Tavi chuckled despite himself. "Aye, sire." He straightened. "What are my orders?"
"We still need to see to your military training," the First Lord mused, "but none of the Legions I prefer are due to begin a training cycle until next year." Gaius drew a leather letter case from within his tunic and tossed it to Tavi. "You'll need something to fill your time. So you're going on a trip."
Tavi frowned down at the case. "Where?"
"The Vale," Gaius replied. "To the ruins of Appia, to be precise, to study with Maestro Magnus."
Tavi blinked and stared. "What?"
"You've finished your second term as an academ, and great furies only know what you might find to amuse yourself if left to your own devices here. I read your paper on the Romanic Arts. So did Magnus. He needs a research assistant," Gaius said. "I suggested you, and he jumped at the chance to have you for six months."
Tavi gaped. "But... sire, my duties..."
Gaius shook his head and said, "Believe me, I'm not handing you a gift, Tavi. I may need you in position there, depending on how matters fall out. Unless, of course, you do not wish to go."
Tavi felt his mouth curve into a slow, disbelieving smile. "No, sire! I mean, uh, yes, sire! I'd be honored."
"Excellent," Gaius said. "Then pack to leave before dawn. And ask Gaele to deliver those letters for you."
Tavi drew in a sharp breath. Gaele, a student and classmate of Tavi's, had never really been Gaele. The true student had been murdered, doubled, and coldly replaced before Tavi had the chance to get to know the real Gaele. The spy who had done it, a Kalaran Bloodcrow called Rook, had been Tavi's friend for two years before he'd discovered her murderous true identity.
Instead of turning her in, though, Gaius had decided to allow her to remain in her role, in order to use her to feed disinformation to her master. "You think she'll pass this to Kalare?"
"This? Absolutely," Gaius said.
"May I ask...?" Tavi said.
Gaius smiled. "The envelope contains routine mail and one letter to Aquitaine, informing him of my intention to adopt him legally and appoint him my heir."
Tavi's eyebrows shot up. "If Kalare gets wind of that, and believes it, you think it will push him to act before Aquitaine solidifies his claim to the throne."
"He'll react," Gaius agreed. "But I'm not certain as to the manner of his reaction. He's slightly mad, and it makes him difficult to predict. Which is why I want as many eyes and ears as I can spare in the south. Make sure you keep my coin with you at all times."
"I understand, sire," Tavi said, touching the old silver bull hung on the chain around his neck. He paused as a bitter taste of memory poisoned his mouth. "And Gaele?"
"Should this succeed, she will have outlived her usefulness to the Crown," Gaius said in a voice as quiet and hard as stone.
"Yes, sire," Tavi said, bowing. "What about Fade, sire?"
Gaius's expression darkened an almost-imperceptible shade. "What about him?"
"He's been with me since... since I can remember. I assumed that..."
"No," Gaius said in a tone that brooked no dissent. "I have work for Fade to do as well."
Tavi met Gaius's uncompromising eyes for a long and silent moment. Then he nodded slightly in acquiescence. "Yes, sire."
"Then let's waste no more time." Gaius rose. "Oh," he said in a tone of afterthought. "Are you by any chance sleeping with the Marat Ambassador, Tavi?"
Tavi felt his mouth drop open again. His cheeks heated up so much that he thought they might actually, literally, burst into flame. "Urn, sire..."
"You understand the consequences, I assume. Neither of you has furycraft that would prevent conception. And believe me when I say that paternity complicates one's life immensely."
Tavi wished desperately that the earth would open up, swallow him whole, and smash him into a parchment-thick blob. "We, uh. We aren't doing that," Tavi said. "There are, uh, well, other. Things. That aren't..."
Gaius's eyes sparkled. "Intercourse?"
Tavi put a hand over his face, mortified. "Oh, bloody crows. Yes, sire."
Gaius let out a rolling laugh. "I dimly remember the concept," he said. "And since young people always have done and always will do a poor job of restraining themselves, at best, I suppose I must be satisfied with your, ah, alternate activities." The smile faded. "But bear in mind, Tavi. She's not human. She's Marat. Enjoy yourself if you must-but I would advise you not to become too deeply attached to her. Your duties will only become more demanding."
Tavi chewed on his lip and looked down. In his excitement, he had overlooked the fact that if he was sent away, he would not see Kitai for half of a year. He didn't like that notion. Not at all. They found time to spend together on most days. And most nights.
Tavi felt his blush rising again, just thinking of it. But he felt faintly surprised at how much he disliked the idea of being parted from Kitai-and not just because it would mean a severe curtailing of his, ah, alternate activities. Kitai was a beautiful and fascinating young woman-clever of wit, quick of tongue, honest, loyal, fierce, and with a sense of innate empathy that Tavi had only seen previously in watercrafters like his aunt, Isana.
She was his friend. More than that, though, he was attached to Kitai by an unseen bond, some kind of link between them that each Marat shared with a totem creature. Every Marat Tavi had ever seen had been in the company of their totems, what Kitai called a chala. Her father, Doroga, the head of the Gargant Clan, was never to be seen outside the company of the enormous black gargant named Walker. He could count the number of times he'd seen Hashat, head of the Horse Clan, walking on her own feet with one hand.
Tavi nursed a secret concern that if he was separated from Kitai, it might put some kind of strain upon her, or harm her in some way. And after this visit to the south, he would be entering into his required three-year term with the Legions, which could take him to the far-flung reaches of the Realm-and which would certainly not be near Alera Imperia and Kitai, her people's ambassador to the Crown.
Three years. And after that, there would be another assignment. And another. Cursors in service to the Crown rarely spent much time in one place.
He already missed her. Worse, he hadn't told Gaius about the bond and what he feared it might do to Kitai. He had never explained his suspicions about the bond to the First Lord. Beyond a formless anxiety about the notion, he had no sharply defined reason why-but his instincts told him that he should be very wary about revealing anything Gaius might see as an ability to influence or manipulate one of his Cursors. Tavi had grown up on the frontiers of the Realm, dangerous lands where he'd spent most of his life learning to listen to his instincts.