She stares at me. Wide-eyed. Shaking. “No.”
I take a step back toward the winch.
“Wait.” I take another step. “WAIT!”
I move back into her view. The seconds are already ticking, but this is an opportunity I can’t miss. “Let’s start with something simple. Why are you here?”
“I was meant to help Lanistia get out of the city, but something must have gone wrong. I waited too long for her. Lost my escape route. And then your gods-damned Tertius put out word for me to be picked up. He was worried I might wield an undue influence over you, apparently.” She spits the last.
Tertius Ericius put her in here? If I wasn’t already so dead inside, I would be disappointed. “Who else was involved in the attack on the Iudicium, that you know of? Either planning it, or actually there?” I lean forward. “I already know some. So I’ll know if you’re lying.”
I can see her thinking, trying to decide if she should answer. I take a half step back toward the winch.
It’s a flood of information, after that. Furious and self-loathing and I’m not sure how much of it, if any, I can trust. But I make careful note through the pain of my injuries and heart. Mentally record the names I don’t already have. She gasps most of the ones on the list that Ostius created, clearly more willing to give up Military contacts than Anguis. But as the seconds pass and I look increasingly unimpressed, she adds more. From obscure Octavii and Septimii, to a Magnus Quintus in Religion who has been involved in some of the meetings at the Forum over the past week.
“That’s all,” she says eventually. “That’s all, Diago. I swear it. Everyone who knew about the naumachia and the Iudicium.”
I commit the last of the information to memory, and don’t let up. “And the weapon you used at the naumachia?” I’ve been thinking about that a lot again, this past week. Not just its destructive nature, but the way it entirely muted theability to use Will around it. One of the few things which, properly harnessed, could still stop these impending bloodbaths before they start.
“Only Estevan knew all the details. He said that using it was a great, necessary evil. He didn’t want to give anyone the chance to decide it should be used again after he was gone.” She sees my displeasure at the answer. Stammers. “Ostius! Ostius helped him with some of it, parts Estevan didn’t know enough about to put together on his own. I once heard him say it was a power that came from a fight far older and more dangerous than the one against the Hierarchy. But he never talked about any of that with me. Never. Iswear it.”
I grimace, but nod to the honesty of her evident terror. Hard not to feel sympathy. Hard not to think she deserves every second of this.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t leave you here.” I don’t flinch away from her pleading stare. “You and the Anguis have been responsible forso much death, Relucia. So much pain. As far as I am concerned, if anyone belongs in here, it is you.”
She just hangs there for a few moments. Probably desperately trying to decide whether to speak honestly, or give me what she thinks I want to hear.
“Sometimes lives lived in misery have to be sacrificed so that the ones which follow aren’t even worse, Diago,” she says eventually. “I hate it, you know. Same as Estevan did. But it’sworking. Haven’t you seen it, out there? The rumblings? The discontent? Octavii and Septimii have gone from accepting their station in life to seeing the truth of it. Seeing that their role in the Republic, because they were not lucky enough to be born otherwise, is to be tools. Just things to be used. The naumachia shook themawake. And then the Iudicium ensured that their masters began focusing more on one another, than them. It showed them that their rulers are petty, and small-minded, and never to be trusted. It showed them thetruth.”
I shake my head slowly. Wearily.
“So an unhappy life now is worth less than someone else’s potentially better one in the future?” I stare at her. Even here, even now, she still can’t see it. “These people may be miserable, they may be being used, they may even beresponsible for that. But that doesn’t mean they deserve to die. And itcertainlydoesn’t give you the right to kill them.”
“I never said I had the right, Diago.” More confidently now. As if by continuing the conversation, she somehow thinks she’s convincing me. “Just the responsibility. We’re doing what has to be done to effect change. You can see that, surely.”
“I can see that. You did what you thought is best for the world. And you were willing to accept the consequences.” I crouch by her. Let her meet my gaze. “Well here are the consequences. My friend was killed less than an hour ago. Her head was crushed by a Tertius. Some of that is my fault. A lot of that is my fault. But she would still be with me right now if it were not for your gods-damned war.”
She sees it in my eyes, then. Her chains start to rattle. “Diago.” She’s shaking her head. “Diago, don’t do this. I can help you. You need me.”
“I don’t, Relucia,” I say softly. “Thanks to what you’ve done out there, I really don’t.”
“Let me free.” She begins to thrash. Her chains scream at the darkness. “LET ME FREE, DIAGO! YOU ROTTING COWARD! YOU—”
I kick the winch. The chain unspools. Her screams cease.
ULCISCOR IS GROGGY, BARELY ABLE TO WALK AT FIRST AS Ihelp him up the stairs. He never thinks to glance in Relucia’s alcove as we pass, too focused on trying to catch up, to get his sluggish mind back into working order. It’s not just the Sapper, I realise with some dismay after a minute or two. It’s that he’s lost his pyramid because of it. He’s an Octavii but he’s used to being a Magnus Quintus. Life must seem like it’s running through sludge for him.
We stumble along in silence, Ulciscor eventually mostly able to do so without leaning on me. My adoptive father has barely spoken, but as we come within sight of the stairs, he glances at me. “Lanistia?”
“She’s just up ahead. She’ll explain everything.”
“How is she?”
“Tired and grumpy.”
A pause as we labour our way upward, and then, “Any chance you can put me back?”
We share a soft chuckle, though my heart’s not in it. Stumble on, but then Ulciscor puts up his hand and sags against the wall. I wait patiently. I’ve seen men and women released from the Sappers before. None of them ever made it out the door without several stops for rest.
