Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(50)

"Crows," the captain muttered. He turned and frowned at the recruits, still in their corner-eight of them, Tavi noted, a spear of men who would march in file together and share the standard Legion tent. "File leader," Cyril commanded.

One of the young men, a tall and gawky youth, came to attention and saluted. "Captain, sir."

"What's your name, son?"

"Schultz, sir. "

"Report," Cyril said. "What happened, recruit Schultz?"

"It was an accident, sir."

Cyril was silent for a second, staring at the recruit, who swallowed and blanched and grew even more rigid.

"The captain knows it was an accident, recruit," Tavi said. "Tell him the particulars of it."

The boy's face reddened. "Oh. Sir, sorry, sir, yes, sir. Um. We were our cohort's strongest spear at our sword lessons. First ones to get issued live swords, sir. Centurion Antillar had us running our drills with live blades for the first time, all in a row, sir. He was going to show us to our whole cohort, sir, before they got their blades. He went up and down the line, watching us, calling our mistakes, sir."

"Go on," Cyril said. "How was he injured?"

The boy shook his head. "Sir, it was an accident. He had just corrected me and he was walking away from me, where he could watch the whole line of us. And I went through a number eight thrust." The recruit shifted his feet into a fighting stance and swept his right arm straight up from down low by his leg. Such a stroke from a sword could disembowel a man, and though difficult to use, in the close press of combat it could be devastating. "And the sword... just slipped out of my hand, sir."

"It slipped," Cyril said quietly, his gaze level.

The recruit snapped back to attention. "Yes, sir. I haven't ever had that happen before. It slipped and it flew out spinning and it struck Centurion Antillar in the side of the neck, sir." He looked down at himself, and for the first time seemed to see the blood all over him. "I didn't mean it to happen, sir. Not at all. I'm sorry, sir."

The captain folded his arms. "He had just finished correcting you. He had his back to you. Your sword inexplicably flew from your grasp and struck his throat. You say it was an accident."

"Yes, sir."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

The recruit blinked at him. "Sir?"

"Men have lost their tempers with their centurions in the past. Sometimes they were angry enough to kill them. Perhaps you couldn't stand Antillar's criticism of your technique. It's a hot day. You've not eaten. Maybe you lost your temper and killed him."

The recruit's mouth dropped open. "Sir... " He shook his head. "I'd never, no sir, Centurion Antillar, no sir."

"We'll see," Cyril said quietly. "I will be looking into this more thoroughly. Get back to your cohort, recruits. Schultz. Don't attempt to leave the camp. The men who I'd send to hunt you down would have orders to execute you on sight."

The young man swallowed and saluted again.

"Dismissed."

Schultz led his fellow recruits out of the tent, and only a second later the flap flew open again and an armored Knight entered, accompanied by the beautiful Lady Antillus. The Knight jerked to a stop upon seeing Max in the tub, his mouth dropping open. Lady Antillus drew in a breath, placing the fingers of one hand over the bodice of her blue-on-blue silk gown, her eyes wide.

For some reason he could never have put a name to, Tavi did not believe Lady Antillus's gesture was a genuine one. It was too smooth, perhaps, too flowing to be true shock and distress.