A lone torch lights the interior. A dirt floor. Three large men stand in its centre over the woman whose cries I heard. I don’t know their intent, but she is bound and the way they loom, they are not there to be friendly. The woman glares at them with bared teeth. Matted hair and a feral look about her. Welts across her arms.
“Tell them to stop.” I say it loud as Ostius comes to stand beside me, enough so that the men inside hear, though I’ve gathered they won’t be able to comprehend the words. I don’t take my eyes from them.
“You will be interfering in something you don’t understand.”
“I understand well enough.Tell them.” They have turned. Curious, confused rather than threatening looks as they take in my white cloak.
“No.”
I allow my mask to disintegrate. The warriors watch wide-eyed as I form three small daggers from the metal.
Then I direct them to hover at each man’s throat.
“Rottinggods. You’re like a puppy,” growls Ostius as the men back away, forced to by the jagged ends of the metal. He turns to the warriors. “Is mian leis an draoi sibh a fhágáil go ciúin di.”
A short, sharp exchange between Ostius and one of the men becomes increasingly indignant on the stranger’s end. Eventually, though, the three—scowling—seem to relent, backing away and exiting the hut. The woman on the ground spits after them.
“I thought your father brought you up a diplomat. This isn’t your world, and things are different here,” says Ostius irritably.
“Some things are universal.” I control one of the blades, carefully slicing through the woman’s bonds. She looks at me uncertainly as she staggers to her feet. “Go,” I add to her, making a gesture to indicate what I mean. “Get out of here while you can.”
She watches me cautiously for a long moment, then flees.
“Feel better?” Ostius sighs as I part the daggers and send the metal triangles back to cover my face. “No more stops, Vis. No more distractions. They won’t interfere with a druid’s orders, but they’re not going to keep quiet about this, either. We don’t have long.”
I ignore his evident frustration and follow him back to the main path, then along a few more dirt tracks until finally he comes to a stop. His gaze focused up ahead.
“Oh, dear,” he says, eyeing the group farther along as he steers me over toward the corner of a thatch-roofed hut. The three men who we just stopped are speaking animatedly with two more in white cloaks. “This is about right, but I did rather hope they would be busier. Ready?”
“Wait.” No Caten. No Hierarchy. I want to know more.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” says Ostius as he places one hand on my shoulder and the other on Diago’s.
His eyes turn black.
LII
IT’S MARGINALLY QUICKER THIS TIME, I THINK, TO REcover from the disorientation and pain of the transition between worlds. It makes it no less unpleasant. I lean briefly on an obliging Diago until the dizziness passes. Gaze around uneasily at lanterns and friezes and Will-carved stone statues. Voices echo from not far away, arguing.
Even without trying, I can sense the almost physical throb of Will coming from the same direction.
“Where are we?” I whisper it.
“The Basilica.” Ostius inspects our surroundings. Quiet, too, though far more relaxed. “Inner chamber.Exactlywhere I was aiming.” He sounds inordinately pleased with himself.
I feel my eyebrows raise. Inner chamber. Well past the rings of Praetorians and countless Will mechanisms that protect this place. I mentally map our brief journey through Luceum. Down the hill. Right into central Caten.Vek.
“Why are we here?” Now the immediate danger of Luceum has passed, my dread returns tenfold. If he’s right—and I see no reason to disbelieve him—then this is Military’s centre of operations, likely where their leadership retreated to from the Forum tonight.
Heart pounding, I close my eyes. Properly focus.
The painfully intense pulsing in my mind, more forceful than anything I’ve sensed before, suggests they haven’t left yet.
“A craftsman doesn’t explain his work to the tool, my boy.”
My feet drag as I follow Ostius. There are no guards here, no one to overhear what is being said in what is likely the most secure room in the Republic. Massive stone doors sit shut to my right. With how much Will I can feel in them as we pass, I suspect those alone would take an army to break down.
“… must respond with force!” There’s an archway to the left in the curving hallway, through which the voices are emanating. “If we do not show that Volenis and his ilk cannot be tolerated, it will only invite others to act!”
