Furies of Calderon (Codex Alera, #1)

by Jim Butcher

Isana glanced at the girl, eyeing her up and down, before she reached for the poker and thrust it back into the oven, into the coals where one of two tiny fire furies that regulated the oven wasn’t doing its job. She raked the poker through them, stirring them, and saw the flames dance and quiver a bit more as the sleepy fury within stirred to greater life.

Tension gathers in one place. The furies of earth and air and wood whisper everywhere that something dangerous is abroad and that the peace our land has enjoyed these past fifteen years nears its end. Metal furies hone the edges of swords and startle smiths at the forge. The rivers and the rains wait for when they shall run red with blood. And fire itself burns green of a night, or blue, rather than in scarlet and gold. Change is coming.”

He broke it off and, as the others turned to watch him, put his knife away, took the heavy branch in both hands, and, from out of the lamed Marat’s knife reach, methodically clubbed him to death. “That’s one way to do it,” Aldrick commented. “If you don’t mind spattering blood everywhere.” Fidelias tossed the branch down to one side. “You got blood everywhere,” he pointed out. Aldrick walked back to the clearing’s center. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to fastidiously clean his blade. “But mine’s in a pattern. It’s aesthetically pleasing. You should have had me do it for you.” “Dead’s dead,” Fidelias said. “I can do my own chores.”

I’d promised her.” “Ah,” said the slave, but her expression remained dubious. Tavi felt his cheeks color again, and he looked down. “All right,” he sighed. “She kissed me, and my brains melted and dribbled out my ears.” “Now that I can believe,” Amara said.

She said, quietly, “I know. What I’m asking you is terrible.” “No,” he said. “No. It’s duty. I’ll help you.”

“I wanted to speak with you, Tavi. It would seem that I am in your debt.” Tavi swallowed. “I was just trying to get my sheep home, sir. That’s all I meant to happen, I mean. After that, everything just sort of . . .” “Got complicated?” Gaius suggested. Tavi flushed and nodded. “Exactly.”

“I only helped, sire,” Bernard said. “I did what anyone would have.” “You did what anyone should have,” Gaius said. “There is a difference. A broad difference.