The Strength of the Few by James Islington - 14

MY FORMER LIFE IN LETENS feels impossibly distant, here in Caten. Ulciscor’s appearance in it an eon ago rather than the year and a half it’s actually been. But as I deposit my imbued access seal through the outer chute of East Caten Prison, then exchange pale blue sky for the gloom of its guard room—so similar to the one in which I spent hours with old, grizzled Hrolf—it all comes flooding back. The featureless stone walls. The grim quiet. The secondary locked door that I know leads down into a pit of human misery that too few in the Hierarchy truly know about, and too many experience for themselves.

“Charming,” murmurs Relucia too loudly as she walks in beside me. Ulciscor’s dark-haired wife adjusts her blue silk stola, looking entirely out of place. Just the right amount of displeased and uncomfortable for a snobbish patrician, though I have no doubt she somehow orchestrated Ulciscor’s message for me to meet her here this morning. At least, with me restricted to Governance-guarded quarters since being whisked away from the Aurora Columnae, this is the first time I’ve had to worry about her in almost a week.

One of the two guards rises. A woman approaching forty, lanky and lean. A veteran, I’d say, from the hardness in her eyes and the stiff-but-assured movements that speak of an old injury. I wonder what mistake she made, getting assigned a job like this.

“Who are you here to…” The dusty-blonde woman trails off as she sees the space where my arm should be, previously hidden by my cloak. Stops. “You’re Catenicus.”

“And this is my mother, Sextus Relucia Telimus. As our paperwork says.” I take the lead, Relucia content to stand in the background and smile blithely. My calm response belying the enormous capital Ulciscor must surely have expended to get us this access, and keep it quiet. “I assume everything is in order, Septimus?”

The guard’s mouth twists and she exchanges a look with her counterpart before checking our documents more thoroughly, but they’re impeccable and the access seal impossible to argue with. “My apologies, Catenicus. Who are you here to see?” She knows the answer already.

“Lanistia Scipio.”

“North 122. First floor.” Doesn’t need to check her logs. “Marcus will show you the way.”

“That won’t be necessary. My mother will accompany me as a Military observer. We’re only here to talk,” I add sincerely.

The guard’s frown says she doesn’t believe me. Why would she? The rumours are already flooding Caten. Lanistia, the woman who tried to assassinate me. A Military Sextus aiming to kill the Domitor of the Academy after he defected to Governance. No matter that it was extraordinarily public. No matter that it made no sense to do it that way, if that was her intent. No matter that I have already emphasised to everyone who will listen that I don’t believe it was anything to do with politics. The tension between the three senatorial factions in the city was already thick. Now it is close to exploding.

But the guard is just a guard, too. A Septimus who knows she doesn’t have the means or authority to stop Relucia, even if she thought she could stop me. “The way is signposted. Please knock when you return.” She unlocks the inner door.

I take the lantern she offers, and we start down the stairwell.

“Well that was easy.” Relucia loses her vacuous demeanour the moment the door closes behind us. It’s frightening how quickly she can turn it on and off. “Familiar surrounds, Diago?”

I don’t respond. The name sending a shiver of panic through me, utterly alone in here though we are. She’s right, though. My past echoes off these walls.

Seeing she’s not going to get a rise out of me, the young woman smiles. “Come, now. Don’t be so taciturn; I’ve been dying to talk to you since the Aurora Columnae. Any idea why Lanistia attacked you like that?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I did.” I glance at her. “Do you?” A suspicion I couldn’t help but have, given the consequences, however unlikely Anguis involvement seemed.

“No.”

I nod, careful to keep my expression smooth. I told Lanistia and Ulciscor all about the Labyrinth on the way to the Aurora Columnae, including what the dead men and women kept telling me as they chased me from it. Complete the journey, warrior . Relucia, as far as I know, is unaware of that part of my time in the Iudicium. I want to keep it that way. “Is that why you convinced Ulciscor to send you?”

“It didn’t take much convincing. People are already angry about her not being in a Sapper; if he comes to visit, it looks even more like she’s getting preferential treatment. No. I’ll admit to some curiosity, but the fact is, this might be the only opportunity we have to speak for a while.”

No surprise there. Relucia showing up at the Aurora Columnae meant she wanted to make contact, and Governance’s protectiveness since has made private meetings a lot harder. “How upsetting. What do you need me to do?”

Relucia rolls her eyes. “Not me; I’m needed elsewhere for a while. Someone else from the Anguis will be in contact. Tall man. Thin. He has a scar along here.” She traces a line with her finger from her forehead to her chin.

I trail my fingers along the damp stone wall. “So you’ve come out of your way to tell me that someone else will be telling me what to do?” I’m playing for time; I recognise the description immediately. I saw him with Relucia at the Festival of Pletuna, spoke to him at the Iudicium. He’s the one who’s able to somehow transport himself through space.

“Despite how naturally trusting I know you to be? Yes.”

It’s a fair point; without her description, I could use suspicion of another Anguis contact approaching me as an excuse not to obey. Still. There’s something about the way she says it. Something about the way she’s looking ahead, not paying attention to my reaction.

“What is he going to ask me to do?”

“I don’t know. That’s why he’s doing the asking.” It might be that I’m looking for it now, but just enough indifference to her tone that it feels a veneer. A pause, and then she adds, “Though he did say that he needed it to be you.”

