"Why?" Varg asked.
Tavi glanced back at the Cane. The question had been delivered in a neutral, almost casual tone, but Tavi sensed that there was more to it than that, in Varg's mind.
"Because it would be a waste of a life that could be better spent elsewhere," he said.
Varg looked at him steadily. "And perhaps because your people do not all enjoy killing for its own sake."
Tavi thought of Navaris's flat, reptilian eyes and suppressed a shiver. "Perhaps."
Varg's chest rumbled in a low, pensive growl. "You begin to understand us, I think, gadara. And perhaps I begin to understand you."
"That," Kitai said in an acerbic tone, "would be remarkable."
They reached Mastings in the midst of the afternoon.
The Canim, Tavi saw at once, had turned the city into a veritable fortress, with multiple ranks of earthworks and palisades surrounding a solidly crafted curtain wall, leading up to full thirty-foot siege walls around the town itself. The outermost wall was lined with both Free Aleran and Canim troops, and at the gate they were challenged by another warrior Cane. The leader of their escort went forward to speak with the sentry, and Tavi paused, looking around.
The conversation between the two Canim became animated, but no louder. The Cane at the gate beckoned an older Aleran man over, and the three of them met in a quiet conference. The man glanced at Tavi and frowned, and Aleran sentries on the wall began to gather in, overlooking the group at the gate.
"We've attracted attention," Kitai noted under her breath.
"That was the idea," Tavi replied.
Ten minutes later, no one had come to speak to them, but a runner had been dispatched toward the city, and a rider had left the gates, riding hard toward the north.
Another half hour passed before a group of horsemen emerged from Mast-ings and made their way through the extra defensive walls until they finally reached the outermost wall. As they did, Tavi squinted at the outer wall, then at all the positions on the inner wall, where thousands of uniformed figures stood on guard.
"Kitai," Tavi breathed quietly. "Look at the guards on the second wall, and farther in, and tell me what you see."
Kitai frowned at them for a silent moment, and then spoke suddenly. "They aren't moving. At all."
"They're scarecrows," Tavi said quietly. "Imitations. Only the guards on the outer wall are real."
"Why?" Kitai breathed.
"To put the Legions off their guard," Tavi said quietly- "The scouts would never have gotten this close to the city, to see through it. They'd report back that the city was heavily occupied, and the Legions would count on twenty thousand troops at least being behind the city walls. Under observation. Safely located. Then Nasaug could bring the actual troops in unexpectedly.'
"Nasaug is not planning on fighting a siege, as we thought," Kitai said.
"No. He met us in the field, probably before we could dig in." Tavi shook his head. "Crows, he's good."
Varg growled thoughtfully. "You beat him at ludus?"
Tavi glanced back over his shoulder at Varg. "During a truce to allow him to recover the bodies of his warriors. His game on the skyboard isn't as strong as it could be, and he underestimated me."
"Understandable," Kitai noted. She glanced at Varg. "I was also unimpressed with the Aleran on our first meeting."
Varg glanced at Kitai, and his jaws parted briefly in amusement, his ears quivering in a motion Tavi had never seen in a Cane before.
They fell silent as a group of mounted horsemen approached from the gates of Mastings, riding swiftly. The horses pulled up to a halt only a few feet away from them, and the officer who led the group, presumably a Tribune, judging by his more modern and well-fitting armor, flung himself from his horse, his face already scarlet with rage.
"What have we here?" he demanded. "Some of the scum at last?" He whirled on a man in a centurion's crested helmet and stabbed an accusing finger at the ground directly before Tavi. "Centurion. I want the gallows constructed right here."
Tavi narrowed his eyes, and he traded a glance with Kitai.
The centurion banged his fist to his chest and began giving orders to the Free Aleran riders. The legionares began hurrying about at once, and someone returned with rough lumber within a moment.
Their Cane escort let out a rumbling growl in his throat, watching the angry Tribune with narrowed eyes, but he did not move or speak. Tavi waited a moment before it occurred to him that he was in the same situation with the young warrior Cane as he was with Varg. He'd declared himself the Cane's superior, and any responsibility for acting in a dispute belonged to him.
He nudged his horse forward a few steps, and said, "Excuse me, Tribune. Might I ask what you think you're doing?"
The red-faced Tribune whirled on Tavi in a fury, one hand on his sword. "Centurion!" he bellowed.
"Sir?"
"The next time the condemned speak, you will carry out their executions at once!"
"Sir!"
Tavi met the Tribune's hard eyes for a long moment, but he didn't speak. He glanced aside at Kitai. The Marat girl's expression didn't change, but she shifted position on the driver's bench of the wagon, and reached back to adjust the unconscious Ehren's clothing. Tavi never saw any indication of it, but he was sure she had palmed one of the many knives Ehren habitually secreted about his person.
From the set of his ears, Varg took note of it. He glanced up at the young Cane, whose ears suddenly flattened to his skull.
Tavi suppressed a grimace. If it came to a fight, they'd have no chance, not even if the young warrior and his entire patrol joined in. There were simply too many of the Free Aleran legionares about, and in any normal Aleran Legion, the orders of a Tribune would draw immediate support from every legionare and centurion in sight.
Another rider came galloping up from the city, kicking his horse the entire way, and when the beast arrived it was in a near frenzy. It screamed and reared, hooves lashing, and the rider dropped off, threw off his helmet, and drew his gladius from his belt.
Tavi recognized him immediately, though the last time he had seen Durias, his features hadn't been mottled with rage.
Something was happening here, something more than merely tension during a time of war. There was far too much emotion in the reaction of the Free Alerans, and such things didn't occur for no reason. It didn't bode well for their situation. Men in such an excited state of mind were capable of anything.
Tavi tensed, readying himself to borrow the wind and draw his sword before anyone could stop him-but Durias stalked over to the hard-eyed Tribune, and without a word, fetched him a blow to the face with the back of his empty hand.