The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)

LESSONS FOR CLASS FOUR ARE, immediately, markedly more intense than anything that has come before.

Scitus is by far the most engaging and energetic teacher I’ve had. He practically bounces up and down the classroom, enthusiastically pinging questions between us, encouraging conversation on any number of topics and then forcefully dragging anyone who stays silent into the debate. In my first two days, I have an hour-long discussion over how Conditional imbuing might be better utilised in agriculture, end up in a heated debate over the historical accuracy of the invasion of Sytrece—backing down only because I’m aware of how genuinely annoyed I am at Felix’s dogmatically Catenan views—and then talk myself into a corner while trying to explain Namina’s philosophy of Will Maximisation.

It’s not just Scitus, either. The eleven other students in Class Four are sharp, hard-working, and aggressive if they sense a weakness in someone else’s argument. Oratory skills which were merely taught in previous classes—and which, to be fair, I have ample training in from my younger years—come into play more and more. Verbal jousts are a common occurrence.

Interestingly, once again, I notice factional themes emerging in these debates. If Axien makes a statement, most often Atticus or Cassia will jump in to defend it. If Aequa attacks an argument, it’s always Ava or Felix lending their support to her objection. It’s not quite enough to say that it happens every time. But it’s enough to stand out.

For my part, I maintain neutrality, choosing to side with whomever I actually think is right. It earns me some glares from Axien, in particular, and some surprised looks from everyone else. But Eidhin’s observation has stayed with me. I won’t let myself be changed by them. Become one of them.

Even so, for the next few days, I sit with Class Four. I eat meals with them. Aside from mornings with Callidus and evenings with Eidhin, I study with them and train with them. I’m welcomed with surprising ease into their small group, quickly made a member of an exclusive club. I still sometimes catch a sideways glance—the spectre of my reputation won’t vanish that easily—and there are plenty of conversations and jokes about long-previous classes that I simply can’t contribute to. But for the most part, the Fourths act as if I’ve been with them for as long as anyone else.

Two things become evident as the days pass: Aequa is considered to have the top rank in the class—both by Scitus and the other students—and of the entire group, she’s the least liked. Atticus in particular enjoys making soft asides about her to Cassia, who tends to encourage him with a girlish giggle that I find inexplicably annoying.

Jealousy of her position aside, though, I can’t see any reason for the antipathy. My own interactions with Aequa are nothing but friendly as we work out our signals for running the maze. I feel like things are going well.

Then, at the beginning of my fifth day in Class Four, we head to the Labyrinth.

“THE THIRDS ARE HERE TOO?” I voice my surprise to Aequa as we descend onto the raised platform above the Labyrinth. Emissa, Indol, Iro, and the others are hanging over the balcony a little way over.

Aequa’s mouth twists as she spots them. “Nequias likes to have them watch sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Motivation, apparently. To keep them looking over their shoulders. Remind them that the rest of us are improving.” She shakes her head, showing she doesn’t believe the narrative. “It’s really just so Nequias can spend a few hours doing nothing, and the Thirds can feel good about how much better they are at this.” Unmistakeable bitterness creeps into her tone.

“Are they? Better, I mean.”

“They practice every day. We get one session per week. It’s inevitable.”

Praeceptor Nequias is with his class, standing a little apart with a book in hand, openly bored. He barely looks up as the Fourths enter, acknowledging Scitus and then scanning the rest of us disdainfully before going back to his reading. I feel a flash of Aequa’s irritation.

The Thirds pay more attention to our entrance. Iro’s eyes meet mine and his lips slide into a sneer, as they tend to do when he spots me. I’ve done everything I can to stay out of his way—an easy enough task, thus far, given our respective classes—but it’s no secret that he despises my presence at the school. That I’ve made it this far likely isn’t sitting well with him.

I issue a cheerful smile, despite knowing I should just ignore him. Iro’s expression darkens.

“Everyone here?” Scitus scans our group and then, content that all dozen of his students are present, points to Aequa. “Let’s start at the top. Aequa, you have the first run. Vis, you’re her partner.”

