“Don’t be.” She’s made the same, likely correct, assumption that I have: Advenius saw an opportunity to push her case for Quintus and succeeded. “I meant what I said.”
“I know. That somehow makes it worse, you ass. Why didn’t you fight?”
“Because all I care about is figuring out what really happened at the Iudicium, and finding the people responsible.” I let the cold certainty of my tone tell her how serious I am. “There’s a lot we need to talk about.”
Aequa examines me. Nods her understanding. “I’ll make sure we’re working together.” She’s always been quick. “See you soon.”
She flashes a dazed smile and hurries off, quickly replaced by Tertius Ericius, who has hung back as Aequa and the other senators march off up the hill.
“I’m sorry, Catenicus.” He says it quietly as he approaches. “I did what I could, but the others argued that after the injury to Decimus’s son, it would look antagonistic to reward you. You’re certain your friend can be trusted?” He tilts his head back in the direction of the retreating group.
“Yes.” He’s concluded why I didn’t push my case, then.
“Alright. I will do for her what I would have done for you, then.” He exhales. Gives me an appraising look. “I think she would have refused the position, if you’d asked. Keep her close. Loyalty like that … you won’t find it in Caten.”
“I know.”
“And as for you, we’ll have to find a position that allows you to work with Aequa, but also still provides a path to office.” He chews his lip, thinking as he says it.
I cough. “I’m not interested in a Consulship, Tertius.”
“That doesn’t mean others aren’t interested in putting you there. I heard about your speech, this morning. Everyone has. Many are going to see the potential of your rising star, no matter what happened here today and no matter your apparent distaste for politics. If you really want to do this—if you want justice—then you need to keep your advantages where you can.”
Silence as I consider the words. I don’t like it, particularly, but he’s not wrong. “That’s good advice, sir. I will.”
He studies me, then claps me on the shoulder and heads back after the rest of the group.
I watch as he limps away, then head across the track. Stop next to the stone horse of Aequa’s chariot and take back the remainder of my Will.
As the pulse of the massive wheel fades in my mind, I exhale. Today could have gone much worse, but the only reason it didn’t is what’s concerning me now. It’s time to stop hiding from this.
I have to figure out exactly what happened to me during the Iudicium.
I have to talk to Veridius.
XXXI
DEATH, EIDHIN ONCE INSISTED WHILE EXPLAINING THEddram cyfraith, is our most important horizon. It matters because we need an end to what we can see. Without it we would drift, overwhelmed, nothing to orient ourselves against. Without it, we would never be able to focus on what is truly important: that which is in front of us.
That discussion comes to mind again as I watch the pallid stream of ceding, faceless iunctii shuffle through Neter-khertet, all but their eyes wrapped in white cloth, and even that tinted jade by the virulent illumination that seeps from every edge of the surrounding mirrorlike black surfaces. Duat’s roof sits a thousand feet above, distantly echoing the colour and motion of its captives below. An eternal, roiling green night sky above the massive western district that houses its dead.
Ahmose and I mimic the shambling crowds. Eyes down, focused on the faint reflection of whoever is in front of us. No talking. Just movement from one place to another as we pretend to the strange, semi-willing slavery of this place.
“Siamun. There’s an Overseer.” The nervous murmur from Ahmose is soft enough that it reaches only my ears.
Vek. I don’t look up, don’t pause in my steady shuffling. “How far?”
“A hundred or so cubits.”
I let my eyes flicker forward about fifty feet. A woman with her face uncovered, dressed in black. A motionless island, openly scanning the stream of other iunctii as they flow around her. Each of them unwraps their head covering as they pass, allowing her inspection. “Time for a detour.”
“Me?” Ahmose is, typically, nervous. “Again?”
“Don’t worry. You’re very good at this part.”
“Condescendingkataht.” His whisper’s somewhere between amusement and panic, but leaning toward the latter. Not really the type to use quips to ease his tension. “Fine. Next alley.”
We walk for another ten seconds. The Pyramid of Ka looms ahead, towering in the distance above even the tallest buildings. Its gold-highlighted surfacealways motionless, long stairway completely empty. Protected, Ahmose assures me, by hundred-foot-high walls that pulse withmutalis.
