Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(161)

"Mmm," Tavi said. "Which is exactly what they used it to do. Add in how well they fought, and it indicates that they might be elite soldiers of some kind. Certainly scouts."

"Either way, they've got regulars behind them somewhere."

Tavi nodded grimly. "And now they know where we are."

Max frowned and fell silent.

"Sir," Hagar said, "I should also tell you that the scouts may have taken heavy losses."

Tavi grunted and frowned. "How so?"

"Only about forty-five of the eighty that went out this morning made the rendezvous. Scouts are an independent bunch, and they can get pinned down in a hiding place for days, sometimes. No one saw any bodies, but a couple of them found signs that some of their companions had been attacked."

"They want to keep us blind," Tavi said, nodding. "Hold on." Tavi rose and walked over to one of the horses they'd used to carry supplies. He unloaded a heavy square of leather wrapped around a bundle, untied the cord holding it closed, and drew out a pair of Canim sickle-swords and one of their axes. He brought them over and tossed them down beside the other gear. He squinted down at them for a long moment, tracking an elusive thought that danced about just beneath the surface of realization.

"If they know we're out here," Max said quietly, "we'd best not linger. We don't want to get hit by a squad of their regulars in the dark."

Hagar nodded. "Flavis is already on the way back to the Elinarch."

Tavi stared at the weapons. There was something there. An answer. He knew it.

"Sir?" Max said. "We might need to get a move on. Whatever they're doing or however many they are, they aren't going to be able to sneak up on the town."

Suddenly, realization hit Tavi in a flash, and he slammed a fist against his palm. "Crows, that's it."

Hagar blinked at him.

Tavi pointed at the sickle-swords and the Canim axe. "Max. What do you see."

"Canim weapons?"

"Look closer," Tavi said.

Max pursed his lips and frowned. "Urn. Bloodstain on that one. Edges are nicked up pretty bad on those sickle-swords. And there's rust on..." Max paused and frowned. "What are those stains on the sickles and the axe?"

"Exactly," Tavi said. He pointed at the bloodsteel gear. "Look. Edges in excellent shape. High quality craftsmanship." He pointed at the gear taken from the slain raiders. "Rust. Much lower quality manufacture. More damage on them. Less care taken of them-and those stains are green and brown, Max."

Max raised his eyebrows. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that 1 grew up on a steadholt," Tavi said. "Those are stains you get from scything crops," he said, pointing at the sickles, then tapped the axe, "and from chopping wood. These aren't weapons. They're tools."

"No disrespect intended, but that's the beauty of an axe, sir. It's both."

"Not within the context of what we know," Tavi said.

"Urn?" Max said. "What?"

Tavi held up a hand and said, "Look, we know that the Canim landed in great numbers, but we haven't seen any regular troops. The raiders we've seen have been running around a like a rogue gargant, without any coordination or plan. None of them carried quality weapons, and none of them wore steel armor."

"Which means?"

"They're levies, Max. Untrained conscripts. Farmers, outlaws, servants. Whoever they could push out in front of them armed with something sharp."