There it is. Delivered casually, but this has to be why she’s really here. The man from the Iudicium did seem out of step with the Anguis despite what he was doing, dismissive of them and all too happy to reveal their plan to me. She’s trying to figure out what he wants from me.

“Well. As long as he doesn’t need me to vanish and reappear the way he does, I suppose that will be fine.”

The slightest twitch in Relucia’s step. “So you’ve met.”

“He spoke to me during the Iudicium.” I give an uncomfortable shrug. “He said not to say anything,” I lie, “but he didn’t exactly come across as Anguis.”

“Oh?”

“He called you his ‘little revolutionary.’ Said you just did what you were told and that you ‘dreamed too small.’ ”

Relucia snorts. “Don’t play games, Diago. It will not end well.”

“I’m not. Look—I don’t like my situation, but you surely have to see that I’ve accepted it. I did what you wanted. Won the Iudicium. Abandoned Military and chose a position in Caten, though I could have gone to Jatiere like I wanted. My fate and the Anguis’s are intertwined now. So I’m telling you this because there’s no gods-damned point in holding it back, and I’m worried this man you want me to listen to is doing his own thing.” Quiet and quick. Trying to convey both earnestness and urgency. “He told me the whole plan, you know. Leave one of your own to be caught after the attack, so that they could imply Hierarchy involvement. Sow more dissent within the Senate by making it clear that someone was trying to strip Religion of their control of the Academy. But he made it sound like the whole thing was a game to him. Like some sort of sideshow for his amusement.”

The curly-haired young woman says nothing for a few seconds, leaving only faint dripping sounds and the echo of our footsteps.

“That is good to know,” she says eventually. A hardness to her that I’m not sure whether comes from her doubting my words, or the man we’re talking about. “But let me be clear, Diago. He is working with the Anguis, and he is doing what we need him to. Anything he asks of you, I am asking of you.”

“Understood.” Not quite obedience, but no effort to push further. Best to just scatter the seeds, for now, and see what grows.

We’ve reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs. The layout here is marginally different to Letens Prison, but it’s all familiar enough. The stench of the Sappers in the Eastern block—those in temporary storage of less than a month, not the Deep Cells—hits like a physical wall as we emerge into grim passageways. Relucia noticeably falters, her eyes lingering on the darkness to the right before we forge straight ahead, our lighting now supplemented by occasional flickering torches. The air clears as we move farther in, fading to just unpleasantly musty with faint threads of smoke. Only holding cells, in this quarter.

It’s still dim down here and our lantern-light does little to brighten the insides of the cells; there’s occasional shifting and scraping as our passing causes someone to stir, but for the most part the prisoners keep to themselves. They know that poor behaviour is only likely to increase their chances of being moved somewhere worse.

We reach Cell 122. Like the others, the torchlight in the corridor outside does little to illuminate its interior.

“Lanistia?” I call her name cautiously, raise the lantern a little higher. Not concerned for my safety, of course; the massive stones that comprise these cells are always pre-imbued for any prisoners who may be able to break or manipulate them. My fear is of a different kind.

I’ve been desperate to talk to Lanistia. I’m just worried, after the Aurora Columnae, that the woman I know may not be able to talk back.

“Vis.” A lack of surprise from the darkness. “You shouldn’t be here.”

My heart unclenches. “Neither should you.”

“I think we both know that’s not true.” Lanistia walks forward, into my lamplight. Her gait’s a little unsteady, one hand hovering in front of her. Dark glasses gone, revealing the scarred hollows of her eye sockets. She looks naked without them. “I suppose you want an apology.”

I wave my hand casually. “No, it’s fine! Happens to the best of us.”

Her mouth quirks at the corners, attention flinching in surprise to my left as Relucia pipes up. “Lani!” Simpering persona back on full display. “Oh, gods. It’s awful to see you in here. How are you holding up?”

“Relucia. They’re treating me well. Thank you for coming.” There’s a pause as she waits for another greeting, though she gives no sign of disappointment when there isn’t one. “Thank you both for coming.”

“Of course. Of course. But whatever were you thinking , my dear?” Blithe and straight to the point. “Everyone is wondering. Ulciscor is sure there is more to the story, and I am as well, but you must know how it looks to—”

“Relucia.” Lanistia’s tone is wryly accustomed to cutting through Relucia’s babbling; I’d probably have to hide a grin if I didn’t know it was an act. “I imagine Military have been told that Vis is here visiting me by now, so our time is short. Could I speak to him privately? There are things I would say to him alone.”

“Alone?” The perfect amount of uncertain protest from Relucia. She’s only here to deliver her message to me, but she’s undoubtedly still wondering what we have to say to each other.

“It’s fine. She’s in a cell and past the trying-to-kill-me phase, I think,” I interject. Relucia glares at me, the demand for a reversal in her eyes. “And Lanistia’s right. Those guards will have contacted their superiors as soon as we left. We don’t have time to argue.”

Curiosity battles with practicality, and there’s a twist of the lips from Relucia as the latter wins out. She had to have suspected this would happen; for all her familial ties, she’s mostly a stranger in Villa Telimus. “I understand, Lani. Be well.”

She gives me a meaningful look, and leaves the two of us alone.