door,’ Arria said, ‘asking if I’d seen either of you. It’s not hard to make young people think you’re too stupid to bother with.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Well, it was too late to have second thoughts, wasn’t it? With them all in here,’ Arria complained. ‘Your sister’s really all right? She looks terrible.’
‘Yes,’ he said, although he was again reluctant to look at Una. ‘Can I use your longdictor?’
Lal answered. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to speak to her, although the prospect of talking to Delir wasn’t much easier to face. ‘Sulien,’ she whispered, and for a second or two they listened to each other’s unsteady breathing, both trying to work out how to negotiate the incompatibility between the way they had parted and this.
After a moment, Sulien said, ‘You’ve seen the longvision.’
‘Yes,’ she answered, in a halting, makeshift voice. ‘It’s not— There’s no way it could be wrong? He couldn’t be . . . lying, somehow? About Marcus?’
‘No. Not about that.’
‘Oh God,’ she said, muffled. ‘Oh God. Marcus.’ She was probably crying, he thought, although very softly, trying not to let him hear. There was a desolate exclamation of horror in the background, then Lal whispered, ‘And it was Dama?’
‘Yes. I’m . . . I’m sorry. Look, I haven’t got a lot of time; let me talk to Delir.’ He could hear the longdictor change hands, but Delir didn’t speak. ‘Delir?’ said Sulien, and waited a moment before beginning to explain, trying to be clear and practical: ‘Delir, we’ve got to get out. Varius and I were just nearly arrested, and they’ve raided my flat. You’ll have to decide what to do. I don’t know if he’s going after all Marcus’ friends or if it’s just us. But . . . you should know.’
The quiet persisted so long that Sulien repeated Delir’s name, impatiently, and at last Delir answered in a winded breath, ‘Sulien, I’m so sorry.’ And it was obvious at once that this was not simple condolence.
Sulien felt a slow-moving, insidious shock. He had not connected Delir with what had happened, other than as a possible casualty, and a possible source of help. There had been too much else to think of; it had not occurred to him to remember how Dama had come to be free to kill anyone. He shrank from Delir’s guilt, but as he tried to find some way, however flimsy, of telling him not to blame himself, the memory of Marcus’ face, the touch of his cold lips interceded – as clearand immediate as if Sulien were still there, leaning over him in the broken box. And that faint taste: not only blood, but also the emptiness into which his own breath had vanished.
Sulien shook his head, and spent a long time trying to speak. In the end he could only manage, stiffly, ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat to break the pause that followed, mumbled, ‘Well. I thought you might know somewhere we could go, for tonight at least. I don’t know where . . . and I’ve got Una and Varius with me.’
The paralysed silence on the line continued for a while, but eventually Delir spoke and Sulien decided he didn’t have to notice anything in his voice but the information: ‘There’s a place at Lavinium.’
Sulien wrote down the directions, then pulled the small weight of the longdictor circlet off his head as quickly as he could.
‘You should get over the river,’ he said to Tancorix and Bassus. ‘Go along with the rest of them, cheer for him, if that’s what they’re all doing, and make sure they see you there.’
Xanthe launched into a string of questions that all began, ‘Why—?’
Sulien couldn’t count how many times he’d thanked them all before he was finished. Arria and Bassus remained understandably nervous, even a little suspicious, but Tancorix, sitting with Xanthe in her lap, was calm, her tired face strangely relaxed. She said, ‘It makes up for what I let happen when we were younger, doesn’t it?’
Sulien turned to her, rubbed
‘Thank you.’
‘Well, it was too late to have second thoughts, wasn’t it? With them all in here,’ Arria complained. ‘Your sister’s really all right? She looks terrible.’
‘Yes,’ he said, although he was again reluctant to look at Una. ‘Can I use your longdictor?’
Lal answered. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to speak to her, although the prospect of talking to Delir wasn’t much easier to face. ‘Sulien,’ she whispered, and for a second or two they listened to each other’s unsteady breathing, both trying to work out how to negotiate the incompatibility between the way they had parted and this.
After a moment, Sulien said, ‘You’ve seen the longvision.’
‘Yes,’ she answered, in a halting, makeshift voice. ‘It’s not— There’s no way it could be wrong? He couldn’t be . . . lying, somehow? About Marcus?’
‘No. Not about that.’
‘Oh God,’ she said, muffled. ‘Oh God. Marcus.’ She was probably crying, he thought, although very softly, trying not to let him hear. There was a desolate exclamation of horror in the background, then Lal whispered, ‘And it was Dama?’
‘Yes. I’m . . . I’m sorry. Look, I haven’t got a lot of time; let me talk to Delir.’ He could hear the longdictor change hands, but Delir didn’t speak. ‘Delir?’ said Sulien, and waited a moment before beginning to explain, trying to be clear and practical: ‘Delir, we’ve got to get out. Varius and I were just nearly arrested, and they’ve raided my flat. You’ll have to decide what to do. I don’t know if he’s going after all Marcus’ friends or if it’s just us. But . . . you should know.’
The quiet persisted so long that Sulien repeated Delir’s name, impatiently, and at last Delir answered in a winded breath, ‘Sulien, I’m so sorry.’ And it was obvious at once that this was not simple condolence.
Sulien felt a slow-moving, insidious shock. He had not connected Delir with what had happened, other than as a possible casualty, and a possible source of help. There had been too much else to think of; it had not occurred to him to remember how Dama had come to be free to kill anyone. He shrank from Delir’s guilt, but as he tried to find some way, however flimsy, of telling him not to blame himself, the memory of Marcus’ face, the touch of his cold lips interceded – as clearand immediate as if Sulien were still there, leaning over him in the broken box. And that faint taste: not only blood, but also the emptiness into which his own breath had vanished.
Sulien shook his head, and spent a long time trying to speak. In the end he could only manage, stiffly, ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat to break the pause that followed, mumbled, ‘Well. I thought you might know somewhere we could go, for tonight at least. I don’t know where . . . and I’ve got Una and Varius with me.’
The paralysed silence on the line continued for a while, but eventually Delir spoke and Sulien decided he didn’t have to notice anything in his voice but the information: ‘There’s a place at Lavinium.’
Sulien wrote down the directions, then pulled the small weight of the longdictor circlet off his head as quickly as he could.
‘You should get over the river,’ he said to Tancorix and Bassus. ‘Go along with the rest of them, cheer for him, if that’s what they’re all doing, and make sure they see you there.’
Xanthe launched into a string of questions that all began, ‘Why—?’
Sulien couldn’t count how many times he’d thanked them all before he was finished. Arria and Bassus remained understandably nervous, even a little suspicious, but Tancorix, sitting with Xanthe in her lap, was calm, her tired face strangely relaxed. She said, ‘It makes up for what I let happen when we were younger, doesn’t it?’
Sulien turned to her, rubbed
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