The Strength of the Few by James Islington - 15

I WAIT UNTIL RELUCIA’S LIGHT has vanished from view before turning back to Lanistia. “She’s gone.”

“Good.” She keeps her voice as low as mine. “The cells nearby are occupied, but we should be alright if we speak like this.” She sighs. Silence for a second. “Well. Here we are. I can’t see you, by the way, in case you didn’t realise.”

I’d gathered. “You gave your Septimii back their Will?”

“It was the right thing to do.” A casual shrug, as if the loss of her sight and freedom is a small thing. “So. You know it wasn’t me?”

“The weird chanting was a pretty good hint.”

Lanistia nods. Relief in the motion. “I knew what I was doing. I remember it. I just couldn’t stop.” A hard bluntness to the statement that, knowing her as I do, says she’s steeling herself against the memory. “I know you told us about what happened at the Iudicium. What the… dead bodies trying to kill you said. But it wasn’t that. I wasn’t remembering it. It was… just something I had to say. That I had to say to you.” She pauses. “Before I killed you.”

“Oh.” I don’t know how to respond to that.

“But I taught you well enough to stop that from happening, too,” she adds, straight-faced. A hint of the woman I know in the statement.

“I suppose I owe you my life, then.”

“Call it even,” she says magnanimously. Her rare flash of humour fades. “I think there was something wrong as soon as I saw you that morning. In the back of my mind. Like an itch I couldn’t scratch.” She speaks slowly, still trying to figure it out even as she says it. “I feel it now, too. Barely there. But…”

I don’t allow myself to take an uneasy step back. “But what?”

“It got worse when we got to the Forum.”

“You were acting a little strangely when we arrived. Distracted,” I agree quietly. I’ve thought about this a lot too. “But it seemed to trigger when I went up to the Aurora Columnae.”

She nods. Reluctant, but she’s reached the same conclusion. “As soon as you touched it, I wasn’t in control anymore. I wanted to stop. But there was this voice. Booming in my head. And I couldn’t ignore it.” There’s a slight tremor to her words, at that. I can only imagine the horror. “I couldn’t .”

“I believe you,” I assure her. “Any idea what could cause something like that?”

“Not any application of Will that I know of,” Lanistia agrees with my unspoken assessment. She indicates her empty eye sockets. “Based on what you told us, it has to be something to do with this. With what happened when I was at the Academy.”

Same conclusion I’d come to. The reason I’m here, and we both know it.

“I remembered something, too.” She breathes it, almost as if she can barely dare to believe it herself. “When you touched the Aurora Columnae, just before the voices started. Just a flash. That room you described in the ruins, with all the bodies? I think I went there, once. I was saying a phrase. Miseram pacem vel bello bene mutari. ”

I stare at her. “That’s Vetusian. Something like… ‘war is better than an unhappy peace’?”

The note of hope in her voice is discordant with her surrounds. “I don’t know what it means. But it’s something . I can’t find out more in here, but—”

“Of course. Of course I’ll look into it.” My mind races. “Veridius still wants to talk, I’m sure. Governance has all but banned me from leaving Caten until after Placement, but once that’s done…” To keep me safe until I’m properly situated in a pyramid, I’ve been told. As if I’m helpless without Will at my disposal. The exact day of the exam is being kept secret until just beforehand, but it’s probably still months away.

“I didn’t mean ask him directly.” A poisonous edge in the warning as she speaks of the man she holds responsible for the death of the one she loved.

“I know. But I can get myself invited back to Solivagus.”

Silence, then, “No.” Lanistia finally shakes her head as she understands what I’m suggesting. “ No . Even if you managed to get away from Veridius, there’s every chance that place is where I lost my eyes. Using that phrase might be what caused it.” Her voice is firm. “I forbid it, Vis. You have access to the Catenan Bibliotheca now. And there are a hundred scholars in the city who would be more than thrilled to talk Catenicus to death about ancient Vetusian phrases. So academic research only. Promise me.”

“You do know you’re in a prison cell, right?”

She stares at me impassively.

“Fine.” I wave my hand. “Research only. But I am going to talk to Veridius.”

She grunts. “Then be careful around him.” She knew it would be a necessity. “And tell Ulciscor what you’re doing. He might be able to help.”

“If I’m allowed to speak to him at all, after this.” We’ve been exchanging messages coded the way he and Caeror used to communicate, given that both Military and Governance are likely reading them in transit. The first came only a couple of days after the Aurora Columnae. Warning me that the Navisalus was tied to Tertius Ciserius, and that Military may have been involved.

