XXXVI

ONE OF THE GREAT SYTRECIAN philosophers once argued that the concept of home is, at its core, about safety. That no matter how familiar you may become with a place, no matter how long it is your abode—if it ever loses its sense of comfort, you can no longer truly call it by that name.

I cannot describe what I feel as the Transvect approaches the lush green hills of Solivagus. I was here for a year. I left only four months ago. It is as familiar a place as I have ever been, outside of Suus.

But this was never a home.

As the Transvect begins its dip toward the Seawall, Livia stirs, standing and pressing her face to the glass as she looks ahead. Youthful curiosity in her peering, even if it is tinged with something heavier. “So this is it?”

Aequa nods absently, her response unseen. Eidhin and I exchange grim glances and say nothing. The conversation was subdued but cheerful enough for a while, after the Necropolis. A few none-too-veiled jibes from Aequa and Eidhin about Emissa—partly for Livia’s benefit, who doesn’t know why we really stopped there, and partly to voice their continuing disapproval of her—but otherwise, given that I had no desire to risk breaking a Silencium in front of Callidus’s sister, the talk revolved around lighter matters.

This last half hour, though, has seen us quiet. We’ve spent it in mostly reflective silence as we’ve skimmed the rippling, glittering Sea of Quus.

For Eidhin, Aequa, and me, it’s our first time back.

“And these columns are some sort of defence? How does that work?” Livia turns. Not oblivious to the mood, I think. More uncomfortable in it. She says it as if it’s a question for all of us, but unconsciously or not, she’s directing it toward Eidhin.

“The Seawall is pre-Cataclysm.” Eidhin answers politely and only after a few seconds, distractedly, when he realises neither Aequa nor I are going to jump in.

Livia cocks her head to the side slightly, smiling. Intent. “You’ve never wondered?”

“We spent many classes analysing the potential mechanisms.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“It was not.”

Livia chuckles as if he was making a joke, then awkwardly turns back to the window as Eidhin continues to stare distractedly in the opposite direction. Between them, I catch Aequa’s half wince, half smirk, though she does her best to hide it. I feel the corners of my own lips threaten to pull upward before I lean forward and pretend to rub my face. The tension dissipated, at least briefly, at least for us.

Our humour inevitably fades as the great stone beast shakes itself and rises again after almost touching its access point in the Seawall. I pause. Focus.

The anchoring point to our right slides by in my mind, pulsing in harmony with the stone slabs that form the base of the Transvect. I swallow, the unease of their proximity still with me. I can’t touch them from in here, thankfully—the only reason I’ve been able to push their presence to the back of my thoughts. Otherwise, I’d likely have spent the entire trip terrified that I might accidentally use Adoption on them and send us crashing into the sea.

“You think the Principalis will be waiting for us?” Aequa assumes my trepidation stems from what’s coming.

“He sure as all hells isn’t letting us roam free.” My statement elicits an agreeing grunt from Eidhin.

Silence again. My gaze goes to Livia, still watching the sun-drenched rolling green outside the window. She’s been nothing but polite to me since her outburst before Placement. I tried to talk to her about what she said, a few days after. She apologised. Said all the right things in a perfectly cordial tone. There was no doubt she didn’t mean any of it.

Even so. Nothing’s changed in her posture, but I can see her expression reflected in the window, broken by the trees rushing past below. She doesn’t have the history, here. But she knows that this is where it happened.

As I look at her now, I’m reminded that she is still Callidus’s sister. I cannot get rid of her. I cannot trust her. But I refuse to put her in any danger.

“There he is,” growls Eidhin as the Academy platform comes into view, breaking the moment. Livia turns at his words, manages to catch my observation of her before I can look away. There’s a flicker of anger in her eyes. Gone in an instant.

I turn, and focus on Veridius as the Transvect slides to a smooth stop.

