Chapter LXXII #2
“Both,” says Lanistia quietly. “For things like this to happen, Vis, it takes a special kind of cowardice from both commander and soldier.” Her voice is heavy. “It must be a nightmare out there.”
I ignore the half enquiry. Don’t have the heart or the energy to explain it further. “Why didn’t Military let you go, if they went to the trouble of doing this?” I gesture to the latest blood-soaked open cell we’re passing.
“There was one Septimus and one Octavus running this place at any given time. During the festival? Probably not even the regulars.” Her face suddenly twists, but not at what she’s saying, I think.
She falters. Massages her forehead, then continues, “Whoever was here was panicking, I can tell you that much. I imagine they just did what they were told as quickly as possible, and ran. I doubt whoever gave them the orders had me at the forefront of their thoughts.” She shakes her head.
“I’m surprised they left this place open to access, actually. ”
“They didn’t. There was a fight at the Forum that night, and Quintus Ferius was killed.” The Quintus was the senator in charge of prisons across Caten. It was his Will that would have originally locked the doors.
“Good. Odious … odious little man.” Her brow is furrowed.
“Are you alright?” I ask it absently, focused more on scanning our surroundings as we near the stairwell, trying to find another source of Will nearby that I might be able to use. But there’s nothing.
“Let’s sit. Just for a minute. We can afford that, can’t we?” She gestures to a short stone bench near the stairwell ahead. I don’t complain. No desire to linger, but my legs feel as though they’re on fire. I desperately need the rest.
We sit, and as I let out an inaudible breath of relief, Lanistia grabs my hand. “I freely relinquish your Will.”
A surge rushes back into me before I can react. I jerk away. “What are you doing?”
She leans back with a sigh. Doesn’t respond for a few seconds. “I heard the voice again, Vis. As soon as you ceded to me. And it was getting worse.”
I stare. Resist the urge to slide away from her, physical aches easing again as I unconsciously self-imbue everything she just returned. “The one from when …”
“Afraid so.” She smiles tiredly in my direction.
“It’s gone now, though. I think as long as I don’t have any extra Will, it won’t trigger.
And it was manageable for a while there; I can probably help haul Ulciscor up the stairs from here, if you want to risk it.
But I don’t think I should try for anything longer than that. Sorry.”
I say nothing. Trying to focus on the present but lacking forward motion now, my mind is a wreck. Pain battling heartache battling anxiety battling wrath. Any one of them alone might be crippling.
“You know something about it, don’t you.”
I force myself back to now. Hesitate and then immediately know by my hesitation that I’ve admitted it. “You wouldn’t prefer to hear about what’s happening out there?”
“I’ll figure that out soon enough. You’re stalling,” she adds.
I gaze at the damp, glistening wall ahead.
The stench is worse around the stairs, and my mouth is perpetually covered with cloth.
I knew the question was coming, had considered my response earlier this afternoon.
What to say, what to hold back. What could give her comfort and what would only make things worse.
But that all seems so distant, now. So pointless. Once we leave here, depending on how long this war lasts and where we end up, I may not see her in years. If ever again.
My chances for honesty are not infinite.
So I tell her.
I don’t go into the same detail as Veridius did; aside from anything else, there’s not the time.
But I explain in the broadest possible terms about Solivagus, and the other worlds, and the Cataclysms. About Veridius’s version of events at her own Iudicium.
The fact she tried to save Caeror. The fact he may yet even be alive in another world.
I aim for speed rather than clarity, the weight of everything draining my voice of emotion and inflection.
Lanistia listens without interrupting. I’m done in less than ten minutes.
“Don’t tell Ulciscor about Caeror,” I finish quietly, almost as an afterthought. Lanistia, I trust to approach this information with some level of circumspection. My adoptive father is another story. “I don’t think it will help him. I’m not even sure it helps you, but … I thought you should know.”
“It’s more than I’ve had in seven years, Vis. It helps. Thank you.” She gives me a gentle shove. “Speaking of your father. If your legs are up to it now, I’ll be fine here by myself for a few minutes.”
“Alright.” I stand, and though the pain returns immediately, between the extra Will and their brief respite, it’s manageable. “Don’t wander off.”
