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The prefect stepped into the hall—marched, more accurately, so firmly that Eavus clenched his teeth in anticipation of being slapped. But the man sighed, his lips a thin line, and waved a hand, and the soldier closed the door behind him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir—”
“No, thank Hirene for you. I needed a break from those—” He waved a hand again, then seemed to notice Eavus properly. “By the gods, boy, where did you come from?”
Eavus flexed his jaw. “Lordinius, sir. By way of the eighth division road-clearers, a Dinaeii hunting camp, Colcium, Catavarrus and Caerdeneii lands, prisoner of the Sculpae, and an eastern monastery. It’s been a journey, sir.” He thought it best not to mention Triconum.
“Sounds like it has. Colcium, eh? How is the ninth? They were under the command of Relini last I heard.”
Eavus blinked. “The ninth?”
“Or did they swap them out? Relini did love his wine. I wonder if Isfolj aul was too bitter for him.” The prefect smiled.
The prefect didn’t know. Eavus had delivered news of Colcium himself, and when he’d done so, the prefect in Lordinius hadn’t seemed surprised. News must have been sent. It would have been via local messenger, like they always used for dispatches, but was it possible Eavus had beaten them here? A tickle of warning skimmed his ribs. Locals should have gotten here faster—unless they’d decided not to finish their journeys for some reason. But Eavus was too distracted by the absolute flood of relief washing over him to give it more thought—because if the prefect didn’t know about Colcium, he couldn’t possibly know about Triconum, about the slaver, the lironi he’d killed. Any of it.
Eavus was safe. He’d been given a second chance.
He swallowed. “Colcium, unfortunately, has been destroyed. Attacked by some…local clan.” Eavus wished he could remember who. “That’s not the reason I’ve come.”
The prefect looked truly aghast, and Eavus felt bad about how eager he was to move past it.
“No! Colcium?! Are you sure?” The prefect had gone green. He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, his meeting awaiting his return. “They had worked well with the Isfolj. They seemed so successful.”
“Sir.” Eavus fumbled with the cylinder on his belt. After so long, the knots had swelled too tightly to pick open, and Revni had stolen his knife. “May I—?” He gestured to the dark-skinned guard’s blade. The man stared at him blankly. “I have a message, sir, regarding Norbucum. Regarding the whole of Arnea, and Aleteria, too.” Eavus truly wished he’d gotten water before he arrived. His tongue felt thick, the words getting caught on it. “And I need you to send word back to Lordinius that I’ve arrived.”
The prefect’s brow was still furrowed, but he returned his focus to Eavus.
“What news, legionary?”
Eavus suddenly couldn’t speak. He’d had days to come up with what to say, and now it all seemed to have fled under the impatient look of the prefect, the bored guards. This should be the most crucial moment in the history of Aleteria, and he was going to simply blurt it out in a hallway? He had one chance to get this right. They couldn’t have a table to sit across?
“The—” He swallowed. The cylinder felt hot in his hand. The prefect had begun to look annoyed. Eavus had a sudden flash to Maetis, to the gathering of the leaders at the monastery. A sacking of a town was big enough news that the only way for the prefect here not to know was that the news had, somehow, inexplicably, been deliberately kept from him.
Something was being planned. Some strategy was already at play, and Eavus, as always, was ignorant, and terrified, and desperate for someone to tell him what to do.
His confidence frazzled into a sudden, vague dismay. Who wanted to live in a world like this? Where you only held power because of hate, and fear, and a sharper sword? Where all your accomplishments came at the expense of destroying what was beautiful? Eavus had gotten a glimpse of another life, all those weeks in the wilderness, and instead of some carefully planned speech, he wanted to grab the prefect by the shoulders and shake him, like the man had been overtaken by a trance. Snap out of it! he wanted to shout. You can breathe fresh air! You can listen to birds! You can laugh! Why are we all choosing to live like this?! No one man, not even the emperor, can inflict mass violence. It takes people to help him. It takes people to enforce it, to submit, to shrug, to worry about what people will think, to worry about being impolite. That was what he loved about Revni. She was rude, when it really mattered.
Eavus wanted the prefect to tell the emperor, I know these people. They are people. Like you and me.
Eavus wanted the prefect to tell the emperor to go fuck himself.
He opened his mouth, but before he could say more, the bells of Norbucum began to clang.
FORTY-TWO
“Gods’ blood,” Revni cursed, as the crashing of bells shook her bones. Sulvi threw her hands over her ears.
“What is that?”
“The door I heard. It must have been someone leaving to sound the alarm.” Revni pushed past the two slave boys, knocking one down. He immediately fell into a crouched ball and started crying.
“Sstup. Sstip. Stop.” The young guard had drawn his knife, finally getting the Isfolj word right.
“Can we jump?”
Sulvi was near the toilet, the door to the little room still open. She craned her neck. “It’s swarming with guards!”
Revni marched to the young soldier and smacked the knife out of his hands with the sword. Its clang echoed off the water and tile. “How do we get out of here?”
