Chapter XXXVI #2
“Tracking devices. It’s just a precaution.
The Senate insists that all visitors wear them now.
” He motions for our hands, which we offer reluctantly.
“If any are broken, or leave the grounds while active, it will trigger an immediate Academy-wide alarm. Every guard will be alerted and every resource will be devoted to a search.” He doesn’t look at me in particular, or shy away from my gaze. As if this had nothing to do with me.
“I thought that was what the walls were for, Principalis,” I observe with blithe cheerfulness as the stone band snaps shut around my wrist. It’s a snug fit. No squeezing my hand out of it.
Veridius chuckles. “You’re a Sextus now, Vis. The walls are meant to keep in students who don’t have access to Will. And they’re not always successful in doing that much,” he adds lightly.
We both grin our false grins, and he moves on to Eidhin.
Soon we’re all wearing the tracking bands, and Veridius is smiling around at us as if we’d never left. “Until dinner, then.” He walks off.
We wander for a while after that, giving Livia a brief tour of the grounds and steering as Veridius suggested toward the girls’ dormitory. Livia and Aequa disappear inside, and after a few minutes Aequa comes back out alone.
“She’s just cleaning up. She won’t be long.” She taps the stone bracelet on her wrist. Grim. “What are we going to do?”
My gaze flicks to the distant Will-smooth wall that divides the Academy from the remainder of Solivagus. Fifteen feet high, spikes at the top. I still have the faint remnants of a scar on my palm from the last time I scaled it.
“He was not bluffing, Vis,” Eidhin rumbles, seeing my observation. “He is not a fool.”
“I know. I still think I can get us out.” I pause. “But … Livia is a problem.”
Aequa and I look at Eidhin expectantly.
“What?” He squints at us, puzzled. “The plan is for Aequa to keep her company, while Vis and I get over the wall. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re going to be a better distraction,” says Aequa firmly.
“She’s right, my friend,” I agree.
“Why?”
Aequa and I exchange glances. See the laughter in the other’s eyes and try, unsuccessfully, to hide smirks. “She will be more … engaged, with you,” says Aequa eventually.
Eidhin’s eyes narrow.
“So much more engaged,” I agree, the corners of my mouth curling involuntarily as Aequa coughs, barely restraining herself.
Eidhin glares at me, then Aequa, then at me again. “I am from Military. Her father is a Tertius in Governance.”
Aequa’s lips twitch. “So would you describe yourself as … forbidden?” She says the last in a seductive whisper. Eyes wide.
Neither of us can hold back snickers as Eidhin glowers. “You are wrong.”
“You are oblivious,” Aequa corrects him.
Eidhin’s scowl deepens, but as he sees me nodding firmly, he makes a small, rude gesture in our direction. “Very well. I will … tour her.”
This time, at the now-rare language mistake from a vaguely flustered Eidhin, Aequa and I aren’t able to keep it in. It feels good to laugh—to laugh hard and long, so loud that I can’t hear the specifics of Eidhin’s annoyed protests.
We’ve barely subsided when Livia emerges from the building behind us, and Aequa and I straighten our faces. “Time for some charm,” I murmur to Eidhin.
He hears the glee in my voice. His look promises future consequences.
“Livia,” he says, turning and walking briskly to greet the girl. “As we have some time …”
He puts enough distance between us that the rest of the conversation is inaudible; Livia freezes at his hail as if she’s not quite sure she’s heard correctly, then recovers, cheeks flushing as she stops in front of him. They speak for another half minute in low tones.
“Is his face turning red?” I murmur to Aequa.
“Is he trying to flirt?” she whispers back, eyes wide.
Eidhin glances over at us, his expression genial but his eyes reflecting something between panic and violence as he sees us watching.
Then he and Livia begin strolling companionably away from us, deep in conversation, in the direction of the Quadrum.
“Alright,” I say to Aequa with a grin after I’m certain they’re not turning back. “Let’s get out of here.”
“YOU’RE NOT PLANNING TO JUST brEAK THESE AND RUN.
Right?” asks Aequa anxiously, tapping the stone locked around her wrist as we gaze up at the spike-topped wall rising in front of us.
We’re beyond the stables, not far from the same point I scaled it more than a year ago.
The horses are grazing nearby. No sign of Septimus Ascenia or anyone else.
“I don’t think the Principalis was exaggerating about what would happen. ”
I chuckle, mainly to cover my own nervousness.
I don’t really want to do this in front of her, and some part of me wishes it were Eidhin I had to reveal this to.
As much as I’ve confided in them both, this is something else entirely: almost as terrifying a secret as my real name, and with equally dire consequences if the Hierarchy ever finds out about it. But I don’t have time to second-guess.
I close my eyes. Focus on the stone, feel the gentle pulsing of Will in it. I’ve been practicing this for more than a month now, ever since Placement. Refining. Experimenting.
Connection.
The metal triangles beneath my tunic shiver.
Adoption doesn’t seem to disrupt whatever Will I’m already using, but it does add the mental strain of another connection to the ones I already maintain.
Not that I can’t handle it, but it’s like someone tossing another brick atop the pile I’m already carrying.
Even knowing it’s coming, I still have to adjust.
Otherwise, though, it’s almost laughably easy.
The Will’s original purpose remains in the mind of whoever imbued it—Veridius, presumably, in this case—and so I don’t need to worry about its mechanics, as they’ll simply resume when I release it again.
And the imbuer’s sense of connection remains, so this won’t draw their attention the same way snapping the bracelet and releasing the Will would.
It’s like rifling through someone’s belongings while they’re not looking.
As long as I leave everything the way I found it, they’ll never know anything happened.