The Principalis waits with his hands clasped behind him. A stiff breeze whips his blue cloak and ruffles his dirty-blond hair. His bright blue eyes look momentarily tired as they track our coming to a halt, but when the door opens and we disembark, his smile somehow smooths away any fatigue I thought I saw. It’s warm. Welcoming. So genuine. Just like always.

“Hail! You made it.” His biggest smile is reserved for me, but he includes everyone in his greeting. “I am so glad you came. I know the festival can be such a busy time in Caten.” No hint of annoyance that I’ve brought the others. I didn’t forewarn him, but he was the one who organised the Transvect. He was surely told as soon as we got on board.

“Quintus!” The lie of the broad smile I paste on almost physically hurts as I step forward, embracing him one-armed. “It’s good to see you again.” These months steeped in the politics of Caten have taught me much. My greeting is too enthusiastic to be anything but false, but it’s a better cover than the cold response I’d dearly love to give the man. He’s expecting the latter, and I know it wouldn’t faze him. This way, at least, he has no idea what the others know. No idea what I’ve told them.

Eidhin and Aequa do an admirable job of mimicking my pleasantries, and then Veridius turns to Livia. His smile gentler. “And you must be Livia Ericius.”

She does not take his outstretched hand. “Yes.”

“Hm.” Veridius drops his hand, smile drifting into something gentle and sad. Understanding. “Welcome, Livia.”

She gives a brusque nod, and we start walking.

“The island has been searched?” Eidhin asks the question. I spare a glance for the vast, undulating green of Solivagus, moments before it’s hidden as we leave the platform and begin up the steep path toward the Academy. Rippling treetops and winding rivers that shine in the summer sun. It looks so peaceful from up here.

“Thoroughly. Three months of combing every gully and thicket. No sign of any Anguis,” Veridius assures us.

“So they’re not moving the Academy back to Caten?” Aequa, this time, though I was about to ask the same. After their initial failure to strip Religion of their control of the Academy, Military pushed to shift it away from Solivagus. To “ensure the safety” of its students in the future. Which, of course, would also have resulted in giving them access to the island.

Veridius shakes his head. “Governance is siding with us on that one.” He sighs. “But I’ve spoken of these things enough for a lifetime, these past months. And in the midst of it all, heard not nearly enough about how you’re all doing. How are you finding Caten?”

The next minutes are spent in brief, polite conversation. Eidhin provides a typically terse overview of his time in Military. Aequa focuses mostly on her apprenticing with Aedile Glaucius, mentioning Tertius Ericius only in passing. And I talk about my arm, the progress it’s made healing, how I’m coping. Veridius plays the part of interested former mentor to perfection, not prying, but to all appearances sincerely interested, genuinely pleased with our successes and sympathising with the challenges we’ve faced.

As always, I cannot decide how much of it, if any, is false.

I’m distracted about halfway up the hill by a strange sensation, something scratching at the back of my mind. I carefully allow myself to focus. A faint pulse of Will? It’s similar, but feels different, too. Somewhere off to our left.

As if in response to my examination, leaves rustle and twigs crack in the direction I’m looking. I pause. No one else seems to have heard anything. I feel the imbued metal sitting snug around my torso, beneath my tunic. I’ve been practicing with it for weeks, ever since I finally forged a good enough set of pieces. I don’t want to use it, not in front of Veridius of all people. But I will if I have to.

“What is it?” Aequa’s noticed my hesitation.

“Thought I heard something.”

“Probably just an animal,” Veridius says, motioning me on.

I’m reluctant, but the thick woods whisper in the breeze and nothing more. And whatever I briefly felt—if I felt anything—is gone again.

Soon enough we’re passing through the Academy’s Will cage and into the sweeping, immaculately kempt grounds. Aside from its complete lack of bustle, everything looks… normal. Untouched. Exactly as I remember it.

