Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(43)

"They can't?" Tavi asked. "I thought that was what you had to be able to do to be one of those, sir."

"Oh, they can get into the air, for the most part. Getting down again in one piece has proven something of a problem. If Tribune Fantus and young Antillus hadn't been there to lessen the impacts, and Lady Antillus hadn't come down with her son, we'd have had fatalities already."

Tavi frowned, then said, "Perhaps Maximus could help them out? Instructing them, I mean."

The captain broke out into a single bark of laughter. "It would be inappropriate. And I need him where he is. But even if I didn't, I wouldn't let him anywhere near the Knights Pisces. Have you seen him^y?"

Tavi frowned for a moment and thought about it. "No, sir."

"He doesn't fly so much as make these great, bounding hops. He can land on his feet sometimes. Other times, he hits something. We pulled him out of a peat bog once. I can't tell you how many times he's broken his legs."

Tavi frowned. "That... hardly sounds like Max, sir."

"I would imagine he doesn't talk about it much. He never got it down, but I didn't think he'd ever give up trying. Then I saw him ride in here. Damn shame. But it happens like that sometimes."

"Yes, sir," Tavi said, unsure what to say.

"Scipio," the captain went on. "I haven't asked you for your oath to the Legion yet."

"No, sir. I figured that's what this was about."

"It is," Cyril said. He narrowed his eyes. "I'm no fool, lad. A lot of men are here for their own reasons. And some are here for someone else's reasons."

Tavi looked out over the practice field and remained silent, unsure what to say.

"I'll only ask you this one question. Can you swear your loyalty to this Legion, to these men, and mean it beyond any doubt, any question?"

"Sir..." Tavi began.

"It's important," the captain said. "We all need to know that we can rely upon one another. That we will serve the Crown and the Realm regardless of the hazard or difficulty. That we will not leave a brother behind, nor hesitate to give our lives for one another. Otherwise, this is no Legion. Just a mob of men with weapons." He faced Tavi, and said, "Can you look me in the eyes and swear that, young man?"

Tavi looked up and met Cyril's eyes. "I am here to serve the Crown, sir. Yes."

"Then I have your oath?"

"You do."

The captain stared at Tavi for a moment, then nodded once, sharply, and offered his hand. Tavi blinked for a second and traded grips with Cyril. "I work my people hard, Subtribune. But I suspect we'll get along. Dismissed."

Tavi saluted, and the captain returned it. Tavi turned to the ladder, but paused when a wave of shouts rose up from below. He looked up to see a small mob of recruits in their brown tunics rushing for the infirmary, bearing an injured man. Blood stained them, and the grass behind them as they passed.

"Help!" one of them shouted, voice high with panic. "Healer!"

They grew closer, and Tavi could see more blood, pale flesh, and a sopping, bloody cloth pressed against the throat of a limp man whose skin was a shade of grey. A healer appeared from one of the large tents, and Tavi saw the man's expression flash with alarm. He started barking orders at once.

The recruits shifted their grip on him to let the healer get close, and the injured man's head lolled limply toward Tavi, eyes glassy and sightless.

Tavi's heart stopped in his chest.

It was Max.