CURSOR'S FURY

Chapter 11

Max regarded Tavi, gri

Tavi sighed. He looked down at himself. His trousers were soaked to above midthigh and stained with the most vile effluvia imaginable. More of it had splattered onto his tunic, arms, neck, and he felt sure there was some in his hair and on his face. “And slog around in that with my mouth open? Smelling it is bad enough. I don’t want to taste it, too.”

Max lounged on a camp stool next to the practice grounds, watching Schultz and his spearmates drilling with live steel and their shining new armor. Schultz was ru

Tavi grunted. “He still thinks you’re going to kill him?”

“It was fun at first,” Max said. “Useful, too. But it’s been almost a month. I think he’s getting it figured out now.”

Tavi grunted and grabbed a ladle in a nearby bucket of water.

“Hey,” Max protested. “Downwind.”

Tavi idly flicked the ladle of water at Max, then drank one of his own, being careful to swallow in small, controlled motions. He had learned to his own dismay that gulping down liquid on a stench-soured stomach could produce unpleasant results.

“What’s he got you doing now?” Max asked.

“Inspections.” Tavi sighed. “I have to take measurements of each latrine, make sure it’s got the right dimensions. Then estimate volume and compare the rate that they’re all filling up. Then I have to supervise the digging of new ones and filling in the old ones.”

“That stomach bug clear up?” Max asked.

Tavi grimaced. “Finally. Took four days. And the captain’s asked Foss to brew me up some kind of tea to help me fight off other sicknesses.”

“How’s that working out?”

“I’d almost rather get the diseases. You should smell that stuff Foss makes.”

Max gri

“Thank you. I needed a little more humiliation,” Tavi said.

“In that case, you should know what the legionares are calling you. “

Tavi sighed. “What?”

“Scipio Latrinus. Is that enough humiliation for you?”

Tavi suppressed a flash of irritation. “Yes. That’s perfect, thank you.”

Max glanced casually around, and Tavi could feel the air around him tightening as Max ensured privacy. “At least it’s given you a good excuse to go to the Pavilion every night. And I’ve noted that you aren’t whining about Kitai anymore.”

“I’m not?” Tavi asked. He frowned and thought about it. That hollow, unpleasant sensation in his stomach, the empty pang, had been absent for some time, and his frown deepened. “I’m not,” he mused.

“Told you you’d get over her,” Max said. “I should have bought you a girl for the evening weeks ago. Glad you did it on your own.”

Tavi felt his face heat up. “But I didn’t.”

Max’s eyebrows lifted straight up. “Ah,” he said. He squinted at his recruits and said, “You didn’t buy a boy, did you. ‘

Tavi snorted. “No,” he said. “Max, I’m not there to enjoy myself. I go there for the job.”

“The job,” Max said.

“The job.”

“You go to the Pavilion because it’s a duty.”

“Yes,” Tavi said, half-exasperated.

“Even though there’s all those dancers and such?”

“Yes.”

“Crows, Calderon. Why?” Max shook his head. “Life is too short to pass some things by.”

“Because it’s my job,” Tavi said.

“Easy to argue that you have to maintain your cover,” Max pointed out. “A little wine. A girl or two. Or three, if you can afford it. What’s the harm?”

Tavi frowned and thought about it. Max was quite correct when he said that the girls at the Pavilion could be quite enticing, and Tavi had avoided watching them dance. It was a given that any dancer with earthcrafting would use it to hone the appetites of the men watching. Often, several danced at once, and such an environment was geared to fleece the pockets of the legionares who succumbed to their urges. Since the legionares by and large went there with exactly that purpose in mind, it tended to work out.

Tavi had been propositioned by several of the doxies there, but had declined to purchase anyone’s charms for a night or to sample the wine and other intoxicants available. He had no intention of clouding his judgment-his wits were what had kept him alive.

“You should enjoy yourself,” Max said. “No one would begrudge you that.”

“I would,” Tavi said. “I need to keep my wits about me.”

Max grunted. “True, I suppose. As long as you aren’t constantly mooning over Kitai, I guess it’s all right if you don’t tumble a doxy now and then.”

Tavi snorted. “Glad you approve.”

Three cohorts of recruits, nearly a thousand legionares, pounded by on the practice road, now moving in a solid block and in full armor. Their footsteps thundered in uniform rhythm, even through the muting effect of Max’s screen. After they passed, and the racket faded away, Max asked, “Turn up anything?”

Tavi nodded. “Found two more legionares reporting to that contact from the Trade Consortium.”

