Chapter XLIII #2
My heart pounds as I approach the steadily growling alupi, who is crouched and tensed as if ready to leap at me.
As a self-imbuing Totius Sextus, I should be fairly safe.
I think. I have the strength of almost twenty people at my disposal and if Diago does attack, enormously powerful though he is, my body should be able to withstand it.
At least long enough for the other two to help pacify him.
But as I approach, the massive, black-furred beast doesn’t do worse than continue his rumbling warning. Instead, as I get closer, he backs away. When I stretch out my hand he sits, just out of reach, and trails off into a soft, confused whine. Looking more betrayed than aggressive.
“Alright. Alright,” I assure him softly. I back off and release the imbuing; immediately the massive wolf seems to relax, and within a few moments is padding back up to me. Cautious, but after a tentative sniff, curling up again at my feet.
I turn and look at the others. Aequa looks nonplussed. Eidhin just shrugs.
We spend another hour, after that, just letting Diago adapt to being around us imbuing: mostly self-imbuing for short periods, then releasing it again to give him some relief from the anxiety it clearly gives him.
In the end, while he still visibly tenses up when we try to touch him while imbued, he seems to understand that we’re not a threat regardless of our state.
By the time we’re finishing up, I’m convinced that he will be alright in Caten.
“So are you really going to bring him with us tomorrow?” Aequa asks it, but I can hear from her tone that she feels the same way. Her face is flushed in the waning light of the torch.
“Unless he won’t come.” The Transvect uses an enormous amount of Will. It’s possible Diago won’t go anywhere near it.
“He will come.” Eidhin is watching Diago, and Aequa and I exchange a grin he doesn’t see. Despite his protests and initial insistence that this was a bad idea, there’s unmistakeable affection in my large friend’s voice.
Diago looks between the three of us as we talk, as if following the conversation. Relaxed again, but still no mistaking him for any of the dogs that roam Caten’s streets. There’s no wagging tail, no hint of a desire to please. He’s just … interested.
I crouch by him. “We’re going back, now. But we’re leaving the island tomorrow. You can come with us, if you want.” I have no idea how much he understands. “I’ll come back here in the morning to find you. Stay?”
Diago considers me, then turns and pads into the trees.
“Yes. I’m sure him being in Caten is going to be just fine,” murmurs Aequa as she gazes at where the animal disappeared. She gives me a half smile.
I return it ruefully. “I’ll make it work.”
We head back to the Academy.
THE ENORMOUS, PYRAMID-NOSED MASS OF STONE AND wood and glass that forms the Transvect hovers silent and still beside the Solivagus platform, doors open.
Aequa and Eidhin stand a short distance away, waiting as I have a last conversation with Veridius.
Livia is already aboard somewhere. She’s been quiet, barely looking at us this morning.
I’m not sure whether it’s the lingering sorrow of seeing where her brother spent his last days, or anger that she was so bluntly excluded from our discussions yesterday.
Probably some latent embarrassment that we took advantage of her interest in Eidhin to sneak away, too.
I wouldn’t do it differently, given the chance, but it’s hard to blame her.
Diago sits on the sun-warmed stone about twenty feet away, facing us. Watching me expectantly. He was waiting patiently outside the Academy gate when we emerged, no need to even call for him.
“Fascinating.” Veridius studies Diago with black eyes.
His self-imbuing is a reasonable prudence, but I’m relieved to see that Diago’s lessons from last night seem to have stuck; the alupi isn’t inclined to come near, but he hasn’t overreacted, either.
“You really think he’ll be this restrained in Caten? He’ll listen to you?”
“He will.”
“Hm.” Veridius hesitates, curiosity clearly piqued, then takes a couple of steps toward the alupi. Diago’s lip curls lazily back, revealing long, jagged teeth. Veridius backs away.
“Good boy.” I call it, then toss him a piece of the cooked fish I snuck from the kitchen. It lands inches from his nose. To my irritation, he ignores it again.
Veridius just chuckles. Yesterday, I think, we saw a sliver of his true self—weary, sorrowful, desperate—but today, here and now, his usual affable charm is back on full display.
“Well. He’s not what I meant when I said to protect yourself, but I suppose you could do worse.
Just …” He raises a hand and then lets it drop again, sighing.
“Just keep a low profile, Vis. Stay safe. And not just from the Concurrence. I know you want justice for what happened here—I do too—but I beg of you, do not risk the world to pursue it. You’re in enough danger without involving yourself in that.
” Veridius didn’t have much new to tell us about the attack four months ago, but like everyone else in Caten, he’s heard the rumours. He knows senators were involved.
I say nothing, my thoughts unwillingly flashing to the Festival of Pletuna.
Only three months away now. Without the usual Anguis threats of exposure hanging over my head, would I be able to ignore the temptation of the list of names I was promised?
A moot point, I suppose: I can’t risk not meeting with Relucia’s strange contact, which is another reason I decided to bring Diago back with me.
Whatever I’m meant to do that night, I cannot trust anyone I know to accompany me.
Veridius sighs again at my lack of response, and nods. “Stronger together, Vis.” He squeezes my good shoulder, then watches as I join the others aboard.
I turn to Diago, who’s still lolling in the sun. “Coming?”
The massive alupi stretches. Considers.
Pads lazily inside after me.
The Principalis raises a hand in farewell as the doors close and the Transvect lifts. Diago gives a soft, confused growl at the motion, but soon settles, laying his head on the floor uneasily.
The Transvect pauses, then slides forward toward the bright morning sun and Caten.