Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(119)

Lady Antillus arched a brow. "I am the Tribune Medica of this Legion. You are one of my charges. Now hop down, Subtribune."

Tavi nodded and eased himself down slowly, careful to put as little weight as he could on his wounded leg.

Lady Antillus knelt and touched the wounded leg for a moment, then rose and rolled her eyes. "It's nothing."

"Foss healed it," Tavi said.

"It is a minor injury," she said. "Surely, Scipio, someone with even your modest skills of metalcrafting could ignore any discomfort it might cause and march."

Tavi glanced back at Foss, but the healer was supervising the loading of the wounded Knight into the bed of the wagon and studiously kept his eyes away. "I'm afraid not, Your Grace," Tavi improvised, regarding her thoughtfully. "It's still fairly tender, and I don't want to slow the Legion."

Clearly, he hadn't fooled Lady Antillus by starting that fire. It was depress-ingly probable that she knew or at least strongly suspected his identity, and she was out to expose him. Given how badly he'd beaten her nephew, Kalarus Bren-cis Minoris, back at that fiasco during Wintersend, he wasn't surprised at her animosity. Even so, he couldn't allow her to prove to everyone in sight who he was.

Which meant that he had to act.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," Tavi said. "But I can't put any weight on it yet."

"I see," Lady Antillus said. Then she reached out and firmly pushed on Tavi's shoulder, forcing his weight to the injured leg.

Tavi felt a flash of pain that shot from his right heel to his right collarbone. The leg buckled and he fell, pitching forward into Lady Antillus, almost knocking her down.

The High Lady let Tavi fall and recovered her balance. Then she shook her head, and said, "I've seen little girls in Antillus bear more than that." Her eyes fell on Foss. "I don't care to waste my time dealing with obvious shirkers. Watch the leg. Get him back on his feet the moment you deem him fit. Meanwhile, he can play nurse for the casualty."

Foss saluted. "Yes, Tribune."

Lady Antillus glared down at Tavi. Then she tossed her dark hair back over one shoulder, mounted her horse again, and kicked it into a run toward the front of the column.

After she was gone, Foss snickered. "You've got a nose for trouble, sir."

"Sometimes," Tavi agreed. "Foss. Assuming I can get some cash, how much are we talking, to ride in the wagon."

Foss considered. "Two gold eagles at least."

Tavi returned his small knife to its sheath in his pocket, calmly loosened the neatly sliced strings of Lady Antillus's coin purse, and upended its contents into his hand. Three gold crowns, half a dozen gold eagles, and eleven silver bulls jingled together. Tavi selected a gold crown and flicked the coin to Foss.

The healer caught the coin on reflex and stared at Tavi, then at the silk purse. His eyes widened, and he made strangling sounds in his throat.

"That's five times your asking price," Tavi said. "And I'll help with your casualty the whole way. Good enough?"

Foss rubbed a hand back over his short-shorn hair. Then he let out a rough laugh and pocketed the coin. "Kid, you got more balls than brains. I like that. Get in."

While dawn was half an hour away, Lady Aquitaine summoned four Wind-wolves, mercenary Knights long in service to the Aquitaines-and responsible for no few lost lives themselves. Allegedly responsible, Amara reminded herself firmly. There was no proof.

Amara, Bernard, Rook, and Lady Aquitaine met them atop the northernmost spire of Cereus's citadel. The Knights Aeris and the coach they bore swept up to the spire from within the city, keeping lower than the rooftops whenever possible.