Free Cursor's Fury by Jim Butcher

possible. And in the loudest voice manageable.”

    “That’s why you’ve been doing it to me?” Tavi asked.

    Both Max and the old Maestro grinned. “The First Lord didn’t want you to miss out on too much of the experience,” Magnus said.

    “Oh,” Tavi said. “I’ll be sure to thank him.”

    “Right, then,” Magnus said. “Let’s see if you remember what I’ve been teaching you while we ride.”

    Tavi grunted and finished off the last of his food. The practice, the pain, and the crafting had left him exhausted. If it had been up to him, he would have simply lain down right where he was and slept—which had doubtless been intentional on behalf of Max and Magnus. “I’m ready when you are.” He sighed.

    “Very well,” Magnus said. “To begin, why don’t you tell me all the regulations regarding latrines and sanitation, and enumerate the discipline for failure to meet the regulations’ requirements.”

    p. 44 Tavi immediately started repeating the relevant regulations, though so many of them had been crowded into his brain over the past three weeks that it was a challenge to bring them up, tired as he was. From sanitation procedure, Magnus moved on to logistics, procedures for making and breaking camp, watch schedules, patrol patterns, and another hundred facets of Legion life Tavi had to remember.

    He forced his brain to provide facts until weariness was interrupting every sentence with a yawn before Magnus finally said, “Enough, lad, enough. Get some sleep.”

    Max had collapsed into lusty snoring an hour before. Tavi sought his bedroll and dropped onto it. He propped his arm up on the leather training helmet as an afterthought. “Think I’m ready?”

    Magnus tilted his head thoughtfully and sipped at his cup of tea. “You’re a quick study. You’ve worked hard to learn the part. But that hardly matters, does it.” He glanced aside at Tavi. “Do you think you’re ready?”

    Tavi closed his eyes. “I’ll manage. At least until something beyond my control goes horribly wrong and kills us all.”

    “Good lad,” Magnus said, with a chuckle. “Spoken like a legionare. But bear something in mind, Tavi.”

    “Hmmm?”

    “Right now, you’re pretending to be a soldier,” the old man said. “But this assignment is going to last a while. By the time it’s over, it won’t be an act.”

    Tavi blinked his eyes open to stare up at the sea of stars now emerging overhead. “Did you ever have a bad feeling about something? Like you knew something bad was about to happen?”

    “Sometimes. Usually set off by a bad dream, or for no reason at all.”

    Tavi shook his head. “No. This isn’t like those times.” He frowned up at the stars. “I know. I know it like I know that water’s wet. That two and two is four. There’s no malice or fear attached to it. It just is.” He squinted at the Maestro. “Did you ever feel like that?”

    Magnus was silent for a long moment, regarding the fire with calculating eyes, his metal cup hiding most of his expression. “No,” he said finally. “But I know a man who has a time or two.”

    When he said nothing more, Tavi asked, “What if there’s fighting, Maestro?”

    “What if there is?” Magnus asked.

    “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

    p. 45 “No one is,” the Maestro said. “Not really. Old salts strut and brag about being bored in most battles, but every time it’s just as frightening as your first. You’ll fit right in, lad.”

    “That’s not something I’ve had much practice in,” Tavi said.

    “I suppose not,” Magnus said. He shook his head and took his eyes from the fire. “Best I rest these old bones. Best you do the same, lad. Tomorrow you join the Legions.”

     

     

    Chapter 4

     

     

    They rode into the First Aleran Legion’s training camp in the middle of the afternoon. Tavi idly picked a few loose black curls from his collar, rubbed his hand over the stiff brush of short hairs left on his head,