Furies of Calderon by Jim Butcher Read Free Book Online Page B

glass button from it and dropped it over the side of the footbridge and into the brook. “Rill,” he said firmly. “I need to speak to Isana, please.”

    They waited there on the bridge for several moments before the sounds of the brook began to change. A column of water rose straight up out of the brook, taking on human form as it did so, until it had formed into a liquid sculpture of Tavi’s aunt, Isana, a woman with the youthful form and features of a strong water-crafter, but the bearing and voice of a mature adult.

    The sculpture peered around, eventually focusing on Bernard and Tavi. “Good morning, Bernard, Tavi.” Her voice sounded tinny, as if it had come down to them through a long tube.

    “Aunt Isana,” Tavi said, bowing his head politely.

    “Sis,” Bernard drawled. “We just ran into Kord and his sons. They were waiting around in the brush near the north bridge.”

    Isana shook her head. “The fool can’t be serious.”

    “I think he was,” Bernard said. “I think he knows that with what Bittan did, Gram will get him this time.”

    Isana’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I doubt having a woman appointed the truth-finder for this crime has pleased him, either.”

    Bernard nodded. “You might want to make sure someone is close, just in case. They’re coming down the lane to you now.”

    Isana’s image in the water frowned. “When will you return?”

    “Before noon, with luck. Before dinner, otherwise.”

    “Try to hurry. I’ll keep things civil for as long as I can, but I’m not sure anyone but you can make Kord back down without shedding blood.”

    “I will. Be careful.”

    Isana nodded. “And you. Old Bitte says that Garados and his wife are brewing up a storm for us, by nightfall at the latest.”

    Tavi shot an uneasy glance to the northeast, where the towering mountain of Garados sat glowering down at the inhabitants of the Calderon Valley. Its upper slopes were already growing white with ice, and clouds obscured the topmost peaks, where the hostile fury of the towering mountain conspired with Lilvia, the fury of the cold gales blowing over the great Sea of Ice to the north. They would gather in clouds like herds of cattle, feed them to anger on the day’s light, and drive them down over the inhabitants of the valley in a fury-storm as the sun set.

    “We’ll be back long before then,” Bernard assured her.

    “Good. Oh, Tavi?”

    “Yes, Aunt Isana?”

    “Do you have any idea where Beritte would have acquired a fresh garland of hollybells?”

    Tavi shot his uncle a guilty glance and blushed. “I guess she must have found them somewhere.”

    “I see. She isn’t yet of marrying age, she’s too irresponsible to care for a child, and she certainly is too young to wear hollybells. Do you think she’ll be finding any more?”

    “No, ma am.”

    “Excellent,” Isana said rather crisply. “We’ll discuss the matter when you return.”

    Tavi winced.

    Bernard held on to his chuckle until the water sculpture had lowered itself back into the brook, the contact with Isana ending as it did. “No girl, eh? I thought Fred was the one walking out with Beritte.”

    “He is,” Tavi sighed. “She’s probably wearing them for him. But she asked me to get them for her and… well it seemed a lot more important at the time.”

    Bernard nodded. “There’s no shame in making a mistake, Tavi—provided you learn from it. I think you’d be smart to think of this as a lesson in priorities. So?”

    Tavi frowned. “So what?”

    Bernard kept smiling. “What have you learned this morning?”

    Tavi glowered at the ground. “That women are trouble, sir.”

    Bernard’s mouth opened in a sudden, merry roar of laughter. Tavi looked up at his uncle, and cast him a hopeful grin. Bernard’s eyes shone with merriment. “Oh, lad. That’s about half of the truth.”

    “What’s the other half?”

    “You want them, anyway,” Bernard said. He shook his head, the