THE SUN HUNG LOW in the sky as I approached the Legion tower. The streets about it were already filling up with Iyalet officers, most in Legion black, but many in Engineering purple and Apoth red, and the occasional flash of Iudex blue. As we lined up to enter the Legion courtyard a singing began from within, a high, ululating, solemn song in a language I did not recognize.

The ceremony had begun, I realized. The line moved faster, and soon I passed under the black-bannered arches, took my place among the crowds gathering along the circular courtyard walls, and looked to see.

In the center of the courtyard were two lines of people, bluely lit by the lanterns: one line composed of some two dozen Legionnaires, all kneeling, heads bowed; and there, standing over them, was a line of people of a sort I had never seen before. They were all from many different races—Tala, Sazi, Kurmini, Rathras, Pithian—and each was arrayed in strikingly different raiment, all swirling dark robes and fine gold chains, or veils of silver and high, peaked hats.

They were holy folk, I realized: priests and clerics and rectors and curates from all the imperial cults. I struggled with this for a moment, wrestling with the idea of an Empire so vast it could accommodate such wildly different cultures. Yet all of them intended to make their blessings known here, it seemed, invoking their pantheons to stem back the titans of the deeps.

I glanced about the courtyard. The front area seemed to have been reserved for the senior officers: I spied Vashta sitting among them, her breast covered with so many heralds and tributes that her whole front twinkled like the night sky. When she wasn’t solemnly watching the ritual she studied the crowd, marking who had and had not attended, I guessed. When her keen eye fell on me, she smiled tightly and nodded. I bowed in return.

The holy folk sang aloud from their texts and swung their thuribles before the kneeling Legionnaires, bathing them in incense and sacred smokes. Then they wrapped the soldiers in holy cloths and anointed their brows with paints and the bloods of pheasants and calves, slowly layering them with prayers, with hopes, with calls to the divine.

Among this sea of strangeness I saw something I recognized: a round, gold effigy mounted high behind the holy men, depicting a long, gaunt face that was both sympathetic and stern, with words written below in an ancient, half-forgotten language—Sen sez imperiya.

I stared back at the face of the emperor. I tried to make his words mean something to me, knowing that the twitch and the Hazas had killed two people at least, and perhaps ten Engineers and countless others as well; and not only might they go unpunished for it, but Ana and I might never comprehend what had really happened here. Blas, the breach, the party—all of it might be washed away like footprints in a rainstorm.

The more I thought on it, the more I wished to leave this holy rite. The emperor offered many blessings to the Legion, it seemed, but precious few for the Iudex. How simple the titans seemed, and how impossible justice felt.

The ceremony appeared to be drawing to a close: three holy men touched the brow of the kneeling Legionnaire at the very front. Then they proclaimed something in ancient Khanum and kissed him upon the head, bowed, and drew back. All the Legionnaires stood and bowed in return; and that seemed to be the end of it, for the courtyard then filled up with mutterings and quiet conversation.

The scent of incense was pushed away by the aromas of fats and spices and wine. Food arrived, the tables suddenly piling high with sliced meat and pickled vegetables, and cask after cask of sotwine. I had no idea what else I was to do at such a ceremony, so I ambled forward to fill my bowl.

A voice behind me: “It’s a pleasure to see you triumphant, Signum.”

I turned. Immunis Uhad emerged from the crowd in his stiff, storklike gait, his blue Iudex cloak swirling behind him, his face still as gaunt and bleak as ever.

“Good evening, sir,” I said, bowing.

“I’ve heard the news,” he said to me, “and all the details of all your victories. You and Ana have handled things marvelously. No, no, don’t bow again. Be merry. This is the time for such things, after all.”

I filled my cup and raised it to him. “I’ve never been to such a ceremony before, sir. I wish them luck and fortune.” Yet I noticed Uhad bore neither wine nor bowl.

