“Magnus Quintus Otho controls the chain across the harbour mouth,” confirms Baine. “And Redivius has a fleet at his disposal. The idea will be to have each ship manned by only one or two soldiers.”
I calculate. Will-powered ships are fast and all but silent: not a terrible plan for an invasion, if it wasn’t a feint. Good enough to draw most of Caten’s defensive forces to the harbour once the alarm goes up—which, with a waxing moon and probable cloud at this time of year, could be quite late. “I could make this work. I’ll tell the Senate that Eidhin is the one who let me know the plan, in exchange for sanctuary. We could arrange for him to—”
“You misunderstand.” Baine holds up a hand. “He is not intending to defect. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
We stare at each other, me caught off guard.
“He’s … intending to fight?” I ask it dubiously. Eidhin thinks very little of Redivius; evacuating to his camp would have been the right choice, but I can hardly see him being willing to give his life for the man.
“Redivius is sending the Cymrians. Any man who refuses to go will be executed and replaced. And if any are captured or defect—if their pyramids cannot cede to someone elseuseful—then those pyramids will be purged. To ensure they are not ‘used by the enemies of Caten,’ says Redivius.” Baine’s disgust is undisguised.
My shoulders slump as I understand. “And those pyramids are filled with your people. Eidhin’s people.”
“Yes.”
“Then what can I do?”
“You could defect. Go with Eidhin. His retreating would be justified, if he was bringing you with him.” He sees my expression and smiles slightly, evidently knowing it wasn’t an option. “Or, you can meet him at the docks. Talk to him. He will not fight you.”
I gaze at him, a gradually dawning horror at the impossible situation he’s asking me to put my friend in. “My being there won’t change anything. He believes in theddram cyfraith. He’ll commit himself to dust, as you’d say, before sentencing others to it.”
Baine pauses, looking mildly impressed at my knowledge. “Maybe so. But he’ll have days before Redivius actually acts to purge his pyramid. Time enough to at least try to find a way to stop him. He won’t hear it from me because I have put his life above his wishes before. But helistensto you, Catenicus. You must convince him.” He exhales, and I see it, then. Weariness and desperation hiding behind that calm exterior. He doesn’t have some clever plan, and he doesn’t have alternatives. Just a father trying to save his son. “He is not saving them by dying. He is handing them to the next man to be used in just the same way—or if Redivius falls, maybe worse. Tell him that if he still believes in our ways, then their deaths in the service of his freedom are worth more than his death in the service of their continued imprisonment.”
I stare at the ground. Good, fine words. Maybe even true. Eidhin won’t believe they come from me for a second. “There’s no way you can get them out, once the attack begins?”
“No. I will be part of the main assault. Unless you choose to kill me here, of course.”
I almost choke. I don’t think it was a joke. “Eidhin might disapprove.” I rub my forehead. “Where will the main force strike?”
“Alta Semita. The housing for the Octavii and Septimii there.” He nods when he sees my expression. “Yes, Redivius knows. He has his spies.”
“That’s the middle of the city, though. Even with Laurentius’s legion spread thin, that’s not an easy target.”
“Redivius has full control of a Transvect, as well as the anchoring points at Agerus and Tolverium.”
I frown, picturing it. Tolverium’s in Lyceria. “That surely doesn’t run through Caten, though.”
“It used to be a little south. Redivius is repositioning the Tolverium anchor as we speak.”
Silence after that, for a while. My mind racing. I need to get this information to Ericius, and quickly. But I can’t tell him about Eidhin. This is war. My friend’s life won’t be allowed to enter the equation unless the Tertius thinks he will be an asset.
“How would I even find Eidhin?” I ask heavily. It’s an accession. I don’t know if I can stop my friend from dying. But I gods-damned well have to try.
Baine tosses me something. An armband with polished turquoise at itspoints, the silver finely worked into a tangled, endless knot. “He’ll wear this into battle. A symbol of our people.”
I nod. Memorise one of the stones carefully, then imbue it with a sliver of Will and hand the armband back.
“Alright,” I say quietly. “Tell me everything you know.”
WE SPEND THE NEXT HOUR IN DEEP DISCUSSION, ANDfor all my continued wariness of the man, Eidhin’s father presents himself as thoughtful, calm, and willing to freely share information. He reminds me more of his son than I expect, albeit a far more relaxed version. Not given to emotion, certainly, but less inclined to completely shun his feelings as he gives me everything he knows about Redivius and his plan. Numbers, timing. Targets. Tactics.
What he asks in implicit exchange, I gradually realise, is personal rather than strategic. For the most part, his careful interspersing questions revolve around Eidhin—his time in the Academy, his friendships and frustrations and successes. He glowers along with my description of our time under Praeceptor Dultatis. Unconsciously beams as I relate his impressive progress learning Common.
I am slow to reveal much, at first. Suspicious. But the more I speak, the more I see the eagerness Baine is trying to conceal. I feel it in his cautious chuckles at my explanation of our early interactions, or the way he emanates pride when I describe our efforts in the Labyrinth. There’s a greed there not for information, but for the heart behind it all. A desire simply to know his son better.
So I talk. Eidhin, perhaps, would not approve. But I miss my father every day. I will not be the one to stand in the way of a chance for them to make a better connection.
When I get to Callidus, Baine nods sadly, and not just because he hears the scars in my voice. “Eidhin took that hard, too,” he observes softly. “He was never an expressive boy, and I no longer expect his joy to be directed at me. But I have watched him, these past months. More than he realises. I don’t think he has smiled once.”
