by Cass Morris
As they walked down the street, Latona felt kinship with her brother, for she felt as though she had encountered a town under siege. She had never heard an Aventan street so quiet. The usual noises of the city echoed from far off, but here, the only sounds were the footfalls of the mages and their guarding cordon, the rustle of the ladies’ dresses, the soft brush of leather on leather from the men who had put on cuirasses or greaves. No use against ethereal enemies, of course, but Latona understood the instinct.
All the houses that had shutters for their windows had closed them up tight, and those that didn’t had hung sheets or burlap sacks over the openings, as though that might keep the demons out. Everywhere Latona looked, she saw charms and bundles of herbs hung from the lintels.
“They’re not just scared,” Rubellia said, glancing around at the closed-off houses. “They’re pulsing with terror. I can feel it from every house.”
Latona could, too, little spikes of white-hot fear emanating from each building they passed. “The Discordians attacked one insula and terrorized an entire neighborhood.”
“It wasn’t the first,” Obir said, his voice a low rumble. “At least, I don’t believe so. We heard rumors from the Subura, from elsewhere on the Esquiline. But this is the first place my men actually witnessed the—the creatures.”
“Not creatures,” Vibia corrected. “Spirits. Fiends. Lemures.”
Obir muttered in what Latona assumed was Maureti, though from his intonation, she was not sure if it was prayer or curse.
They drew up before an insula four stories tall. The shops on the first floor were closed up tight, but the door with its peeling blue paint stood slightly ajar. “We will check the building, ladies,” Obir said, “though I do not think anyone is inside. And then, I hope—” His throat worked; anguish and embarrassment both leaked out of him, pressing at Latona’s primed empathy.
“You need not stay within,” Latona said. Instinct urged her to comfort him, but it would have been beyond the bounds of propriety to lay a hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re pushing the limits and our luck far enough in that regard for one night.’ Instead, she directed soothing energy his way, hoping it would convince him that there was nothing to be ashamed of.
Two of Obir’s men stayed with the mages, while the rest cleared the building. “We will be just outside,” Obir assured her, as they prepared themselves to go in. “You need only call for us if—if we can be of any service.” His lips quirked up on one side, an acknowledgment of what little good cudgels and fists were likely to be against what they faced.
Rubellia held herself more tightly than usual, but that was her only outward sign of fear. Vibia was fussing again with her mantle; she affected an unconcerned air, but Latona could sense her apprehension. ‘Small wonder, after what happened the last time.’ Vibia had complained about the hour, the neighborhood, the short notice, the weather—but she had come, without hesitation. ‘I owe her for this.’
Inside, the terrible quiet stretched around them. The walls muted what little noise had been audible in the street. Latona shivered, unnerved by the near-silence, such a foreign thing in her life.
They took a few minutes to wander the insula, looking for any obvious signs of Discordian presence. Latona did no more than glance inside the apartments; it felt a wretched intrusion, even if they had been invited to work their magic here, to peer into the tenants’ lives. Overturned chairs, spilled oil, a discarded doll—many signs suggested that the inhabitants had fled the night before and not returned since. Merula did not share Latona’s hesitance, meandering freely through the rooms, performing a far more thorough inspection.
The women returned to the atrium. Assuming the Discordian was not a tenant, then that, the public area of the building, was the most likely spot for the curse charm to have been hidden. “Though I suppose it could be in one of the shops,” Vibia mused.
“If we track it there, we can have Obir force a door for us,” Latona replied.
They sat on benches near the triangular pool in the center of the building, waiting. Occasionally, one of them would speak, but Latona was hardly aware of the words she either heard or said, and she doubted the others were better off. ‘Just noise, to remind ourselves that we’re here. Noise, to stave off the silence.’
All four stood up at once when a cold wind gusted up, biting like a December ice storm. The wrongness of the Fracture magic hit Latona more severely than it had in the past, summoning the old fear rising inside her ribcage. Vibia, too, shuddered as the world tore open somewhere near them. ‘Juno preserve me, give me strength, guide me.’
