Kitai folded her arms and shot Tavi a look that could have crumbled stones to dust. Tavi sank a bit under the sheets. Kitai made a sound of disgust and stalked out of the room.
Doroga broke into a rumbling laugh and ruffled Tavi’s hair in a gesture peculiarly like Uncle Bernard’s. “Doomed, young warrior. Doomed. But her mother and I started off that way.”
Tavi blinked. “What?”
“We will see one another again.” Doroga turned to go.
“What?” Tavi said again. “Her mother what? Doroga, wait!”
Doroga didn’t slow, rumbling out a low laugh as he left the room. “Remember what I said, Tavi. We will speak again.”
Tavi settled back on the bed, scowling, folding his arms, pensive. He had the definite impression that he had gotten in over his head, somewhere along the way.
Tavi frowned, pondering. “Finish what I started.”
There was a gentle knock at the doorway, and Tavi looked up to see Fade’s scarred, homely face smiling in at him from the hall. “Tavi,” Fade said, his tone happy.
Tavi smiled. “Hello, Fade. Come in?”
Fade shuffled inside, eyes vacant, carrying a long package of red cloth.
“What’s this?” Tavi asked.
“Present,” Fade said. “Present, Tavi.” He offered the cloth bundle to him.
Tavi reached out to take it and found it heavier than he expected. He lay it on his lap and unwrapped the cloth from around it. The cloth turned out to be one of the scarlet capes from the Princeps’ Memorium, and wrapped within it, in an old and travel worn scabbard, was the battered old blade Amara had carried from the Memorium, and that Fade had used upon the wall.
Tavi looked up at Fade, who smiled witlessly at him. “For you.”
Tavi frowned. “You don’t have to keep up the act, Fade,” he said quietly.
For a moment, something glittered in Fade’s eyes, above the coward’s brand on his cheek. He regarded Tavi in silence for a moment and then gave him a deliberate wink. “For you,” he repeated in that same voice, and then turned to go.
Tavi looked up to see a man standing in the doorway. He was tall, broad of shoulder and long of limb. His face did not look much older than his uncle’s, but there was something about his faded green eyes that spoke of more years than were evident. Silver streaked his hair, and a heavy cloak of plain, grey fabric covered him except for what his hood revealed of his face.
Fade drew in a sharp breath.
“A princely gift,” the man murmured. “Are you sure it is yours to give, slave?”
Fade lifted his chin, and Tavi saw the slave’s shoulders straighten. “For Tavi.”
The man in the doorway narrowed his eyes, then shrugged his shoulders. “Leave us. I would speak to him alone.”
Fade glanced warily back at Tavi and then nodded his head deeply to the stranger. He shuffled out the door after giving Tavi another witless smile, and vanished into the hall.
The stranger shut the door quietly behind Fade and moved to sit down on the bed beside Tavi’s, his green eyes never leaving the boy. “Do you know me?”
Tavi shook his head.
The stranger smiled. “My name is Gaius Sextus.”
Tavi felt his mouth drop open. He sat up straight, stammering. “Oh. Sir. Sire, I didn’t recognize you, I’m sorry.”
Gaius held up a gloved hand in a soothing gesture. “No, stay in bed. You need your rest.”
“I thought you were coming tomorrow, sire.”
“Yes. But I came here incognito this evening.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to speak with you, Tavi. It would seem that I am in your debt.”
Tavi swallowed. “I was just trying to get my sheep home, sir. That’s all I meant to happen, I mean. After that, everything just sort of . . .”
“Got complicated?” Gaius suggested.
Tavi flushed and nodded. “Exactly.”
“That’s how these things happen. I don’t want to keep you up long, so I’ll come to the point. I owe you. Name your reward, and you’ll have it.”
Tavi blinked at the First Lord, his mouth falling open again. “Anything?” he asked.
“Within reason.”
“Then I want you to help the holders who got hurt, and the families of those who were killed. Winter’s coming on, and it’s going to be hard for all of us.”
Gaius lifted both eyebrows and tilted his head to one side. “Truly? Given anything to choose from, that is your choice of rewards?”
Tavi felt his jaw set, stubbornly. He met Gaius’s eyes with his own, and nodded.
Gaius murmured, “Amazing.” The First Lord shook his head. “Very well. I’ll have Crown aid dispensed to those who suffered loss on a case-by-case basis by the local Count. Fair enough?”
“Yes, sire. Thank you.”
“Let me add one thing more to that, Tavi. My Cursor tells me that you wish to attend the Academy.”
Tavi’s heart thudded abruptly in his chest. “Yes, sire. More than anything.”
“It might be difficult for someone with your . . . limitations, shall we say? You will be in the company of the sons and daughters of merchants and nobles and wealthy houses from all over Alera. Many of them strong crafters. It may provide you with a great many challenges.”
“I don’t care,” Tavi blurted. “I don’t care about that, sire. I can handle myself.”
Gaius regarded him for a moment, then nodded. “I believe you can. Then if you will accept it, it will be done. I will give you patronage for your attendance at the Academy and assist you in choosing your fields of study. You will be Academ Tavi Patronus Gaius. Go to the capital. The Academy. See what you can make of your life given a chance, hmm?”
Tavi’s head spun, and he felt his eyes fill with tears. He blinked them many times, trying to hide the tears. “Sire. Sire, you don’t know what it means to me. Thank you.”
Gaius smiled, and the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled up as he did. “Rest, then. Tomorrow will be all ceremony and display. But please know that you have my gratitude, young man. And my respect.”
“Thank you, sire.”
Gaius rose and inclined his head. “Thank you, Academ. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He left the room, leaving Tavi feeling a little dizzy. The boy lay down on his pillow, staring up at the ceiling, his heart racing. The capital. The Academy. Everything he had wanted. He started to cry and to laugh at the same time, and he hugged himself tightly, because he felt as though if he didn’t he might burst.
The First Lord of all Alera had told him thank you. That he would see him tomorrow.
Tavi stilled for a moment, mulling over what had been said to him that day.
“No,” he murmured. “There’s something I need to do first. Need to finish what I’ve begun.”
CHAPTER 47
Fidelias sank into the warm bath in aching relief, his eyes closing. Nearby, Lady Aquitaine, dressed only in a robe of pale silk, placed Aquitaine’s signet dagger into a coffer on her dresser, and shut and locked it.
“And my men?” Fidelias asked.
“All being cared for,” she assured him. “I repaired your watercrafter’s hearing, and she and her man went to their suite.” She half smiled. “They deserve the time, I think.”
“I failed,” Fidelias said.