I look at her. Fists clenching and unclenching by my side.
“You know me, Lanistia,” I say, forcing a smile into my voice. “I’m never rash.” I walk on.
“Vis?” She calls after me.
My echoing name is her only reply.
IT’S AT LEAST A MINUTE OF WALKING BACK ALONG THEtorchlit corridor, lost in thought, before I realise I still haven’t come across my adoptive mother.
I frown, half surprised to realise she wasn’t trying to listen in. There aren’t a lot of places she could have gone, anyway; I follow the straight path until finally I find her silk-draped form standing just past the stairwell in the eastern section, facing away from me. Staring motionless into one of the open green-lit cells. Past her, inside, is a woman. No older than Relucia. Stringy, unkempt hair splayed across her face. Pallid and naked as she’s slumped against the gentle slope, chains stretching upward from her wrists and ankles so that she can be safely winched away from the stone when her time is done.
Relucia is saying something quietly to her. Too softly for me to make out. She stops when she hears me coming. “You’re finished?” She doesn’t turn. Voice cold and hard.
“Yes.”
“They’re going to put Lanistia in one of these, you know.”
“I know. So does she.”
She nods. A slow, reluctant motion, as if she’s processing my words. “Can we stop it?”
She turns to me, and I am shocked to see red eyes. Glistening streaks down her cheeks.
“I … we’re going to try. Of course.”
“Do better than that.” She half raises a hand, as if to signal farewell to the cell’s occupant. Perhaps she knows her? But that seems unlikely. This isn’t long-term storage, isn’t where they would keep one of the Anguis.
“You want me to cause even more trouble between Military and Governance.”
Anger flashes across her face. “I want you to do what’sright.”
I cough a disbelieving half laugh. “You’ll forgive me if I think we might have different ideas of what that entails.”
She doesn’t smile. “Not when it comes to this, Diago.”
My own smile fades. I resist the urge to continue disdaining her apparent concern, and nod. Perhaps it’s real.
We start back up the stairs, Relucia pulling a cloth from some concealed pocket and carefully clearing her face of any sign of distress. “Did Lanistia say why she did it?”
“She said she felt compelled by something. A voice in her head.” I affect confusion. “I believe her, I think, but … have you ever heard of anything like that?”
“No.” Was there a hesitation, there? “I cannot imagine it’s an excuse that will go over well with the Senate.”
“I can’t imagine there is one that would.”
“True.” Relucia chews her lip. “How did she seem, otherwise?”
“Normal. Fine, given the circumstances.”
Relucia nods again. Lapses into thought for a few steps.
“You should be wary, while you’re in Caten,” she says suddenly. Changing topic. “You’re more famous now than ever, and a lot more recognisable. Melior’s death was necessary to place you here, but it resulted in some … fractures. Most of the Anguis have been told that you’re too high profile a target, for now. But there are still elements that want revenge, people we haven’t been able to contact. And you remember the naumachiarii who escaped?” I nod. “They’re being led by a man called Vulferam. They’ve pledged their allegiance to Melior’s memory, not the Anguis.”
“Naturally,” I mutter. I remember Vulferam. A monster of a man, dwarfing those around him as he leapt across decks and swung his weapon with horrific, manic force, sending opponent after opponent into the roiling vortex of red lanterns above. “And Melior’s memory, I suppose, probably doesn’t like the fact that I’m a hero for killing him.”
“Safe to say,” agrees Relucia dryly.
“I’ll be careful.” Governance has already made arrangements for my security; my housing is guarded and I usually have men hired to accompany me around Caten. They would be here today, except I slipped away without telling them where I was going. Probably the last time I’ll get away with doing that.