“Can’t indulge myself much these days, Signum,” he admitted. “Too much wine leads to too many, ah, afflictions. And social events cause no end of headaches.” A weary smile. “Enjoy it now, while you have it.”

“Do you mind me asking, sir…When did you start having afflictions?” I asked.

“Oh, when I was about fifteen or twenty years older than you. So you have some time still. Though it’s moments like these that make it worthwhile. Engrave this victory deeply, boy. It will be a treasure to you.”

I said nothing.

“But…I suspect you are likely pained by the way it ended.” His tired eyes lingered on me. “Not all who perpetrated injustice have met justice, after all.”

“No, sir,” I said. “They have not.”

“No.” Uhad sighed. “But righteousness rarely finds ones so powerful. They are critical to the Empire, and use their importance to gain more power, and grow all the more unassailable. It irks me. It always has. But I shall let it irk me no more.” He smiled wearily. “My time as a Sublime is finally at an end.”

“You’re being relinquished from duty, sir?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. This was my last investigation. I shall retreat to a small plot of land in the first ring of the Empire and spend my last few days partaking in what peace I can find there.”

I was surprised he could afford such a place. The first ring of the Empire was the most protected enclave of all of Khanum. To hear that Uhad could buy his way into such a paradise was quite startling.

“Though I do wish I could keep serving, frankly,” he confessed. “Anyway…Ana tells me you are remarkably skilled at making tea. Is that so?”

“Oh. Somewhat, sir.”

“Have you even had the chance for a cup during all this madness?”

“Not in a while. Though we did bring the kettle, of course.”

“What a pity. You and Ana are both owed some reprieve. Though you must make me a cup before I go.” He bowed. “I will pester you no more and shall leave you to form some more pleasant memories than these tonight, Signum. I suspect many will wish to congratulate you.” He glanced over my shoulder. “And some come right soon.”

Commander-Prificto Vashta then swept through the crowd, flanked by a half-dozen officers so elite I felt my whole body go stiff with shock. “Here he is,” she said, smiling a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Here is our victorious Iudex signum, who helped end our rash of horrid poisonings…Signum Kol, we’ve many here who’d like to learn how you managed this miracle!”

The many officers looked at me expectantly. I glanced back at Uhad, only to find he was already gone.

---

—

THE NIGHT WENT on, dripping by in the humid, spice-soaked air. Vashta wielded me about like a lucky talisman, introducing me to Engineering and Legion officers, proclaiming my accomplishments, eager to assuage everyone’s anxieties after the breach. The officers all bowed low and offered me thanks, and blessings, and wine, shaking my hand and claiming my victory was full of good portent. Their praise did not hang easily on me, and eventually I began bowing low so they couldn’t see the strained smile on my face.

Finally a Legionnaire approached Vashta, whispering news from the walls. She thanked me for my attendance and released me. It was late by now. The crowd was thinning out around me, and the lanterns growing dark. I was exhausted, and felt a liar after such merriment and congratulations. I moved to leave, then stopped.

One Legionnaire stood alone below the visage of the emperor: the one whose brow had been touched and kissed by the three holy men. He stood with a somber expression on his face, staring out at the dwindling crowd, his face streaked with holy blood and oils and paints, his shoulders streaming with colored ribbons and cloths.

Then he looked at me, and I realized it was Captain Strovi.

He went still at the sight of me. I looked back. It was not until that moment, stripped of all the signals of rank and status, that I realized how Strovi looked at me, and perhaps had looked at me all this time.

I smiled at him. He returned the smile, faintly relieved. He gestured to himself and shrugged, as if to say—Can you believe what they’ve put me in?

I laughed. I gazed back at the lingering crowd. Then I set down my sotwine and walked over to him.

Strovi grinned ashamedly as I approached. “You know, they tell us all about the sacred ways of getting into this gear,” he said. “But never how to get out of it.”

I studied him. The blood on his face was now dry and crackling. Yet he was still handsome, even under all that.

“You look quite the sight, sir,” I said.

