After a few seconds, Ulciscor’s breathing steadies. He looks up at me. “Why?”
I shake my head. “Why what?”
“I made you run the Labyrinth. I made you risk your life.” There’s something in his voice that I’ve never heard from him before. Shame? “I didn’t send you to die, Vis—I swear it—but … gods. I knew it might happen and I did it anyway. You don’t owe me this.”
“I didn’t owe you the alternative, either,” I say quietly.
He holds my gaze, then dips his head. A genuinely grateful motion.
We start up the stairs. Painfully slow. Unspeaking, more because Ulciscor needs his breath than because of any fear of being heard. Though I know it must still be a while until the planned attack, time feels as though it has no meaning down here. Only the length of wax inside my lantern reassures me that hours have not passed.
I cautiously cede to Lanistia again as soon as we reach her; risk though it is, I barely made it up the first flight of stairs with Ulciscor. She and Ulciscor’s reunion is almost comically perfunctory after that. A brief embrace. Nods of familiar recognition, as if they were meeting for dinner at Domus Telimus rather than being rescued from prison in the middle of enemy territory.
“You look awful,” says Lanistia to him conversationally, as the three of us stumble our way upward.
“The rewards of trying to rescue you,” he grunts between laboured breaths.
“Should’ve just sent Vis. He’s better at it.”
Ulciscor coughs something that falls somewhere between a snort and a laugh. And though I cannot find the energy to smile at the familiar banter, it eases something in me. Just a little. Helps me maintain my focus on what I’m saving, not what I’ve lost.
Soon enough I’m knocking on the guardroom door; there’s a pause, and I briefly panic that perhaps the Septimii beyond have had a change of heart, but then there’s a key turning in the lock. I hold the door closed. “Face away, Septimii. As agreed.”
An irritated grunt, another few seconds and then, “Alright. Come through.”
The Septimii are both facing the wall, arms crossed, as I swing the door wide. We’re halfway across the small room when Lanistia ducks smoothly to the side. Snatches up a knife and before I can understand what she’s doing, slits the throat of the man closest to us.
The woman half turns at the gurgling. Far too late. Lanistia has taken another two steps and has opened her jugular, too.
“What in the … godsdamnit, Lanistia!” I put the emphasis in the wordsby hissing rather than shouting, though I sorely want to do the latter. “I told them—”
“You know what they were planning to do,” she says, tossing the bloodied dagger to the floor with a clatter. Cold.
Ulciscor gazes at the two bodies, then gives a nod which, if not approving, at least isn’t the opposite.
I just stare at them. Weary more than horrified. It won’t save the people in the Sappers for long. Will probably hurt our chances of repelling the attack tonight. I can’t figure out how I feel about the two murders I just witnessed. I don’t feelanything.
I slowly, heavily retrieve the Septimus’s Will key, and open the door to Caten.
“Do you know anything about my parents?” Ulciscor finds his voice again as the prison door seals behind us. “Or Relucia? Or Kadmos?” His mind is catching up.
“Kadmos is at home. They let me take over Domus Telimus, and he’s the Dispensator, so he’s considered Governance now. And he’s confident your parents got out.” I shake my head. “I haven’t seen Relucia, but I have to hope she slipped away too.” Her screams echo in the back of my mind.
“Any ideas howwecan get out?”
“There’s a Military attack tonight. Redivius. East Caten will be almost empty, and I’ve left the scheduled patrol routes through there with Kadmos. Get him to give you both some of his tea.”
Lanistia cocks her head to the side, recognising the implication a moment before Ulciscor. “Where will you be?”
“I’ll walk you back. But I have something else I need to do after that.” I smile tightly.
“Of course you do.” Lanistia breathes a disbelieving laugh, and I can tell her focus is on my legs again. Then she abruptly freezes. Frowns, and pales, and grabs my hand, and says the words. My Will floods back into me.
“Again?”
She just nods grimly. Gripping my good arm. “We should get moving.”
It’s a tortuous walk back to Domus Telimus, almost an hour of skulking through dark alleys and gutted streets. We proceed largely in silence, both to conserve our breath and for the sake of stealth, though it’s only twice we come near any of the roving bands that “patrol” Caten after dark. The simple pain ofwalking while supporting the other two, I find, helps keep my mind from my more complex ones. When every step is an effort, it’s hard to dwell.
