Chapter LXXII #3
“Only Estevan knew all the details. He said that using it was a great, necessary evil. He didn’t want to give anyone the chance to decide it should be used again after he was gone.
” She sees my displeasure at the answer.
Stammers. “Ostius! Ostius helped him with some of it, parts Estevan didn’t know enough about to put together on his own.
I once heard him say it was a power that came from a fight far older and more dangerous than the one against the Hierarchy.
But he never talked about any of that with me. Never. I swear it.”
I grimace, but nod to the honesty of her evident terror. Hard not to feel sympathy. Hard not to think she deserves every second of this.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t leave you here.” I don’t flinch away from her pleading stare. “You and the Anguis have been responsible for so much death, Relucia. So much pain. As far as I am concerned, if anyone belongs in here, it is you.”
She just hangs there for a few moments. Probably desperately trying to decide whether to speak honestly, or give me what she thinks I want to hear.
“Sometimes lives lived in misery have to be sacrificed so that the ones which follow aren’t even worse, Diago,” she says eventually.
“I hate it, you know. Same as Estevan did. But it’s working.
Haven’t you seen it, out there? The rumblings?
The discontent? Octavii and Septimii have gone from accepting their station in life to seeing the truth of it.
Seeing that their role in the Republic, because they were not lucky enough to be born otherwise, is to be tools.
Just things to be used. The naumachia shook them awake.
And then the Iudicium ensured that their masters began focusing more on one another, than them.
It showed them that their rulers are petty, and small-minded, and never to be trusted. It showed them the truth.”
I shake my head slowly. Wearily.
“So an unhappy life now is worth less than someone else’s potentially better one in the future?
” I stare at her. Even here, even now, she still can’t see it.
“These people may be miserable, they may be being used, they may even be responsible for that. But that doesn’t mean they deserve to die.
And it certainly doesn’t give you the right to kill them. ”
“I never said I had the right, Diago.” More confidently now. As if by continuing the conversation, she somehow thinks she’s convincing me. “Just the responsibility. We’re doing what has to be done to effect change. You can see that, surely.”
“I can see that. You did what you thought is best for the world. And you were willing to accept the consequences.” I crouch by her.
Let her meet my gaze. “Well here are the consequences. My friend was killed less than an hour ago. Her head was crushed by a Tertius. Some of that is my fault. A lot of that is my fault. But she would still be with me right now if it were not for your gods-damned war.”
She sees it in my eyes, then. Her chains start to rattle. “Diago.” She’s shaking her head. “Diago, don’t do this. I can help you. You need me.”
“I don’t, Relucia,” I say softly. “Thanks to what you’ve done out there, I really don’t.”
“Let me free.” She begins to thrash. Her chains scream at the darkness. “LET ME FREE, DIAGO! YOU ROTTING COWARD! YOU—”
I kick the winch. The chain unspools. Her screams cease.
ULCISCOR IS GROGGY, BARELY ABLE TO WALK AT FIRST AS I help him up the stairs.
He never thinks to glance in Relucia’s alcove as we pass, too focused on trying to catch up, to get his sluggish mind back into working order.
It’s not just the Sapper, I realise with some dismay after a minute or two.
It’s that he’s lost his pyramid because of it.
He’s an Octavii but he’s used to being a Magnus Quintus.
Life must seem like it’s running through sludge for him.
We stumble along in silence, Ulciscor eventually mostly able to do so without leaning on me. My adoptive father has barely spoken, but as we come within sight of the stairs, he glances at me. “Lanistia?”
“She’s just up ahead. She’ll explain everything.”
“How is she?”
“Tired and grumpy.”
A pause as we labour our way upward, and then, “Any chance you can put me back?”
We share a soft chuckle, though my heart’s not in it. Stumble on, but then Ulciscor puts up his hand and sags against the wall. I wait patiently. I’ve seen men and women released from the Sappers before. None of them ever made it out the door without several stops for rest.
After a few seconds, Ulciscor’s breathing steadies. He looks up at me. “Why?”
I shake my head. “Why what?”
“I made you run the Labyrinth. I made you risk your life.” There’s something in his voice that I’ve never heard from him before. Shame? “I didn’t send you to die, Vis—I swear it—but … gods. I knew it might happen and I did it anyway. You don’t owe me this.”
“I didn’t owe you the alternative, either,” I say quietly.
He holds my gaze, then dips his head. A genuinely grateful motion.
We start up the stairs. Painfully slow. Unspeaking, more because Ulciscor needs his breath than because of any fear of being heard.
Though I know it must still be a while until the planned attack, time feels as though it has no meaning down here.
Only the length of wax inside my lantern reassures me that hours have not passed.
I cautiously cede to Lanistia again as soon as we reach her; risk though it is, I barely made it up the first flight of stairs with Ulciscor.
She and Ulciscor’s reunion is almost comically perfunctory after that.
A brief embrace. Nods of familiar recognition, as if they were meeting for dinner at Domus Telimus rather than being rescued from prison in the middle of enemy territory.
“You look awful,” says Lanistia to him conversationally, as the three of us stumble our way upward.
“The rewards of trying to rescue you,” he grunts between laboured breaths.
“Should’ve just sent Vis. He’s better at it.”