But even seemingly innocuous messages may no longer be allowed, now. I had to sneak away this morning to come here. There will be no hiding this visit, nor the fact that Ulciscor and I collaborated to make it happen.

Lanistia taps the stone wall with a fingertip. “You two are working together again, though?”

“For now.”

“He regretted what he did, you know. Making you run the Labyrinth. From the moment we left Suus, he knew he shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

I scoff. “He said that?”

“No, but I know him.”

“Even if you’re right, it doesn’t change that he did it.”

Lanistia dips her head. “And I am not defending it. But you have to realise—finding out what really happened to Caeror is what’s driven Ulciscor for the last seven years. He lost his brother, and he knew, he knew , it wasn’t suicide. But his family didn’t want to hear it, wanted to just move on from the shame. And everyone else? They turned his conviction into something sad. They turned it into a joke , Vis.” She licks her lips. More earnest than I think I’ve ever seen her. “Ulciscor is a good man but Caten broke him, in that way. When it comes to his brother, people have only ever been obstacles. And if those two ever had one thing in common, it was how they treated obstacles.” A fond smile. Wistfulness in her voice. I think this is the first time she’s ever spoken of Caeror voluntarily.

I take my time in responding. I knew all of this, of course. Had gathered it from conversations both with Ulciscor and others, and it doesn’t change the anger I feel over what he did.

“That tells me why he did it,” I say eventually. “Not why he wouldn’t do it again.”

“Because he spent four months after Suus fretting over whether he was finally going to get his answers, or about to go through the same pain all over again. As much as he wanted to think of you as a piece on the board, he never really could. He was so relieved when he heard you were alive. You remind him of Caeror more than he wants to admit.”

I nod slowly. “He told me that, once.” Hesitate. “Do I remind you…”

“No. Gods, no.” Lanistia makes a face as though she’s tasted something unpleasant.

I laugh. “Fair enough.”

There’s a quiet moment, the relief of us having said what we needed to say evident, even as we both know I shouldn’t linger. Then Lanistia pats her left arm. “Does it hurt?”

“Less each day.” A heartbeat when I consider leaving it at that. “Still feels like it’s there, sometimes, though. Especially when I wake up.”

“Give it time. It gets easier.”

“Thanks.” I mean it. For this, I put more stock in her counsel than anyone else’s.

“Have you thought about what you might be able to do, once you’re a Quintus?”

I pause. Not understanding the progression of the conversation for a second. My distaste for Will has meant that I’ve barely given it a thought; before the Iudicium I had no intention of wielding it, and since… since, there has been too much else to focus on.

“You should,” continues Lanistia, taking my silence as an answer. “Talk to Ulciscor about that, too. When I lost my eyes, he found some theories about how to increase efficiency when you’re replicating natural functions. It helped.”

“I will.” Suddenly it’s all I can do to keep from focusing on the possibilities, rather than the current situation. But I’ve lingered long enough; the guards will have passed on my presence here, and there’s less chance of trouble if I can be gone by the time Military arrives. “I hate to say it, but I think it’s time to find Relucia and get out of here.”

“I know. It’s fine. Careful around her, though, Vis,” Lanistia says quietly. “She’s sharper than she lets on.”

I nod again, though she can’t see it. “I’ll come back when I can.” Start to walk away.

“Vis.”

I pause. Wait.

“They’re going to put me in a Sapper, eventually.”

“I won’t let them.”

“They have to. You have to. Men died. Not to mention that the guards told me what’s going on out there. If Military don’t, it’s as good as saying they sent me to kill you.” A quaver in her voice I’ve not heard before, but she presses on. “This is not on you. Do what you can to find out what happened to me, get me out if you can. But don’t do anything rash, and don’t you let Ulciscor do it either. Promise me.”

I look at her. Fists clenching and unclenching by my side.

“You know me, Lanistia,” I say, forcing a smile into my voice. “I’m never rash.” I walk on.

“Vis?” She calls after me.

My echoing name is her only reply.

IT’S AT LEAST A MINUTE of walking back along the torchlit corridor, lost in thought, before I realise I still haven’t come across my adoptive mother.

I frown, half surprised to realise she wasn’t trying to listen in. There aren’t a lot of places she could have gone, anyway; I follow the straight path until finally I find her silk-draped form standing just past the stairwell in the eastern section, facing away from me. Staring motionless into one of the open green-lit cells. Past her, inside, is a woman. No older than Relucia. Stringy, unkempt hair splayed across her face. Pallid and naked as she’s slumped against the gentle slope, chains stretching upward from her wrists and ankles so that she can be safely winched away from the stone when her time is done.

