IT’S BEEN MONTHS SINCE I’VE been in Veridius’s office. Months since I’ve interacted with the man, in fact. As wrong as that feels—a large part of why I’m here is to figure out what he’s doing, after all—it’s not as if he’d leave evidence lying around, waiting for an enterprising student to find. Not to mention that there would be Imbued alarms protecting anything valuable, impossible for me to detect until it was too late. Simply sneaking in and looking through his things was never an option.
I knock, then step through the doorway and face the blue-eyed man behind the desk as he calls me in. The view over the island on one side and the school grounds on the other is as impressive as ever. Veridius finishes writing something and then looks up, brightening as he sees who it is.
“Vis!” He gestures me to the seat opposite. “Wonderful. I’ve been meaning to congratulate you on your advancement to Three. As impressive a rise as any of us could have hoped for.”
“Thank you, Principalis.” I accept the compliment with the requisite amount of respect.
“I take it you’ve chosen your team for the Iudicium? Everyone else has already submitted their names.”
I hide my surprise. Inevitable though the choices seemed, that was faster than I expected. “I have. Callidus Ericius and Eidhin Breac.”
Veridius leans back, hands steepled. Considering. “Interesting choices. Why them? Everyone else picked from Class Four.”
“Eidhin would be in Class Four if he’d been more fluent in Common when he started. And Callidus could easily be in Class Three.”
“But he’s not,” points out Veridius. “A teammate unwilling to live up to his potential could be far worse than one who will give his all.”
“I trust him.” I’m firm. “I trust both of them.”
Veridius watches me, then to my surprise, beams. “Good! That is good, Vis. Excellent, in fact. If there was one criteria I would suggest basing your decision on, it would be just that. Trust. Ericius. Breac. Excellent.” He’s enthusiastic as he writes down the names. “I’ll be having a discussion with both of them over the next few days. If they tell you the details, it will result in their expulsion and your disqualification from the Iudicium. So don’t ask them about it.”
My eyebrows rise. “As you say, Principalis.” I hesitate. “Sir. Am I able to ask something about the others’ choices?”
“Depends on what you want to ask.”
“Did anyone pick Belli?”
“Ah.” He studies me. Sympathetic and not, all at once. “Yes. She’ll be participating in the Iudicium. Though I would stay clear of her, during,” he adds mildly.
I give a small smile. “Good advice, Principalis. Don’t worry. I’ll take it.”
Veridius starts recording something on the paper in front of him. I take it as a dismissal. Stand to leave.
Veridius, still scribbling, raises a finger without looking up. “One more moment, if you please, Vis.”
I sink back into my chair.
Veridius finishes his task. “How is your training in the Labyrinth progressing?”
“Well enough, Principalis. I’m competitive now.”
“Of course. Of course. I hear you run it mornings and evenings?”
“The rest of Class Three have all had tens of hours more experience than me. I’m just trying to catch up.”
“Why?”
The question throws me. “I…” I give a half laugh of confusion. “Because I’m behind?”
“But you’re not, from what I hear. You’re as good as any of them. Maybe the best of the lot, except Belli.” Veridius issues the ghost of a smile. “And perhaps more saliently, you don’t need to be. Your position in Class Three is set. You cannot advance and you cannot be replaced. Yet you keep practicing.” It’s a question.
I shrug. “It’s become a habit, I suppose.”
Veridius looks on the verge of pressing, but sighs instead. Shakes his head ruefully.
“Trust,” he murmurs. “It’s a funny thing. I don’t know what your father has asked of you, but don’t push yourself too hard. You’re a student of the Academy. You’ll have my protection, regardless of what happens over the next month.”
He’s fishing. And suspects, correctly, why I’m training so hard at the Labyrinth. There’s a heartbeat where I’m tempted to believe his oblique offer. Desperately want to think that, just maybe, I don’t have to sneak off to the dome again after all. I still have nightmares of Artemius’s grisly demise at the hands of the Remnants.
But Veridius, just like everyone else, is playing his own game here. He wants whatever it is that’s past the maze. And if I’m right, he’s designed the entire Academy around finding students to get to it.
“Thank you, Principalis.” I give him a grateful nod as I stand. “I appreciate that.”
Veridius studies me, then gives me another smile. This one is vaguely sad.
“Stronger together, Vis. I’ll see you in a few weeks at the Iudicium.”
IT’S TWO DAYS LATER WHEN I find Eidhin waiting for me at the midday meal.
“Come,” he says, jerking his head in the opposite direction to the mess.
I make a face. I’m starving. “Can I just—”
“No.”
“Alright.” Even for Eidhin, he seems brusque. Uncomfortable. Whatever he has to say must be important.
We find a secluded spot on the steps of the Curia Doctrina. The sky’s grey today, as it has been for the past several. The wind’s biting but there’s no rain. Once we’re settled, I look expectantly at Eidhin. The large boy examines the quadrum for a few seconds.
“Have you heard of ddram cyfraith?” he asks in Cymrian. He rarely talks in his native language now.
“The… Right to Death?” My brow furrows. “No.”
“It is a code that honours death as a sacrifice. That sees living past one’s time as a disgrace. It is the code by which my tribe lives. Lived.” He pauses at the correction. Exhales. “It is not as opposed to Birthright as it sounds, but it is certainly not in harmony with it. The Hierarchy value life, but they do not respect it. Ddram cyfraith does. I was raised to know how to kill, and taught when it was necessary. We avoided the attention of the Hierarchy because we lived in the mountains, our villages inaccessible for most of the year. We were self-sufficient. Even though the Catenans had conquered Cymr, they didn’t pay us much attention. We thought we were safe. Ignored.” His words, native though they are, are halting. This isn’t easy for him to relay. “Almost three years ago, that changed. The Hierarchy attacked. No warning, no attempt to negotiate.”