Ulciscor coughs something that falls somewhere between a snort and a laugh. And though I cannot find the energy to smile at the familiar banter, it eases something in me. Just a little. Helps me maintain my focus on what I’m saving, not what I’ve lost.
Soon enough I’m knocking on the guardroom door; there’s a pause, and I briefly panic that perhaps the Septimii beyond have had a change of heart, but then there’s a key turning in the lock. I hold the door closed. “Face away, Septimii. As agreed.”
An irritated grunt, another few seconds and then, “Alright. Come through.”
The Septimii are both facing the wall, arms crossed, as I swing the door wide. We’re halfway across the small room when Lanistia ducks smoothly to the side. Snatches up a knife and before I can understand what she’s doing, slits the throat of the man closest to us.
The woman half turns at the gurgling. Far too late. Lanistia has taken another two steps and has opened her jugular, too.
“What in the … gods damn it, Lanistia!” I put the emphasis in the words by hissing rather than shouting, though I sorely want to do the latter. “I told them—”
“You know what they were planning to do,” she says, tossing the bloodied dagger to the floor with a clatter. Cold.
Ulciscor gazes at the two bodies, then gives a nod which, if not approving, at least isn’t the opposite.
I just stare at them. Weary more than horrified. It won’t save the people in the Sappers for long. Will probably hurt our chances of repelling the attack tonight. I can’t figure out how I feel about the two murders I just witnessed. I don’t feel anything.
I slowly, heavily retrieve the Septimus’s Will key, and open the door to Caten.
“Do you know anything about my parents?” Ulciscor finds his voice again as the prison door seals behind us. “Or Relucia? Or Kadmos?” His mind is catching up.
“Kadmos is at home. They let me take over Domus Telimus, and he’s the Dispensator, so he’s considered Governance now. And he’s confident your parents got out.” I shake my head. “I haven’t seen Relucia, but I have to hope she slipped away too.” Her screams echo in the back of my mind.
“Any ideas how we can get out?”
“There’s a Military attack tonight. Redivius. East Caten will be almost empty, and I’ve left the scheduled patrol routes through there with Kadmos. Get him to give you both some of his tea.”
Lanistia cocks her head to the side, recognising the implication a moment before Ulciscor. “Where will you be?”
“I’ll walk you back. But I have something else I need to do after that.” I smile tightly.
“Of course you do.” Lanistia breathes a disbelieving laugh, and I can tell her focus is on my legs again. Then she abruptly freezes. Frowns, and pales, and grabs my hand, and says the words. My Will floods back into me.
“Again?”
She just nods grimly. Gripping my good arm. “We should get moving.”
It’s a tortuous walk back to Domus Telimus, almost an hour of skulking through dark alleys and gutted streets.
We proceed largely in silence, both to conserve our breath and for the sake of stealth, though it’s only twice we come near any of the roving bands that “patrol” Caten after dark.
The simple pain of walking while supporting the other two, I find, helps keep my mind from my more complex ones.
When every step is an effort, it’s hard to dwell.
Finally we reach the lantern-light of Domus Telimus; Kadmos and Diago greet us at the door, the former with more of his tea as I instructed him earlier. I take it as he gives a soft cry of overjoyed relief at the sight of my companions, embracing them with unrestrained delight.
I’ve drained the pain-numbing concoction before the three of them have broken apart. “Luck, all of you.” I hand back the empty mug. Kadmos knows what to do from here, and I need to press on.
Kadmos’s lip twitches and then he’s enfolding me in a surprising hug, which I return with a bemused smile. The same quickly follows from Lanistia and Ulciscor. Warmth to them all and I cling a heartbeat longer to each than I mean to. Suddenly wanting nothing more than the comfort of other people.
“Be safe,” Ulciscor murmurs as he parts. “We owe you a debt, Son.” Eyes locked with mine.
For the first time, he doesn’t use the word lightheartedly.
I just nod, not knowing what to say. Clap him lightly on the shoulder, and head toward the street.
Diago pads after me, somehow knowing that this time, he’s required.
I limp away back into the darkness of the unlit avenues, until my and Diago’s shadows disappear, and then lean against a wall. Ruffle the fur on Diago’s head absently. Between my Will and Kadmos’s tea, I’ll be capable of making the docks. But it’s past midnight. We’ll have to be quick.
There are screams on the night breeze. They come fewer than they did even a couple of days ago. More surprised, harsher against the sullenness of Caten’s corpse. But one only has to listen for a few minutes in any section of the city to hear them.
People being killed. Or raped. Or dragged away to be fodder for the Sappers.
And so much of it is of my doing. Not my fault, perhaps—I am not arrogant enough to think that the machinations of empire revolve around me. But I played more than my part in beginning this horror.
I check I’m alone, and take the stone medallion Ostius gave me from around my neck.
Examine it again. The faintest trace of Will pulsing from the Hierarchy symbol, as always.
I’ve thought about this a lot, this past week.
About what was said, that night, between him and Princeps Exesius. What it all means.
And I remember again Decimus’s last, sneering words to me. An ugly truth ringing in them.
The strength of the few is all that matters.
I pour Will into my hand, and close my fist. When I open it again, all that remains is dust.
I brush it off onto the ground.
“Come on, Diago,” I tell the alupi softly. “Time to be strong.”
I grit my teeth against the pain once again, and head for war.