My tests against the obsidian of Qabr are careful and have the expected results; even a simple, light score across its surface creates an immediate spiderweb of cracks emanating from the point of contact. Harder force, and the crook and flail slice through it without pause or effort, barely even registering the resistance. They leave only dust in their wake each time.
The same goes for regular stone, I soon find. And metal. And cloth. And bone.
As far as I can tell, while they’re active, they will destroy anything they touch, except for me.
It’s unnerving, and exactly what I was hoping for.
Eventually I conceal the golden crook and flail beneath my cloak, and crawl my way out of Qabr into the frigid, silver-tinged sands of a moonlit desert night.
Head for Duat.
LXXI
CATEN IS COVERED BY AN ETHEREAL, RAY-STREAKEDsmoky haze, thick winter clouds bleeding from gold to orange as the sun peeks through and touches the horizon. There are few people on the street between my concealed rooftop vantage and South Caten Prison. Few people out at all, as far as I can tell. Uneasiness coats the city, chokes its streets and stills its usual conversations. Not everyone has been told about the attack coming tonight—in fact, its knowledge has been kept relatively contained—but it’s in the air anyway.
A prescient, ugly mood as the sun burns through smoke and the mutters of the hungry drift upward. Surreal, how quickly this place has eaten itself alive.
I shift my gaze once again back to the prison across the way. Not the one Lanistia was held in last time, but it will inevitably be much the same layout. On the surface it looks identical, just a squat building with one barred window to view anyone arriving. A slot for papers and an impossibly thick stone door, which is meant to open only with a Will key or seal from Quartus Kanifer. No one posted outside.
Five men emerged ten minutes ago, and they admitted only two replacements. Probably the only guards, this evening. Not that they should have reason for more. Catenan prisons are designed to hold off an army, regardless of their staff.
“You look comfortable.” Aequa grins as I start at her voice by my ear, then lies prone on the rooftop next to me, shoulder to shoulder. “Hail, Vis. Nice and alert for tonight, I see.”
“I was focusing,” I grumble, though I allow a small smile of greeting in her direction.
“Been here long?”
“Faustus kept me occupied for about an hour. Figured it was safer to disappear earlier rather than later, before I got called in to do something I couldn’t get out of.” Her smirk widens as I roll my eyes. “So, yes. Long.”
“No Diago?”
I shake my head. I considered it. But if something goes wrong, if we’re caught, I can’t have him deciding to kill someone from Religion to protectus. That would turn a relatively minor incident—if disastrous for Aequa and me—into something far more destructive. “Domus Telimus is along our way to the docks. We’ll pick him up after this.”
She gives a cheery nod to my confident assumption of success here. “Guards?”
“Five out, two in. It should be all they need for tonight.”
Her upbeat demeanour finally falters at that, and she nods again, this time grimly. There may be only two people in there, but those two are doubtless prepared for some bloody work.
“We should go in soon, then,” she observes quietly.
I eye the sun dipping below the buildings. “One of us should check the street before we do. Given what they’re planning, there’s a chance they have someone extra on watch. You want to go, or me?”
She leans playfully against my shoulder, indicating me. “I’ll let you stretch your legs before the fun starts.”
I get to my feet, arrange my somewhat dishevelled toga and stare at her. “Gods’ graves. You’re actually looking forward to this, aren’t you?”
She rolls onto her side, lounging as she gazes up at me. “A prison break with the great Catenicus? Rotting gods, yes. Eidhin is going to beso jealous, and I am going to bring it upconstantly.”
I cough a soft laugh, nudge her in mock reproval with my foot, and head down the stairs. The street is expectedly empty and quiet; it takes only a few minutes and a cursory tour to determine that no unwanted surprises are lurking. I take the stairs back up two at a time. Energised. I’ve had a fresh dose of Kadmos’s tea, and don’t even feel my various injuries. For all the horrors I know are coming, I have a plan. A narrow path through the darkness ahead.
I’m still thinking, and almost to the top again, when I hear the voices.
“It’s just me.” Aequa, and though she’s doing her best to hide it, she’s uneasy. She says it loudly, though. Clearly a warning. “I came to do Vis a favour and watch the prison. He’s not here.”
“Watch? I don’t believe you.” A familiar voice. Male. “And for your sake, let us hope he comes to find you soon.” I take a second to place it, heart sinking when I do.
Tertius Decimus.
