The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)

STRONGER TOGETHER.

It’s the great lie of the Hierarchy, proclaimed generation after generation by an ever-growing mob in thrall to the concept. Part of me understands why. There’s a power to the phrase, an allure. It promises inclusion. Protection. Comradery. Common purpose. Belonging.

But you never have to look far to see its hypocrisy laid bare.

“She’s a spy.” Lanistia pivots away from my strike, the motion effortless. Her unique vision allows her to see my muscles tensing before I even begin my attack. I’m faster and smarter than I used to be, but still rarely manage to make contact.

“Obviously.” The air is cool against my still damp skin as we spar beside the lush, empty, barely lit fields of Ulciscor’s estate. Gravel crunches underfoot in the pre-dawn hush. Wind whispers through fields of grain, producing shadowy ripples at every touch. Stars still shine bright overhead in the west, even as those in the east fade from sight.

Lanistia’s glasses reflect the slash of the horizon behind me as she circles to my left. “So what did he offer you?”

“Protection against prosecution. He’s investigating the Transvect attack. He thinks that Ulciscor is in league with the Anguis, somehow. Or wants him to be.”

“Advenius has been trying to prove that link forever.”

“Why?”

Lanistia feints forward, but drawing no reaction from me, continues to sidestep. “Advenius and Ulciscor have always had something of a rivalry. A few years ago, someone in the Anguis uncovered an affair involving Advenius’s sister. Advenius was on track to become Censor, but as soon as the details were made public, Governance dropped him from consideration. It was all rather ugly.” She feints again. “If Advenius had been Censor, he would never have approved Military’s nomination of Ulciscor for the Senate. So naturally, Advenius thinks Ulciscor had a hand in it somehow.”

“Did he?”

“No. If he had, he would never have used the Anguis.”

“Good.” I have to let her think Advenius placed at least a shadow of doubt in my mind.

“I hope that wasn’t the only reason you agreed to have the Claudius girl here. It’s going to be a nightmare, keeping her away from the Labyrinth.”

I tense the muscles in my right arm, just a fraction. When Lanistia hesitates, I launch in with my left. The attack comes close. She still dodges.

“I know, but the Quartus wasn’t wrong about one thing: his daughter’s been at the Academy far more recently than you or Ulciscor. She could tell me things that you two can’t.” I’m feeling the exertion now, breath misting in front of my face. “And I think it will help, training with another student. At the moment I have no gauge for my progress. No comparison.”

Lanistia’s suddenly flashing forward and I’m ducking to the side. She sweeps my leg from under me as I move. My back hits the ground hard.

She stands over me, silhouetted against the dawn. “I’m the gauge, Vis. You made a mistake, inviting her here.”

“We’ll see.” The statement’s undercut somewhat by my wheezing gasp.

“Surely you see the benefits don’t outweigh the risks, though.”

I think back to Suus. A pang as Ysabel bowed over a book, the image faded so terribly by the years, drifts across my mind. “They do for me.”

Lanistia seems to hear something in my voice. She leans down. Offers her hand.

I grasp it and let her pull me to my feet.

“Anything else you need to tell me?”

“The Quartus made a point of saying that Caeror’s death was a suicide.”

She hasn’t let go yet and there’s a tightening of her grip. “It wasn’t.”

“I assumed, given what Ulciscor’s already said. But what happened, exactly?” It’s intimidating, being this close to her, but I keep my gaze steady. She doesn’t move to release me.

Her lips thin. “Veridius killed him and lied about it. The details don’t matter.”

“Advenius seems to think they do.”

“Advenius is a snake.”

“That doesn’t make him wrong. How do you actually know Veridius killed him?” When there’s no response, I start to feel uneasy. “Look—Ulciscor has made it clear that I’m headed for a Sapper unless I find out what’s going on at the Academy. But I know some of his suspicions are because of what happened to his brother. If Caeror really did—”

“He. Didn’t.”

The words are low and sudden. More emotion, more conviction and sadness and rage, than I’ve ever heard from her.

I choke off, whatever I was going to say next forgotten.

She seems to come to herself, releases my hand and steps away. My fingers are white where she’s squeezed the blood from them.

“He didn’t,” she repeats, firmly and in her normal, brusque tone. “And we’re certain.”

I massage the feeling back into my hand. “You knew him.” I don’t make it a question. I’ve wondered if that were the case, given my guess at Lanistia’s age puts her and Caeror in the Academy at the same time. But she’s never brought it up. Never been willing to talk about her past there at all, in fact, pointedly deflecting the few enquiries I’ve made.

She looks angry, but I think it’s at herself more than me. “If you want to know about Ulciscor’s brother, then you need to talk to him.” No doubting the finality of her tone. This isn’t open to negotiation.

“Easy to say,” I grate, “when he’s not actually here to do the talking.”

“Patience. I got word last night: your presentation to the Senate is confirmed for directly after the Festival of Jovan. So you can go and meet the Claudius girl for the festival, then stay with Ulciscor until the Senate convenes. You’ll have plenty of time to speak with him then.” She’s more gruff than furious now as she watches me dust my clothes. “And as far as your decision-making goes… what’s done is done. We’ll just have to schedule your transport to Caten soon. That can be hard to arrange once the festival gets closer.”

She doesn’t give me time to react or press further, dropping into her stance. I copy her from habit. We resume our bout as the first rays of dawn pierce the sky.

And that, it appears, is the end of the matter.

THE CIRCUMSTANCES SURROUNDING CAEROR’S DEATH continue to scratch at the back of my mind over the next three weeks. Advenius mentioned suicide deliberately, of that I have no doubt. It could have been to sow discord, I suppose, an attempt to unsettle things here as I train.

It could also have had a more dire meaning. If it’s widely known that Ulciscor thinks Caeror was killed—but no one believes him—then his motivations for adopting me, for sending me to the Academy, may be even more transparent than he or Lanistia have admitted. And that could be a problem.

I’ll have to wait until my introduction to Aequa to find out.

I reveal none of these concerns to Lanistia, and following Advenius’s visit, things quickly fall back into the same exhausting rhythm. Train. Learn. Test. Eat. Sleep. My wound fully heals. I begin to see the effects of good food and daily, strenuous activity in the mirror, filling out my physique, hardening it far beyond what my circumstances in Letens would ever have allowed. I had a rough, pugilistic strength from the Theatre, but this is turning it into sleek athleticism, the variety of exercise providing a far more complete mastery over my body.

That’s beginning to show in my control of the Labyrinth, too. My reactions are becoming honed, instant, precise; I rarely lose stones from the bracer now, even through gruelling afternoons of Lanistia snapping out section after section for me to manipulate. The dark-haired woman never loses her severity, but even she acknowledges my improvement. On the day before the Festival of Jovan begins, she tells me I’ll be ready to try the challenge of running the Labyrinth, changing sections as I move, after I return from Caten.

The weight of that impending trip—first trying to meet Sedotia, and then being presented to the entire Catenan Senate—has seemed distant. Most days, I don’t have time to feel it.

But weeks spent in routine disappear, and then one morning I’m dressing for my journey to the naumachia.