It’s not as if I’d forgotten, but a renewed rush of sick anticipation forces me to take a moment before I respond. “Yes.”
Kadmos nods carefully. “And then you are to work for Governance.”
“I had to go where I thought I could make a difference.”
“That is all any of us can do, Master Vis,” the Dispensator says quietly. “But I hope you will remain a Telimus, regardless.”
I shuffle. “I cannot imagine Ulciscor will be particularly keen for that to happen.”
“Ask, Master Vis, if you wish it to be so. Ask anyway.” He keeps bandaging. “I have known your father all his life. He is prone to mistakes and fixation and rash decisions, but he does care for you.”
“He’s not my father.” I regret it as soon as it comes out. Petty and small and stupid, knowing how it will hurt only Kadmos here. Still. Ulciscor’s betrayal in making me run the Labyrinth is a bitterness that has only feasted on events since. Without that, I still have my arm. Without Ulciscor’s obsession, I maybe still have my friend.
Kadmos pauses in his ministrations. He looks at me and there is sadness rather than anger in his gaze. Wisps of smoke from the nearby torch drift between us.
“I sometimes forget that you are still young, Master Vis,” he says softly. “Ulciscor may not be the one that you want. But fathers rarely are.”
I say nothing to that, letting silence speak my gratitude to his kind reaction. I remember him talking about his own father, once. A hard man. Loving, I gathered, buthard. Unappreciative of Kadmos’s evident academic talents. The Dispensator’s experience growing up in Sytrece was so very different from my own.
“Thank you for doing this,” I say eventually. The stringy-haired man could well have refused to see me, after the schism I’ve caused by choosing to join Governance over Military.
He snorts. “You are a Telimus,” he says by way of dismissal, squeezing me gently on my other shoulder and standing. “Let me prepare you some tea before the ceremony, too. It would not do to have Catenicus stumble with the eyes of the city upon him.”
“Thank you, but no. Not today, Kadmos.”
He pauses. Frowns his surprise. “Your recovery is remarkable, young master—I was expecting to insist that you not attend this morning—but you cannot tell me you are not still in pain.”
I lock gazes with him. “I can’t. But not today.”
His brow’s still furrowed, but he nods slowly. Despite his own acceptance of the Aurora Columnae, I think he understands.
“Perhaps before your Placement exam for Governance, then, at least?” he says eventually. I told him about that a little earlier.
I nod. Placement could be months away, but it’s still a good idea. Any way to mitigate my disadvantage on those tests, I should take. “If you give me the recipe—”
“You can come by when it’s time.”
“Alright.” I give a half smile to show I didn’t really think he would. He’s refusing out of care, has always warned me against leaning too heavily on his concoction. And we both know that giving a way to make it to a man in my position, with my injury, is needlessly tempting.
Before Kadmos can respond there’s motion to the side, and Ulciscor fills the doorway. His pristine white toga is slashed with purple, formal attire befitting what’s to come this morning, identical to my own except the colouring. A trio of young Octavii slip through behind him carrying filled plates and glasses, setting them on the table with practiced precision before scurrying off again. Ulciscor doesn’t pay them any mind, but nor does he speak until they’ve vanished.
“Kadmos. All’s well?” He ignores me.
“Yes, Dominus. Our boy is recovering splendidly.”
Ulciscor quirks a half smile at the affection in Kadmos’s voice, which is no doubt at least partly an attempt to thaw the sudden chill in the room. “Good. If you could check in on Lanistia, too?” He makes a small motion, indicating his head.
Kadmos frowns worriedly and nods, giving me a last, encouraging glance before leaving us alone. The only sound is the fountain burbling in the atrium’s triangular pool as we seat ourselves at the table.
“Is Lanistia alright?” Not how I intended to open the conversation, but there was evident concern in both Ulciscor’s voice and Kadmos’s response.
“Headaches. More than a week, now. They seemed particularly bad this morning. Still insisted on coming today, of course.” His delivery is odd. Not awkward, exactly, but certainly less comfortable than I’m used to from him. He reaches over and pours me some watered-down wine before doing the same for himself. “Now. We only have a few minutes before we need to leave, but let’s at least get started. Tell me what happened at the Iudicium.”
I take a sip, then carefully set the cup next to me and meet his gaze. “No.”
“No?” Ulciscor’s expression darkens.
“First there are things we need to discuss. Things I want to make clear. The most important of which is that I am here because I choose to be. You no longer dictate my movements. You no longer give me orders. You have no hold over me, and I owe you nothing.” I thought a lot about how to approach this, on the Transvect here last night. Smart man though he is, Ulciscor is still a Magnus Quintus. He can’t justknowI’m no longer pliable. He needs to beshown.