I don’t say anything. That part is achingly familiar.
“They took us by surprise, but we fought. Killed enough of them that they were forced to retreat, regroup. But they caught some of us. Myself included.” The weight to those last two words is immense. “Most of my people accepted that they were in a fight they could not win. Rather than submit, they chose the honourable path and committed themselves to dust.”
I open my mouth to ask him what that means, then close it again. It’s fairly obvious.
“But my father didn’t.” Bitterness, thick and angry. “He and a number of others betrayed our orders. And then he struck a deal. In exchange for being made a Quintus—and our new leader—everyone else would live. And I would spend a year in a Sapper.”
I look at him, horrified. “Your father negotiated to put you in a Sapper?”
“He negotiated to lessen my sentence. They put me in a Sapper because I killed three Praetorians before they took me.”
“Oh. Of course. Well, that’s… hm.”
“When they woke me, my father told me what he’d done. Told me of his cowardice.” Eidhin’s lip curls. “He said that if I did not attend the Academy, and then serve under him after I graduated, we would all be placed in Sappers. Me, him, and the remainder of our people.”
There’s silence.
“That’s… a heavy burden.” I’m not sure I can understand, not fully—in his father’s position, I would have done the same—but there’s no denying the pain in Eidhin’s words. The betrayal and self-loathing. He’s trapped here. More like me than I realised.
Still, these revelations aren’t on a whim. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to understand that I hate them just as much as you do.” Eidhin speaks quietly as he looks at me, daring me to protest. I don’t. “I want you to know that you are my friend. That you have my full trust.”
“Of course,” I say carefully. “And you have mine.”
“No, I don’t.” Eidhin is reproving. Not angry, not hurt. Just knowing. “But that is alright.” He takes a deep breath. “I cannot join you in the Iudicium.”
I stiffen. Taken aback. “Why not?”
“I cannot say. If I do, I risk both of us being expelled.” He meets my gaze firmly. “You are my friend, Vis. But there are more important things in life. If I were to go with you, you would not be able to trust me. And so I cannot go with you.”
There’s a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’m bursting to probe, to understand, but Eidhin is being as open with me as he has ever been. He wants me to know it’s not because of anything I’ve done, nothing to do with our relationship. But he’s not going to budge.
“Alright.” I exhale, clearing my head. “I’m disappointed, of course, but I’m sure you have a good reason.”
Eidhin relaxes, just a touch. Nods appreciatively. “Who will you ask to replace me?”
I consider for a long few seconds before replying, though I already know the answer.
“That,” I admit, “is going to be a very interesting conversation.”
AEQUA STARES AT ME AS we stand outside the girls’ dormitory, well-lit beneath the three lanterns that guard its entrance. “You want me to what?”
“Be part of my team for the Iudicium,” I repeat patiently.
She continues to look at me as if I’ve gone mad. Which, admittedly, perhaps I have. “Me,” she says flatly.
“You’re the best in Class Four by a long way.”
“Clearly not.”
“You made a mistake, thinking I was cheating. But I understand why you did. And if you went about trying to prove it too… vigorously… then, well, you wanted to win. It’s a quality I can use. And I know you want the chance to improve your standing.”
Aequa finally looks away, forehead crinkled. She shakes her head. “But why risk it? What makes you think I won’t go out of my way to sabotage you instead of help you? Why would you give me a chance like that?”
“Honestly? Because you apologised.”
She gives me a blank look, then guffaws. “Because I said I was sorry?”
“Because I think you meant it. You didn’t get anything out of saying it, couldn’t have possibly thought it was to your advantage. I believed you.” I squint at her. “Was I wrong?”
“No,” she says slowly, laughter fading to vaguely amused puzzlement. “It was arrogant to think you were cheating, and even if you had been, I should never have tried to expose you that way. It was dangerous and petty. I’m still horrified, when I think about it.”
“Perfect.” I grin at her sour expression. “You see? It’s a chance at redemption. Help me win, and we’re even. And you get to benefit.”
She chews her lip. “Hard to argue with that.”
“Then it’s settled. Let’s go and tell Veridius.”
“Now?”
“If that’s alright.” I’m not going to wait another few nervous days only to find out that Aequa’s changed her mind, too.
We start walking toward Veridius’s office.
“So. How many people did you ask before me?”
“Just one.”
“Huh.” She clearly thought it would be more. “Who?”
“Eidhin, from Six.”
“Why did he say no?”
“If you ever find out the answer, let me know.”
We reach the quadrum and head up to Veridius’s office. He’s there, thankfully. I explain the situation.
“Ah.” Veridius nods to himself. “Disappointing, that young Breac turned you down. But I understand. Don’t blame him,” he adds quietly to me. Then he motions to Aequa. “Take a seat, then. We need to have a talk. Vis, you can wait downstairs if you wish. This won’t take long.”
I retreat; sure enough, Aequa is coming back down the stairs less than ten minutes later. She looks shaken.
“Are you alright?” I join her as she heads for the exit.
“Yes. Yes, fine.” She manages a wan smile.
“And you’re still coming with me?”
She confirms it slowly. “I can’t tell you anything about what Veridius just said, though.”
“I know.” Relief floods through me. If Aequa had turned me down, I’m not sure who my next choice would have been. “Eidhin, Callidus, and I have been practicing in the Labyrinth every morning, about an hour before eating. Perhaps…”
“I’ll be there.” She seems to have recovered herself a bit now. “And thank you. For giving me another chance.”
We part ways, and I return to my room. Tired though I am, it’s a long time before I can sleep. It’s only three weeks until the Iudicium, but I’ve finally got everything in place.
Now all I can do is run the Labyrinth as often as I can, and wait.
