I ruthlessly force down the surge of emotion, and focus on Lanistia. “I’ll explain on the way out, but I’m going to need your help. Give me your hand.” I need her to be able to see, and probably to carry Ulciscor. In a better world, I would have found something imbued down here and Adopted it to bolster my own supply, just temporarily. But I’ve seen nothing and even if I had, I’m not sure I have the acuity to manage the extra mental load, right now.
She goes still. “Are you sure?”
“Of gods-damned course not. And just so you know, I’m a little injured myself. So I may have to take it back sooner rather than later.” I managed the Harmonic imbuing well enough as a Sextus, and even with half of my Will as Quintus, I’ll still be well ahead. I grasp her outstretched wrist before I can change my mind. Carefully reduce my self-imbuing, gritting my teeth against the extra strain, until I’m confident I’m not using more than half of my capacity. “I freely give my Will.”
She gasps as the energy pours out of me and into her; even braced for it as I am, I can’t help but reel from the shock of it. My legs immediately scream, and I stagger.
Lanistia catches me. Pulls me upright. When I take her in again, she seems taller. Still thin, far from hale, but it’s as if the abuses of the past few months are surface deep rather than worn into her bones.
“Good to see you again,” I mutter through a grimace.
“You too.” She casually snaps the chains holding her wrists together. “That’s better.”
“Good. Let’s move.”
Her focus turns to me. Hearing the short words escaping through gritted teeth. “We’re in danger, I take it? You sound tense. Even for you.” She smiles wearily and briefly, and then cocks her head to the side. Releases a sudden hiss of breath. “Rottinggods. Alittle rotting gods-damned injured, Vis? What’s going on?”
A lump in my throat. I force it down. “It’s ugly out there, Lanistia. Civil war. Military’s Princeps, Dimidii, and Tertii are all dead; Religion and Governance are in control of Caten, for now, and they’ve endorsed Quartus Laurentius as the new Princeps. But there are three pretenders with more legions than him, and they’ve all burned tradition and restructured their pyramids to actually make themselves Princeps, too.” I’d forgotten that her unique vision would be able to see the metal supporting me. See the swollen wreckage of my legs, otherwise hidden beneath the folds of my toga. But I can’t bring myself to tell her the details. “Redivius is going to attack tonight. Anyone in the Sappers still ceding to Military is going to be killed when that happens.”
Lanistia absorbs the information as quickly as ever. Expression flickering from understanding to disgust to determined gratitude as she realises why I’ve come, despite my condition. “I suppose we should go, then.”
“Ulciscor’s here too. Deep cells. I’ll need you to help him out.”
Dismay, briefly, then a breath and a nod. “Lead the way.”
We head back, through the rancid stench, lantern pushing against the miserable darkness. There are shouts again as my light passes cells that remain locked tight, and though we ignore them, I resolve again to ensure the people down here are looked after properly. The part of me that worked in Letens Prison for so long, especially, mourns what they’re being put through. But at least they will survive beyond tonight.
The people in the Sappers are a different story.
Lanistia, I think, senses my hesitation as we start past the first of them. “You can’t save them all,” she says softly.
“They shouldn’tneedsaving.”
She nods soberly. Hears my hatred of the fact we have to leave them, and shares it. “So this was what all the shouting was about.”
My stomach turns again as we pass yet another blood-soaked Sapper. “I don’t know who’s worse. The men who did it, or the ones who gave the orders.”
“Both,” says Lanistia quietly. “For things like this to happen, Vis, it takes a special kind of cowardice from both commander and soldier.” Her voice is heavy. “It must be a nightmare out there.”
I ignore the half enquiry. Don’t have the heart or the energy to explain it further. “Why didn’t Military let you go, if they went to the trouble of doing this?” I gesture to the latest blood-soaked open cell we’re passing.
“There was one Septimus and one Octavus running this place at any given time. During the festival? Probably not even the regulars.” Her face suddenly twists, but not at what she’s saying, I think. She falters. Massages her forehead, then continues, “Whoever was here was panicking, I can tell you that much. I imagine they just did what they were told as quickly as possible, and ran. I doubt whoever gave them the orders had me at the forefront of their thoughts.” She shakes her head. “I’m surprised they left this place open to access, actually.”
“They didn’t. There was a fight at the Forum that night, and Quintus Ferius was killed.” The Quintus was the senator in charge of prisons across Caten. It was his Will that would have originally locked the doors.
“Good. Odious … odious little man.” Her brow is furrowed.
“Are you alright?” I ask it absently, focused more on scanning our surroundings as we near the stairwell, trying to find another source of Will nearby that I might be able to use. But there’s nothing.
“Let’s sit. Just for a minute. We can afford that, can’t we?” She gestures to a short stone bench near the stairwell ahead. I don’t complain. No desire to linger, but my legs feel as though they’re on fire. I desperately need the rest.
We sit, and as I let out an inaudible breath of relief, Lanistia grabs my hand. “I freely relinquish your Will.”
A surge rushes back into me before I can react. I jerk away. “What are you doing?”
She leans back with a sigh. Doesn’t respond for a few seconds. “I heard the voice again, Vis. As soon as you ceded to me. And it was getting worse.”
I stare. Resist the urge to slide away from her, physical aches easing again as I unconsciously self-imbue everything she just returned. “The one from when …”
