The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)

THE CATENAN PENCHANT FOR RELIGIOUS holidays has always irked me. In part, I think it stems from there being so many gods. Mira for war, Arventis for luck, Sere for fertility. Ocaria for rivers, Vorcian for metalworking, Ferias for keys and doors. Each has its own domains, its own sacrifices, its own specific forms to follow. Without all these celebrations, I doubt anyone but the priests would be able to remember who they had to pray to for what.

The Festival of Pletuna, though… the Festival of Pletuna has always been the exception, for me.

That first year after Suus meant starving more often than not. Stealing food and trying to resist the urge to sell myself into indentured servitude, doing all I could to avoid becoming an Octavii from sheer, petty hunger. Religious holidays like the one for Jovan often provided the lure of handouts, but those were never enough to fill a famished fourteen-year-old boy.

During the celebration of Pletuna, goddess of the harvest, though, that wasn’t an issue. Even in the provinces, the enormous public feasts meant that no one had to go wanting; the Princeps supplied ample food for even the most ravenous of crowds, and I, proud though I was, had no compunction about taking their charity. There was drinking, and dancing in the street, and brightly coloured decorations wherever you went. Gambling was legal for the entire day, and you couldn’t pass a street corner without a game of dice being played. Of course, there was never any way to tell whether the dice were Will-imbued, so I was never stupid enough to participate. But it was still fun to watch.

I finished the night warm, with a full stomach. Smiling. It’s the only day I can remember when I felt like I might actually be able to make it on my own.

“This is the first time you’ve been back?” Scitus has joined me at the glass as our Transvect descends toward Caten. He’s here along with Praeceptor Ferrea to escort all the students attending, not just Class Four, but I’m uneasy at his presence. Yet another pair of eyes to evade.

“It is.” The clouded sky means it’s already dark, but the city below looks little different than it did during the Festival of Jovan. No tinted lanterns painting the buildings this time, but the streets heave with light and motion. I feel a tinge of queasiness at the size of the crowd. Glance over at Aequa, who’s seated at a window farther along. She catches my look and nods an unsettled acknowledgment. She feels it too.

“Take this.” Scitus produces a stone tile. He hasn’t noticed the exchange with Aequa. “Keep it on you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Everyone is getting one.”

“Alright.” Refusal will just make him suspicious. “But you don’t need to worry. The Anguis have no way of identifying me.”

“That you know of. I know you can take care of yourself, but be careful out there tonight, Vis. And make sure you’re back by midnight.” He indicates the grey, twisting pillar below that stands a hundred feet tall, looming over everything else nearby. Lordan’s Column. The agreed-upon meeting point before we return.

I disembark with the rest of the Fourths into the festive maelstrom of activity that is Caten. Nobody’s wearing their mark of office or uniforms, tonight; beyond the intimation of the quality of their clothing, there’s no way to tell whether someone is closer to Octavii or senator. Unrestrained roars of delight come from the crowds watching street performers and shows, many of them lewd. There are fights, music, Victorum matches. Colour everywhere.

I get a friendly elbow from Marcellus. “It’s you.” He’s grinning as he points to a nearby building.

I take in the crudely drawn depiction on the wall with grim dismay. Ships burning, two men in their midst. One stabbing the other in the head. Just in case it wasn’t obvious, CATENICUS is scrawled below it.

“Come on!” Aequa’s call distracts me from the unpleasant reminder. She’s positively glowing with excitement as she spots something down the crowded street. “There are Foundation games!”

“Of course she’d choose Foundation over… you know, anything else,” Atticus grumbles next to me as we hurry after her down the stairs.

“Lucky Belli didn’t come,” mutters Felix. “Otherwise we’d be here for hours, watching her win money.”

“We can always find something better,” I point out, seeing the opportunity.

“Safer if we stick together,” says Marcellus. “Plenty of cutpurses looking for easy targets at these things.”

I lower my voice, glancing across at Aequa. “As long as you’re happy doing whatever she wants to do all night.”

There’s a rumbling of agreement among the boys within earshot. Atticus, much to my delight, immediately takes it a step further. “Aequa! We’re going this way.”

The raven-haired girl looks put out. “You want to split up already?”

“We’ll stay in the area.”

Aequa sighs, evidently expecting this would happen at some point. “Don’t go far.”

Aequa, Valentina, and Lucius eagerly seat themselves at the Foundation tables as soon as the space opens, laying down money and unmistakeably enthused about their chances. I snort as I watch Aequa offer to flip a coin to determine who starts. She was showing off for us just a few days ago, must have landed fifteen heads in a row, at least. Never once looked like she was cheating.

Elsewhere, Axien and Felix wander off, looking for different forms of entertainment, and then Cassia disappears with Atticus trailing after her. None of the other students from the Academy are in sight, nor the Praeceptors. That’s encouraging. It may not be as difficult to get away as I first expected.

