last of the tornados bore down upon the walls, but it withered and died before it could quite reach them.
The storm rolled overhead, rumbling, lightning flashing from cloud to cloud, but it had a weary quality to it, now. Rain began to fall, and the thunder shrank from great, roaring cracks of sound to low, discontented rumbles.
Amara turned her attention to the walls, where the local Knights Aeris were returning to their quarters. She noted, in passing, that the men hadn’t even bothered to don their armor. One of them, in fact, was still quite naked from bed, but for the legionare’s cloak he held wrapped around his waist. Her own escort looked a bit wild around the eyes, but wry remarks and lazy laughs from the Knights of Garrison seemed to be steadying the men.
Amara shook her head and descended back to the stairs, retreating into Bernard’s chambers. She slipped some more wood onto the fire and stirred it and its attendant furies to greater heat and light. Bernard returned a few moments later, bow in hand. He unstrung it, dried it with a cloth, and set it in a corner.
“I told you,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Nothing worth getting out of bed for.”
“Such things are common here?” she asked.
“Lately,” he said, frowning faintly. He had gotten soaked in the rain and spray, and he peeled wet clothing on his way to stand beside the fire. “Though they’ve been rolling in from the east lately. That’s unusual. Most of the fury-storms here start up over old Garados. And I can’t ever remember having this many this early in the year.”
Amara frowned, glancing in the direction of the surly old mountain. “Are your holders in danger?”
“I wouldn’t be standing here if they were,” he replied. “There are going to be windmanes out until the storm blows itself out, but that’s common enough.”
“I see,” she said. “What arrows did you use on those windmanes?”
p. 36 “Target points, covered in a salt crystal.”
Salt was the bane of the furies of the wind and caused them immense discomfort. “Clever,” Amara said. “And effective.”
“Tavi’s idea,” Bernard said. “He came up with it years ago. Though I never had the cause to try it until this year.” He broke into a sudden grin. “The boy’s head will swell when he hears about it.”
“You miss him,” Amara said.
He nodded. “He’s got a good heart. And he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a son. So far.”
She doubted it, but there was little use in saying so. “So far,” she said, her tone neutral.
“Looking forward to Ceres,” Bernard said. “I haven’t spoken to Isana in weeks. That’s strange for me. But I suppose we’ll have time on the trip.”
Amara said nothing, and the crackling of the fire emphasized the sudden tension that built up between them.
Bernard frowned at her. “Love?”
She drew in a breath and faced him, her eyes steady on his. “She declined the First Lord’s invitation to be transported by his Knights Aeris. Politely, of course.” Amara sighed. “Aquitaine’s people are already bringing her to the conclave of the Dianic League.”
Bernard frowned down at her, but his eyes wavered away, moving to the warmth of the fire. “I see.”
“I don’t think she would have cared to keep much company with me anyway,” Amara said quietly. “She and I . . . well.”
“I know,” Bernard said, and to Amara, her husband suddenly looked years older. “I know.”
Amara shook her head. “I still don’t understand why she hates Gaius so much. It’s as though it’s personal for her.”
“Oh,” Bernard said. “It is.”
She touched his chest with the fingers of one hand. “Why?”
He shook his head. “I’m as ignorant as you are. Ever since Alia died . . .”
“Alia?”
“Younger sister,” Bernard said. “She and Isana were real close. I was off on my first tour with the Rivan Legions. We were way up by the Shieldwall,
The storm rolled overhead, rumbling, lightning flashing from cloud to cloud, but it had a weary quality to it, now. Rain began to fall, and the thunder shrank from great, roaring cracks of sound to low, discontented rumbles.
Amara turned her attention to the walls, where the local Knights Aeris were returning to their quarters. She noted, in passing, that the men hadn’t even bothered to don their armor. One of them, in fact, was still quite naked from bed, but for the legionare’s cloak he held wrapped around his waist. Her own escort looked a bit wild around the eyes, but wry remarks and lazy laughs from the Knights of Garrison seemed to be steadying the men.
Amara shook her head and descended back to the stairs, retreating into Bernard’s chambers. She slipped some more wood onto the fire and stirred it and its attendant furies to greater heat and light. Bernard returned a few moments later, bow in hand. He unstrung it, dried it with a cloth, and set it in a corner.
“I told you,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Nothing worth getting out of bed for.”
“Such things are common here?” she asked.
“Lately,” he said, frowning faintly. He had gotten soaked in the rain and spray, and he peeled wet clothing on his way to stand beside the fire. “Though they’ve been rolling in from the east lately. That’s unusual. Most of the fury-storms here start up over old Garados. And I can’t ever remember having this many this early in the year.”
Amara frowned, glancing in the direction of the surly old mountain. “Are your holders in danger?”
“I wouldn’t be standing here if they were,” he replied. “There are going to be windmanes out until the storm blows itself out, but that’s common enough.”
“I see,” she said. “What arrows did you use on those windmanes?”
p. 36 “Target points, covered in a salt crystal.”
Salt was the bane of the furies of the wind and caused them immense discomfort. “Clever,” Amara said. “And effective.”
“Tavi’s idea,” Bernard said. “He came up with it years ago. Though I never had the cause to try it until this year.” He broke into a sudden grin. “The boy’s head will swell when he hears about it.”
“You miss him,” Amara said.
He nodded. “He’s got a good heart. And he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a son. So far.”
She doubted it, but there was little use in saying so. “So far,” she said, her tone neutral.
“Looking forward to Ceres,” Bernard said. “I haven’t spoken to Isana in weeks. That’s strange for me. But I suppose we’ll have time on the trip.”
Amara said nothing, and the crackling of the fire emphasized the sudden tension that built up between them.
Bernard frowned at her. “Love?”
She drew in a breath and faced him, her eyes steady on his. “She declined the First Lord’s invitation to be transported by his Knights Aeris. Politely, of course.” Amara sighed. “Aquitaine’s people are already bringing her to the conclave of the Dianic League.”
Bernard frowned down at her, but his eyes wavered away, moving to the warmth of the fire. “I see.”
“I don’t think she would have cared to keep much company with me anyway,” Amara said quietly. “She and I . . . well.”
“I know,” Bernard said, and to Amara, her husband suddenly looked years older. “I know.”
Amara shook her head. “I still don’t understand why she hates Gaius so much. It’s as though it’s personal for her.”
“Oh,” Bernard said. “It is.”
She touched his chest with the fingers of one hand. “Why?”
He shook his head. “I’m as ignorant as you are. Ever since Alia died . . .”
“Alia?”
“Younger sister,” Bernard said. “She and Isana were real close. I was off on my first tour with the Rivan Legions. We were way up by the Shieldwall,
Similar Books
