“You know he won’t do that.”
“If he won’t trust me, then I see no reason to trust him.”
She stares at me. Frustrated. Seeing through me, I think, but enough has happened and she’s unsure enough that she’s not willing to gamble. The carriage is passing Lordan’s Column, not far from my apartments now. “What if I could get you in to see the prisoner from the Iudicium? Would you agree to go and see Veridius then?”
I blink. Taken aback. “I … didn’t know there was one,” I eventually lie. Officially there was no one captured after the Iudicium, though there have beenrumours swirling. And I’ve been isolated since the Aurora Columnae attack, haven’t had a chance to speak to anyone with senatorial access. If not for my prior knowledge of the Anguis’s plan, this would have been a startling revelation.
“It’s been kept quiet. My father says Military made a big show of having the Dimidii from Religion and Governance in on the first interrogation, but it didn’t go well. The senatorial pyramids have been keeping their own counsel on it ever since.” She examines me. A sort of fond sadness in the look. “Gods, Vis. You can tell the Senate whatever you want, but I know you chose Callidus’s father as your patron because you want to find the people behind the attack. I do, too. I want tohelp. But this thing with Veridius is even more important.” She sees the flash in my eyes at her priorities, and shakes her head. “They were my friends too,” she adds softly.
I make a conscious effort to release my unjustified anger, and nod. Willing to share at least this pain with her. And willing to take this bonus. It may not end up being useful—I already know what the prisoner is meant to reveal, how he’s meant to sow division between the senatorial pyramids—but it can’t hurt, either.
The carriage is slowing. Drawing close to my rooms. We don’t have much time left. Emissa knows it too.
“So we’re agreed? I get you in to see the prisoner, you talk to Veridius?” Not showing her desperation, but I know it’s there. “It will have to be after Placement. They won’t let either of us in unless we’re at least Sextii.”
“I’ll let you know.” Eking this from her feels wrong. Feels like I’m deceiving her about something new, something I don’t have to. But that’s dangerous. I can’t even know if what she’s told me thus far is the truth. “If I change my mind, about the ceding. Where are you staying?”
“Military apartments on Vicus Caeseti. Fourth floor. Turn right at the top of the stairs and it’s the second door.”
“I’ll need an access token, then. You know they won’t let me in otherwise.”
She holds my gaze. Hesitates, then produces a small stone disc and presses it into my palm. Folds my fingers over it.
“This will let you into any Military housing.” She smiles ruefully, finally letting go. “But you already knew that.”
The carriage pulls to a stop, and the door opens. We disembark, and I look at her. I want to say so much. To yell. To make her understand what she broke. “You’re sure about the blood test?”
She nods. Looks like she wants to step forward and embrace me. Then to say something more, something important.
“Be careful.” Mournful eyes linger on me, and then she turns and walks away.
THE NIGHT AIR HAS A CHILL TO IT. EVERYTHING’S SILENT.No one else in sight. I keep my hood up and cloak loose around my left side anyway, doing what I can to disguise my shape as I tentatively rap on the door.
I’m on the third-story balcony of a building in Aventilus District. It’s mostly brick. Ground floor dedicated to shops around the open courtyard. Similar to the one containing my own apartment, and virtually indistinguishable from the hundreds of others in Caten that house the vast majority of the city’s million-odd inhabitants.
Except, of course, that the occupants here are mostly Military Sextii and above. Not a group that will keep their mouths shut, if they spot me.
There’s no response from inside. I hold my breath and knock again, a little harder.
The scraping of a chair. Heavy footsteps. A sliver of dim light filters out onto the balcony.
“Vis?” Eidhin opens the cracked door wider in recognition. Dressed and fully awake, I’m pleased to see. He always did prefer to stay up late. My redheaded friend frowns out in wary puzzlement, then bends his hulking form aside to allow me through.
“Sorry for coming unannounced. And so late.” I keep my voice low and talk in Cymrian, even after Eidhin shuts the door again. This is an affluent area but the walls are still made of wood. Not thin, but not thick enough to discard caution.
“How did you get in? You need a …” I flash the access token, and he rolls his eyes. “Of course you have one. Come in. Food? Drink?” Speaking Cymrian too. Understanding immediately.
“A drink, if you’re offering.”
Eidhin grunts and busies himself pouring as I look around. The apartment’s small: just two rooms separated by a bead curtain. A couple of chairs and a candlelit table in this one, with a bench for food preparation and cupboards beneath. A bed dominates the other.
“Better than the Academy,” says Eidhin, seeing my observation. “Not as pleasant as whatever Governance have provided you, I am guessing?”
“I was wondering where all your fountains and gold mosaics were.”
“We cannot all be Catenicus.” He presses a mug into my hand. I take a swig without thinking, then almost choke as cheap wine burns my throat. “It did not feel like this was a visit where water would suffice,” he adds, straight-faced as always.
I half glare and half chuckle, taking a more prepared draught this time. “You’re not wrong. I need a couple of favours.” I slump into a seat.
