“Rotting gods. You don’tknow?”
“It’s not that.” Defensive, despite himself. “The writings seemed to suggest the Cataclysms were triggered by one man. ‘Ka,’ they called him. But they talked about exploiting a vulnerability in Obiteum, not here. There’s no suggestion of how to find him in our world.”
Aequa points it out before I do. “One man? Causing Cataclysms over thousands of years?” she interjects disbelievingly.
“He could be a iunctus.” More uncertainty than I’d like in the response. “Or being Synchronous could extend life indefinitely, for all we know. Like aneven more effective version of what we see in the Princeps. And there are certainly plenty of instances of Will operating in ways we don’t understand, like the Vitaeria. I know it seems absurd, but everything else written down there has borne out as truth.”
I massage the nub of my missing arm absently. Accept it for the time being, as I have with so much tonight. “Then we have to find him.”
“We need to keep you safe. Caeror knew all of this, too.”
It takes a few moments for me to understand what he means. “You want me to donothing?”
“I know it’s not your default position,” the Principalis says dryly. “And I’m not saying we won’t act, given the chance. But Vis … I just don’t have enough information. Wherever Ka is on our world, I have no idea where to look. Where tostartlooking.” He rubs his forehead tiredly. “I hate the passivity of it too, but keeping a low profile is the best thing you can do right now. Don’t let anyone else know what you can do. If Ka finds out you’re Synchronous, I have no doubt he’ll try to have you killed.” He looks at Aequa and Eidhin. “You two need to help him. Keep an eye on him, wherever you can.”
They both, to my vague annoyance, nod gravely. Even knowing what he’s done, Veridius’s calm, commanding presence manages to overwhelm everything sometimes. It’s so easy to forget that he’s no longer in charge of us.
Veridius gazes up at the stars dotting the bruised sky of the west. “That’s probably everything I can think to tell you, Vis, for now. If something else occurs to me, I’ll let you know before the Transvect arrives tomorrow.” He stands. “I am sorry I cannot give you better answers. More of a purpose. Of everyone involved in this, you genuinely have the hardest job. You have to wait, and hope.”
He says it with gentle, regretful care. The melancholy in his voice adds that he knows only too well how difficult that truly is.
I nod. A respectful acknowledgement that I mean. I don’t trust that he’s told me everything, and I don’t doubt he feels the same about me. Nor can I say that I like how he has gone about dealing with all of this. But I do believe him. I believe there is a Cataclysm coming, and I believe he wants to stop it.
In purpose if not in method, we appear to be on the same side.
“Get some rest. The dormitory is open. And Vis?” He allows the slightest of smiles. “Stay on the gods-damned grounds tonight, please.”
I cough a laugh. “Yes, Principalis.”
He gives a wry nod, and walks away.
The three of us watch, silent, until he’s disappeared into the Praetorium. Then Aequa suddenly expels a long breath. “I’m hungry.”
“Yes,” rumbles Eidhin.
I give a soft chuckle at the break in tension. “I’ll meet you there? I could use more of a walk to clear my head, first.” I stretch. “Maybe after dinner, we could go and see Diago.”
Aequa makes a face. “You want us to get eaten?”
“I want to see if he’s inclined to try.”
They look at me with disapproving expressions, and then Eidhin grunts. “We have nothing better to be doing, I suppose.”
Aequa rolls her eyes in acquiescence, and they head toward the Curia Doctrina.
THE JOURNEY TO THE TWISTING, CUNEATE TOWER OFthe dormitory is a lonely one. The Academy may never have been home, but it was at least familiar; now, devoid of bustle and laughter and argument, it is a cadaver and I am intruding upon its tomb.
The dormitory is unlocked, as unsettlingly empty as outside. Every bed stripped. Every desk bare. The floor is spotless. As if our time here has been swept clean, erased.
Memory makes my steps heavy as I start in.
I make my way slowly inside, to the bed two spaces over from the one Callidus slept in. Carefully unscrew the bedpost and feel around inside the cavity. It’s still there. The documents Belli blackmailed him with, the ones he so desperately wanted to get back to his father. I draw them out and pocket them. Replace the post’s top.
Fulfil my final promise to my friend.
I make to leave. Stop. Look over at Callidus’s space. A lump forms in my throat, despite my determination. As sterile as the rest of its surrounds, yet suddenly I can see him hunched over his desk. Scribbling on his wax tablet. Awake later and up earlier than anyone else. Flicking through books too advanced for me, let alone a Seventh.
In my head, he turns to me and grins.
