I switch hurriedly from introspection to mark the dots rising ominously from the great pyramid in the valley below. Watch as they swing away westward. “Three of them?”
“That’s what I make.” His eyes flick to the position of the sun. “Unscheduled. It has to be our people. But three is still too many.”
“We can work with three, though,” I point out. “Set up a secondary disturbance to drag one away from the initial group. The timing would be trickier, but we can experiment. If they’re really so predictable—”
“Predictability isn’t the issue. It’s time. We can’t run these sorts of experiments too often, or they’ll realise they’re being tested and adapt.”
We watch the dots disappear on the horizon.
“I wondered how you’d adjusted so well, you know. How you could look at what this world has become and not be overwhelmed with the horror of it. It took me months. Yusef was the only one who would talk to me, and we were living in those tombs, and … I thought it was the worst thing that could happen to someone.” Caeror’s voice is soft. “Gods. Vis. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“You couldn’t have.” I exhale. Something easing in my chest. I’ve wanted to talk about this for a while. “But if it’s the only way into where Ka is, I’m going to have to face it eventually.”
Silence again from Caeror. I can almost hear his desire to argue, to reassure me that I don’t have to confront my demons. “If you want to try again, then try. It may be wise. I can be there, or you can do it alone—whichever you prefer,” he says eventually. “But necessity is different from practice, and you are already subjected to so much. Whatever you choose, I know you well enough now to have faith that when the time comes, fear will not keep you from what is needed.”
I give a small, genuine smile at the encouragement. Despite everything, it’s impossible to help but believe him.
“You said thatmutalismight be able to break Duat’s walls.”
“I only know what Yusef and now you have told me. Anything it touches, it destroys. Unless you’re Synchronous.” He sighs. “I know what you’re thinking, but that’s a bad option too. Worse than what we’ve already discussed.Ifyou could make a hole into the city, based on what you’ve said it would be loud. You would be swarmed by Gleaners and Overseers, and even if themutalisworks as you say, they are stronger and far more numerous than you. All it would take is for one to reach you.” He pauses. “And worse. Those walls protect against the poison in the air. Perhaps Ka would be able to seal it in time. Perhaps not. But there are thousands of people living in there.”
“Not an option, then,” I agree quietly. I hesitate. “What about the stylus I mentioned? Have you ever heard of anything like that?”
“You say this man who stopped the attack. He coated it with his blood, and he was immune tomutalis?”
“That’s what Ulciscor said.”
“No.” Caeror’s voice is curious, but sure. “Yusef never mentioned anything like that. And I am certain he would have. I am certain that if such a thing existed here, it would have already been used to try and get to Ka. I am sorry,” he adds gently.
“It’s alright.” I feel better, better than I have since I saw the fuzzing golden door. I still wish I could talk with Aequa. I wish we had talked about it while we had the chance, during those long days of training before the Iudicium. A few times I almost started the conversation and a few times, I suspect she almost did. But it never quite happened.
We wait, after that. And wait. Caeror questions me as distant Duat wavers in the heat, probing the gaps in my knowledge as we watch for the Gleaners to return. I move only to take slow, careful sips of water, the taste still foul despite my thirst and despite a month of growing accustomed to it.
“Good,” says Caeror as I finish a long sentence in Vetusian, mimicking the sounds of the Duatian dialect as best I can. “You’re quick. Never seem to make the same mistake twice.”
“Had a good teacher to make sure of that.”
“Ulciscor?”
I hesitate. “Lanistia.”
“Oh.” He says it quietly. Curious and not wanting to know, all in one. I’ve mentioned her again only once since Solivagus—told him that she was helping Ulciscor, that they were working together to figure out the truth behind hismurder. He immediately shied away from it. Insisted that I say no more on the matter.
“Is she happy?” He asks it eventually with about as much reluctance as anyone could ask such a question.
“You said you didn’t want to know.” I make it a gentle reminder. “You said she needed to be dead to you.”
A long pause, then, “I’ve changed my mind.”
I think about the woman I knew, back on Res. Don’t really know how to answer the question properly. “Happy? She was always a bit closed off, to me. But she’s strong. Rotting gods, one of the strongest women I’ve known. She was an abomination of a teacher. A constant pain. I owe her. I liked her.” I take a breath. “She’s alright, Caeror.”
He half smiles at that. Wistful. “I bet she liked you, too.”
I don’t say more as we look out over the desert. I think for him, knowing that much is enough.
“I always thought I would be the one left in Res, you know.” He says it abruptly. “I knew that going through the Gate would copy me to Obiteum and Luceum. Or I thought I knew that. But in my head, I was going to be the one who stayed. It never really occurred to me that I would be the copy. Behere.” There’s rawness to the admission. Pain, even now.
“But you lived.”