Good. No time to be nervous. Labyrinth runs are regular enough in Class Four to count heavily toward our ranking. I’ve acquitted myself well enough over the past few days, but this is my first real opportunity to impress.

I strap the control bracer to my arm and settle myself above the starting point, a little self-conscious in front of the Thirds. In their class, the runner wears the bracer as well, with partners there only to call out information. Another indication that this is some sort of proving ground for the maze on the other side of the island.

Aequa descends, and Felix, Marcellus, and Valentina do the same on the far side of the Labyrinth. Tem, Atticus, and Lucius set themselves at the appropriate points on the balcony, one on each side and one at the end. Everyone in Class Four will be experienced at this, far more competent than anyone else I’ve come up against so far. I compose myself.

Scitus signals the start, and Aequa is away.

I’m immediately impressed by her speed, by the way she lithely darts around the corridors, taking cues from how I’m opening passageways without a moment’s hesitation. I move steadily around the edge of the platform, watching, occasionally calling coded instructions, but doing my best to indicate a path using the bracer alone. It’s a tactic we’ve discussed, and Aequa seems to have no problem reading what I’m trying to do. My shifting of the control stones on the bracer is smooth, quick, in rhythm. I start to feel confident.

I don’t even realise I’ve moved in front of the Thirds until I hear Iro’s voice behind me.

“Left,” he murmurs, making me flinch at how close he is. “Back. Left. Right. Open. Right. Forward. Shut.”

It’s not much, but the half second of distraction ruins my cadence; I hesitate and suddenly Aequa’s skidding to a stop below, waiting for a door that should already be open. I lurch for the stone on the bracer as Iro’s voice continues to tickle my ear. My motion’s jerky and the door opens, but with a rough, squealing grind that makes everyone on the balconies cringe. Aequa darts through, but not before shooting me a glare. Valuable time lost.

“Iro.” It’s Emissa, her voice sharp. “Don’t be a child.”

There’s a delay, and then Iro’s voice returns. Even quieter than before, so that only I can hear. Calm and dark. “She’s a bit of a whore, isn’t she.”

My breath catches. Red tints my vision. He’s goading me. I want nothing more than to turn and punch him, and we both know that if I do that, there won’t be any escape for me this time. Iro’s a Third. Veridius will have no choice but to expel me.

I try to open another passage for Aequa, but my hand’s shaking from anger. The grinding’s worse this time. The stone comes away in my hand. Aequa curses, immediately changes direction.

“Iro. I’m sorry about what happened to your sister.” I’m not, in that moment. Not at all. But I have to try and defuse this situation. “You have to know it wasn’t my fault, though.”

“How long did you take to save your little friend down there? How many thousands died while you chaperoned her through the sewers?” Pain. Fury. “Own up to your blame, Catenicus.” There’s so much venom in the name that my shoulders twitch, anticipating an attack.

I manage to keep my eyes on the Labyrinth. Any sense of cohesion has gone from mine and Aequa’s run. The hunters are closing in. I can already see she’s lost. There’s a heated discussion in the background, Emissa’s voice raised. Nequias replying. Someone else—Indol, maybe?—supporting her. It doesn’t matter. The damage is done.

I turn to Iro as Aequa’s cornered below, keeping everything loose and calm, refusing to let him see how furious I truly am. He’s standing too close. I let him. “I stand by what I did.”

The red fades. I breathe. Brush past him. Risk a glance over at Emissa and Indol, hoping to see them making some headway with Nequias. Instead, the old man is looking on with undisguised amusement, shaking his head at whatever argument Emissa is making.

I hand the bracer back to Scitus. He looks at me, then over at Iro.

“Men and women don’t wield Will in silence, or without distractions. It doesn’t matter what he said to you. He didn’t physically interfere. That was a poor showing.”

“It was, Praeceptor. I’m sorry.” There’s no point in making excuses. “I’ll do better next time.”

