As, to be fair, has my ongoing flow of accurate information.
“Any word from your source, Catenicus?” prompts Tertius Faustus, the first to voice the inevitable. Ostius’s information over the past two weeks has been plentiful and verifiably accurate, and has saved us from several martial missteps. Though I’d like to think my contributions to these discussions have mattered, in reality it’s the intelligence I’m getting that has given me regular access to this group.
Ostius’s intent, no doubt. Positioning me again, even as he’s helping me. I feel his medallion sitting against my chest, ever-present. Every move a way to further his own agenda.
“Yes.” I tell them about the plans Baine revealed to me. Redivius’s intended feint at the docks, and then his use of the rerouted Transvect. Ostius’s previous reports have given me both credibility, and an easy excuse for having the information in the first place.
I say nothing of Eidhin. As soon as I start towantanything, it will be seen as weakness. Or perhaps evidence of my being manipulated.
When I’m done, there’s a grim silence.
“This is more significant than anything else your source has given us,” observes Tertius Kanifer, an olive-skinned Nyripkian man from Religion. “I would once again very much like to know who you are communicating with.”
“As would I,” says Magnus Quartus Claudius, his high-pitched voice cutting across the group. Aequa’s father has been broadly supportive of me, but I think he’s also been mildly displeased that I’m invited here more often than his daughter.
“For all we know, all the previous information has just been to set us up.Get us to commit to the wrong position when the real attack comes,” agrees Laurentius quietly. “We only have the one legion.”
I nod, sympathising with his reservations, at least. I’ve already assumed that the information I’m getting from Ostius is being carefully doled out, used to nudge events in a particular direction. But whatever inferences I can make from that have not yet been enough to form a clear picture of what he really wants.
“I’ve said this from the start. I am confident in the information, but I cannot tell you where I got it. Iwillnot.” I meet their gazes. Once, I would have been terrified of this group. Would have inwardly trembled at their mere proximity. But that time has long passed. I have spent months working around them and for them. Observing and learning. They are just men. Not even particularlysmartmen, in many cases. Grasping and charismatic, ruthless and quick with words, but here thanks more to their bloodlines than intellect. “I understand your concerns, but the fewer people who know, the safer my contact will be.”
Dissatisfaction, but a grumbling acceptance that indicates the answer’s expected. Most of them think I must be using this information for my own advantage, to advance myself. That’s fine. It’s what they would do. It’s something they understand, even if they don’t like it.
I suspect a few of them still worry I might be working for Military because of my adoptive father, too, but the information I’ve passed on has disadvantaged Magnus Quartus Servius’s camp as much as anyone. I have to assume that’s where Ulciscor is: he’s in the man’s pyramid, after all. But I’ve had no word from him since the festival.
The conversation moves rapidly on. First to the defences; men and women are sent running with instructions over the next half hour as plans are made. After that, a lot of the discussion centres around long-term supply lines as much as the attack tonight; the evacuation of the legions by the various Quartii pretenders is beginning to show signs of destabilising the provinces, and food in Caten is going to start running very short, very quickly. Rationing is already in place, but the argument revolves around whether it needs to be more strict.
The overwhelming disaster of it all hits home anew as I listen grimly. The price of the Republic’s constant expansion, the internally fragile patchwork of dependencies that have built up to allow for it, never more evident than now. It’s just as my old tutor Iniguez said, all those years ago. The Hierarchy is a monster that has to feed to survive. And inevitably, once it has eaten everything else, all that is left to consume is itself.
Five years ago, a naïve young prince of Suus wanted this.
I stay for a while, Diago at my feet. Contributing when I can, though the bulk of the decision-making comes from the Tertii. Everything they propose seems sound, but I can never quite shake the knowledge that our numbers are too low and that aside from Laurentius, these men are far more political strategists than military ones. Those who do excel at command are, unfortunately, naturally on the sides we find ourselves facing. The only reason we haven’t yet been annihilated is that our enemies see one another as more of a threat than us.
Twice, I catch Decimus watching me silently. Expressionless. I uncomfortably ignore him and, when the meeting finally breaks, draw Ericius quickly aside.
“I would like to be in the group that defends the docks.”
“You know we can’t risk you,” he says, not looking up from the wax tablet he’s reading. “Both because of this information you’ve been getting, but also because you’re too much a symbol. The others won’t admit it, but with these fools out there breaking a century of tradition and raising their own pyramids, we need the loyalty of the Octavii and Septimii more than ever. Losing you would be a serious blow to that.” He grunts, finally glancing up at me. “And I suppose I would personally prefer it if you didn’t die, too.”
I grin. I don’t entirely trust Callidus’s father, but I don’t dislike him. “Thanks. I can be careful, though.” I motion to Diago, who is sitting at my side.
He studies the alupi, then me. “Redivius’s Cymrians,” he says suddenly. “Yours and Callidus’s friend will be with them.”
“Eidhin. Yes, I think so.”
He sighs. “What’s your plan?”
“Redivius is on the Iudicium list. Eidhin will take any chance he can get to turn,” I lie. “If I can talk to him, I can get him to defect. Maybe even spy for us.”
Ericius taps a finger against the tablet. “Alright.” He throws a glance at the other senators, most of them still huddled in tight clusters around the main table. Understands immediately why I didn’t bring this up with the larger group. “I can’t get you a command, but I’ll make sure the right people know you’re allowed to be there.”
“Thank you.” That’s all I was hoping for; the last thing I wanted was to try and find Eidhin while dodging my own side. “Anything else you need me for, right now?”
“Not unless you can conjure a legion or two.” The Censor says it lightly but there’s grim truth behind the joke. Knowing about the attack tonight shouldgive us an advantage, but there will be losses, and those are something we cannot afford. Without more soldiers, we’re eventually going to be overwhelmed by one Military Quartii or another. “Go. I know you and your friends like to debrief among yourselves after these meetings. After that, find Faustus. He needs another set of eyes on logistics.”
I accept the handing off of my services without complaint. In war, you go where you’re most needed. “As you say, Tertius. If I don’t see you before tonight …”
Ericius nods solemnly. Clasps my wrist. “Stronger together, Catenicus.”