I watch the Foundation matches for a while with Marcellus, curious. None of the players—not the students, and not their opponents—are anything more than skilled; even Hrolf back at Letens would have beaten any of them. I feel a wave of nostalgia as I think of the craggy-faced jailor, tinged with sadness. It’s been more than half a year. Whoever replaced me has probably reported his lapses to the higher-ups. He’s likely already an Octavii in a retirement pyramid.

I’m intent enough on the games that I almost don’t notice the gentle tugging on my cloak.

I turn, but there’s nobody near me. Strange. I go to resume my observation of the matches, but the tugging comes again. Stronger than the wind, but not by much. There’s definitely no one around.

Someone’s imbued my cloak.

I ignore it for almost a minute, gritting my teeth. Finally, though, when an especially impatient-feeling tug almost makes me stumble backward, I sigh and catch Marcellus’s attention. “I’m going to wander around. If I’m not back soon, I’ll meet you all at Lordan’s Column.”

“Looking for a dice game?” He sounds hopeful.

“I was thinking of watching some of these shows.” I’m aware of exactly what Marcellus thinks of the shows, and actors in general.

“Ew.” He waves me on my way.

I can see Aequa glance up as I start to leave, and she looks about to call out, but I disappear into the crowd before she can say anything. She’s by far the most suspicious of the students; if I can get away while she’s busy, all the better.

As best I can, I head in the direction the cloak is pulling me; whenever it’s toward a collection of buildings, I weave my way around them until I’m on roughly the right track again. Reluctance keeps my pace slow. I occasionally glance over my shoulder to check that no one’s decided to follow me, but there are no familiar faces. I’ve moved away from the brighter, more open areas now into a region that seems more run-down, albeit no less full of people celebrating.

I pause by a distinctive red-framed door to conceal Scitus’s tracker. It’s not valuable or even recognisable if found by a stranger, and I can easily fetch it on the way back. I doubt Scitus will use it to try and locate me before midnight. Even if he does, I can always say I dropped it.

After another twenty minutes—and three more walls showing colourful depictions of me at the naumachia—the insistent tugging leads me first past, then back to a house. Two stories tall and wooden, ramshackle, and dirty. The same as a hundred others clustered around it.

I grimace at the entrance, then knock.

It opens a crack, then just enough for a hand to snake out and pull me roughly through. I shrug the grip off as I stumble into the dimly lit space, footsteps echoing. The door is swiftly shut behind me, sealing me in.

I turn and scowl at the sole occupant of the room.

“Good to see you again, Son,” says Relucia.

I’M NOT SURE WHETHER THE young woman standing between me and the doorway thinks she’s being charming, but I let my sour expression state just how little I’m amused.

“Let’s make this quick. The others will notice if I’m gone for long.” I scan the room. It’s small without being crowded, a table and chairs in one corner. Through a beaded curtain I can see a bed in the room beyond, and a small shrine. This is someone’s home. Probably unrelated to Relucia, just some citizen whose house she was able to discreetly break into. Who could probably also be back at any moment.

“I’ve no intention of doing otherwise.” Relucia bolts the door and throws herself into the nearest chair. She’s still smiling, but her eyes are hard. “Sit, Diago.”

I do as she says.

“You’ve progressed since we last spoke?”

“I’m in Class Four.” Frustration and anxiety bubble in my chest, even as I’m hesitant to ask. “When I got promoted from Six, it was because a student in Four died. He was at the Necropolis when it happened.”

“Yes.” It’s an affirmation of both my statement, and the implication.

I close my eyes. My breath comes shorter and sharper than I’d like it to. It’s my fault, then. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

“We didn’t have time for anything nicer.”

“I don’t care. You won’t do it again.”

“That’s not your decision.”

“It is. You kill someone else because of me, and we’re done. Consequences be damned.” I hold her gaze, showing her exactly how serious I am.

Relucia sighs, waves a hand tiredly. “I make you no promises, Diago. This isn’t a game. But if there is an equally effective alternative, I’ll choose that next time.” The way she says it indicates that she doesn’t think there will be an alternative, and she definitely thinks there will be a next time.

I don’t acknowledge the statement, but nor do I waste time belabouring the point. “There’s another problem—one you might actually be able to help with. I’ve been asked to accompany the Thirds during the break next month. They’re holidaying in Suus. Ulciscor will insist that I go, but maybe if you—”

“Oh, I know. It was my idea.”

“What?” I’m confused.

“My idea,” she repeats, looking unconscionably pleased with herself. “Military are holding a summit there—not their first choice, but after a few reports of the Anguis targeting their other locations, they came around.” She smiles sunnily. “Ulciscor’s going, and half the other senators have been dying to meet you. All it took was me hinting at the idea of you coming along in the trimester break, and he was suggesting it to the Dimidius the next day.”

I’m too stunned to respond for a few seconds. “Why?”

“Because every senator worth anything from Military will be there, and I’m interested in what they’re going to be talking about.”

“But it’s Suus. It’s the one gods-damned place I’m going to be recognised!” I hear the note of panic in my voice, but don’t care. Relucia was my last hope for getting out of this. “Vek! Every single person on that island knows who I am!”

