Academ's Fury (20 page)

Though she had been unconscious for much of the day, by the time Isana had packed and settled into the covered litter, she was exhausted.

She had never flown in a litter before, either open to the elements or closed, and the experience felt far too familiar to be so terrifying. It looked little different than any covered coach, at least from the inside, which made it ail the more disconcerting to see, out the coach's windows, the occasional soaring bird of prey or feathery tendril of cloud tinted dark gold by the deepening evening. She stared out at the gathering night and the land far below for a time, her heart beating too quickly in her chest.

"It's been getting dark for so long," Isana murmured, only half-aware that she'd said it out loud.

Serai looked up from the embroidery in her lap and glanced out the window. The light colored the pearls on her collar in shades of rose and gold. "We're flying into the sunset, Steadholder, high and quickly at that. The sun will outpace us in time. I've always loved evenings, though. I rather enjoy spending more time in them."

Isana turned her attention to the woman, studying her profile. Serai's emotional presence was barely there—something feather-light and nebulous. When the slave spoke, there was very little of the depth of emotional inflection Isana was used to feeling from those around her. Isana could count the people who had successfully concealed their emotions from her on the fingers of one hand.

Isana lifted her fingers to the front of her dress, touching them thoughtfully to the hidden ring on its chain. Serai was obviously more formidable than she appeared. "Do you fly often?" Isana asked her.

"From time to time," Serai replied. "The journey may take until this time tomorrow, possibly longer. We'll not stop until Rolf's men need to change places in the harness, Steadholder, and that may be long after dark. You should rest."

"Do I look ill?" Isana asked.

"Amara told me of your encounter this morning," Serai replied. Her expression never changed, and the flicker of her needle did not slow, but Isana felt a faint current of trepidation in the courtesan's bearing. "It would be enough to exhaust anyone. You're safe now."

Isana regarded Serai quietly for a moment, and asked, "Am I?"

As safe here as in your own home," Serai assured her, a dry edge lurking beneath the lightly given words. "I'll watch, and wake you if anything happens."

Serai's voice, presence, and manner rang with the subtle tone of truth, something few honest folk could ever hide successfully, and Isana felt herself relax, at least for a moment. The woman meant to protect her—of that much, at least, she felt certain. And Serai was right. The shock and startled fear on the face of the young man Isana had killed still tainted her every thought. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

She didn't expect to be able to sleep, but when she opened her eyes again, there was pale light flowing into the litter from the opposite windows, and her neck and shoulders felt stiff and uncomfortable. She had to blink her
eyes
for several moments to clear the unexpected sleep from them.

"Ah," Serai said. "Good morning, Steadholder."

"Morning?" Isana said. She fought back a yawn and sat up. There was a rolled cloak behind her head and a heavy, soft blanket covering her. "Did I sleep?"

"Most deeply," Serai confirmed. "You wouldn't stir when we stopped last night, and Rolf was a dear and loaned you his cloak when we got moving again."

"I'm sorry," Isana said. "Surely you rested as well?"

"Not just yet," the courtesan said. "I've been here, as I said I would—but for a few necessary moments, and Rolf sat here with you until I returned."

"I'm sorry," Isana repeated, embarrassed. She offered the cloak to Serai. "Here, please. You should rest."

"And leave you without conversation?" Serai said. "What kind of traveling companion would I be if I did such a thing." She gave Isana a small smile. "I've a touch of metalcrafting in my family's blood. I can go for a few days without."

"That doesn't mean it's good for you," Isana said.

"I must confess that as a rule, things which may not be good for me seem to hold an unwholesome attraction," she said. "And in any case, we should be arriving in the capital within the hour."

"But I thought you said it would take at least a full day."

Serai frowned, staring out the window. The blue-white light of dawn, pure and clear, made her skin glow, and her dark eyes seemed all the deeper. "It should have. Rolf said that we were fortunate to be flying with an unusually swift wind at our backs. I've never experienced such a thing before, between any of the cities, much less flying from the far provinces."