“I have to apologise. I had some unannounced visitors arrive this morning, and I need to attend to them before we can talk,” says Veridius, mostly to me. No hint of suspicion in the statement, but he has to wonder at the timing of the Military delegation showing up today. Ulciscor, I assume, will have kept his name well clear of any involvement in its arrangement. “Will you four be able to entertain yourselves for a few hours until dinner? Aequa, perhaps you can show Livia to the girls’ dormitory. Feel free to use the Class Three rooms.”

“Of course we can,” I say. Not even a guard to watch us? I wait for the rest.

Veridius pulls four stone cuffs from his pocket. “Oh. And while you’re on the island, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you all to wear these.”

“What are they?” asks Livia with a frown, examining them.

“Tracking devices. It’s just a precaution. The Senate insists that all visitors wear them now.” He motions for our hands, which we offer reluctantly. “If any are broken, or leave the grounds while active, it will trigger an immediate Academy-wide alarm. Every guard will be alerted and every resource will be devoted to a search.” He doesn’t look at me in particular, or shy away from my gaze. As if this had nothing to do with me.

“I thought that was what the walls were for, Principalis,” I observe with blithe cheerfulness as the stone band snaps shut around my wrist. It’s a snug fit. No squeezing my hand out of it.

Veridius chuckles. “You’re a Sextus now, Vis. The walls are meant to keep in students who don’t have access to Will. And they’re not always successful in doing that much,” he adds lightly.

We both grin our false grins, and he moves on to Eidhin.

Soon we’re all wearing the tracking bands, and Veridius is smiling around at us as if we’d never left. “Until dinner, then.” He walks off.

We wander for a while after that, giving Livia a brief tour of the grounds and steering as Veridius suggested toward the girls’ dormitory. Livia and Aequa disappear inside, and after a few minutes Aequa comes back out alone.

“She’s just cleaning up. She won’t be long.” She taps the stone bracelet on her wrist. Grim. “What are we going to do?”

My gaze flicks to the distant Will-smooth wall that divides the Academy from the remainder of Solivagus. Fifteen feet high, spikes at the top. I still have the faint remnants of a scar on my palm from the last time I scaled it.

“He was not bluffing, Vis,” Eidhin rumbles, seeing my observation. “He is not a fool.”

“I know. I still think I can get us out.” I pause. “But… Livia is a problem.”

Aequa and I look at Eidhin expectantly.

“What?” He squints at us, puzzled. “The plan is for Aequa to keep her company, while Vis and I get over the wall. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re going to be a better distraction,” says Aequa firmly.

“She’s right, my friend,” I agree.

“Why?”

Aequa and I exchange glances. See the laughter in the other’s eyes and try, unsuccessfully, to hide smirks. “She will be more… engaged, with you,” says Aequa eventually.

Eidhin’s eyes narrow.

“So much more engaged,” I agree, the corners of my mouth curling involuntarily as Aequa coughs, barely restraining herself.

Eidhin glares at me, then Aequa, then at me again. “I am from Military. Her father is a Tertius in Governance.”

Aequa’s lips twitch. “So would you describe yourself as… forbidden?” She says the last in a seductive whisper. Eyes wide.

Neither of us can hold back snickers as Eidhin glowers. “You are wrong.”

“You are oblivious,” Aequa corrects him.

Eidhin’s scowl deepens, but as he sees me nodding firmly, he makes a small, rude gesture in our direction. “Very well. I will… tour her.”

This time, at the now-rare language mistake from a vaguely flustered Eidhin, Aequa and I aren’t able to keep it in. It feels good to laugh—to laugh hard and long, so loud that I can’t hear the specifics of Eidhin’s annoyed protests.

We’ve barely subsided when Livia emerges from the building behind us, and Aequa and I straighten our faces. “Time for some charm,” I murmur to Eidhin.

He hears the glee in my voice. His look promises future consequences.

“Livia,” he says, turning and walking briskly to greet the girl. “As we have some time…”

He puts enough distance between us that the rest of the conversation is inaudible; Livia freezes at his hail as if she’s not quite sure she’s heard correctly, then recovers, cheeks flushing as she stops in front of him. They speak for another half minute in low tones.

