The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)

TENSE, RAISED VOICES ECHO DOWN the short entrance to the Telimus tomb.

“I just don’t understand why neither of you will consider it.” It’s Ulciscor’s growl. “I’m not asking you to publicly denounce anyone. Just ask a favour of some old friends.”

“Ulciscor, if it was for anything else, you know we would. But you cannot keep down this path. There was no proof.” Lerius, joviality gone from his voice. Replaced by frustrated entreaty.

“There’s no proof because nobody else is looking for any.” Lanistia. Cold and sharp.

“We love you, Lani, but the two of you are dragging each other down with all this nonsense. And now you’ve involved someone else. A boy who doesn’t know what he’s getting into! Don’t you dare tell me he has nothing to do with it,” Lerius snaps, apparently pre-empting some perceived rebuttal.

“Stop it. All of you. Just stop it. It cannot bring him back.” It’s Milena. Her voice is cracking. “Please, Son. Lani. We loved him too, but none of this will bring him back.” A soft sob punctuates the plea.

Relucia falters as she hears what I do. “This again,” she mutters to me, barely loud enough to hear. Then she coughs noisily, pausing to ensure the occupants beyond have heard before striding into the main area with me in tow, smiling as if she’d overheard nothing at all.

There’s definite friction, and Milena’s eyes are red-rimmed, but both Relucia and I pretend not to notice. The tension recedes as Relucia begins obliviously enthusing about how delightful I am. Not disappears, not entirely, but fades into the background behind the conversation and laughter that follows. Only Milena doesn’t seem inclined to pretend, watching the proceedings silently, scarcely acknowledging us when we sit.

The next two hours are long, albeit uneventful, with the awkwardness mostly managed by everyone focusing their attentions on me. Lerius and Relucia lead the charge, and after a while I realise Relucia’s apparently blithe interruptions are often skilfully timed to head off potentially difficult lines of questioning. Lerius, for his part, seems more concerned for my well-being than suspicious. Given what we overheard of his argument with Ulciscor, I suspect he sees me as more victim than conspirator.

Ulciscor disappears not long into the conversation; I can see Relucia’s curiosity as he excuses himself, but she makes no attempt to go after him. I’m mildly concerned when he returns not an hour later. The equipment I need him to make isn’t something I want done in a rush.

I breathe an inward sigh of relief as, after another half hour, Ulciscor stands again and beckons me toward the door. “Vis cannot stay for the entire evening, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” Relucia pouts. “Why not?”

“Studies. I need every day I can get if I want to make it out of Class Six soon.” There’s approval from Lerius, who’s already made it clear he doesn’t think much of my lack of further advancement.

“Oh.” Relucia doesn’t hide her disappointment, flowing over to where I’m standing and flinging her arms around me. “Well, I am so pleased to have met you, dear boy. You’re a delight. Again, welcome to the family.” She kisses me enthusiastically on both cheeks. As she does so, there’s an increase in pressure where she grips me. A gentle reminder.

Lerius and Milena follow in their farewells, the former still far warmer than the latter, though at least the stately woman remains polite as I leave. Lanistia sees Ulciscor and I to the entrance of the tomb, quickly checking no one else is around before speaking.

“Why so soon?” she asks pointedly, addressing Ulciscor more than me. “I thought half the point of this exercise was to ingratiate Vis to the family. Give him some stronger ties, some more vocal allies, should it come to that. Prove that we’re not just using him to investigate Veridius.”

“He has a way to get to the other side of Solivagus. But he has to go now.”

Lanistia looks like she wants to know more, but a meaningful glance from Ulciscor and she just turns to me. “Be safe. And for the love of all the gods, don’t get caught.”

She’s heading back inside before I can respond.

We start the descent. Some of the fires below are dimming to embers, though many still burn, and both conversation and song continue to echo up to us.

“You and Relucia seemed to get on well,” Ulciscor observes. His tone’s neutral, but there’s the suggestion of laughter in it.

“She’s… certainly talkative. Lovely, though.” I feign the reaction I would have had, if Relucia’s persona were real. “How long have you been married?”

“Four years.” He eyes me. “And she is lovely, but be wary, too. She’s a Sextus through merit. She’s sharper than she lets on.”

I refrain from commenting. “How did you meet?”

“Her family are the Cilaris. Knights—senators, but without much of a history.” He shrugs. “Her father approached my father, a year after Caeror. Our reputation had been dented, and our finances were not all they could have been. We were all but betrothed before we laid eyes on each other.”

“How much does she know?”

“She knows what I think happened to Caeror. We don’t discuss it, though. Her work means she’s almost never around, anyway.”

We reach the ground and begin walking along the carefully tended gravel path, lit by one of the three lines of fire that scar the length of the valley. Ulciscor glances around. “I need you to tell me something, Vis.”

“Alright.”

He slows to a halt, pulling me to a stop too. Serious. “Where are you from? Really?”

The question hangs in the air between us. I try not to look like my mind’s racing. “I’ve already told you—”

“No, you haven’t.” Ulciscor’s not angry—just certain. “I’ve brought you into my family today. Trusted you. And I know that no orphan from Aquiria could ever achieve the level of education you have. A lifetime of study and training isn’t something you can hide.” He sighs. “I don’t care about your past, don’t care what you’re running from. But I do need to know what it is, in case it’s going to be a problem. In case it’s going to catch up with you.”

