37 An Unexpected Future
He was no stranger to rebuilding.
Kadra strode down the stairs into the holding cells below his vigile station.
The next couple of days had seen a flurry of activity as he and the Tetrarchy capitalized on their newfound goodwill to anchor their position in the north and south.
Visits were made to northern towns, apologies offered, and ties strengthened.
Cassandane had made arrangements for the Aequitas’s rebuilding.
People believed what they believed.
Some whispered that they had known a god. Others called it a disease or mass hallucination. Telmar and Cato tirelessly worked to educate the latter. Those who avoided the truth were far too susceptible to manipulation.
Gaius ran into him on the way up. “Tetrarch Kadra, I just checked on him. Do you know, he apologized for the Aequitas and getting me injured?” He looked bewildered. “Gods, the faces people possess.”
Indeed. Thanking him, Kadra proceeded. His feet hit the bottommost step. Cells passed him in succession before he found the one he sought, far from the other arraigned prisoners awaiting the mines. His brother had requested it.
He approached the bars. Noceo lifted his head and nodded. “You came.”
“Hmm.” Kadra withdrew a brass key and unlocked the cell to sit beside the other man.
Noceo’s mouth twisted bitterly. “My trial is that soon, is it?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A week. Cassandane expedited it under guise of public interest, but I think she’s eager to send you off to the mines.” Kadra considered Noceo’s drawn features. “I won’t be there.”
“To prevent accusations of bias.” Noceo laughed weakly. “Though it sounds like that’s already happened. My crimes merit execution under the Corpus, don’t they?”
“Death is simple. Living is the trial.”
Noceo was quiet for a moment, tracing patterns on his scarred, mottled arms. “I don’t know how to live.”
Kadra nodded thoughtfully. “I felt the same at first upon arriving here with Othus, then again, after Sarai’s fall. But there are always paths. We found some hope even as children. There may be some where you’re going.”
Noceo exhaled. “You’ll be the last of the Clan then. The last of all five former Urd Clans.” He nudged him. “Clanlord.”
“No.” Kadra gave him a speaking look. “You are. I have enough in the way of titles without claiming that.”
“Claim some of it.” His brother folded his arms. “It is no small thing to have a history. To look back and know that there were others worse than you and that you can do better. I think the Death-Summoner would like that. She enjoyed the Hall of Relics.”
Kadra smiled faintly. “There’s a historian in her.”
“Any children you have would carry on the name too.”
It was Kadra’s turn to blow out a breath, thinking of Sarai and a family waiting for him in Aoran Tower. More than I dared dream. He smiled faintly.
“You look ridiculous.” Noceo let out a watery chuckle and caught Kadra’s gaze, reminding him of the last time Kadra had said that, when the world had seemed too far and yet, at their feet.
Kadra gripped his brother’s arm firmly and let go. “Probably.”
There was nothing more to say. He rose and locked the door behind him.
“The mines… will you know where I am?” His brother’s voice cracked at the end of the question.
“I will.” Black eyes found silver and held them. “Farewell for now, Noceo.”
This time, when he walked away, the air was quiet behind him. Steady with regret and the simple acknowledgment of who they’d been and who they could be. It was no simple feat, learning to live. But Noceo would learn. Just as he had.
Kadra’s chest twinged with every step away from the cell. He smiled ruefully and kept walking.
Sunset cast the sky in crimson when he passed the statue of Wrath on his way back to Aoran Tower.
His eyes narrowed. Pausing beside it for a breath, he exhaled in relief when the god didn’t show and walked onward.
The gate to Aoran Tower was midway to swinging shut behind him when a muscled, armored arm shoved past with a clank.
Kadra sighed. Things had been too quiet.
Blood bubbled from the ground to form a wide pool around Wrath. He was clad for battle today, a skull welded to one shoulder, jaws still moving in a never-ending scream.
Kadra arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”
Wrath grinned, fangs brushing his jaw. “You’ve passed.”
Something about that sounded vaguely ominous to Kadra. He stared.
“You weren’t wrong, mortal.” Wrath gripped a bony hand trying to claw its way up his leg and snapped it cursorily. “Of course, there’s a vetting process for the Naaduir. You just went through it. And passed.”
Kadra leaned against the gaze. “Explain.”
“As touching as it has been to hear your gratitude for the ‘powers’ and ‘strength’ I gave you, I didn’t.
” Wrath raised his index finger and tapped it to his forehead in a mimicry of what he had done to Kadra that night in Delran Tower.
“I simply removed every Threshold from you. You drew from your own power with complete abandon. It’s why most people go mad, you know?
” He indicated the screaming skull on his shoulder. “They get a taste of power and feast.”
Understanding penetrated, and Kadra pinned the god with a hard stare.
“You tricked me,” he said in a voice that promised retribution. Though the god had never denied the existence of a vetting process. He sighed when Wrath laughed.
“Mortals only believe that gods speak to them in riddles, because they can never understand what we see.” Fire roared in his unearthly eyes. “But you do now, don’t you?”
Kadra’s lips curved. “Consequence is necessary for man but is the making of a god.”
“We become the gods we choose.” Wrath looked lost in thought for a moment. “Faragathe screamed that years ago as she burned alive. She chose her road, but I believe that you’ll preside over something vastly more interesting than murder and mutilation, acolyte. Perhaps Judgment.”
“It sounds like I’ll be working even in death,” Kadra said dryly.
“The Naaduir are allowed their consorts. You’ll enjoy it.” Wrath’s smile was knowing.
“Will this be our last meeting?”
The god shrugged, sending another screaming skull tumbling within his black hair into the pool of blood. “I don’t get much conversation. You’ll do.” His heavy, clawed hand struck Kadra’s shoulder in brief parting before the god winked out of existence.
Kadra warily surveyed the gate to his tower and exhaled to find it in one piece. Smiling, he entered his home, Wrath’s chuckle still ringing in his ears.