I cocked an eyebrow at her, puzzled.
“It’s not all this!” she said. She waved her hand at the shuttered window. “It’s not all walls and death and plotting! Nor is it dreary dispensations and bureaucracy! We do these ugly, dull things for a reason—to make a space where folk can live, celebrate, and know joy and love. So. Go to the banquet, Dinios. Otherwise, I’ll find some truly dreadful shit for you to do.”
CHAPTER 35
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THE SUN HUNG LOW in the sky as I approached the Legion tower. The streets about it were already filling up with Iyalet officers, most in Legion black, but many in Engineering purple and Apoth red, and the occasional flash of Iudex blue. As we lined up to enter the Legion courtyard a singing began from within, a high, ululating, solemn song in a language I did not recognize.
The ceremony had begun, I realized. The line moved faster, and soon I passed under the black-bannered arches, took my place among the crowds gathering along the circular courtyard walls, and looked to see.
In the center of the courtyard were two lines of people, bluely lit by the lanterns: one line composed of some two dozen Legionnaires, all kneeling, heads bowed; and there, standing over them, was a line of people of a sort I had never seen before. They were all from many different races—Tala, Sazi, Kurmini, Rathras, Pithian—and each was arrayed in strikingly different raiment, all swirling dark robes and fine gold chains, or veils of silver and high, peaked hats.
They were holy folk, I realized: priests and clerics and rectors and curates from all the imperial cults. I struggled with this for a moment, wrestling with the idea of an Empire so vast it could accommodate such wildly different cultures. Yet all of them intended to make their blessings known here, it seemed, invoking their pantheons to stem back the titans of the deeps.
I glanced about the courtyard. The front area seemed to have been reserved for the senior officers: I spied Vashta sitting among them, her breast covered with so many heralds and tributes that her whole front twinkled like the night sky. When she wasn’t solemnly watching the ritual she studied the crowd, marking who had and had not attended, I guessed. When her keen eye fell on me, she smiled tightly and nodded. I bowed in return.
The holy folk sang aloud from their texts and swung their thuribles before the kneeling Legionnaires, bathing them in incense and sacred smokes. Then they wrapped the soldiers in holy cloths and anointed their brows with paints and the bloods of pheasants and calves, slowly layering them with prayers, with hopes, with calls to the divine.
Among this sea of strangeness I saw something I recognized: a round, gold effigy mounted high behind the holy men, depicting a long, gaunt face that was both sympathetic and stern, with words written below in an ancient, half-forgotten language—Sen sez imperiya.
I stared back at the face of the emperor. I tried to make his words mean something to me, knowing that the twitch and the Hazas had killed two people at least, and perhaps ten Engineers and countless others as well; and not only might they go unpunished for it, but Ana and I might never comprehend what had really happened here. Blas, the breach, the party—all of it might be washed away like footprints in a rainstorm.
The more I thought on it, the more I wished to leave this holy rite. The emperor offered many blessings to the Legion, it seemed, but precious few for the Iudex. How simple the titans seemed, and how impossible justice felt.
The ceremony appeared to be drawing to a close: three holy men touched the brow of the kneeling Legionnaire at the very front. Then they proclaimed something in ancient Khanum and kissed him upon the head, bowed, and drew back. All the Legionnaires stood and bowed in return; and that seemed to be the end of it, for the courtyard then filled up with mutterings and quiet conversation.
The scent of incense was pushed away by the aromas of fats and spices and wine. Food arrived, the tables suddenly piling high with sliced meat and pickled vegetables, and cask after cask of sotwine. I had no idea what else I was to do at such a ceremony, so I ambled forward to fill my bowl.
A voice behind me: “It’s a pleasure to see you triumphant, Signum.”
I turned. Immunis Uhad emerged from the crowd in his stiff, storklike gait, his blue Iudex cloak swirling behind him, his face still as gaunt and bleak as ever.
“Good evening, sir,” I said, bowing.
“I’ve heard the news,” he said to me, “and all the details of all your victories. You and Ana have handled things marvelously. No, no, don’t bow again. Be merry. This is the time for such things, after all.”
I filled my cup and raised it to him. “I’ve never been to such a ceremony before, sir. I wish them luck and fortune.” Yet I noticed Uhad bore neither wine nor bowl.