath. "My family is in danger, Your Grace. I came here to contact the First Lord and get help sent back to Calderon, and to warn my nephew of a potential threat to his life. I have been unable to contact either of them on my own. If you would have my support, then you must help me protect my kin. That is my price."
Lady Aquitaine took another slow sip of wine. "I shall need to know more about what you require, Steadholder, before I can make any promises. Please explain the circumstances in greater detail."
Isana nodded, then began to recount everything Doroga had told them about the vord, the way they spread, where they had gone, and the danger they represented to the whole of the Realm. When she finished, she folded her hands in her lap and regarded the High Lady.
"That's… quite a tale," she murmured. "How certain are you of its truth?"
"Completely," Isana said.
"Even though what you know of it came from, if I understand you correctly, a barbarian chieftain."
"His name is Doroga," Isana said quietly. "He is a man of integrity and intelligence. And his wounds were real enough."
Lady Aquitaine murmured, "Fidelias, what assets have we near Calderon?"
The assassin spoke up from where he had taken an unobtrusive position against the wall beside the door. "The Windwolves are on training maneuvers in the Red Hills, Your Grace."
"That's… twenty Knights?"
"Sixty, Your Grace," he corrected her.
"Oh, that's right," she said, her tone careless, though Isana did not believe for a moment that she hadn't remembered precisely what resources she had, and where. "They've been recruiting. How long would it take them to reach Calderon?"
"As little as three hours, Your Grace, or as long as seven, depending upon wind currents."
Lady Aquitaine nodded. "Then please inform His Grace, when you report to him, that I am dispatching them to the relief and reinforcement of Calderon's garrison on behalf of our new client."