Not one, but three umbrae mortuorae manifested in the shadows of the atrium. They came not out of the water, but as if from beyond it, without causing so much as a ripple: silvery smoke rising without a flame. “One for each of us,” Vibia murmured. Merula coughed pointedly from her position near the door. “Each of the mages,” Vibia corrected, rolling her eyes.
Already, the fiends were taking shape, bobbing closer to the women. A howling noise rose from them, and Rubellia’s lower lip wobbled. Latona had told her what to expect, both in sight and sensation, but nothing short of encountering the fiends could have prepared her. Vibia, on the other hand, mostly looked annoyed. Latona was glad for that; it meant the mantle was working its protections.
These umbrae were stronger than those they had encountered in Stabiae—though not, thankfully, so terrible as the possessing fiends they had encountered in the wheat field. In Stabiae, she and Vibia had gotten good at finding the charms and cutting them to shreds before the umbrae grew too vigorous, but here, with three of such intensity to deal with, Latona’s fortitude was taxed. Their shapes grew more defined, losing their smoky blur and appearing more as their stolen shades would have done in life. The threat of it had a thin strain of panic vibrating in Latona’s chest. ‘No, no, I do not want to see . . .’ She pushed her Spirit magic at them, but couldn’t seem to target all three at the same time. As one weakened, another would grow stronger.
Shades of the restless dead, the umbrae mortuorae were. Not the actual spirits returned from Pluto’s realm. That was another kind of spirit, immutable. The umbrae took whatever shape they thought would be most unsettling. And there was one dead man in Latona’s memory for whom “unsettling” was a grievous understatement. She averted her eyes, whenever one of the damned things darted before her, but tears sprang up anyway. She didn’t feel fear, in the face of this fiend. He was dead and burned, almost a year past. What need for fear? But shame, yes, that rose like bile in her throat, and fury burned in her heart.
‘Focus. You cannot let him—No! It’s not him, it’s them, these wretched things, and you cannot let them get to you.’ Fists tight at her sides, Latona concentrated on the taste of cinnamon on her tongue, blossoming from her Spirit magic. ‘Let Juno’s gift be all your world, if that’s what it takes.’
Vibia found three charms, each concealed beneath loose stones at one corner of the central pool. She tsked loudly. “Smart,” she murmured.
“Smart?” Rubellia echoed. Her cheeks were wet; she had been using her own empathic magic to help Vibia, or trying to, but the umbrae were much to adjust to in a single night. Her eyes kept straying back to the cloudy shapes. Latona wondered whose specter haunted her.
“The water,” Vibia said, even as she dug the point of a knife into one of the charms. “Water’s a conduit between worlds.” Physically, her bronze blade shredded a bundle of cloth, bones, and other unpleasant ingredients; magically, the blade’s edge formed a focus for Vibia’s power, channeling it into the breach the charm had torn between the worlds. “Makes it easier to pass from one to the next—Blessed Fortuna, this thing feels like it’s on fire.” She pushed the crimson mantle away from her brow with the back of one hand.
“Good.” Latona’s voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere outside of her. “It’s working—and working hard.”
As Vibia slice
d through and unraveled one charm after another, Latona sent her bolstering energy, as much as she had the strength to summon. Between that and the mantle, Vibia hardly seemed affected by the umbrae at all; she’d scarcely spared them a glance. Latona, by contrast, knew she was pouring so much into Vibia that she was leaving herself open to assault. She focused on Vibia’s pale hands, her fingers working so fast, splinters of bronze magic jolting off of them with every deft motion. ‘Faster, Vibia, faster.’
An ache went through Latona, an ache she remembered, an ache of hopelessness, of suppressing all that she was in the desperation to avoid future pain. ‘Not looking at the thing doesn’t mean it has no power.’ And as Vibia hacked at the last of the three charms, the other umbrae faded away, but the final specter lashed out, sinking its claws into whatever heart it could reach.
‘Fine. Let it be me.’