Isana collected her thoughts for a moment. This development changed things. She had less than an hour to prepare herself for the capital, and it might be the only chance she had to speak with Serai in relative privacy. There was little time to discover whatever she could from the woman through conversation—which meant that there was little point to subtlety.

Isana took a breath and addressed the courtesan. "Do you travel this way often?"

"Several times each season. My master finds all sorts of reasons to send me to visit other cities."

"Master. You mean Gaius," Isana said.

Serai's lips pursed thoughtfully. "I am a loyal subject of the Crown, of course," she said. "But my owner is the Lord Forcius Rufus. He is the cousin to the High Lord of Forcia, and holds estates at the northern end of the Vale."

"You live in the Amaranth Vale itself?" Isana asked.

"At the moment, yes," Serai replied. "I'll be missing the orchards in bloom, which is a pity. It makes the whole Vale smell like paradise. Have you seen it?"

Isana shook her head. "Is it as beautiful as everyone says?"

Serai nodded and sighed. "If not more so. As much as I love to travel, I find that I miss my home there. Still, I suppose that I am glad to travel and even more glad to return. Perhaps I am doubly fortunate."

"It sounds like a lovely place." Isana folded her hands in her lap. "And an even lovelier conversational diversion."

Serai looked back to Isana, smiling. "Does it?"

"You are one of the Cursors, then?"

"Darling, I'm merely a glorified pleasure slave, doing Gaius a favor on behalf of her master. And even if I was free, I don't think I'd have the temperament for the profession. All the heroism and duty and so on. Exhausting."

Isana arched an eyebrow. "I suppose a spy for the Crown would be largely useless if she walked around announcing the fact."

Serai smiled. "That seems a reasonable statement, darling."

Isana nodded, her crafting senses once more all but blind to Serai's presence. It was an acutely frustrating sensation. Her companion was one or the First Lord's followers—of that much she was certain. Why else would the Cursors have chosen her to accompany Isana? That meant that she couldn't afford to let down her guard. Serai's duty would be to protect Gaius's interests, and not Isana's.

But at the same time, Isana wasn't so foolish as to think that she did not need an escort in Alera Imperia, capital of all the Realm. She had never been to one of the great cities that formed the heart of Aleran society. She knew that Wintersend in the capital was a time rife with the plotting of various political and economic factions. She had heard tales of such groups indulging in blackmail, extortion, murder, and worse, and her life in the countryside had not prepared her to deal with such matters.

Isana was fully aware that by coming to the capital, she was certain to face deadly peril. Gaius's enemies would strike at her not because of anything she had done, but because of what she represented. Isana was a symbol for the support for the First Lord. Gaius's enemies had already tried to destroy that symbol once. They would certainly do so again.

A sickly, wrenching sensation rippled through Isana's stomach.

Because Tavi was a symbol, too.

Isana would need an escort to navigate the treacherous waters of the capital, and Serai was her only guide and most vital ally. If she was to succeed in protecting Tavi from whatever deadly plots were afoot, Isana needed to secure the courtesan's support and cooperation in any way that she could. Flashes of sincerity were not enough.

"Serai," Isana said. "Do you have family?"

The little courtesan's face and bearing became abruptly opaque. "No, darling."

Isana felt nothing from Rill, but her eyes widened with sudden intuition. "You mean, not anymore."

Serai arched a brow, her expression surprised, but lifted her chin without looking away. "Not anymore."

"What happened?" Isana asked gently.

Serai was silent for a time, then said, "Our steadholt was blighted one year. Blighted badly. The blight took the lives of my husband and my daughter. She'd been born only three weeks before. My brother and my parents died as well. And the other holders. Of them all, I survived, but there will be no more family for me."

Serai looked away and out the window. She moved one hand to rest low on her belly, and her sudden pang of raw anguish struck Isana like a wave of scalding water.

"I'm sorry," she said to the courtesan. She shook her head. "I would never have thought you a holder."

Serai smiled without looking back at Isana, her eyes clear. "I entered into bondage after I recovered. To pay for decent arrangements for them. It was there that I became a"—she left a slight but deliberate pause—"courtesan. Many are found, just as I was."

