Chapter XXVI #2
The tests continue after that, but none prove any more challenging than the ones I’ve already faced.
I imbue several smaller objects at once; my limit is a dozen before I start to lose significant Will to the maintenance of the connections.
I imbue three identically carved rocks and manipulate them blindfolded to prove I can keep them mentally separate.
I thread an imbued stone pyramid through a gauntlet of three barely wide-enough stone triangles, then imbue the triangles as well and do the same thing while making them hover.
Then imbue a second pyramid and have both pass through the triangles from opposite directions simultaneously.
None of my successes are unheard of for a Totius Sextus, but I’m confident that it’s an excellent result.
And whatever Veridius’s falsehoods surrounding the Academy, I realise that he was right about at least one thing.
Learning to run the Labyrinth has trained me to use Will in a way no other task ever could.
The attention from the hillside continues to focus on me throughout; there are more spectators now, too, with the majority of those who have already finished their tests augmenting the crowd.
I spot Indol and Iro after a while, sitting with a group of senators under a temporary awning.
Indol seems to be arguing vehemently with a man who bears such a strong resemblance to Iro—down to his dark, brooding expression and prominently hooked nose—that there’s no doubting the lineage.
I spot Praeceptor Nequias next to him. Strange, that he would be here.
“That was the last one.” Tullius has continued to scratch away on his wax tablet for the duration of my tests, never indicating what he thinks of my results, but after almost an hour he’s finally tucking his stylus away.
“We’re not testing Conditionals or Relationals?” The two hardest, and most powerful, types of imbuing. The types applied to the great machinery of Caten, like the Transvects.
Tullius chuckles. “Not today.” He glances around at the smattering of other assessments still being conducted on the sand.
“These others will be done soon, too. Someone should be along shortly to give you your results. I imagine you will be pleased. It was a good showing, Catenicus.” Delivered without emotion, but he’s sincere.
With an acknowledging dip of the head and nothing further, he wanders off in the direction of the main building.
I head for the shade at the side of the track, conscious enough of the eyes still on me to conceal my relief, and locate Aequa. She’s sitting with Felix, who looks like he’s had time to change clothes and wash since his assessment.
“Vis.” Felix scrambles to his feet at my approach, holds out a hand.
I clasp his wrist; he catches me off-guard by going further and pulling me in for a back-thumping embrace, despite my sweat-stained tunic.
“Gods’ graves, it was good to see you out there today.
When we left the Academy, they weren’t sure you were going to live. ”
I smile at the honest emotion in his voice, despite my surprise.
We were never close—friendly enough acquaintances during our time together in Class Four, I suppose, but he was also on Iro and Belli’s team in the Iudicium.
“I’m glad you’re alright, too. Eidhin said you made it out, but that’s all I’d heard. ”
He nods soberly as we part again, mass of unkempt black hair bobbing with the motion.
“We got eliminated before the Anguis hit our safety team. Or, Iro and I did. Belli …” His expression explains her fate, even if I didn’t already know.
“Veridius found her body a couple of days after it all happened.”
I grimace and pretend to accept the statement.
There’s no way Veridius retrieved Belli’s corpse from where I saw it pinned to the walls of the Labyrinth—but between the presence of alupi on Solivagus and the way the Anguis massacred those they killed, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to sell the lie.
“I’m sorry about what happened out there, too. When we caught you. I should have said something.” Felix is awkward. Genuine in his apology.
I shrug; given everything else that’s happened since, our being bound and roughed up a little by a vindictive Belli seems almost trivial.
And Felix has always been a follower; I can’t say his silence endeared him to me, but he was part of their team, not mine.
Technically under Iro’s command. “It was hardly the worst thing to happen out there. It’s behind us. ”
Felix ducks his head, relieved. He’s not the type to ignore unresolved conflict.
I’m glad to see he and Aequa sitting here companionably, too; Aequa was the one to eliminate him, and I wasn’t sure whether grudges from the Iudicium would spill over into life after the Academy.
Perhaps it’s just Felix’s nature, or perhaps the attack has overshadowed any potential resentment between the survivors.
