Page 68 of Scorched Earth

The Senate would hang him for this, of that there was no question. But Teriana would be free. Her people would be free. And if all worked as he intended, it would aid those allied with his sister and her husband who were trying to wrest power from Cassius, because the voting citizens would not support a consul behind such a costly failed campaign.

Marcus stared at the wall, allowing himself a moment to imagine Felix receiving a message from a newly elected consul ordering the legions to withdraw to Celendor once summer arrived in Sibern. Not quite the dream he’d hoped for but better than the alternative.

Yet he still needed to plan for the alternative, because it was not lost on him that everything hinged on Kaira agreeing to his scheme. Her willingness to set aside the not-undeserved prejudices against his character that the Maarin would have revealed to her. Her willingness to risk Gamdesh for the sake of five hundred souls. It was a roll of the dice that he desperately hoped would work, but he’d not gotten this far in life by not planning for failure.

And planning for that failure necessitated communication with the Empire.

It had to be done. Not only because he needed Wex for his contingency plans to work, but because if he didn’t send communication soon, Cassius would only send someone capable of forcing the issue through the Bardeen stem. The Empire had its claws dug into the Southern Continent, and pretending otherwise would do no one any favors. Picking up his pen and dipping it into the ink, Marcus drew a fresh piece of paper in front of him and began to write an update. He then moved on to a directive of specific instructions for Wex toundertake in relation to the potential stems in Gamdesh, the Commandant the only one he trusted to correctly execute the work.

When he’d finished, Marcus retrieved wax wrapping, which he used to carefully protect the letter from the water it would be immersed in, along with a water-tight box painted brilliant red that would bring the missive to the surface of the lake. Strategies taught to all legions, for termini were often located beneath water. Then he sat staring into space, his head throbbing, each pulse sayingsix months.

“It’s time enough,” he muttered. “Kaira’s reputation is good. She’ll agree to this for the sake of the Maarin, if nothing else.”

The “nothing else” being the thing he did far better than diplomacy.

Picking up the letter to Kaira, he considered how best to deliver it to her knowing that it would surely be read by any messenger.

She spies on our camp regularly, and her eyesight is keen.

The room swam as Marcus stood, forcing him to grip the table until he could see straight.

You just need sleep.

Marcus packaged the letter with wax wrapping then tucked it into his belt pouch before picking up the box containing the message to Wex. Leaving the command room, he handed the box to one of the guards. “This needs to be delivered through the stem mapped to Atlia. Extra security to ensure no interference.”

“Yes, sir.”

Continuing on through the fortress with Gibzen and the rest of his guard at his heel, Marcus left the building, ignoring the vertigo that joined his headache as he descended the steps. The camp was quiet, only a few men sitting around fires, the Fifty-First all abed as per the curfew imposed upon the younger legion if they weren’t on duty. Striding through the camp, he ascended the wall that encircled it, the guards on duty saluting at the sight of him.

Approaching the centurion, he said, “I understand that we are under watch by a rather large bird. How often does she circle overhead?”

The man scowled. “Astara, you mean? She’s here tonight.” He gestured to his shoulder, which had residue of what Marcus strongly suspected was hawk shit on his armor.

“Perfect.” Marcus took the loaded crossbow that the centurion had resting against his shoulder. “I need to borrow this.”

“She keeps well out of range, if you’re of a mind to shoot her.”

“I intend to use her as my messenger.” Rain fell from the cloudyskies, moon and stars obscured. Cognizant that hawks were daytime hunters and that her vision in the dark was likely little better than his own, he cleared his throat and then shouted in Gamdeshian, “Astara, are you with us tonight? I’ve a message for your general!”

A shrill shriek filled the air, the volume speaking to the size of the bird above, which was likely more than capable of killing an armored man. Ignoring the faint thrill of fear that thrummed through his veins, Marcus extracted the letter and fastened it securely to the crossbow bolt. He could feel the curious eyes of all the men on duty, along with those in the camp who were awake to hear him shouting at the sky.

“She might not catch it just to piss you off, sir,” the centurion said. “That’s her personality.”

Marcus shrugged. “Then I’ll send it by ship, and she can explain to Kaira why it took ten times as long to reach them. Her choice.”

Wings flapped high above, and holding the crossbow so that it was pointed at the sky with a trajectory that wouldn’t see it coming down on their heads if Astara proved difficult, Marcus released the bolt. Then held his breath, sucking in air only when his ears caught the crackle of claws catching wax wrapping, the hawk shrieking to indicate success. Only, rather than heading north, she continued to circle above.

Watching.

“I want a report on all her habits,” Marcus murmured. “Daily logs of sightings by every centurion. I want to know how fast that woman can fly.”

“I’ll spread the word, sir.”

A sudden wave of exhaustion rolled over him, along with the need to close his eyes and escape from everything for a few hours.

“I’m done here,” he said to Gibzen, blindly following the primus as he led Marcus down from the wall and through the camp. He barely saw the men saluting him as he passed, his attention so fractured that he nearly walked into Gibzen’s back when the other man abruptly stopped.

“Move!” the primus snarled, and Marcus stepped sideways to find that Gibzen was facing off with Quintus and Teriana.