I consider pushing my case, but Ulciscor’s too sure.

“It… won’t,” I say eventually. It’s an admission—which he needs—but also a promise that I’m not going to give him answers.

“How can you know?”

“Have you been able to find anything about me?”

“No.” Ulciscor’s clearly not satisfied. “But my resources are miniscule compared to others.”

I take a long moment to deliberate. “I vow to you by all the gods and all I care about, I will do everything in my power to find out what happened to Caeror. And that my past will not interfere with that.”

Ulciscor returns my steady gaze for what feels like an eternity.

Then he nods curtly and starts walking again.

“You remind me of him, you know.”

“Of who?”

“Caeror.” Ulciscor smiles at the darkness ahead, hands clasped behind his back, ambling more than marching. “I only realised it tonight, when we were talking. But you have a lot in common with him.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly. I mean it. I know Ulciscor’s giving me one of the highest compliments he can.

We push on to the Transvect. As the platform comes in sight, Ulciscor reaches into his satchel and presses the spare tunic and cloak I asked for into my hands. Then he draws out two stone cuffs.

“When both are closed, the attraction will trigger. It’s strong enough to lift you, so be careful,” he warns, a little worriedly. “Open one, and it will stop again. Don’t forget you’re going to have to break one once you get back, too. If you’re found with them…”

“I know.” I take the cuffs, turning them over in my hands. Hewn stone, a simple Will-based hinge and clasp for each. The first closes with a snap, as if the separate pieces are being sucked together, and when I close the second one, the sections of the makeshift grapple wrench violently into each other. My fingers are almost caught in between.

“Told you.”

I grunt, releasing the clasp on one again. Immediately the two cuffs separate. “You just made these?” It’s more elaborate than I’d expected.

“Best I could do.”

“I assumed I’d just be getting a couple of stones with an activation method. This is much better.”

Ulciscor snorts. “You haven’t thought through the forces at play, then. There’s no way you could hang onto a stone at that speed. It would just slip out of your grasp and you’d be stranded.”

“Oh.”

“As it is, you’re going to have to time it perfectly.” Ulciscor’s emphatic about this. “If the Transvect’s too high, moving too fast, it will tear your hand off. And it’ll hurt if you’re not exactly in position; too far away, and you’ll slam into the Transvect too fast. Probably break something.”

“I’ll manage.” I try to sound confident, even if I’m not, now the reality of the endeavour is staring me in the face. “What about the locator?”

“A little easier.” He presses two stones into my palm. One’s small and circular. The other is thin, needle-like, with a chain attached to its end. Neither is bigger than my thumbnail, and they cling lightly to each other. “Constant attraction. Drop the round one when you jump. And needless to say… don’t jump too early.”

It’s past midnight when we arrive. I’ve drawn my hood—it’s cold enough to warrant it—and Ulciscor has covered his purple stripe. The platform is manned by a single dark-haired Praetorian who checks the stone tile Scitus gave me with bored efficiency before leaving us to our own devices.

After that, Ulciscor and I wait. We occasionally chat about inconsequential things, but mostly lounge in silence. I get the impression that he wants it that way; he spends most of the next twenty minutes gazing out over the Eternal Fires, deep in thought. I suspect he’s thinking about his brother. I don’t interrupt.

Finally the lamplit grey and brown of the Transvect resolves from the pitch-black, a disembodied form sliding downward into the torchlight. My hands are suddenly clammy. I stand, gripping the stone cuffs Ulciscor gave me tightly. I look around, but we’re still alone.

“Here we go.” There will only be a minute before the doors shut and the Transvect takes off again.

“Luck.” Ulciscor watches as the behemoth settles. He clutches my arm in the traditional fashion, and I return the gesture.

The Transvect doors slide open, and I pause on the off chance that someone has caught it in to the Necropolis this late at night. There’s no movement, though, only lamplit seats. The lamps themselves look like they’re burning low. Probably haven’t had anyone bother to check on them for a few hours.

I step inside the rearmost cabin and stride to the back, crouching. Then I snap closed one cuff and stuff it, as well as the clothing Ulciscor gave me, into a cranny between the seat and the rear wall. No one will see them there.

I peek out of the carriage again. Ulciscor is talking to the Praetorian, drawing his attention away. I jog the few paces to the very back of the Transvect. There’s a short deck there beneath the jutting stone nose, just lower than the carriages themselves. Some sort of servicing platform, according to Ulciscor. I step onto it, then reach up and carefully extinguish the two lamps that are meant to delineate the end of the Transvect while it’s in the air. In daylight, I couldn’t get away with this; anyone looking up in passing would immediately spot me. But now, I’ll be near invisible.

Once my surroundings are plunged into darkness, I feel around until my arms are linked through two long handles that appear made for the purpose. I’m facing away from the Transvect, gazing down into the fires that still illuminate the valley. I can’t see how far down it is to the ground, but I can tell it’s a long way.

I try to steady, body tensed and braced, heart feeling like it’s beating out of my chest. I can’t help but curse myself. This idea… this really wasn’t a good one. I should probably—

The Transvect lurches into motion.