Chapter 49
XLIX
“EVERYONE’S HAVING A NICE TIME, I SEE.” I LET MY GAZE rove the sullen crowd as Aequa leads. Diago nudged his head under her hand in greeting, then retreated to trail after me again. The mob parts hastily before us.
“You should have seen it twenty minutes ago.” Not a lot of humour to Aequa’s observation.
“Ulciscor said something about Military’s leadership leaving?”
She nods grimly. “Everything seemed … alright, before that. Tense, but a bit hopeful. And then their Dimidii and Tertii just got up and walked out.” Her voice gets quiet.
“I don’t think it was a statement; they clearly instructed the rest of their people to stay.
But everyone’s panicking anyway. Tertius Ericius has been running around trying to find out what’s going on. ”
I nod, spotting the Censor talking urgently to a group of surly-looking senators, identifiable thanks to their purple stripes despite the festival’s etiquette. “Did the others come?”
“They’re all here.”
Our small group of Academy graduates has carved out a spot in the shadows of the Temple of Jovan’s colonnade, high enough to watch over almost the entire Forum, dark and concealed enough that no one is really giving them a second glance.
No one within twenty feet, and no questioning looks. Though that changes as I approach.
“Rotting gods.” Felix sighs, stamping his feet against the chill of winter’s approach. “Leave it to Catenicus to put every eyeball in the gods-damned Forum on us.” Humour in the observation, but he still edges away slightly as the alupi comes to stand at my side.
“We are not trying to hide,” rumbles Eidhin.
“We’re not trying to be the centre of attention, either.” Indol flicks the corner of his tunic with an apprehension that seems to mirror the others’. “Hail, Vis.”
“Hail, everyone. Don’t worry. I can’t stay for long, anyway.
” Aequa comes to stand at my side as I examine the group.
A half dozen of us, all up. Aequa and me, Indol and Felix, Eidhin and Emissa.
We’ve kept in touch, as best we can through the walls erected by our respective factions.
Using imbued stylii like the one Indol gave me, mostly.
“Does anyone know why Military left?” I’m anxious to know if anyone has news, but no point ignoring the obvious.
“They haven’t left. Most of us are still here,” points out Emissa quickly. “There had to have been some emergency they had to deal with. I’m sure they’ll be back with an explanation soon.”
“Would have been a lot better if they had given one on the way out,” mutters Aequa, eliciting a few murmurs of assent. Emissa’s mouth twists in irritation, though it’s a reasonable observation.
“They did appear to be in a rush,” Eidhin interjects before anyone can say anything more. “Whatever is happening, I do not believe it is designed to cause friction.”
“But it has,” points out Felix. “They have to know how important tonight is, all the pyramids voluntarily together like this. And they have to know what their leaving must look like. My father told my sister and mother to get out as soon as it happened. Everyone who matters from Religion and Governance is here. If they attack …”
“They won’t.” Indol, to my surprise. He looks at me. Certain. “I don’t know what this is, but Military won’t make the first move. They want legitimacy and for things to stay the same. They betray the Republic—gods, on tonight of all nights—and they lose their chance at that forever.”
“You’re sure?” When he nods, I try not to show the persistence of my unease. Indol doesn’t know his father as well as he believes. “Alright.” I lower my voice. “Any other news?”
“You were right about the Navisalus. It was one of four ships that went missing on the Sea of Quus in the weeks before the attack. Presumed sunk or lost to pirates.” Felix speaks up first, keeping his voice to a murmur.
“It took some digging through the paperwork, but it was owned by Tertius Ciserius.”
There’s an awkward lull, and though no one looks at him, Indol shifts at the news. Ciserius is close with his father; the man likely came for meals at his house. “He would not have acted without my father’s knowledge,” Indol eventually says heavily. Eyes on me.
I nod grimly. I’ve already told him what I told Eidhin, and Aequa, and Ulciscor—that I overheard the Anguis talking during the Iudicium about the Navisalus, and high-ranking senators’ foreknowledge and support of the attack.
That my warning to him was based on suspicion, not proof.
But given what he already knew, he had to have guessed that this confirmation was coming.
“It’s not irrefutable, though,” observes Felix glumly. “And we don’t have names.”
“We’ll get both.” I inwardly wonder, again, whether I can even hope to trust the word of Relucia’s strange contact.
But Military by now have to know that they were outmanoeuvred; the Anguis cannot hope to use them again.
