is here upon the Crown's business. He wishes to speak to you."
"Hah," Tavi said, and flashed Varg a smile as he lowered his hand. "Duty calls. I suppose we'll have to call this one a draw."
Varg let out another amused growl and rose as Tavi stood to face him. The Cane tilted his head slightly to one side. Tavi mimicked the gesture, though a little more deeply. "Until next week, then. Please excuse me, sir."
"Duty neither makes nor needs excuses, cub," Varg said. He flashed his fangs in another smile at the guard. The man didn't precisely flinch, but it seemed to Tavi that he had to fight not to do so.
Tavi withdrew to the barred door that faced the cell, never turning his back on Varg. He slipped through the door after the guard unlocked it, then followed him down two flights of stairs to a small, private office. It was a very plain affair, its walls lined with shelves of books, an unadorned table and chairs of gorgeously polished dark wood, a ledger desk, and a writing desk. A plain white porcelain pitcher sat on the table, beaded with droplets of water.
A small, stout, and somewhat myopic man sat in one of the chairs. He wore the red-and-blue-trimmed tunic of a senior functionary in the Citadel. The guard nodded to the man and withdrew into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.
Tavi frowned, studying the messenger. There was something familiar about him. Tavi did not recognize his face, but that meant little in the teeming mass of Alera Imperia's Citadel.
The messenger's head tilted slightly, and he remained silent.
Then Tavi grinned and swept into a formal bow. "Your Majesty."
The messenger let out a bark of a laugh, a pleased sound. As he did, his form wavered and shifted, sliding into a larger, leaner frame, until Gaius Sex-tus, First Lord of Alera and the mightiest of its furycrafters, sat before Tavi. His hair was thick, well trimmed, and silver-white, though it and the lines at the corners of his eyes were the only features about the man that made him look older than a well-preserved forty years or so. There was an aloof, wolfish quality to the way he held himself, confident in his power, his intelligence and experience. Tavi idly noted that the First Lord had evidently altered his clothing when he changed, as it still fitted him despite Gaius having added six inches of height.
"How did you know?" Gaius murmured.
Tavi frowned. "The eyes, sire," he said, finally.
"I changed them," Gaius countered.
"Not their shape or color," Tavi explained. "Just... your eyes. They were yours. I'm not sure how I knew."
"Instincts, I suppose," Gaius mused. "Though I wish it weren't. If you had some kind of innate talent we could define, perhaps we could teach your technique to the rest of the Cursors. It could prove extremely valuable."
"I'll work on it, sire," Tavi said.
"Very well," Gaius said. "I wanted to speak to you. I read your analysis of the reports you've been tracking."
Tavi blinked. "Sire? I thought those were for Captain Miles. I'm surprised they reached you."
"In general, they wouldn't. If I tried to read every paper in the Citadel, I'd be smothered within a day," Gaius said. "But Miles thought enough of your argument that he passed it on to me."
Tavi took a deep breath. "Oh."
"You make a convincing case that now is the time for action against the more ambitious High Lords."
"Sire," Tavi protested. "That wasn't necessarily my position. Miles wanted me to write in opposition to his preferred strategies. I was just advocating it to help him find weaknesses in his own planning."
"I'm aware," Gaius said. "But that makes your conclusions no less credible." He frowned, eyes on one of the plain bookcases. "I think you're right. It's time to make the High Lords dance to my tune for a change."
Tavi frowned again. "But... sire, it could escalate into a real disaster."
Gaius shook his head. "The escalation is coming regardless of what we do. Sooner or later, Kalare or Aquitaine will move on me in force. Best to move now, on my own schedule, rather than waiting for them to prepare."
"Optionally, sire," Tavi pointed out. "It could fall flat, too."
Gaius shook his head, smiling. "It won't."
"How do you know?"
The First Lord bobbed an eyebrow. "Instinct."
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