“See that you do.”

I move to walk away, but Scitus reaches out. Grabs me and leans close.

“It was also a commendable display of character. An improvement on the last couple of months, if I am not mistaken,” he adds softly. “We all know Iro’s quarrel with you, and it is unwarranted. Your restraint was admirable. Well done.”

My back straightens. I walk over to the entrance, facing Aequa as she climbs the stairs.

She starts glaring at me well before reaching the top, and doesn’t stop. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

“Iro was being… well. He may try to distract you, too.” I feel the need to warn her, at least. “I’ll go left, so you don’t have to walk past them.”

She glances over at the Thirds, who have stopped their debate, though Iro’s still smirking and Emissa is still staring daggers at him. “Go whichever way I tell you to go. If he tries something, I’ll punch him in the face.”

She stalks off.

My run through the Labyrinth is significantly more successful than Aequa’s. True to her word, she walks around to the right, and if Iro says anything to her then she ignores it far more capably than I did. Doors swing open and closed without a sound, guiding me deeper into the maze. I never have to pause. She only calls out instructions a few times for the entire run. I’m ascending the exit, dripping sweat but victorious, after ten minutes.

Aequa is marginally more pleased with me this time, though the sting of defeat from her own run clearly still smarts. Even so, she joins me on the balcony to watch the subsequent runs, not talking much, but indicating by her presence that she’s no longer holding it against me.

It’s about a half hour later when Indol splits off from the Thirds and wanders over to us, pulling me aside with an easygoing smile.

“Vis.” He has his hands behind his back, as if he’s standing at attention. Comfortable, but not casual. “Tell me. What are your plans for the trimester break?”

“The break? Return to Villa Telimus, I suppose. Train.” I’m not sure where Indol’s going with this. The break isn’t for more than a month yet; I’ve barely thought about it. The Festival of Pletuna is before that, only a week away.

He nods as if he’s not really listening and doesn’t care about the answer. “What if you were to train with us?” He signals to where the others in Class Three—minus Iro, who’s talking with Nequias—are watching our conversation with unashamed interest, though we’re well out of earshot.

I blink, genuinely taken aback by the offer. Ulciscor and Lanistia doubtless had plans to continue my education, especially now I’m in a higher class. But the chance to study with the Thirds seems just as good an opportunity to learn, if not better.

It’s also surprising. I’m a level below Indol, barely know the boy. I was aware that some of the Thirds were intending to remain together over the break—Emissa offhandedly mentioned it a while back—but there’s no reason for Indol to invite me.

“My father suggested it,” Indol says by way of explanation, no doubt seeing my puzzlement. “He heard you were promoted to Class Four. He’s been taking an interest in your progress, apparently, and has been looking for some way to express his gratitude for what you did at the naumachia.” He says the words calmly enough, but I can sense an undercurrent of resentment to them. Directed more at his father than me, though, I suspect.

“Iro may not be—”

“This would only be for Military families,” Indol adds quietly. “Emissa, Belli, and I would be there.”

I pretend to think it over, but I already know the answer. It’s what Ulciscor would want me to do. What Relucia would want me to do. What would be best for my chances of advancement.

I can’t really refuse.

“That sounds wonderful. I’d be honoured.” I extend my hand; after a second’s hesitation, Indol grips it.

“Good.” He sounds relieved, as if he wasn’t sure whether I’d actually accept. “We will be travelling straight from here. I’ll confirm with my father, and he can let yours know the details.”

“We’re not staying here?”

“Oh, gods no.” Indol chuckles. “Solivagus in the middle of winter is quite unpleasant, I assure you. No. My family have an estate in the north, where it’ll be warm. Beautiful beaches. I’ve only been once before, but it should be a perfect place to both train and relax.”

“It’s by the sea?”

“It’s on the sea.” Indol beams. “A little island called Suus. Don’t worry. You’ll love it.”

He claps my shoulder and wanders back to the Thirds, not noticing the blood draining from my face.