I wait, forcing down a fresh wave of panic as I process his lack of response. I don’t think this is a refusal; if his usual instructions had somehow taken precedence again, I would be dead. But it could be an indication that what I’ve asked of him is impossible. That if he knows the execution of a command is unattainable, he simply won’t attempt it. I tried that with Tash, a few times—things like telling him to fly—and his reaction, or lack thereof, was similar.
“Make sure you don’t look at me, but turn around.” He does. “Walk to the opposite wall.” He does. “Walk through the wall into the next room.” Duodecim doesn’t move.
“Vek.” I stare at the Gleaner, then level myself slowly to my feet and pace, eyes on the floor, letting the control over my own body calm me. This isn’t a disaster. In fact, now I’ve been forcibly slowed, I realise that this is the time to get as much information as I can. Similar to the iunctii who showed me the Labyrinth in Res, but now with the ability to force a genuine response.
“Answer my questions honestly by nodding for yes, shaking your head for no. Is there a path into the city from here?”
The worst of the tension leaks from my shoulders as Duodecim nods, though the mechanical motion somehow makes him even more unsettling. We’re not in some isolated area only for Gleaners, then.
“Can you lead me into the city without us being noticed?”
A shake of the head, again eerily perfunctory. Too wide and regular, like a child carefully but emphatically trying the motion for the first time. I shudder, though it’s what I expected. “Can you get me into the city without anyone realising I’m alive?”
My heart sinks at another shake of the head. I bite my lip. Pace again.
“Are there guards?” No, is the answer. “Is it the other Gleaners who will notice?” Yes. “Is there any way to fool them?” No. “Will they kill me if they realise something is wrong?” Yes. Of gods-damned course yes. I shouldn’t have asked. Stupid.
I issue more questions for clarity, but my initial impressions are only confirmed: there’s a way out, but only the one, and it’s not one that can possibly avoid raising alarms. Other Gleaners wait along the way and would inevitably see us. There is no disguise, no ruse, that would allow for me to be walking that path.
“Alright,” I mutter, more to myself than Duodecim. It’s been several minutes now and I’m more composed. He’s indicated that we have time undisturbedin here. An hour at least. “If there’s only one way out, and the other Gleaners will kill me if they see me going that way, then we need to move the Gleaners.”
I look at Duodecim speculatively.
“If you were by yourself, would the other Gleaners react to you?” A shake of the head. “Would you be able to kill them, or disable them so that I can get past unseen?” Another shake of the head. Fair enough. I suppose once one Gleaner raised the alarm, all the others would know Duodecim was compromised and come running. It doesn’t really matter. Getting into the city but leaving behind a trail of dead Gleaners isn’t exactly subtle. I may not be able to avoid raising suspicions completely, but Caeror was clear about my chances if Ka becomes sure of my presence.
I think for another minute, chewing my lip.
“Is there anywhere in here where something violent might happen, without raising suspicion? A fight? An accidental injury?” Yes. “Something violent enough that it would prevent you from being questioned afterward, if the injury was to you?” Yes again. Good. “Can we reach there without being seen?” Yes. Alright. I allow myself a sliver of rising hope. “Could something happen there that would draw enough other Gleaners that I could get into the city unseen?”
No response, this time. I frown. “You can’t say for sure either way?”
An immediate nod.Vek.
I spend the next ten minutes workshopping other ways out. None of them come close to being viable. The following ten—time increasingly pressing on my shoulders—I spend clarifying things. Through tortuous trial and error and careful memorisation, I determine the path I will have to take from wherever Duodecim intends to lead me. I try to ask questions about that as well, but it’s too vague a concept for yes or no answers; I don’t get far and I don’t have the time or need to probe. If I won’t be seen getting there, and I can potentially use Duodecim to cause a distraction—and have him “kill” himself in the process, to ensure the Concurrence can’t discover me, though the idea makes my stomach churn—then it’s the best I can hope for. Risky, but as far as I can tell, my only chance.
“Duodecim,” I say eventually, steeling myself. “Lead me to where we can cause this distraction, on a path we won’t be seen.” I don’t know how important it is to emphasise the details again, but I do it anyway.
Duodecim walks to the triangular opening of the room and as he approaches, the black stone folds away. The mirrorlike hall beyond, its emerald lines of illumination stretching away, is utterly silent.
He strides to the left. I follow uncertainly.
Somehow the close, reflective triangular hallway, its apex only a foot above my head, feels even more unsettling as we traverse it alone. The openings to the left and right are all sealed; occasionally I think I hear something from behind the dark walls—mutters, moans, pleading—but it’s so faint that I can’t be sure it’s not my imagination. I alternate looking ahead and behind, all too aware that these long corridors mean that any stray Gleaner entering will be able to immediately see me from a distance. But there is nothing. No movement except our own.
It is a full five minutes, but only three turns, before the desperate shouting starts echoing to us.
Not my imagination this time, I realise as the yelling becomes more audible. Only one voice that I can hear. Male. Hoarse, panicked and pleading. Even if I didn’t know the Vetusian, it would be impossible to mistake the content.
Help.
I restrain the urge to break into a sprint, the hair on the back of my neck rising as we get closer and the man’s tone—words and volume increasing, message remaining largely the same—becomes more urgent. Duodecim moves with mute purpose as we approach the triangular opening that is the source of the supplications. They’re addressing someone. Asking them to stop. Begging them, and the great god Ka, and anyone else who will listen, to juststop.
Duodecim reaches the doorway and doesn’t hesitate, turning and disappearing from the hallway.
I enter after him just in time to see him spear the other Gleaner inside straight through the back of the skull.
I give an involuntarily, gargled sound of shock at the unexpectedness of it, eyes fixed on the horrific sight for several seconds before I can take anything else in. There’s a thick, wet sound as Duodecim pulls his gore-coated granite blade from the woman’s head, allowing her body—truly lifeless, this time—to slide off it and slump to the floor. The pleading voice has stopped, and I finally wrench my gaze past Duodecim’s hulking form to see a man manacled to a slab that looks uncomfortably like a Sapper. He is blindfolded, pressing himself back against the stone as if trying to sink straight into it.
Duodecim walks up to him and draws back his granite blade.
