LIX

HOURS AFTER THE LAST OF Suus disappears into the horizon, leaving for the second—and probably last—time still leaves me hollow.

It’s a different kind of sadness than three and a half years ago. Back then, all I could see across the water was the loss of my family, my sister’s death, the people who were surely preparing to pursue me. All terror and heartache and failure. This time, it’s so much more than that. It’s not running from my home. It’s saying goodbye to it.

This time, it feels like Suus is truly lost to me.

I’m quiet, contemplative, on the Transvect back to the Academy. Emissa naps on my shoulder. I occasionally catch Indol watching me from the corner of his eye, but I ignore him. Our interactions have been perfectly amicable over the past month. We’ve come to an unspoken understanding, I think.

Most students are already back at the Academy when we arrive. The grounds are bustling. There’s a sense of familiarity as I walk back through the Will cage at the entrance, but after Suus, there’s no mistaking it for coming home.

After tossing my meagre possessions back into my room, I find Callidus sequestered away in a corner of the library.

“Vis!” Callidus spots me, jauntily waving me over. “I hear we have reason to celebrate?” I look at him blankly, and his grin widens. “You and Emissa? A romantically heroic rescue from the depths? Marooned together for the night, only one another to keep each other warm, your clothes sodden—”

“Alright. Alright. That’s enough.” I laugh, even as I flush, despite it not being a secret. “How did you hear about that?”

“Quintus Dolivus was there for the summit. Anax in Five is his son. It’s been public knowledge for the past week, here.”

“Gods’ graves.” I shake my head, taking the chair opposite.

“So.” Callidus leans back, still beaming as he steeples his fingers together. “Tell me everything.”

I catch him up on my last month, though of course I glaze over a lot of the details. Partly because the most interesting stories are ones I can’t tell, but partly because it still hurts too much to talk about it. Despite my reticence, Callidus drinks it in. I get the strong impression he’s been starved for entertainment.

“What about you?” I ask eventually, coming to the end of my narrative.

“It’s been a delightful month of… this.” He gestures expansively around the empty library.

“So your family didn’t change their minds?”

“No.” I can see the flicker of pain at that, even now. He quickly moves on. “But at least that let me get to know our mutual friend Eidhin a little better. He’s meant to be meeting me here quite soon, actually. His Common is coming along rather well. I daresay because I’m a much better teacher than you,” he adds modestly.

I chuckle. Both Eidhin and Callidus were intending to stay at the Academy over the break—Eidhin for reasons he refused to go into, and Callidus because his family asked him not to come—so I suggested they spend some time in each other’s company. Neither seemed terribly enthusiastic about it, when I mentioned it before leaving. I’m glad to hear they didn’t simply avoid each other.

“In that case,” I say suddenly, “would you be against Eidhin joining us in the mornings?”

“Not at all.” Callidus’s expression is sly. “Why? Other plans for your evenings?”

“I want to run the Labyrinth.” He raises an eyebrow, and I sigh in defeat. “With Emissa.” I’d prefer to spend time with her in a more relaxed setting, but Ulciscor’s ultimatum has been weighing on me. And I’m going to have to use every second at my disposal to improve, because as hard as I’ve tried, I still cannot see a way to satisfy him without returning to the dome.

“Run the Labyrinth. Of course,” says Callidus merrily. He shakes his head in amusement. “No other news? No other casually heroic acts, no other tales of daring romance I should know about while you were away?”

I snort. “Unless you count Belli cuddling up to Indol for an awkward day or two.”

I’m watching for his reaction, otherwise I might have missed it. A moment of sadness as he processes, before the expression’s gone and he’s looking at me nonchalantly. “Awkward?”

“For Indol. Belli got the message eventually.”

“Oh.” His gaze strays. He nods for a touch too long, the silence stretching as he gathers himself. “He didn’t save her life too, I take it?”

“Not that I know of.” I watch him intently. Openly.

“What?” He frowns as he spots my gaze, and there’s red in his cheeks.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” When I just keep looking at him steadily, his brow furrows. “Nothing to tell.”

I hold up my hands in acquiescence and let the conversation move on.

Eventually Eidhin arrives, grunting as he sees me sitting with Callidus in what could almost be interpreted as a greeting. He pulls up a chair. “You are back.”

“I am.”

“I hear you are with Emissa.”

“I am.” I eye him. He’s speaking Common, the words a little halting but smooth enough. Perhaps Callidus wasn’t exaggerating.

“About time.” He looks at Callidus. “Well?”

“All true. Saved her from certain death,” Callidus assures him cheerfully.

Eidhin checks my expression to see whether Callidus is lying, then scowls. “Fine. I will pay later.” He thumps a thick tome down on the table between us. “Shall we begin?”

“You bet on whether it really happened?” I don’t know whether to be amused or offended.