Latona raised her head to look at the thing. Its seeming-mouth was closed, but it emitted a keening noise nonetheless. ‘Here I am, then. Feast on me, in your death throes.’ Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, and a tremor had entered her hands, but she could still taste cinnamon, and a golden sheen had settled over her vision: her own magic, surrounding and protecting her. ‘Take what you want from me, if it keeps you from tormenting anyone else. You’re merely a shadow. I lived through the reality, and I’m still here.’
Vibia gave a little cry of satisfaction as the last charm finally unraveled, magically as well as physically, and before Latona’s eyes, the face of Horatius Ocella, Dictator of Aven, broke apart and faded into the night.
XXIX
None of the women spoke much as a visibly relieved Vatinius Obir led the way back to the Esquiline tavern. Vibia had pity for Rubellia, whose emotional nature seemed to have taken the encounter poorly. Latona, too, looked more shaken than usual. ‘What effort did she expend, in shielding me?’ The fiery heat in the enchanted mantle had cooled, but it had worked in the moment better than Vibia could have hoped, even if the sensation was uncomfortably like standing in the door of a blazing oven. Her head had remained clear and focused, despite the umbrae prodding at her. ‘Let us hope it works as well if we encounter fiends of the other sort again.’
They retrieved their waiting maidservants. Rubellia’s girl had to be roused from sleep, but Vibia’s had been a-frizzle with worry. “It was bad enough in the country, Domina, but here?”
“You should come back to the temple with me,” Rubellia said to Latona, “since neither your husband nor your father will expect you till morning.” Latona nodded weakly. Rubellia’s lips worked soundlessly a moment, then she passed a hand over her eyes. “I—I do not think I can speak of this now.”
“Who would want to,” Vibia intoned, “with night’s blanket still on us?”
“But we should discuss it—and what to do next.” Her brow furrowed in sorrow and concern. “If this is happening elsewhere in the city . . .”
“Come to my father’s house at the third hour,” Latona said. “The men will be at the Curia by then, and the gods know Aula has sufficient control over the household that none of our people will carry tales, if they overhear us.” Thus agreed, they prepared to depart the Esquiline, well-flanked by Obir’s people.
“I have no poet’s tongue with which to express my gratitude, ladies,” Obir said as he saw them off, “but please know how deeply I appreciate your assistance.” He glanced down the still-quiet street. “This is my home. To have it invaded and feel unable to protect it—” He shook his head. “A wretched thing.”
“You must call on us again,” Latona said, “if this problem continues to rear its head in your neighborhood.”
“I will, thank you, Lady Latona.” The man’s eyes twinkled a touch conspiratorially. “Though my esteemed patron may not thank me for inviting you into danger. I’m not sure that’s what he meant when he asked me to keep an eye on you.”
Vibia’s eyes cut toward Latona. ‘Sempronius asked them to—? Hm.’
For the first time since leaving the insula, Latona’s face registered something other than weariness. Obir’s words had brought a sly smile to her lips and a crinkle at the corner of her eyes. “Oh,” she murmured to Obir, “he might surprise you.” Even more maddening than Latona’s guileful secrecy was the chuff of laughter that escaped Rubellia.
Vibia looked from one woman to the other with a creased brow. ‘Now what do they know that I don’t?’
* * *
The next morning, surrounded by the verdant foliage of the Vitellian peristyle garden, Vibia took the lead in explaining the night’s activities to Alhena and Aula—who would, it seemed, not be left out, never mind that she had no magical gifts to draw on. ‘Be fair, Vibia,’ she told herself. ‘Aula was, after all, the first to realize the Discordians would be moving their power back to the city.’
When Vibia was done, Aula asked, “And Vatinius Obir thinks this is happening in the Subura as well?”
“So he said,” Rubellia replied. “And elsewhere on the Esquiline, outside of his neighborhood.”
“They’re attacking poor citizens here, as they did in Stabiae,” Alhena said.