"I'm so sorry," Isana said. "To make you remember the pain."

"You needn't be, darling. It was long ago."

"You don't look it."

"My family had—has a touch of watercraft in it as well," Serai said, her voice brightening with cheer that Isana knew must be forced. "Nowhere near as strong as you, Steadholder, but I can manage the occasional wrinkle."

The litter lurched, and Isana felt her head spin a little. She looked desperately out the window, but saw only thick, white fog. One of her feet lifted slightly from the floor, and fear froze her breath in her throat.

"It's all right," Serai said, and put a hand on Isana's knee. "We're descending. We're almost there. We'll land in moments."

Isana covered Serai's hand with her own. The courtesan's fingers felt fever-warm. Isana's hand must have been like ice. "There's not much time."

"What do you mean?"

Isana forced her eyes from the dizzying view out the window and to the other woman's. "Serai," she said, her voice shaking, "if you could have them back, would you?"

Serai's eyes widened in shock that quickly became a cool, agate-hard anger. "What sort of question is that, darling?" she replied, her tone unchanged. "Of course I would."

Isana covered Serai's hand with both of hers, and leaned forward, staring directly into her eyes. "That's why I'm coming to Festival. My family is in danger. I don't care about Gaius. I don't care about what man sits on the throne. I don't care about politics or plots or power. I only care that the child I raised is in danger, my brother may die if I cannot send him aid. They are all that I have in the world."

Serai tilted her head to one side in a silent question.

Isana felt her voice waver as she spoke. "Help me."

Serai straightened slowly, comprehension dawning in her eyes.

Isana squeezed her hand. "
Help me
."

Serai's presence became acutely pained, but her face and her eyes remained calm. "Help you. At the expense of my duty to my master?"

"If need be," Isana said. "I'll do anything necessary to help them. But I don't know if I can do it alone. Please, Serai. They are my family."

"I am sorry, Steadholder, that your kin are in danger. But the servants of the Crown are the only family I know. I will do my duty."

"How can you say that?" Isana asked. "How can you be that indifferent?"

"I am not indifferent," Serai said. "I know what is at stake—better than anyone. Were it up to me, I would ignore the greater concerns of the Realm to save the lives of your family."

Silvery truth resounded in that whisper, but so did resolution. Another agonized stab of fear for her kin wrenched at Isana's chest. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, trying to sort through the courtesan's complex but shrouded tangle of emotion. "I don't understand."

"If it was up
to
me, I would help you. But it is not up to me," Serai replied. Her voice was both compassionate and unyielding. "I have sworn myself to the service of the Realm. The world of Carna is a cold, cruel place, lady. It is filled with danger and enemies to our people. The Realm is what keeps them safe."

Sudden and bitter
scorn
filled her throat with flame. Isana let out a breath, not quite a derisive laugh. "The irony. That someone the Realm failed to keep safe would be willing to sacrifice other families in service to it."

Serai withdrew her hands from Isana's, cold, controlled anger now in her voice and presence. "Without the Realm to protect them, there will be no families."

"Without families," Isana spat, "there is nothing for the Realm to protect. How can you say that when you may have the power to help them?"

Serai's bearing and tone remained aloof and unreadable. "As a woman using her own power to dredge up the most painful moment of my life in an attempt to manipulate me to her will, Isana, I hardly think you are in a position to criticize."

Isana clenched her hands in frustration. "I only ask you to help me protect my family."

"At the expense of my loyalty," Serai said, voice steady. "It isn't because I don't want to help you, Steadholder. Or your kin. But there are many women in the Realm with families. And if I could save ten thousand of them by sacrificing yours, I would do so. It wouldn't be right. But it would be necessary. And it is my duty. I have taken an oath as a servant to the Realm, and I will not be foresworn."

Isana looked out the window. "Enough. I understand." After a moment, she added, "And you're right. I apologize to you, lady. I shouldn't have tried to use the pain of your loss against you."