“Is his face turning red?” I murmur to Aequa.

“Is he trying to flirt?” she whispers back, eyes wide.

Eidhin glances over at us, his expression genial but his eyes reflecting something between panic and violence as he sees us watching.

Then he and Livia begin strolling companionably away from us, deep in conversation, in the direction of the Quadrum.

“Alright,” I say to Aequa with a grin after I’m certain they’re not turning back. “Let’s get out of here.”

“YOU’RE NOT PLANNING TO JUST break these and run. Right?” asks Aequa anxiously, tapping the stone locked around her wrist as we gaze up at the spike-topped wall rising in front of us. We’re beyond the stables, not far from the same point I scaled it more than a year ago. The horses are grazing nearby. No sign of Septimus Ascenia or anyone else. “I don’t think the Principalis was exaggerating about what would happen.”

I chuckle, mainly to cover my own nervousness. I don’t really want to do this in front of her, and some part of me wishes it were Eidhin I had to reveal this to. As much as I’ve confided in them both, this is something else entirely: almost as terrifying a secret as my real name, and with equally dire consequences if the Hierarchy ever finds out about it. But I don’t have time to second-guess.

I close my eyes. Focus on the stone, feel the gentle pulsing of Will in it. I’ve been practicing this for more than a month now, ever since Placement. Refining. Experimenting.

Connection.

The metal triangles beneath my tunic shiver. Adoption doesn’t seem to disrupt whatever Will I’m already using, but it does add the mental strain of another connection to the ones I already maintain. Not that I can’t handle it, but it’s like someone tossing another brick atop the pile I’m already carrying. Even knowing it’s coming, I still have to adjust.

Otherwise, though, it’s almost laughably easy.

The Will’s original purpose remains in the mind of whoever imbued it—Veridius, presumably, in this case—and so I don’t need to worry about its mechanics, as they’ll simply resume when I release it again. And the imbuer’s sense of connection remains, so this won’t draw their attention the same way snapping the bracelet and releasing the Will would. It’s like rifling through someone’s belongings while they’re not looking. As long as I leave everything the way I found it, they’ll never know anything happened.

I mentally prise apart the two stone halves, catch them as they slip off my wrist, and then touch them together again before quickly relinquishing control. They snap back firmly. An empty circle.

Finished, I turn to Aequa. She’s watching with wide eyes. “How?”

“New trick. A story for once we’re over the wall.” I gesture for her to offer her wrist; a few moments later her bracelet is off as well. I hide them at the base of a tree. “I assume you’re going to be able to get yourself over those spikes, Quintus Claudius?”

Aequa continues to watch me dazedly, then shakes herself and refocuses on the wall. Unsurprisingly curious, but as aware as I am of the time pressure. “Please.” Her eyes turn black; she jogs up to the wall and with an apparently effortless leap, clears the glistening barbs by at least ten feet before vanishing behind it.

I grunt, hurriedly manipulating the Harmonic imbuing around my torso, letting the hundred iron triangles flow into a safely hidden pile beneath a bush before taking back my Will from them.

Then I carefully self-imbue, sprint and leap myself. Less casual than Aequa; I practiced clearing this exact height many times before we left, and am certain that I can make it, but it’s a near thing. I push off. Sail upward, tucking my legs slightly to make sure I don’t clip the top of the spikes, and then the familiar feeling of my stomach dropping as I plummet down the other side. I roll as I hit the grass. Lie there for a second, and then grasp Aequa’s hand as she helps me up.

“Gods, you barely made it,” she observes.

“I know.”

“You should try jumping higher next time.”

I shoot her grin a dirty look. “I’ll keep that in mind. Come on. It’s this way.”

Neither of us speak, for a time, as we walk. The close forest whispering around us.

“So tell me about this ‘trick’ of yours.” Aequa says it lightly, but there’s no concealing her intense curiosity.

I exhale.

And I do.

