My anger, stoked but suppressed until his last sentence, flares. I can’t help myself.Trust.
“Tell me, Principalis,” I call after him. “Did you go to Belli’s funeral, too?”
Veridius stiffens, almost imperceptibly. “I went to all of them, Vis.” Doesn’t look back. “I wept at all of them.”
He walks away.
Eidhin joins me again as I stare after him, my fury dying as quickly as it came, leaving only a confused smouldering. If Veridius truly is trying to stop a new Cataclysm, should I even be angry with him? I’m not sure I know anymore.
The burly boy next to me follows my gaze. There’s silence between us amidst the murmuring of the other mourners.
“He offered to free me from my father’s agreement,” he eventually says in quiet Cymrian.
I glance at him. My anger lost. Sure I’m misinterpreting, somehow.
“He said he had already gained permission. That I could have it in writing, with the Princeps’s seal,” continues Eidhin. His voice is uncharacteristically strained, brow furrowed as he watches the Principalis vanish into the crowd. “All I had to do was win the Iudicium on my own, and my people’s fate would no longer be tied to my obedience. I could do whatever I wished, and there would be no consequences for them. No Sappers.”
He finally looks across at me. “I thought the temptation would be too much. So I said no. And now our friend is dead.” Blue eyes reflect firelight and deep, deep sorrow. “I once told you that it is how they change you. Onecompromise at a time. That every man has to find his line, and never cross it. Do you still believe that?”
I’m still trying to formulate a response when there’s movement off to my left, and a young man I don’t recognise materialises from the darkness.
“Hail, Catenicus.” His tinted glasses, despite the night surrounding us, mark him as at least a Sextus. He’s either unaware he’s interrupting, or doesn’t care. “The Magnus Tertius wishes to speak with you.” He wheels and walks off, the implication clearly that I’m to follow.
Eidhin glowers at the retreating man, then sighs. “It is alright. Go. We can continue this later.”
I don’t move, still struggling with the enormity of what he’s just told me. I know exactly how much the Hierarchy’s agreement with Eidhin’s father weighs on my friend. Can only imagine the pull Veridius’s offer must have had.
I half turn to leave, then change my mind. Step forward and embrace Eidhin around his thick neck with my one good arm, leaning close.
“Never let them change you, Eidhin. Never. You are more honourable, more of a friend, than any man could hope for,” I whisper fiercely in his ear. “And Callidus would tell you the same.”
I release my grip on him and, without waiting for a response, hurry after the Tertius’s messenger.
The man with the tinted glasses leads me wordlessly away from the subdued crowd and the Necropolis, following the line of one of the carefully tended Eternal Fires that illuminate the valley. We’re not going to the Ericius crypt, then. Part of me had still hoped to see Callidus, one last time.
I try not to dwell on that and use the journey to settle, to clear my mind. It’s not why I’m here, but I thought this might happen tonight.
We walk for a full minute, leaving the susurrus of mourners behind. The fire to our left crackles against the silence as it allays some of the evening’s encroaching chill. Tall, shaped cypresses line the path on the right. The outlines of myriad tombstones lie beyond.
Then we turn abruptly between two trees. Stars alone light our path. Gravel crunches underfoot. My eyes adjust and, just before I can uneasily question where we’re going, I see the Magnus Tertius ahead. Sitting on a bench, surroundings unlit. Staring into the night. Even at a distance, that indefinable sense of power emanates from him.
He stands when he notes our approach. He looks young for his age. In the moment, in the dim, I almost think I see my friend.
The Magnus glances at the man who led me here, who takes it as a dismissal.
“So. Here we are, Catenicus.” Callidus’s father only speaks once we’re alone. Up close, I can see dark stubble covering his jawline. Helpless exhaustion in his eyes. Even the might of a Tertius is tempered by the haunted aspect of a man grieving.
“Magnus Ericius. It’s an honour.” Hierarchy Censor or not, I almost mean it. Callidus spoke well of his father. “And … your son. I cannot tell you how sorry I am. He was a good friend.” A quaver in my voice at that last part, despite myself. I cover it with a rough cough.
“So I am told.” Sombre, but clipped. Not here for courtesies, however heartfelt. “Tell me. Is that why you’ve decided to cause me so much trouble?”
“Sir?”
“Let us be honest with each other, Catenicus. Let us speak our truths here in the shadows while we still can. Your joining us in Governance is a coup. A coup that comes at a time when relations between Governance and Military are unsettlingly fragile. A coup that, as far as I can tell, we did not instigate.” Magnus Ericius’s expression is hard. “You are a Telimus. Catenicus. Domitor of the Academy. Military would have given you any post you asked for, and yet I can assure you that with us, you will start with no special privileges. You gain nothing and lose much by doing this. So if you have any interest in trust, any interest in advancement, then you need to tell me now—why, exactly, are we having this conversation?”
I allow my brow to furrow. Don’t answer for a long few seconds. Not because I’m surprised—I knew this, or something like this, would be coming. My answers are prepared. But it’s still better if I seem taken aback.
Eventually, I meet the Tertius’s gaze. “Because I want to know why Callidus died. And I want to make sure whoever is responsible for it, pays.”