“Eidhin simply doesn’t have as much faith in you as I do.”

Eidhin glares at Callidus, who stares back glibly before turning to me. “Is he always this sour around you, too?”

“Always.”

“Must be exhausting, being him.”

“I can understand you,” Eidhin growls.

“I know,” replies Callidus chirpily. “The question is, can you explain why being you is not exhausting? In Common?”

“I can explain how injured you are likely to be in a moment.”

“This is nice,” I interject with a grin.

Once the friendly bickering is done, we spend another while just talking, and it’s quickly apparent that Eidhin and Callidus have a comfortable rapport. Eidhin’s Common really has improved dramatically too, I’m pleased to see.

“Before I forget—Eidhin, would it be alright if we worked on your Common in the mornings, with Callidus?” I say suddenly, remembering.

“That would be fine.” His eyes narrow. “Why?”

“He’s planning to run the Labyrinth with Emissa,” supplies Callidus helpfully.

“Ah. Run the Labyrinth. I see,” says Eidhin, nodding slowly, saying the phrase as if trying out a new euphemism. Callidus half chokes a laugh as I roll my eyes.

I endure a few more jabs from the two of them, but soon enough the dinner bell is chiming. We walk to the mess together. There’s curious, occasionally awed looks from many of the students as I enter. It seems Callidus wasn’t overstating about my exploits on Suus being widely circulated. Probably exaggerated, too, knowing how these things tend to go.

I ignore the gawking, sitting with the Fourths and spending the next hour being crowded around and giving much-abbreviated versions of my time away. My efforts to deflect and politely ask what everyone else’s break was like are unsuccessful. At the table on the level above, I see Emissa watching. I shrug, and she shrugs back with sympathetic ruefulness.

Only Aequa is quiet during the meal, all but snubbed by the others. The month away has cooled my anger toward her, and I try to include her in the conversation, but it rarely works.

I endure the questioning until the bell chimes again, content in knowing that everyone’s curiosity will quickly fade once classes resume tomorrow. Pleased that I’ve already been able to talk with Callidus and Eidhin, too.

It’s not good to be back at the Academy, exactly, but it is good to see my friends again.

---

I STILL HAVE A LIGHT sweat, forehead cool against the night’s ocean breeze, as I walk back from the Labyrinth to the dormitory.

My mood is upbeat. Partly because I find it almost always is after seeing Emissa; if I was worried that the surrounds of the Academy might change things between us—aside from the minor irritation of not being able to sit with each other at meals—then I can rest assured now that it hasn’t.

But it’s mostly because I’m more confident than ever that practicing with her will force me to get better. Callidus and Eidhin have done everything they can to help in the past, but they haven’t had her months of near-daily experience with the Labyrinth. She’s better than me by a significant margin. Even after one evening, she’s shown me plenty of ways I can improve.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t see Callidus’s shape detaching itself from the shadows of the dormitory until he’s almost in my path.

He smirks at me as I stop short in surprise, though there’s a touch of nervousness to the expression. An uncertainty that looks foreign on his face. He jerks his head back down toward the nearby parkland. “Hail, Vis. Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

We start walking away from the dormitory. There’s no one around, late as it is, but Callidus doesn’t say anything more until we’re well away from the building and surrounded by trees. I’m burning with curiosity but wait for him to speak.

Finally he sighs, gesturing to a bench beneath one of the pole-mounted lanterns. We sit.

“Look. Vis. There’s something I want to tell you.” He slouches forward, elbows on his knees, staring out into the darkness before looking at the ground in front of him. “It’s about Belli.”

I resist the urge to make a joke. There’s a weight to his words.

Callidus’s lip curls in frustration; there’s another silence while he gathers his thoughts, glances around as if desperate for an excuse to put off his explanation. We’re alone, though. No chance of anyone overhearing.

“It was three months before first trimester.” Back to staring at the ground. “A few of us who were coming here began training together. Belli, Iro, Axien, Sianus, and me. My father organised it, invited them to our villa. He thought it would be beneficial. A way for us to get ahead, but also to form some bonds across Senate lines.”

“Makes sense.” Sianus is from a Governance family, like Callidus, and Iro is from Religion. With Axien and Belli from Military, it’s a reasonable mix.

“It does.” Callidus shakes his head. “It was good. Fun, for the first couple of months. We all seemed to get along. Even my sisters were enjoying having them around. And Belli…” He reddens, grits his teeth. Struggling to admit the next part. “I thought Belli and I were getting along better than everyone else. I thought we were at least friends, and…” He barks an abrupt, rueful laugh.

“You liked her.”

“Rotting gods, yes. I thought I was in love.” Clearly still hard words for him to say, though he delivers them matter-of-factly. “Stupid, I know. Looking back, I still can’t believe I…” He sighs. “Anyway. I found out about the deaths in the Academy—the ones I told you about, a while back—and I was trying to warn Belli, but she wouldn’t believe me. So a couple of weeks before the Academy started, I took some proof.”

