helm were both dented and scratched in too many places to count. The right arm of his tunic was soaked in blood to the elbow, and his hand rested on the hilt of his gladius. His hair was Legion-cropped, greying, and he smelled of sweat and rust and blood. He was not a particularly large man, and he had plain features that gave Isana an immediate sense of fidelity and loyalty. He moved with a detectable limp as he stepped into the room, but though he spoke to Isana and Giraldi, his eyes were on the man in the healing tub.
"Cereus played the wounded bird and lured them in. They came in to take him down, and I was hiding in the rafters. I hit the boy from behind and wounded him badly enough to make Kalarus panic and pull him out."
"Captain," Giraldi said with a nod. "I heard Kalarus tried to roast you for it, sir."
Miles shrugged. "I wasn't in the mood for roast. I ran away." He nodded to Isana. "Steadholder. Do you know who I am?"
Isana glanced at Fade and back to Miles. They were brothers, though Miles, like the rest of Alera, had thought Araris dead for nearly twenty years. "I know you," she said quietly.
"I would ask a favor of you." He glanced at Giraldi, including him in the sentiment. "A few private moments of your time, Steadholder?"
"She's working," Giraldi said, and though his tone was not disrespectful, neither was it prepared to compromise. "She doesn't need any distractions."
Miles hovered for a moment, as though uncertain of which way to move. Then he said, "I spoke to Lady Veradis. She said that there might not be much more time."
Isana glanced away. Despair washed through her for a moment, her weariness lending it tremendous potency. She pushed the tide of it away, then said, "It's all right Giraldi."
The centurion grunted. Then he nodded to Isana and limped to the door on his cane. "A moment," he said to Miles. "I'll hold you to it, sir."
Miles nodded, and waited for Giraldi to depart the room. Then he went to Fade's side, knelt, and laid a hand on the unconscious slave's head. "He's on fire," Miles said quietly.
"I know," Isana replied. "I'm doing all that I can."
"I should have come sooner," Miles said, his voice bitter. "Should have been here every day."
From outside, there came the loud, hollow cough of thunder that accompanied a firecrafter's assault, when fire would suddenly blossom from nothing into a white-hot sphere. The fire-thunder was answered, seconds later, by an almost-continuous rumbling from the glowering storm.
"You've been somewhat busy," Isana said, tired amusement in her voice.
Miles shook his head. "It wasn't that. It was..." He frowned. "My big brother. He always won. He's been in fights that should have killed him time and time again. And even when he did die, he managed to come back. It may have taken him twenty years, but he did it." Miles shook his head. "Invincible. Maybe part of me didn't want to admit that he might not be. That I might..
Lose him, Isana thought, finishing his thought.
"Can he hear me?" Miles asked.
Isana shook her head. "I don't know. He's been in and out of consciousness, but he's grown more incoherent each day."
Miles bit his lip and nodded, and Isana felt the depth of his grief, pain, and regret. He looked up at her, his eyes frightened, almost like a child's. "Is what Veradis said true?" he asked. "Is he going to die?"
Isana knew what Miles wanted to hear. His emotions and his eyes were begging her for hope.
She met Miles's eyes, and said quietly, "Probably. But I'm not going to give up on him."
Miles blinked his eyes several times and moved his right hand as though brushing sweat from his forehead. It left his face smeared with thin streaks of the blood on his sleeve. "All right," he said quietly. Then he leaned down closer to Fade. "Rari. It's Miles. I'm..." He bowed his head, at a loss for words. "I'm here, Rari. I'm here."
He looked up at Isana. "Is there anything I can do help you?"
Isana shook her head. "He's... he's very tired. And very sick. And he isn't fighting it. He isn't trying to recover."
Miles frowned. "That doesn't sound like him. Why not?"
Isana let out a sigh. "I don't know. He's only been lucid enough to speak for a few moments. And even then, he wasn't making much sense. Guilt, perhaps. Or perhaps he's