Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(133)

Even so, Foss had kept Tavi busy. Bardis, the wounded Knight who had been saved by Lady Antillus, required constant attention and care. Twice, during the march, Bardis had simply stopped breathing. Foss had saved the young Knight, but only because Tavi had noticed what was happening. The young Knight hadn't regained more than vague consciousness during the march, and had to be fed, cleaned, and watered like a baby.

As he first sat beside the wounded Bardis, Tavi was struck by how young the Knight looked. Surely, an Aleran Knight should have been taller, thicker in the shoulders and chest and neck, with a heavier growth of beard and more muscle than the wounded Knight possessed. Bardis looked like... an injured, not yet fully grown child. And it inspired an immediate and unexpected surge of pro-tectiveness in the young Cursor. To his own surprise, he set about the task of tending Bardis without complaint or regret.

Later, he realized that Bardis wasn't too young to be a Knight. Tavi was simply five years older. He knew far more of the world than the boy, had seen a great deal more of life's horrors, and had gained inches and pounds of physical size that he had, for most of his life, lacked. All of that made the wounded Knight seem much smaller and far younger. It was a matter of perspective.

Tavi realized, bemused, that he was no longer the child, unconsciously expecting those stronger and older than he to assist and protect him. Now he was the stronger, the elder, and so it fell to him to accept and discharge his responsibilities rather than to seek ways to avoid or circumvent them.

He did not know when this shift in perspective had happened, and though it might have seemed small in some ways, it was far deeper and more significant than he had at first realized. It meant that he could never again be that child, the one deserving of protection and comfort. It was time for him to provide it for others, as it had been provided for him.

So he cared for poor Bardis and spent much of that march in reflection.

"You've been moody," Max said, breaking the silence as the wagon bumped steadily down the trail-a path worn by use, not furycraft. "This whole march, you've been quiet."

"Thinking," Tavi said, "and avoiding attention."

"How's the fish?"

"Bardis," Tavi corrected him. "Foss says he'll be all right, now that we've stopped and he can be cared for more properly." He shook his head. "But he might not ever walk again. And I don't know if he'll be able to use his right arm. He's given his body in service to the Realm, Max. Don't call him a fish."

Sullen red fire played within the bone-dry storm clouds overhead, and one of the horses danced nervously. Tavi saw Max nod. "True enough," he agreed, a quiet gravity in his own voice. After a moment, Max said, "Magnus says Kalarus is making his move. That he came up with at least four extra Legions somewhere. That if they take Ceres, they'll roll right over Alera Imperia. Which doesn't make much sense to me. Placidus's Legions are going to pin them against the city walls and cut them to pieces."

"Placidus isn't moving," Tavi said.

"The crows he isn't. I know the man. He doesn't care much about getting involved with the rest of the Realm, but he doesn't care for treason, either. He'll fight."

"He isn't," Tavi said. "At least, according to the last-the only-dispatch that got through from the First Lord, though it didn't say why."

"That was a week ago," Max said.

Tavi nodded up at the sky. "Wherever this storm came from, it's pretty well prevented the use of Knights Aeris as messengers. The First Lord and the High Lords can communicate through the rivers, but they know there's nothing to stop others from listening to everything they send that way. "