Max would still be in jail, and I would be dead, and there is no time to discuss this."
Killian's face clouded with anger, but Tavi could almost see him force himself to remain calm, and ask, "And why is that?"
"Because twenty Canim are coming down the stairs to kill the First Lord," Tavi said, trying not to let the mild vindictive satisfaction he felt show in his voice. "The alarm has been raised, but they were already at the first guard station when I came down. Centurion Bartos is dead, and I don't think that they can hold them in the stairway for long."
Miles spat out a sulfurous curse and started for the doorway.
"No, Miles," Killian said.
"The men are in danger," the captain growled.
"As is the First Lord," Killian said. "We leave together. Miles, you'll lead. Tavi, get Max up. He'll be next. You and Fade put Gaius on Max's cot and carry it up."
Tavi crossed the room to his friend before Killian had finished talking, and simply picked up one edge of the cot and dumped Max onto the floor. The large young man landed on the ground with a grunt and thrashed his way to wakefulness. "Oh," he said. "It's you."
"Max, get up," Tavi said quietly. "Get a sword. There are Canim warriors coming down the stairs." He grabbed the cot and dragged it over to the bed, where Fade rose up and lifted Gaius without evident effort. The slave settled him on the cot and wound blankets around the old man. Tavi glanced up and saw that Fade wore his sword on his belt, though it was largely hidden by the fall of his long, ragged overtunic.
Max pushed himself to his feet, tugged his shirt back on, and muttered, "Where's a sword?"
"Antechamber," Killian provided. "Lower drawer of the liquor cabinet. It's Gaius's."
Max paused, and said, "If you give me a minute, I can get into costume. It might... I mean, if they're here for Gaius, and they think they get him..." He let his voice trail off.
Killian's expression was nothing but stone. He nodded, and said, "Do it."
"Right," Max said. He exchanged a look with Tavi that couldn't hide his fright, then stalked out into the antechamber.
Tavi took a moment to take a sheet from the bed and loop it around the unconscious First Lord, then tied it as tightly and securely as he could, to help hold the old man on the cot, should it tilt. "We're ready to move him," Tavi said quietly.
"Very well," Killian said. "Maximus?"
Tavi and Fade picked up the cot and carried it from the meditation chamber. There was a pause, a quiet groan, then Max, wearing Gaius's form, appeared in the doorway. He bore the First Lord's long, heavy blade naked in his hand. "Ready," he said, though his voice was still Maximus's. He frowned, coughed a couple of times, one hand touching his throat, and said, this time speaking as Gaius, "Ready. Not sure how much crafting I can do, Maestro."
"Do your best," Killian said quietly.
Kitai made a hissing sound from the stairway, her eyes focusing up the steps. Without really thinking about it, Tavi drew his knife from his belt and flipped it through the air to her. She glanced aside, caught it by the handle as it came to her, and dropped it into a low fighting grip, her eyes searching up the stairway.
Killian tilted his head to one side a second later, blind eyes narrowing. "Good ears, girl," he murmured. "Miles."
The captain slipped up to stand a few steps above Kitai and crouched down low, sword ready. Then something came around the corner, and Miles rose, blade in hand. There was a flash of steel, a ringing sound, and a panicked cry. Then Miles grunted, and said, "Prios, man, it's me. Easy, easy."
Miles came back down, half-supporting a wounded guardsman. Prios was a man of medium height and build who was better known for his sharp eyes than his sword arm. His right arm was dangling limply and covered in blood, and he had lost his helmet. A scalp wound matted his hair to his skull on the left side. He bore his sword in his left hand, and was pale.
Tavi surreptitiously drew a blanket up to conceal most of Gaius's face. There was a moment of silence, then Killian nudged Max with his elbow.
Max coughed again, and said, "Report, guardsman. What is happening?"
"They're mad," the guardsman panted. "Mad, sir. They don't bother to defend themselves. They