Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(143)

"How bad were the losses?"

"Kalare and his son were personally involved in the attack. Cereus lost half his knights. Mostly Knights Aeris. If Captain Miles and the Crown Legion's Knights hadn't intervened, they'd have died to a man. Cereus himself was injured, getting them out of the trap. He and Captain Miles went up against Kalarus and his son in the front hall of the orphanage. From what I've heard, it was an amazing battle."

"In my experience, rumors rarely bother to get the details correct," said a gentle voice at the door.

Isana turned to find Captain Miles standing in the doorway, still in full battle armor, his helmet under his left arm. The armor and helm were both dented and scratched in too many places to count. The right arm of his tunic was soaked in blood to the elbow, and his hand rested on the hilt of his gladius. His hair was Legion-cropped, greying, and he smelled of sweat and rust and blood. He was not a particularly large man, and he had plain features that gave Isana an immediate sense of fidelity and loyalty. He moved with a detectable limp as he stepped into the room, but though he spoke to Isana and Giraldi, his eyes were on the man in the healing tub.

"Cereus played the wounded bird and lured them in. They came in to take him down, and I was hiding in the rafters. I hit the boy from behind and wounded him badly enough to make Kalarus panic and pull him out."

"Captain," Giraldi said with a nod. "I heard Kalarus tried to roast you for it, sir."

Miles shrugged. "I wasn't in the mood for roast. I ran away." He nodded to Isana. "Steadholder. Do you know who I am?"

Isana glanced at Fade and back to Miles. They were brothers, though Miles, like the rest of Alera, had thought Araris dead for nearly twenty years. "I know you," she said quietly.

"I would ask a favor of you." He glanced at Giraldi, including him in the sentiment. "A few private moments of your time, Steadholder?"

"She's working," Giraldi said, and though his tone was not disrespectful, neither was it prepared to compromise. "She doesn't need any distractions."

Miles hovered for a moment, as though uncertain of which way to move. Then he said, "I spoke to Lady Veradis. She said that there might not be much more time."

Isana glanced away. Despair washed through her for a moment, her weariness lending it tremendous potency. She pushed the tide of it away, then said, "It's all right Giraldi."

The centurion grunted. Then he nodded to Isana and limped to the door on his cane. "A moment," he said to Miles. "I'll hold you to it, sir."

Miles nodded, and waited for Giraldi to depart the room. Then he went to Fade's side, knelt, and laid a hand on the unconscious slave's head. "He's on fire," Miles said quietly.

"I know," Isana replied. "I'm doing all that I can."

"I should have come sooner," Miles said, his voice bitter. "Should have been here every day."

From outside, there came the loud, hollow cough of thunder that accompanied a firecrafter's assault, when fire would suddenly blossom from nothing into a white-hot sphere. The fire-thunder was answered, seconds later, by an almost-continuous rumbling from the glowering storm.

"You've been somewhat busy," Isana said, tired amusement in her voice.

Miles shook his head. "It wasn't that. It was..." He frowned. "My big brother. He always won. He's been in fights that should have killed him time and time again. And even when he did die, he managed to come back. It may have taken him twenty years, but he did it." Miles shook his head. "Invincible. Maybe part of me didn't want to admit that he might not be. That I might..