Relucia is saying something quietly to her. Too softly for me to make out. She stops when she hears me coming. “You’re finished?” She doesn’t turn. Voice cold and hard.

“Yes.”

“They’re going to put Lanistia in one of these, you know.”

“I know. So does she.”

She nods. A slow, reluctant motion, as if she’s processing my words. “Can we stop it?”

She turns to me, and I am shocked to see red eyes. Glistening streaks down her cheeks.

“I… we’re going to try. Of course.”

“Do better than that.” She half raises a hand, as if to signal farewell to the cell’s occupant. Perhaps she knows her? But that seems unlikely. This isn’t long-term storage, isn’t where they would keep one of the Anguis.

“You want me to cause even more trouble between Military and Governance.”

Anger flashes across her face. “I want you to do what’s right .”

I cough a disbelieving half laugh. “You’ll forgive me if I think we might have different ideas of what that entails.”

She doesn’t smile. “Not when it comes to this, Diago.”

My own smile fades. I resist the urge to continue disdaining her apparent concern, and nod. Perhaps it’s real.

We start back up the stairs, Relucia pulling a cloth from some concealed pocket and carefully clearing her face of any sign of distress. “Did Lanistia say why she did it?”

“She said she felt compelled by something. A voice in her head.” I affect confusion. “I believe her, I think, but… have you ever heard of anything like that?”

“No.” Was there a hesitation, there? “I cannot imagine it’s an excuse that will go over well with the Senate.”

“I can’t imagine there is one that would.”

“True.” Relucia chews her lip. “How did she seem, otherwise?”

“Normal. Fine, given the circumstances.”

Relucia nods again. Lapses into thought for a few steps.

“You should be wary, while you’re in Caten,” she says suddenly. Changing topic. “You’re more famous now than ever, and a lot more recognisable. Melior’s death was necessary to place you here, but it resulted in some… fractures. Most of the Anguis have been told that you’re too high profile a target, for now. But there are still elements that want revenge, people we haven’t been able to contact. And you remember the naumachiarii who escaped?” I nod. “They’re being led by a man called Vulferam. They’ve pledged their allegiance to Melior’s memory, not the Anguis.”

“Naturally,” I mutter. I remember Vulferam. A monster of a man, dwarfing those around him as he leapt across decks and swung his weapon with horrific, manic force, sending opponent after opponent into the roiling vortex of red lanterns above. “And Melior’s memory, I suppose, probably doesn’t like the fact that I’m a hero for killing him.”

“Safe to say,” agrees Relucia dryly.

“I’ll be careful.” Governance has already made arrangements for my security; my housing is guarded and I usually have men hired to accompany me around Caten. They would be here today, except I slipped away without telling them where I was going. Probably the last time I’ll get away with doing that.

We’re nearing the top of the stairs, and Relucia brings me to a halt before we get close to the door. Keeps her voice to a whisper. “I meant what I said about following your contact’s instructions, Diago. Whatever he asks. To the letter.”

I issue a curt, irritated nod.

We are let out by the still displeased-looking guard—apparently having beaten any response by Military to our presence—into the early morning light of Caten. Already the city is bustling. Will-powered carts move smoothly along cobbled streets. Weary-looking Octavii trudge to work. This prison—there are several, in the Republic’s capital—is a distance from the harbour, but I can see water sparkling, the slope falling away to provide an intimidating view of the thousands upon thousands of buildings between. I’ve been living here for more than a week. The size and scope of the place still dismays me.

Relucia parts ways almost immediately, embracing me enthusiastically and murmuring all the excited and heartfelt things she’d say if she was really my mother. She’s so proud of me. So glad I’m alright. She cannot wait to see how I perform during Placement. There aren’t too many people around, but she puts on the show anyway.

I take it all with good grace. Play the part too. I don’t have a plan, yet—too much has happened too fast, and I need time to get my bearings—but I’ll need the Anguis’s trust before all of this is over.

I watch as she walks off, then sigh and face southward, in the direction of the harbour. I’m already getting glances from passersby. This gods-damned arm is much more than just a physical impediment.

I’m so lost in thought that I almost don’t register the figure that rises from its seated position, detaches from the shadows across the street from the prison. When I do, I stop short. Heart clenching. Suddenly, painfully unsure what to do.

“Hail, Vis,” says Emissa with a nervous smile.