I mentally prise apart the two stone halves, catch them as they slip off my wrist, and then touch them together again before quickly relinquishing control. They snap back firmly. An empty circle.
Finished, I turn to Aequa. She’s watching with wide eyes. “How?”
“New trick. A story for once we’re over the wall.” I gesture for her to offer her wrist; a few moments later her bracelet is off as well. I hide them at the base of a tree. “I assume you’re going to be able to get yourself over those spikes, Quintus Claudius?”
Aequa continues to watch me dazedly, then shakes herself and refocuses on the wall.
Unsurprisingly curious, but as aware as I am of the time pressure.
“Please.” Her eyes turn black; she jogs up to the wall and with an apparently effortless leap, clears the glistening barbs by at least ten feet before vanishing behind it.
I grunt, hurriedly manipulating the Harmonic imbuing around my torso, letting the hundred iron triangles flow into a safely hidden pile beneath a bush before taking back my Will from them.
Then I carefully self-imbue, sprint and leap myself.
Less casual than Aequa; I practiced clearing this exact height many times before we left, and am certain that I can make it, but it’s a near thing.
I push off. Sail upward, tucking my legs slightly to make sure I don’t clip the top of the spikes, and then the familiar feeling of my stomach dropping as I plummet down the other side.
I roll as I hit the grass. Lie there for a second, and then grasp Aequa’s hand as she helps me up.
“Gods, you barely made it,” she observes.
“I know.”
“You should try jumping higher next time.”
I shoot her grin a dirty look. “I’ll keep that in mind. Come on. It’s this way.”
Neither of us speak, for a time, as we walk. The close forest whispering around us.
“So tell me about this ‘trick’ of yours.” Aequa says it lightly, but there’s no concealing her intense curiosity.
I exhale.
And I do.
I leave out the details about Relucia’s contact, of course; mentioning him gets far too close to the Anguis for my comfort.
It’s a simple enough omission, though. I say I discovered Adoption by accident a couple of months ago.
That I assume it’s something to do with what happened to me in the Labyrinth, but there’s no way to be sure.
That I’ve experimented with it in private, figured out what it is and isn’t capable of.
And that, naturally enough, I haven’t told anyone else.
Aequa listens with only the occasional, vaguely disbelieving question. When I finish, she lets out a long breath.
“You used it during Placement?” Not really asking.
I shrug modestly.
“Rotting gods.” She’s smiling, though. Shaking her head ruefully. “Always knew you were a gods-damned cheat.” She rubs her face. Trying to take it in.
“I didn’t tell you because—”
“I understand.” She waves it away carelessly, eyes wide as she thinks about the possibilities. “Gods’ graves. I can’t even imagine what would happen if people found out. So Tertius Ericius doesn’t know?”
I look at her. “If Governance found out, with the way things are in Caten right now, can you imagine what they’d start asking me to do?”
She shudders. Nods. “Eidhin?”
I shake my head. “That’s not a question of trust; I know he wouldn’t say anything, but …”
“But the fewer people who know, the better,” finishes Aequa with a slow nod. “I’d do the same.” Silence, and then she looks at me. “Anyone else and I’d probably report it, you know. That’s not a power that just anyone should have.”
I nod.
“Does this mean you’re less impressed with my Placement results now?”
“So much less impressed,” she agrees vehemently. We both grin.
There’s another lull in the conversation after that, but it’s an oddly relaxed one given the situation.
I find myself glad Aequa knows. This ability has been a burden since the moment I found out about it and despite both of us being in Governance, the last few months have been spent largely separate, our private conversations brief and mostly related to planning today.
This is the first time we’ve genuinely had a chance to talk, just the two of us, since the Iudicium.
“So which way do your nightmares go, these days?” Aequa asks it lightly, abruptly. Not looking at me. Her thoughts, apparently, running along the same track as mine.
I don’t answer for a few seconds as we emerge onto the path that leads to the ruins. “Naumachia,” I say eventually. “Sometimes it’s the Iudicium. Waking up with this.” I wiggle my stump. “But …”
“Me too.”
Silence again, and then I want to know. “You wake up in a sweat?”
“Curled up. And every muscle is sore. Like I’ve been fighting all night.”
I show vigorous agreement, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. “And I have that gods-damned sound in my head …”
She shivers and nods tautly, as if the very mention of it is too much. Perhaps it is. Neither of us want to think about it.
“I still don’t want to go to sleep, some nights,” she says eventually.
She exhales. “But … do you ever wonder if we would have made it through the Iudicium, without it?” She looks across at me.
“I think about it sometimes. A lot, actually. When we found that pile of bodies. Sianus and the others. I was scared, but …” She breathes out again.
“But it wasn’t the same.” I keep my eyes on the path ahead. I’ve thought about it too. “Wasn’t hopeless. We had choices.”
“We had choices,” she agrees quietly.
I push a branch from my path, am about to continue the conversation when I feel it. That same, strange sensation in the back of my mind. Like my sense of Will, but not quite.
It’s close, too.
I hold up a hand, brow furrowed, bringing Aequa to a stop and listening.
“What is it?”
“Not sure.” I peer into the brush. Tracking the sensation in my head. It’s a hundred feet away. Moving parallel to us.
Then it seems to pause.
Then it’s coming toward us. Fast.
“Look out.” I snap the words and self-imbue, gesturing Aequa behind the nearest tree on the opposite side of the path as her eyes go black as well. I can hear the crashing of bushes, the cracking of branches. The foliage trembles.
A low rumble, and then the massive alupi emerges from the undergrowth.
A soft cry from Aequa and I fling out my hand to urge her back while not taking my eyes from the beast in front of me. Its shoulder comes up to my stomach.
I know before I look, but sure enough, there’s a long scar along its back.
“Diago,” I whisper softly.