Finally we reach the lantern-light of Domus Telimus; Kadmos and Diago greet us at the door, the former with more of his tea as I instructed him earlier. I take it as he gives a soft cry of overjoyed relief at the sight of my companions, embracing them with unrestrained delight.
I’ve drained the pain-numbing concoction before the three of them have broken apart. “Luck, all of you.” I hand back the empty mug. Kadmos knows what to do from here, and I need to press on.
Kadmos’s lip twitches and then he’s enfolding me in a surprising hug, which I return with a bemused smile. The same quickly follows from Lanistia and Ulciscor. Warmth to them all and I cling a heartbeat longer to each than I mean to. Suddenly wanting nothing more than the comfort of other people.
“Be safe,” Ulciscor murmurs as he parts. “We owe you a debt, Son.” Eyes locked with mine.
For the first time, he doesn’t use the word lightheartedly.
I just nod, not knowing what to say. Clap him lightly on the shoulder, and head toward the street.
Diago pads after me, somehow knowing that this time, he’s required.
I limp away back into the darkness of the unlit avenues, until my and Diago’s shadows disappear, and then lean against a wall. Ruffle the fur on Diago’s head absently. Between my Will and Kadmos’s tea, I’ll be capable of making the docks. But it’s past midnight. We’ll have to be quick.
There are screams on the night breeze. They come fewer than they did even a couple of days ago. More surprised, harsher against the sullenness of Caten’s corpse. But one only has to listen for a few minutes in any section of the city to hear them.
People being killed. Or raped. Or dragged away to be fodder for the Sappers.
And so much of it is of my doing. Not myfault, perhaps—I am not arrogant enough to think that the machinations of empire revolve around me. But I played more than my part in beginning this horror.
I check I’m alone, and take the stone medallion Ostius gave me from around my neck. Examine it again. The faintest trace of Will pulsing from the Hierarchy symbol, as always. I’ve thought about this a lot, this past week. About what was said, that night, between him and Princeps Exesius. What it all means.
And I remember again Decimus’s last, sneering words to me. An ugly truth ringing in them.
The strength of the few is all that matters.
I pour Will into my hand, and close my fist. When I open it again, all that remains is dust.
I brush it off onto the ground.
“Come on, Diago,” I tell the alupi softly. “Time to be strong.”
I grit my teeth against the pain once again, and head for war.
LXXIII
IJOG ACROSS CRAGGY, CRACKED WASTELANDS BENEATHthe burning afternoon sun, sweat seeping between the lines of the white face wrapping I retrieved from Caeror’s old quarters. The great black pyramid of Duat rises in front of me, filling my vision, its shadow stretching more than a mile eastward. Acidic air burns my lungs, entire body aching as I push from harsh light into deep shadow, focused on the movement near the eastern entrance. A line of iunctii trudging slowly as they haul a massive block of white stone on a sledge. Dwarfed by Duat, insignificant points of motion at the base of its enormous outline.
I’m unnoticed in my approach, despite how painfully exposed I am out here. The men ahead strain, heads down, gazes fixed on their next step alone. And as expected, the black-clothed Overseer watches them and nothing else. It won’t have been instructed otherwise, out here. Caeror and I discussed doing something like this many times.
Getting in the outer door was always the easy part.
Polished black reflects the crystal, cloudless sky as I approach. I haven’t seen Duat this close, not from the outside. Unblemished, despite millennia of being blasted by sand. Not even dust seems to cling to it. The polished dark surface rises, and rises, and rises as I draw near.
I’ve timed my approach well and though I have to jog the last few hundred feet, sweat drenching me, the Overseer is at the archway, and the obsidian folding away to reveal the darker antechamber beyond, just as I catch up. I draw my knife and slice a generous cut across each of my palms, trailing the last man inside. Still unnoticed.
The door to the outside seals again, taking with it the natural light and leaving only the dull green I would usually associate with Neter-khertet, though I know this southern entrance leads into Duat’s east. I breathe a small relief into the dark emerald glow. As determined as I am, I was loathe to open even a small hole in the outer wall; while Ka would surely have had a way to seal it—a place like Duat does not get built without fail-safes—I have no idea how long that might take, or the consequences for those living inside.
The iunctus nearest to me, finally, senses something behind him. Turns. More confusion than alarm in his stance as he takes me in.
There’s a great whooshing sound that seems to come from above; I almost grasp the crook and flail hanging from my belt in my alarm, but no one else is reacting with any particular surprise. The iunctus is still staring at me. Fazed far more by my presence than the noise. I go to take a breath, to whisper reassurance to him.
Nothing comes.
I panic. The Vitaeria in my arm keep me safe from asphyxiation, but being caught by surprise at the inability to breathe still triggers a natural terror in me that takes a moment to control. Behind the iunctus who spotted me, I see the Overseer moving methodically around the sledge and its massive cargo, waiting for each iunctus to unwrap their face before moving on.
There’s another gushing of air, this one ruffling my clothes, and I can breathe again.