So giving me the conspirators, and thus likely sowing more chaos into the fragility of Caten, seems very clearly to serve the Anguis’s purposes.
“If we do—Emissa, have you spoken to your father?”
She nods slowly. “If the evidence is there, he’s willing to help.”
“‘Willing to help’?” Aequa coughs a soft laugh. “I’m sure it’s a real sacrifice for him.”
“It’s still dangerous. We won’t get anyone on board with something like this unless the reward is big enough.” Emissa’s response is tight. She turns to me, dismissing Aequa. “If you find anything we can use …”
“I’ll let you know.”
We converse for a few more minutes after that amidst the harsh slur of discontent and anxiety that floats up to our position from across the crowded Forum.
Felix does most of the talking, low-voiced and grim as he fills us in on the information he’s been privy to with Quintus Fulvius, who’s in charge of infrastructure maintenance—and thus, has to stay apprised on potential Anguis activity.
The escapees from the naumachia, led by Vulferam, have apparently been recruiting in Melior’s name to the north.
There’s a suspicion there too, now, that Military have been dragging their heels in rounding them up.
Making sure they’re a big enough threat to be noticeable before acting. But no proof of it, of course.
We all listen intently to the details. As betrayed as the others all feel by their leaders’ involvement in the Iudicium, none of us have forgotten the Anguis’s role.
“Gods. It will be such a relief when Military are under control again, and actually do their jobs,” mutters Aequa, shaking her head as Felix finishes.
“Not that the rest of the Senate has exactly been ‘under control.’” Emissa frowns. “They’re not the only ones causing these problems.”
“You know what she means. The Anguis are Military’s responsibility,” rumbles Eidhin.
“I know exactly what she means. I wish she would just say it out—”
A low growl from Diago, who has been silent up until now, cuts her off.
The others flinch and look at the alupi uneasily, as if only just reminded of his presence.
I put my hand on his head reassuringly. Saved from having to intervene.
There have been a few of these irritable, sniping clashes already.
Nothing serious, but there’s no escaping the fact that as much as we all want the same thing, the influences of the past few months are starting to bleed through.
I’m about to redirect the conversation when I’m stopped by a voice from behind. “I think it’s time you walk me home, Vis.” It’s Relucia, climbing the stairs toward our group. Smiling blithely, with a perfect undercurrent of girlish, vulnerable worry.
Vek. My heart lurches. Amidst all of this, I’d almost forgotten why I’m really here tonight. “Alright.”
“Already?” Felix sounds disappointed. I think he’s enjoyed the notoriety of being in this group.
“You should all leave, too. We’ve talked. None of us need to be here now.” I try to emphasise it to them as much as I can without sounding like I know something they don’t.
There’s a reluctance, but eventually Eidhin nods his agreement, and the others soon follow.
We embrace one by one, murmuring nothing but polite farewells under Relucia’s gaze.
Still, there’s something to the goodbyes.
They linger just a little more than they normally would, even for friends not seen in a while.
It might just be me. But it feels like it could be for the last time.
Relucia and I are not quite down the stairs and into the main section of the Forum, Diago’s stalking presence clearing an easy path, when my name rings out again through the growl of the unsettled gathering.
I turn, heart sinking as I recognise the voice.
Sure enough, Livia’s slim form is weaving her way toward us, gaze fixed firmly on me.
“It’s the Tertius’s daughter. She’s been trying to see me for weeks. She’ll follow us if I don’t get rid of her.”
Relucia mutters something under her breath. “One minute. He’s waiting.” She hurries off ahead, just out of earshot, as Livia hurries up.
“You’re leaving?” She looks dismayed.
“I said I’d walk my mother home.”
“You have to stay. People are watching to see what you do.”
“Then hopefully they’ll leave too.” I meet her gaze. Relucia’s impatient shuffling in the corner of my eye. “Does your father know you’re here?”
“What does that matter?” Her defiance wilts a little beneath my unrelenting stare. “No. I haven’t seen him yet.”
“He won’t want you to be. Believe me.”
“And?”
“And he is a smart man, Livia.” I think quickly. “Aequa is just up the stairs there; she’s about to leave as well. She’s only a few streets from your house. I’m sure she’d be happy to walk you home.”
It’s a miscalculation, I immediately see. She scowls. “So you’re just ordering me around, now?” A slight flush. Stupid of me. Clumsy. Her pride was wounded on Solivagus, and I’ve barely seen her since. Taking charge so abruptly now will only put her back up.