“They knew who you were.” Relucia’s calm in the face of my trepidation. “It’s been three and a half years, Diago—you were a child. And in their minds, you’re dead. Even if someone spots a passing resemblance, they’re not going to start shouting that their prince has come to visit posing as a student from one of Caten’s most… Catenan institutions.” She shrugs. “Besides. Suus was overthrown: most of your former countrymen won’t be in positions of power, particularly if they used to be. I’d be surprised if you saw anyone you once knew.”

I study the dirty floor, teeth clenched. It does nothing to ease my fears, but she’s not wrong.

“So this Military summit. You want me to somehow… listen in? Uncover why they’re having it?”

“Oh, I know why they’re having it. They’re getting worried about Governance and Religion,” says Relucia. “That’s what they’ll be discussing for most of the three days, and I don’t need you for that. But on the last night, Ulciscor and the other lower-level senators will go home, and there will be a council solely between Military’s Quartii, Tertii, and Dimidii. I need to know if Dimidius Quiscil requisitions anything in that meeting. Anything. Along with any other information that may be of interest, of course.”

My chest is tight. Not just returning to Suus, then. I have to spy while I’m there. “That’s vague.”

“Yes.” The way she says it indicates it’s deliberate, and not going to change.

I try anyway. “If I knew more about—”

“I’m not telling you any more in case you get caught.”

My lip curls. “Your plans for me won’t get far if that happens.”

“True.” Unworried. “But I assume you’re not so arrogant as to think that you’re our only project, Diago. Or even that you’re vital. You are an option. A cog. One we haven’t even seen prove its usefulness, yet.”

I glower. Probably not a lie, though, given how apparently willing Relucia is to risk me. “Fine. Then how exactly do you propose I make myself privy to this secret meeting?”

“You’re a resourceful boy, Diago, and the summit will be in your ancestral home—where you will no doubt be quartered. If anyone can find a way to listen in, it’s you.”

I pause at that. Think of the network of secret tunnels via which I escaped, the ones that run for miles through the palace and nearby cliffs. The myriad back ways through the corridors that only I and my siblings really knew.

As much as I hate to admit it, she may have a point.

There’s a long silence as I grapple with the news. Wanting to back out but knowing I can’t, the struggle pinning my chest until it feels like it’s being crushed.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I know how it sounds, but my frustration is too much and it slips out. “Rotting gods, why are you even in the Anguis? The Hierarchy benefits people like you. Why do you want to destroy it so badly?”

“Isn’t it being unfair enough of a reason?”

Ulciscor. The Transvect. The naumachia. Feriun. “No.”

There’s a spark in Relucia’s eyes as she turns away. “Your father would say differently.”

“You didn’t know my father.” It’s a growl. A warning.

“I know he didn’t want his son to turn a blind eye to all of this.”

“He didn’t approve of the killing of innocent people, either, believe it or not.”

“Innocent? Those people out there? You already had this conversation with Melior.” Relucia’s suddenly, openly angry. “You think an Octavus who gives his Will is somehow less responsible than the Sextus who kills with it? The weak and poor endure in the Hierarchy because the alternatives are harder, not because there are none. They know the system is wrong, but they choose not to think or speak up or act because they ultimately hope that in their silence, they will gain. Or at the very least not have to give more than they have already given. They are driven by myopic self-interest and greed just as much as the senators and knights, and it’s as Melior said—you of all people should hate them for that. The decision may have been made by the few, Diago, but it’s the Will of the many that killed your family.”

I stare at her. Breath short from the verbal violence.

“I know.” I say the words softly, let them escape from between gritted teeth. “But that’s the world. You can’t punish them all. Even if you want to.” I waver, almost swallow the words, but her anger has stoked some of my own. “And I don’t want to.”

“That’s the problem, Diago. If you do not hold them accountable, nothing will change. Don’t mistake inaction for neutrality.” She studies me. “You shouldn’t grow so attached to your classmates,” she adds eventually. “They are the enemy. If you told any one of them who you are—”

“I know.”

Relucia observes me for a few more seconds, then nods her satisfaction. “Then we’re done here. I’ll send a gift to Suus with Ulciscor. A stylus. Will-locked to one on my end, Conditionally activated by wax. You will write everything you learn, and then break it.” She reaches over, makes a show of touching my cloak to take back her Will. Her eyes cloud. “And you will learn whatever there is to learn, Diago.”

“And if I don’t? You won’t give me up over something like this.” Despite what she said before, she’s gone to too much effort to put me in this position. There are certain things that we both know aren’t important enough for her to undo all of that.

Her eyes stay dark. “No. But I will kill one of your friends.”

It’s said with such breathtaking matter-of-factness that I almost don’t understand. Then the blood drains from my face, my hands tightening to fists.

“As I said. Our business here is done.” She motions to the street. “Don’t keep those friends of yours waiting.”

I stand stiffly and march to the door. Unbolt it.

“You hurt any of them,” I say softly, voice shaking, “and on my oath, I will burn you and the Anguis to the ground. No matter the cost.”

I leave, slipping out into the boisterous night before she can respond.