I leave out the details about Relucia’s contact, of course; mentioning him gets far too close to the Anguis for my comfort. It’s a simple enough omission, though. I say I discovered Adoption by accident a couple of months ago. That I assume it’s something to do with what happened to me in the Labyrinth, but there’s no way to be sure. That I’ve experimented with it in private, figured out what it is and isn’t capable of. And that, naturally enough, I haven’t told anyone else.

Aequa listens with only the occasional, vaguely disbelieving question. When I finish, she lets out a long breath.

“You used it during Placement?” Not really asking.

I shrug modestly.

“Rotting gods.” She’s smiling, though. Shaking her head ruefully. “Always knew you were a gods-damned cheat.” She rubs her face. Trying to take it in.

“I didn’t tell you because—”

“I understand.” She waves it away carelessly, eyes wide as she thinks about the possibilities. “Gods’ graves. I can’t even imagine what would happen if people found out. So Tertius Ericius doesn’t know?”

I look at her. “If Governance found out, with the way things are in Caten right now, can you imagine what they’d start asking me to do?”

She shudders. Nods. “Eidhin?”

I shake my head. “That’s not a question of trust; I know he wouldn’t say anything, but…”

“But the fewer people who know, the better,” finishes Aequa with a slow nod. “I’d do the same.” Silence, and then she looks at me. “Anyone else and I’d probably report it, you know. That’s not a power that just anyone should have.”

I nod.

“Does this mean you’re less impressed with my Placement results now?”

“So much less impressed,” she agrees vehemently. We both grin.

There’s another lull in the conversation after that, but it’s an oddly relaxed one given the situation. I find myself glad Aequa knows. This ability has been a burden since the moment I found out about it and despite both of us being in Governance, the last few months have been spent largely separate, our private conversations brief and mostly related to planning today. This is the first time we’ve genuinely had a chance to talk, just the two of us, since the Iudicium.

“So which way do your nightmares go, these days?” Aequa asks it lightly, abruptly. Not looking at me. Her thoughts, apparently, running along the same track as mine.

I don’t answer for a few seconds as we emerge onto the path that leads to the ruins. “Naumachia,” I say eventually. “Sometimes it’s the Iudicium. Waking up with this.” I wiggle my stump. “But…”

“Me too.”

Silence again, and then I want to know. “You wake up in a sweat?”

“Curled up. And every muscle is sore. Like I’ve been fighting all night.”

I show vigorous agreement, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. “And I have that gods-damned sound in my head…”

She shivers and nods tautly, as if the very mention of it is too much. Perhaps it is. Neither of us want to think about it.

“I still don’t want to go to sleep, some nights,” she says eventually. She exhales. “But… do you ever wonder if we would have made it through the Iudicium, without it?” She looks across at me. “I think about it sometimes. A lot, actually. When we found that pile of bodies. Sianus and the others. I was scared, but…” She breathes out again.

“But it wasn’t the same.” I keep my eyes on the path ahead. I’ve thought about it too. “Wasn’t hopeless. We had choices.”

“We had choices,” she agrees quietly.

I push a branch from my path, am about to continue the conversation when I feel it. That same, strange sensation in the back of my mind. Like my sense of Will, but not quite.

It’s close, too.

I hold up a hand, brow furrowed, bringing Aequa to a stop and listening.

“What is it?”

“Not sure.” I peer into the brush. Tracking the sensation in my head. It’s a hundred feet away. Moving parallel to us.

Then it seems to pause.

Then it’s coming toward us. Fast.

“Look out.” I snap the words and self-imbue, gesturing Aequa behind the nearest tree on the opposite side of the path as her eyes go black as well. I can hear the crashing of bushes, the cracking of branches. The foliage trembles.

A low rumble, and then the massive alupi emerges from the undergrowth.

A soft cry from Aequa and I fling out my hand to urge her back while not taking my eyes from the beast in front of me. Its shoulder comes up to my stomach.

I know before I look, but sure enough, there’s a long scar along its back.

“Diago,” I whisper softly.