Tavi nodded and sank back down onto the bunk. “I can’t explain it to you, Tribune. Not yet. I need you to trust me. Please.”

Foss’s face sobered even more. He frowned, and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you,” Tavi said quietly. “Are you finished with me?”

Foss nodded and seemed to gather himself, focusing on his job. His voice reclaimed its confidence and strength as he did. “I cleaned the wound and closed it. You’ll need to drink plenty of water and get plenty of food. Red meat is best. Get a good night’s rest. And I’d rather see you on a wagon than a horse tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Tavi said.

“Sir,” Foss said, “this time you need to trust me.”

Tavi eyed him and found himself smiling. He waved a hand. “All right, all right. If it will stop you from nagging. Done.”

Foss grunted in satisfaction, saluted, and departed the tent.

“Crassus,” Tavi said, “we’re near enemy territory. Make sure the earth furies have been positioned to spot any takers. And get those Canim pickets out as far as you can. Their night vision is invaluable right now.”

“I know,” Crassus said. “I know, Captain. Get some rest. We’ll make sure we survive until morning.”

Tavi started to give Crassus another string of warnings and instructions but forced himself to close his mouth. He was tired enough to make it remarkably easy. He and Max and the rest of the Legion would do their jobs properly even without Tavi telling them all how to do it. After all, what was the point in all that training and discipline if they didn’t get the chance to display their capability once in a while?

He sighed, and said, “Fine, fine. I can take the hint. Make sure I’m awake by first light.”

Max and Crassus both saluted and departed the tent.

Tavi sat up enough to drain the large mug of cold water from the stand beside the cot, but the thought of eating the meal beside it was revolting. He settled back down again and closed his eyes. A moment’s concentration, and he drew together a windcrafting to ensure private conversation. Steady rain drummed on the tent’s canvas roof. “How much of this is the loss of blood?” he asked the empty tent. “And how much of it is the result of holding that weathercrafting?”

One moment the tent was empty, and in the next Alera stood over the sand table at its center post. She chuckled warmly. “It took Sextus more than a year to be able to recognize my presence. How is it that you have learned the trick of it so quickly?”

“I’ve spent most of my life without any furycraft to help me,” Tavi said. “Perhaps that’s had something to do with it.”

“Almost certainly,” Alera said. “Very few of your people realize how much furycraft happens without their knowledge.”