She snorts. I take a few steps, but before I can start my cautious way downward, she calls out to me again.
“And Vis?” Her voice is hard. “Caeror’s his brother, and I’m his friend. I’m going to tell him. Don’t ever ask me to keep something like that from him again.”
I grimace silently. Think about arguing but there’s no time, and no point.
Head into the fetid dark of the deep cells.
I PLOUGH MY WAY PAST NAKED BODY AFTER NAKED BODY plastered across the polished white of the Sappers, too many of them dulled and smeared with reddish brown and black.
My lantern-light illuminates each in turn, and though I have Ulciscor’s cell number, I keep one eye on the prisoners’ faces as I pass.
Even so, I almost don’t recognise Relucia.
I stumble to a stop. The one side of her face that I can see is puffy, her long brown curls plastered over half of that.
Strands stick to the blood-soaked Sapper behind her.
Bruises cover her wrists and ankles. A sight I recognise all too well.
It’s from where she thrashed in a panic against her restraints.
I hesitate for a long moment. Carefully place my lantern on the ground, and walk over to the crank in her alcove.
This will start a timer. There’s a Religion or Governance Septimus receiving Will from her, and while under normal circumstances her loss might trigger an official enquiry to Military, this will trigger an alarm. Especially so close to the attack.
I winch her carefully free.
She’s only been on the Sapper for a few days, clearly; it doesn’t take long for her breathing to change, for colour to seep into her cheeks and awareness back into her filmy eyes as she dangles on the chains. There’s a rattling as she tests her bonds. Then a flailing as she realises where she is.
“Get me away from this thing.” She croaks the words, barely wheezes them out. She hasn’t seen me yet, is twisting around wildly. “Get me out.”
I anchor the winch, then walk around into her view. Her eyes widen as she takes me in.
“Diago.” I don’t know whether she uses my real name as a deliberate ploy to appeal to me, or if she’s just panicking and it’s the name that comes to her mind. Luckily there’s no one else to hear. “Diago. Thank the gods.”
“Don’t thank them yet.” I ignore the deep horror I feel at what she’s been through. Keep my voice cold, and my gaze steady on hers.
“What?” She looks at me as if not understanding and then begins to shake. Pleading in her eyes and there’s no deception in them, for once. “No. You’re not that cruel. Just get me up and we can—”
“Tell me everything you know about the Anguis, about the Iudicium, about the naumachia. Names and plans. The weapon Estevan used. Everything.”
She stares at me. Wide-eyed. Shaking. “No.”
I take a step back toward the winch.
“Wait.” I take another step. “WAIT!”
I move back into her view. The seconds are already ticking, but this is an opportunity I can’t miss. “Let’s start with something simple. Why are you here?”
“I was meant to help Lanistia get out of the city, but something must have gone wrong. I waited too long for her. Lost my escape route. And then your gods-damned Tertius put out word for me to be picked up. He was worried I might wield an undue influence over you, apparently.” She spits the last.
Tertius Ericius put her in here? If I wasn’t already so dead inside, I would be disappointed. “Who else was involved in the attack on the Iudicium, that you know of? Either planning it, or actually there?” I lean forward. “I already know some. So I’ll know if you’re lying.”
I can see her thinking, trying to decide if she should answer. I take a half step back toward the winch.
It’s a flood of information, after that.
Furious and self-loathing and I’m not sure how much of it, if any, I can trust. But I make careful note through the pain of my injuries and heart.
Mentally record the names I don’t already have.
She gasps most of the ones on the list that Ostius created, clearly more willing to give up Military contacts than Anguis.
But as the seconds pass and I look increasingly unimpressed, she adds more.
From obscure Octavii and Septimii, to a Magnus Quintus in Religion who has been involved in some of the meetings at the Forum over the past week.
“That’s all,” she says eventually. “That’s all, Diago. I swear it. Everyone who knew about the naumachia and the Iudicium.”
I commit the last of the information to memory, and don’t let up.
“And the weapon you used at the naumachia?” I’ve been thinking about that a lot again, this past week.
Not just its destructive nature, but the way it entirely muted the ability to use Will around it.
One of the few things which, properly harnessed, could still stop these impending bloodbaths before they start.