“Very good. Very good. Thank you,” he says, blowing on the ink to dry it. “I think … yes! I think that is all, from me.” He turns to me. “They are all yours, my boy.”
There’s silence as he steps back. The senators turn to me, puzzled. Not understanding.
I do.
The hush stretches, the senators’ uncertainty eliciting shuffling feet andanxious looks. The stolen Will within me hums. They are completely within my power. They are pitiful and they are dangerous and they most certainly deserve to die for their confessed crimes. My hatred boils. My rage trembles.
And yet, through it, my father’s voice echoes.The power to protect is the highest responsibility.
Ostius wants me to kill them. That alone says I should not.
The rage remains but I force it down, chain it somewhere deep and dark. Just like I always do. Make myself think it through. These men are prisoners. It will be a mental strain, but I could hold on to their Will until they were stripped of it. Get their confession to Quartus Corenius and maybe Ulciscor as well, who between them would know who to trust. An agreement between Military’s unimplicated Quartii and the rest of the Senate might be struck. And then to consummate the union and prove to everyone that the rot in the Republic has been dealt with, these men would undoubtedly be placed in Sappers.
A lot ofifs. A lot of things needing to go right. A lot of trusting others.
But it could still end in a world where the horrors of a Will-fought war are never realised, and the worst of those who would have brought it are gone.
“We need a way to tie them up.” I breathe it. Expel it as if it were my fury. “Until the trial.”
Ostius frowns. Nonplussed. Then he turns to the senators. “Gentlemen, I’ve been rude. Please allow me to introduce the man you know as Sextus Vis Telimus, or Catenicus if you’re feeling nostalgic. Though his birth name is Diago, son of Cristoval. Prince of Suus. I believe some of you hanged his parents and sister?”
The words stun me as much as they do the Military leadership. I feel as though I’ve been punched.
“But not his little sister. She drowned trying to escape your men, from what I understand.”
I choke. Ostius is stoking my rage. Poking and prodding at all the painful memories. The knowledge should help. It doesn’t.
There’s abrupt movement in the archway, the sudden soft clicking of claw on stone, and Diago, unprompted, as if sensing what I’m going through, as if understanding his concealment is no longer necessary, stalks into view. Gaze fixed on the suddenly breath-holding, frozen senators as they take in his massive form. He stops between us and them. Lips curling back slowly, revealingthe razor-sharp, saliva-covered ivory beneath. He makes no sound. Somehow, it makes the whole thing even more threatening.
I do what I can to strip away the dazedness, grateful for the alupi’s brief distraction. Set my features into something grim, and slowly let the metal triangles depart my face. I do not flinch from the senators’ stares as they tear their eyes from Diago to take in the sight of me.
“Tell me why you invaded Suus.” My voice growls across the room, though I direct it mostly at Exesius. More powerful and forceful than it should be; the men all shift back, and even Ostius flinches. “Tell me why you killed my family.”
Exesius props himself up. As fascinated as he is in pain, now. “You don’t know?” He glances at Ostius.
“Gods. That’s what this is about? Blame your father,” mutters Werex, even as he eyes Diago warily again. “He pulled on threads he knew were better left unravelled.”
My metal shard takes him in the shoulder, and he squeals in shocked pain.
I rip it out and hover it in front of his face. Red dripping. There are low, outraged gasps from among the gathered senators. Ostius watches delightedly.
“He found out about the Cataclysms.” Exesius this time, tired and soft. “He found out, and did not believe it. So he had men seek out more. And though he kept his circle of trust excruciatingly small, he nonetheless trusted too much.”
“Who?” Hissed. Ragged. Not my own voice. “Who betrayed him?”
“Our spymasters are jealous with their secrets. I do not know the name.” Exesius is guarded. He sees how tenuous my grasp on my anger is. “But it wasn’t just his knowledge. We were warned that he had uncovered a weapon. Something not even the Republic could stop. So we acted.” His gaze bores into mine. Still sharp behind all that blood and pain. “Though surely you knew that part,Catenicus. Given the naumachia.”
I don’t disabuse him of his cynical and false assumption. I can see now how Estevan likely did what he did. But my mind is already moving on to something far more important to me. “Why kill my family?”
Exesius grimaces. Hesitates, but as he takes in my expression, he sees I will accept only the truth. “Men sometimes confide in those they trust, but they only truly unburden themselves on the ones they love,” he says softly.
I close my eyes. Killed because the Hierarchy worried my father had told them something. I believe him. Not that my father would ever have used sucha weapon. Not that he would have for a heartbeat considered what these men assumed he wanted to do.
But I have always wondered at the Hierarchy’s violence in the face of Birthright. Now, I understand.
I turn to Quiscil. The eerily mute, slavering Diago still between us. “And that is what you were chasing on Solivagus.” I say it with quiet certainty, fuelled by the conversation I overheard between Ostius and Relucia on this same night a year ago. “You thought the weapon was there. That Religion were looking for it, or had found it. That’s why you were willing to kill children? Kill your ownson?”
He stares back stonily. Says nothing.