Latona rubbed at the bridge of her nose, then raked a hand through her loose curls. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was dressed in a plain tunic and a loose gown, with no cosmetics and unstyled hair, as though she had barely dragged herself out of bed in time for this meeting. The previous night had taken more of a toll than any of their excursions in Stabiae had. ‘Poor thing,’ Vibia thought, and surprised herself with it. Pity was not an emotion she often felt for anyone, much less for Vitellia Latona, whom she had so long watched with a wary eye. To be sure, this woman was not the creature that Rumor’s many tongues wagged of, conniving and guileful.
“We’re going to have to move forward with convincing others to assist us,” Latona said. “People with clients all over the city—the Subura, the Aventine docks, the neighborhoods across the river.”
“Should be asking in the slave quarters, too, Domina.” Merula had, till then, been so quiet that Vibia had almost forgotten she was there, sitting aside with Alhena’s Cantabrian attendant. “Where the public slaves are housed, and any of the warehouses that have large quarters.” One shoulder lifted and dropped. “If they are attacking those who cannot be defending themselves, who will not be speaking out—”
“You’re absolutely right,” Latona said, dropping her chin onto her hand. “I’m ashamed I didn’t think of that.”
“The public slaves would draw too much notice,” Aula said. “Many of them are secure enough that they’d have no problem raising a fuss to the priests and augurs.” Most of Aven’s publicly owned slaves worked for the temples and administrative buildings, clustered in or near the Forum.
“I agree,” Rubellia said. “It would be a bigger risk for the Discordians to target them. But the warehouses, yes, and perhaps any of the guilds who have large numbers of slaves in their employ—the builders, for example.”
“Builders . . .” Latona’s face creased in thought for a moment, then her eyes darted to Vibia. “What do you know about the progress on your brother’s temple, over on the Aventine?”
“Only that it is progressing, so far as I know.” Vibia caught the thread of her thought. “You think the slaves and freedmen building there may be affected?”
“It’s worth looking into. The Discordians targeted Sempronius’s dealings before. They may do so again.”
A small part of Vibia was annoyed that Latona evinced such care for Sempronius’s projects, but she knew the greater part of that irritation was with herself, for not having considered it first. ‘If he did have to take an interest in a married, scandal-prone Spirit mage with a penchant for attracting chaos . . . well, at least she’s a conscientious and detail-oriented one.’
Latona drummed her fingers thoughtfully against her leg. “We need to know how far the Discordians are spread
ing their malice. It’ll take us forever to track it all down ourselves, and even if we could, it isn’t as though we’ll have Vatinius Obir’s men to accompany us everywhere. We have to find help.”
“It’s not that I disagree,” Vibia said, “but even if we rally our friends, we’ll still be running ourselves ragged if we try to solve this one problem at a time. The Discordian power is growing, and I’ve had about enough of reacting to whatever they throw at us. We need to go on the offensive and make it impossible for them to dig their claws into this city.”
“They must have a center somewhere . . .” Alhena mused. “A—a base of operations.”
“Like a legionary camp,” Rubellia offered, with a small smile.
“Perhaps. If we can find that . . .”
Aula clapped her hands together. “One piece at a time, then. Let’s each of us commit to dragging in at least one other conscript within the next few days. You three find mages; I’ll find someone whose husband or brother has an enormous client base. We’ll cast as wide a net as we can and see what Discordian fish we catch.”
“That seems sensible.” Vibia was already thinking of who she could trust enough to sound out.
Latona, Alhena, and Rubellia murmured their agreement as well. Rubellia looked thoughtful, and Latona still wan and exhausted. Alhena was blushing, Vibia assumed at the very idea of gathering the temerity to broach the subject with someone outside this room. Aula’s gaze landed on Latona, and her next words were less officious. “There’s something you’re not saying, isn’t there? About the umbrae?”
Vibia had always thought Aula Vitellia to be a frivol and rather feather-brained, but this long ordeal had shown her that the cheerful woman was cannier than she appeared—particularly where her sisters were concerned.
Latona’s shoulders moved in a too-casual shrug; a lie of the body, for Vibia’s Fracture magic could sense the shiver trembling underneath. “As Vibia said, these seemed more potent than what we’ve encountered before. They took shape more easily.”