Chapter XLII #2
“He could be a iunctus.” More uncertainty than I’d like in the response.
“Or being Synchronous could extend life indefinitely, for all we know. Like an even more effective version of what we see in the Princeps. And there are certainly plenty of instances of Will operating in ways we don’t understand, like the Vitaeria.
I know it seems absurd, but everything else written down there has borne out as truth. ”
I massage the nub of my missing arm absently. Accept it for the time being, as I have with so much tonight. “Then we have to find him.”
“We need to keep you safe. Caeror knew all of this, too.”
It takes a few moments for me to understand what he means. “You want me to do nothing?”
“I know it’s not your default position,” the Principalis says dryly.
“And I’m not saying we won’t act, given the chance.
But Vis … I just don’t have enough information.
Wherever Ka is on our world, I have no idea where to look.
Where to start looking.” He rubs his forehead tiredly.
“I hate the passivity of it too, but keeping a low profile is the best thing you can do right now. Don’t let anyone else know what you can do.
If Ka finds out you’re Synchronous, I have no doubt he’ll try to have you killed.
” He looks at Aequa and Eidhin. “You two need to help him. Keep an eye on him, wherever you can.”
They both, to my vague annoyance, nod gravely. Even knowing what he’s done, Veridius’s calm, commanding presence manages to overwhelm everything sometimes. It’s so easy to forget that he’s no longer in charge of us.
Veridius gazes up at the stars dotting the bruised sky of the west. “That’s probably everything I can think to tell you, Vis, for now.
If something else occurs to me, I’ll let you know before the Transvect arrives tomorrow.
” He stands. “I am sorry I cannot give you better answers. More of a purpose. Of everyone involved in this, you genuinely have the hardest job. You have to wait, and hope.”
He says it with gentle, regretful care. The melancholy in his voice adds that he knows only too well how difficult that truly is.
I nod. A respectful acknowledgement that I mean.
I don’t trust that he’s told me everything, and I don’t doubt he feels the same about me.
Nor can I say that I like how he has gone about dealing with all of this.
But I do believe him. I believe there is a Cataclysm coming, and I believe he wants to stop it.
In purpose if not in method, we appear to be on the same side.
“Get some rest. The dormitory is open. And Vis?” He allows the slightest of smiles. “Stay on the gods-damned grounds tonight, please.”
I cough a laugh. “Yes, Principalis.”
He gives a wry nod, and walks away.
The three of us watch, silent, until he’s disappeared into the Praetorium. Then Aequa suddenly expels a long breath. “I’m hungry.”
“Yes,” rumbles Eidhin.
I give a soft chuckle at the break in tension. “I’ll meet you there? I could use more of a walk to clear my head, first.” I stretch. “Maybe after dinner, we could go and see Diago.”
Aequa makes a face. “You want us to get eaten?”
“I want to see if he’s inclined to try.”
They look at me with disapproving expressions, and then Eidhin grunts. “We have nothing better to be doing, I suppose.”
Aequa rolls her eyes in acquiescence, and they head toward the Curia Doctrina.
THE JOURNEY TO THE TWISTING, CUNEATE TOWER OF the dormitory is a lonely one. The Academy may never have been home, but it was at least familiar; now, devoid of bustle and laughter and argument, it is a cadaver and I am intruding upon its tomb.
The dormitory is unlocked, as unsettlingly empty as outside. Every bed stripped. Every desk bare. The floor is spotless. As if our time here has been swept clean, erased.
Memory makes my steps heavy as I start in.
I make my way slowly inside, to the bed two spaces over from the one Callidus slept in.
Carefully unscrew the bedpost and feel around inside the cavity.
It’s still there. The documents Belli blackmailed him with, the ones he so desperately wanted to get back to his father.
I draw them out and pocket them. Replace the post’s top.
Fulfil my final promise to my friend.
I make to leave. Stop. Look over at Callidus’s space.
A lump forms in my throat, despite my determination.
As sterile as the rest of its surrounds, yet suddenly I can see him hunched over his desk.
Scribbling on his wax tablet. Awake later and up earlier than anyone else.
Flicking through books too advanced for me, let alone a Seventh.
In my head, he turns to me and grins.
The pressure in my throat, behind my eyes, becomes unbearable. I’ve avoided thinking of him. Ever since the funeral. Shied away from the pain of those memories because I’ve had more pressing concerns. More important things to do.
What kind of friend does that?
Grief, my mother once told me, is love’s most honest expression.
The last and hardest aspect of truly, truly caring for someone.
She said it at her own mother’s funeral rites, tears in her eyes even as she tried to comfort a boy too young to understand why he was so sad, why his grandmother couldn’t be there anymore.
She explained through choking sobs that without grief, love would be meaningless.
Because it is impossible to truly love something that cannot be lost.
I remember that day, and I remember my friend, and I weep.
It’s a formless, confusing pain that wrings me out, chokes the sobs from me as I sit on the edge of the bed and hold my head in my hand.
I’m not sure if my tears are for the boy whose time was cut short, or myself for having to bear his absence.
But it helps. I force the memories. Smile at some, even as I sniff.
I don’t know how long has passed when I hear the scuffing of feet on stone.
I furiously wipe my face and stand, rapidly bringing myself under control. When I turn, Livia is standing awkwardly a few feet away.
“The Principalis just found me. He said you might be here,” she says quietly.
A question in it, but softened after seeing me like this.
She knows we travelled here so that I could talk to Veridius—ostensibly to find out all I can about the Iudicium attack—but he’s kept her from the rest of us for the entire day, and she wants to know why.
I grunt. Not trusting myself to speak, for a moment, and then, “These are for your father.” I gruffly hold out the pages I took from the bedpost.
Livia frowns as she takes them. Pales as she takes in the writing, her original intent in tracking me down forgotten. “How …”
“Callidus gave them to one of the students—he was trying to help them. Instead, they blackmailed him.” I hold her gaze. “It’s why he was in Seven.”
Livia says nothing for a few seconds. The pages tremble slightly in her hands as she reads through them.
“He always was an idiot.” A half laugh accompanying the words. Affectionate and exasperated, all at once. “Who was it?”
“Doesn’t matter. They’re dead.”
She gives a short nod. Looks around. Taking the space in properly. “This is where he slept?”
I smile. Barely manage to contain the fresh swell of emotion. “Sat at that desk every night. Read for hours after everyone else went to bed.”
“Sounds about right.” Her gaze stays fixed on the chair. Smile wistful. Picturing it too. After a while she shakes herself, tapping the pages against her other palm. “Thank you.”
I nod, just slightly. She means it.
“The others are waiting in the mess hall. We didn’t get much that was new out of the Principalis today, but we can talk about it over dinner.” I’ll figure out what to tell her on the way.
I take a couple of steps toward the door, then realise she’s not following.
“I’ve eaten already. I think I’ll wait here.” Livia’s back is to me. Gazing at her brother’s desk. “Just for a little while.”
I nod in understanding, though she can’t see it.
Leave her to her thoughts.