“I look quite the sight,” he said, nodding.

“Do you know what all those are for?” I asked. I gestured to my face. “As in—what each thing they did to you means?”

“Some,” he said. “But most, ah—absolutely not. I don’t even know all the cults that just blessed me. It’s all a bit mad.”

“They said you’re firing the cannon. Is that true?”

“That is a little like assigning the death of a titan to one Legionnaire. I am part of the team that will be firing the cannon. It is monstrously complicated to do. But yes.”

“Then I wish you the emperor’s blessing, and all the luck of all the gods.”

“And I thank you,” he said, bowing, “but I admit, I am about as tired of hearing that as you’re likely tired of being congratulated on your success.”

I said nothing.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

I thought about it. “No,” I said.

“No?” he said. “I thought I saw about two dozen officers walk up to shake your hand. And three were commanders, to my eye.”

“You must have been watching me closely then, sir.”

He smirked and let the comment hang. Then he said, “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

Again, I considered what to say. “They all shook my hand,” I said finally. “Like we’d won. But we didn’t win. It all just fizzled as we got close. And many dirty folk who wrought so much death still go free. And…and everyone seems to know. Old Uhad walked up and chatted with me about it. Like it was dinner conversation. And I’m supposed to keep doing my duty. As if it wasn’t there, atop all I do.”

He watched me closely, his face sympathetic. “In the Legion they tell us to ask—do the walls still stand? Does the Empire persist? And if I can say yes to that, then I should feel satisfied with the day, and call it victory. We have to, I think. Otherwise, it’ll grind you down, Dinios.”

“All I feel,” I said, “is alone.”

The last few officers lingered at the gates of the courtyard, speaking in loud, drunken tones.

“You don’t have to feel alone,” said Strovi.

I looked at him. The moment stretched on. He tried to smile again, yet there was a desperation to it. I remembered then that whatever trials vexed me, Strovi’s were far greater. I felt suddenly ashamed, and hated the sight of such worry in his face and wished I could wipe it away like I might the oils and paints upon his brow and cheeks.

“There’s a bathing basin in my chamber,” I said.

He blinked at me, puzzled.

“I could get all that off for you,” I said. “I’d just be repaying a favor. I mean, you did it for me, once, in the mill. Sir.”

He blinked again, this time in surprise. “Oh,” he said.

Again, the moment stretched on. I felt mortified, suddenly convinced I’d overstepped. If the ground had cracked open before me I’d have gladly jumped into the chasm to hide from the shame.

Then, after a moment, Strovi said, “Are…are you sure?”

Relieved, I nodded, laughing faintly.

“Well…” He glanced around the courtyard and grinned. “Then lead on. And hurry, before someone else stops you to shake your ha—”

Then the drunken voices at the courtyard entrance went silent, replaced by the sound of the tramp of many boots.

Together we turned and saw a half-dozen Legion officers pouring in, their steel caps glinting as they looked about. I glanced at Strovi, thinking they were surely here for him.

“Ohh, what’s this?” said Strovi. “What’s happened now?”

One Legionnaire cupped a hand to his mouth and called, “Signum Dinios Kol! Is Signum Kol present?”

I sighed deeply. “Shit,” I said.

Strovi shut his eyes and sighed as well. “Ah…yes. Shit. Shit indeed.”

“Some other time?” I said.

He gestured at the dark skies. “If the fates will, certainly.”

I quietly cursed this day and this evening, then raised my hand and called, “I’m Kol.”

The Legionnaires trooped over to us. “You’re needed at the Apoth tower, sir,” the lead one said breathlessly. “Right away. Your immunis is already there waiting for you.”

“Ana’s out of her rooms?” I said. “What’s happened?”

“Don’t quite know, sir,” she said. “But…Immunis Nusis has been injured. Not responding. Could…could be dead.” She touched the back of her scalp. “Something to do with her head.”

I looked at Strovi, alarmed. He nodded back, his face sad. Then I followed them into the night.