I close my eyes, half a wince. The pieces fall into place. “You stole official, Will-sealed documents from your father. From Governance. That’s…” I rub my forehead in disbelief. “You could end up in a Sapper for that.”

“Oh. Really? Thanks for the warning.”

I wave my hand apologetically. “So what happened?”

“Exactly what you’re imagining. I gave her the documents. I still don’t know if I was trying to impress her, or was actually worried she might get herself killed. But I trusted her. Told her to read them over and give them back to me the next day so that I could replace them. It wasn’t as if anyone would be looking for them, ever, but a few days wasn’t going to hurt.”

“And she kept them?”

“And she kept them.” Callidus’s face is pale at merely the memory. “Told me that if I didn’t drop down to Seven after the first few weeks, she’d hand them over to her father. That wouldn’t have just been a nightmare for me,” he adds, almost pleading for me to understand. “It would have destroyed my father’s standing in the Senate. My family’s name. They might even have ended up in Sappers, too. Governance doesn’t look kindly on that sort of information going astray.”

“I can’t imagine they do.” Information, particularly regarding the Census, is Governance’s source of power. Callidus isn’t exaggerating the potential consequences of being discovered. “So she’s been holding it over you this entire time? Because… she thinks you’re a threat to her?”

“Partly. She would have been at the bottom of Three, if I’d stayed there. But that wasn’t all.” Callidus’s voice is low. “She’s been pressing me for information. More and more, these past few months. I’m not going to give it to her,” he assures me, “but she’s getting bolder. More threatening. It doesn’t make sense for her to actually show anyone those papers, yet—I’m better off under her thumb than in a Sapper somewhere—but if something happens, if my father does something she doesn’t like…” He trails off.

I watch him, anger and sadness for him twisting in my stomach. He’s terrified. He’s hidden it well—better than I would have believed, actually—but he’s in a situation that he can’t see a way out of. Or a way to control.

“Does your father know?”

“Gods’ graves, no.”

I nod. His tone says it all: telling his father won’t help. “Alright. Well. At least we’ve established once and for all that I’m smarter than you.”

There’s a pause, and then Callidus gives a soft laugh. He finally looks up at me. “Don’t equate having less heart with more intelligence.”

“I’m not sure it was your heart making the decisions, to be honest.” I give him a half grin. “The question now is, how do we fix this?”

“There’s no fixing it.” He’s doleful, his moment of humour vanished. “I’ve thought about it every day since it happened, and I just… I don’t think there’s a solution.”

“She’d have the documents here. She wouldn’t risk keeping them at her home.”

“I assume so. Otherwise, if I did ever admit it to my father, he might figure out a way to get them back before she can do anything about it.”

“So somewhere close by. Secure, though.”

“The girls’ dormitory, presumably. On the top floor.” Callidus makes a face. “Even if I knew where to look, there’s no sneaking in there. Someone would see me. And then it’s expulsion, which is worse than being in Seven. And then Belli would release the papers anyway, because I’d be worth nothing to her.”

“Hmm.” I lean back, thinking about my time with Belli. What I know of her. Callidus is right: there’d be no sneaking in and stealing the documents back, even if we knew exactly where they were. And I can’t ask Emissa to risk the consequences of being caught rummaging through Belli’s private possessions. Still. Everyone has weaknesses, and Belli’s no exception. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thanks, but don’t get upset if we don’t. It’s not your burden.” Callidus forces a smile. “I’m glad I found the stones to tell you, at least. I’m sorry I lied to you. I hated doing it. I wanted to tell you a few times, but it just seemed pointless.”

I press down the wriggling unease of my own secrets. “Nothing to apologise for.”

We talk for a while longer after that. Not about Belli—the subject’s plainly still raw for Callidus, and he seems more relieved than anything else when I let the matter drop—but just casually. A way for my friend to unwind after his taut admissions.

Soon enough, though, we’re standing. Classes begin again tomorrow, and I need to sleep—need every ounce of energy I can find for this final push. Theoretically, I can be raised to Class Three at any time up until the Iudicium. But the closer it draws, the less likely it is that the Praeceptors will decide to make a change. If I’m going to advance, it needs to be soon.

Even so, I find myself ruminating on Callidus’s situation as I climb the stairs to my rooms. Rueful that he could be so careless—I only didn’t castigate him because I know he’s punished himself more than enough already—but far more furious at Belli for putting him in such an untenable situation.

As I lie down to sleep, something occurs to me. An idea I’ve had for a while, but one that was too high-risk to consider. There’s more at stake now, though.

Advance to Three, and help Callidus. There may be a way I can do both.