“Do we know who he’s reporting to yet?”

“He thinks he’s reporting to a Parcian merchant’s factor.”

“Heh,” Max said. “Who is the factor working for?”

Tavi shrugged a shoulder. “I crossed a few palms. I might get something tonight.” He gave Max an oblique look. “I heard about an unlicensed slaver operating nearby. Apparently grabbed a couple of camp followers. But someone beat him unconscious, tied him to a tree, sneaked past his guards, and released his slaves.”

Max lowered his windcrafted screen long enough to stand up and shout, “Crows take it, Karder, get that shield up or I’ll give you a few lumps on top of your fool head to remind you! If Valiar Marcus’s spear humiliates my best, you’ll all be ru

Recruits gave Max sidelong, dark looks until Schultz bellowed them back into formation.

“Yeah?” Max said to Tavi, sitting down again. “I heard the same thing. Good for whoever did that. Never liked slavers.”

Tavi frowned. “It wasn’t you? “

Max frowned back. “It wasn’t you?”

“No,” Tavi said.

Max pursed his lips, then shrugged. “Wasn’t me. There are a lot of Phrygians hereabouts. They hate slavers. Crows, plenty of folk do. I hear that Ceres has a whole big gang of men in masks who roam around at night and hang any slaver they can get their hands on. They have to employ a whole army of personal guards to stay safe. Gotta love a town like Ceres.”

Tavi frowned and glanced eastward.

“Oh, right, “ Max muttered. “Sorry. Your family reunion.”

Tavi shrugged a shoulder. “We were only pla

Max watched the recruits at their drill, but his expression turned a bit bleak. “What’s it like?”

“What is what like?”

“Having a family.”

Tavi drank another ladle of water. “Sometimes it felt like they were strangling me. I knew it was because they cared, but it still drove me mad. They were worried about me because of my crafting problem. I liked knowing that they were there. I always knew that if I had a problem, they’d help me. Sometimes at night, I would have a bad dream or lie awake feeling sorry for myself. I’d go and look in their rooms and see they were there. Then I could go back to sleep.”

Max’s expression never changed.

Tavi asked, “What was your family like?”

Max was quiet for a second, then said, “I don’t think I’m drunk enough to answer that question.”

But Max had been the one to bring up the subject. Maybe he wanted to talk and just needed some encouragement. “Try,” Tavi said.

There was a longer silence.

“Notable for their absence,” Max said, finally. “My mother died when I was five years old. She was a slave from Rhodes, you know.”

“I knew. “

Max nodded. “I don’t remember much about her. My lord father all but lives at the Shieldwall. He only comes back to Antillus during the summer, then he’s got a whole year’s worth of work to make up for. He’d sleep maybe three or four hours a night, and he hated being interrupted. I’d maybe have di

Tavi nodded. “Wasn’t fun.”

“Crassus wasn’t so bad. I was older and bigger than him, so there wasn’t much he could do. He followed me around a lot, and if he saw something of mine that he liked, he’d take it. She’d give it to him. If I said anything, she’d have me whipped.” He bared his teeth in a rictus of a smile. “Course, if I did anything, she’d have me whipped.”

Tavi thought of his friend’s scars and clenched his jaw.

“At least, until I came into my furies.” His eyes narrowed. “When I figured out how strong I was, I blew the door to her private chambers to cinders, walked in, and told her that if she tried to have me whipped again, I’d kill her.”

“That’s when the accidents started,” Tavi guessed.

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“First one was at flying lessons,” Max said. “I was hovering a couple of feet outside the city walls, maybe thirty feet up. Ajar of rock salt fell out of a window of a tower, hit the wall, and pieces flew through my windcrafting. Disrupted it. I fell.”

Tavi winced.

“The next time was in the winter. Someone had spilled water at the top of a long staircase, and it froze. I slipped on it and fell.” He took a deep breath. “That’s when I ran off and joined the Legions in Placida.”

“Max,” Tavi began.

Max abruptly rose to his feet, and said, “Feeling kind of nauseous. Must be your stench.”

Tavi wanted to say something to his friend. To help him. But he knew Max, and he was too proud to accept Tavi’s sympathy. Max had ripped open old wounds in speaking of his family and didn’t want anyone to see the pain. Tavi cared about his friend, but Max wasn’t ready to let anyone help him. It was enough for one day.

“Must be my stench,” Tavi agreed quietly.

“Work to do,” Max said. “My fish have a practice bout with Valiar Marcus’s veteran spear in the morning.”