Given us a bond stronger than the competition.
I hope it’s the latter. Some small light to take from the darkness of that time.
I gaze absently at the heat reflecting off the white sand, creating a wavering haze as the last of those still out there complete their tests.
“Any word on your assignments yet?” As Domitor, I’m the only one able to request a specific position; everyone else from the Academy has to accept whatever their respective factions dictate.
“My father’s been told Caten. The rest was going to depend on today,” says Aequa. Felix indicates he’s the same.
“What about Military secondment?” Governance and Religion almost always send their graduates from the Academy to Military for ten years of service.
Will ceded to the Catenan legions, and a lengthy martial education on the staff of a proconsul.
Potential years away from Caten in the garrison of one distant province or another.
It’s considered the standard for a continued education, and a virtual prerequisite for moving into politics.
“No word. But if it happens, Governance aren’t going to let them station us anywhere else.”
I raise an eyebrow. Just the implication that it may not happen is telling; the process isn’t enshrined in law, but the Catenans place great stock in tradition. Religion and Governance not seconding their best students to Military would be even more provocative than this event.
I’m about to pursue the topic further when there’s movement over in the stands, and I squint up to see a dozen or so people approaching. Iro and Indol are among them, but the rest of the party is made up of senators, and led by the man I picked out earlier as Iro’s father. His eyes are fixed on me.
“Telimus.” He descends stairs to the sand, comes to a stop a few feet away. It’s a pointed refusal to use the name granted me by the Senate—meant as a slight, obviously, given that he has no way of knowing how much I despise it. “I am Magnus Tertius Decimus.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Tertius Decimus,” I lie politely.
“I’ve come to ask you to relinquish your title of Domitor.” Tertius Decimus says it with calm purpose, but also loudly enough that the surrounding stands can hear.
I stare at him, sure I’ve misheard. Or misunderstood. It’s only when I see Indol in the background, looking some combination of furious and ashamed, that I understand this is real.
“No.” I’m pleased with how measured and firm I make the word, concealing the fury that’s bubbling just beneath the surface now.
I don’t care what his reasons are for the absurd request. I need that title.
Take it away and—among the many other disadvantages—there’s no guarantee I’ll be allowed to continue working under Tertius Ericius.
I’d have to go wherever Governance decide I should be sent.
Play whatever role they want me to play.
Iro’s father’s expression remains smooth.
“Understand, this is not to trivialise your achievements at the Academy.” His tone says the opposite.
His voice echoes across the near-silent stands, deep and harsh.
“However. No one can argue that the Iudicium was compromised. And even if it had not been—it’s become clear today that you are no longer the same young man who won it.
You no longer have the same potential. I know it is hard to hear, and I am sorry for your injury, but Caten is built on performance in the here and now, not our past achievements. No matter how impressive they may be.”
“You haven’t seen my test results.”
“I have eyes. You were beaten. I am not suggesting that you should not be given an earned position by Governance,” he adds, so condescendingly that it’s all I can do to keep my hands from balling into fists.
“But Domitor is a singular honour, and the benefits it brings are meant to reflect ability. We should laud your achievement without compromising our pyramids, Telimus.”
I glance at Indol again. He’s red-faced, livid as he glares at the ground, unable to meet my gaze.
He doesn’t want this, doesn’t agree with it at all.
Why isn’t he speaking up? It’s not like him.
“And I suppose you think your son should be taking my place?” I glare at Iro, who, to his credit, looks mildly uncomfortable with the exchange as well.
“Not at all. I think the result of the Iudicium should simply be ignored, and the rankings prior to that taken as final. Don’t you agree, Praeceptor?”
Nequias steps forward, the gauntness of his face somehow emphasised by his tinted glasses. He issues an unpleasant smile in my direction. “That is my opinion, Tertius. The Iudicium was tainted. Indol should be Domitor.”
“Rot that.” It’s Aequa, flushed with indignation as she scrambles to her feet. “Indol! He gods-damned saved us out there. He saved you.” Indol grimaces, but doesn’t look up.