So this was how the common people lived.
Praetor Cerasus's domus was small. Not tiny, of course, for a provincial royal family still called it home. But after spending time in the spacious salutatio hall, Daedalus expected the rest of the mansion to echo the great hall's airy vastness.
Instead, the rest of the domus mirrored Silvula Salutis curia's commitment to simplicity and conservation. Daedalus supposed such made sense, as the Praetor ought to be an example to the people of the values and principles espoused by the ruling curia he led. Still, it surprised Daedalus. He had not known until now that regality could be divorced from majesty.
He found he rather liked it. The simplicity of his days, a slow, almost lazy progression of salutatios, meals, classes, study, and frivolity, allowed him ample time to rest and think. The quiet, compared to the bustle of palace life, permitted him space to breathe and... be.
There was still duty, of course. No one on Aquarius was ever free of duty, for collective survival and prosperity depended on each and every person doing their unique work. But now Daedalus's work was a student's work. And not a student of the Trellis. Not a student of law and etiquette and religious observance. Just a worldholder student. A common student, like any of Serenitas's lowborn alumnas.
It did not take him long during his first week under her tutelage to learn that his royal education had been superior in some respects and deficient in others.
He knew how to create, rehabilitate and destroy promenia. He could raise and level mountains, carve coastlines, quell earthquakes, secure border defenses against bestia, coax weather systems into new patterns, master himself, and control the Trellis.
But strike a single bestia with lightning? Dodge clivia? Fly? He was the Princeps Worldholder, Keeper of Heaven and Earth. Or he had been. What need had he of petty parlor tricks?
Serenitas smiled up at him and brushed her cascade of long black braids over her shoulder. "I promise I will catch you if necessary, Alumna," she said. He was not her alumna, not really, just her student, but with his brother's true aedificans four thousand miles away, neither of them fretted over technicalities. "But I believe you are ready for this."
Daedalus frowned down at the woman and the cluster of worldholders gathered around her. These were not his fellow conservatory students, who he studied with in the early afternoon. No, these were his fellow terrarium students, who he studied with in the late afternoon to help him catch up on things he was shocked--and Serenitas was unsurprised--to learn that he did not yet know how to do.
The smirking ten, eleven, twelve, and thirteen-year-olds peered up at him with sly eyes to see if the "Pullatus" could throw himself off the basilica roof without falling to his death.
Daedalus squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remind himself that his younger brother, a thief, was not afraid of heights. He just needed to take a tiny step to the edge of the roof. Draw promenia to himself. Visualize the wings of a bird and shape the promenia into featherlike projections with air passing beneath to generate lift.
Easy, compared to orchestrating the planetwide shift from Harvesting to Germinating season last month.
He leaped.
Sowing was only seven weeks away and Domi would have to--
His promenia scattered along with his concentration, and Daedalus's belly surged into his throat as his body plummeted to the snow. He shrieked, limbs flailing in wild desperation to grasp at chill, empty air.
A hum filled his ears then, and a wavering mirage occluded his vision. Air cushioned his body, catching him and halting his sharp descent.
His terrarium classmates snickered as Serenitas set him gently atop the snow.
Daedalus would have flushed if any blood still lingered remotely close to his pale face. His knees felt like broken hinges as he made his wobbling way to a bush.
Years of exercises training him to notice details, to capture the feelings they evoked in mind and body, and store them away in his memory for later use in his visualizations drew his attention to the tiny icicles dangling, translucent and glistening in the glittering golden Trellis light, from the cyan night-side leaves.
He vomited on them and felt much better then in body even if he was mortified in spirit.
His classmates drew back, making disgusted noises, and Serenitas stepped forward with a sympathetic smile. "You really don't do well with heights, do you? I remember you had trouble with the skychariot as well."
"Erm, yes," Daedalus said, pulling a handkerchief from his paenula pocket and dabbing at his mouth. Belatedly he realized he ought to have said "yeah", as his brother would have done. Cerasus, without ever once admitting out loud that he knew Daedalus's true identity, had told him at supper that first eve to "lighten up a little" and "not feel the pressure to abandon his Pullati roots" in speech and manner.
Daedalus was still trying to determine what precisely that meant, but he suspected he was being told he ought to try harder to speak like a feral Lightholder.
Serenitas patted his back. "Believe it or not, that counts as real progress, Domi. When we started earlier this week, you wouldn't even climb up to the roof, let alone jump. I'm sure you'll fly tomorrow or the next day."
"Wonderful," Daedalus said, his voice weak in his own ears.
<>
Edera peeked up from her lesson book as she heard the door to the family wing open and a familiar voice murmur a polite greeting to the two Electi on duty.
Domi was home.
He was not Domi, of course. She had no idea who the hell he was, other than the other boy's twin. Someone important though, obviously, given her Pa's exceedingly odd behavior around him, the fifteen-year-old's cultured words and demeanor, and the tantalizing secrecy around his identity.
In this week since his arrival, she had been speculating about who he might be, spinning up ever more unlikely tales to explain his origins.
Robbers hijacked a skychariot, holding a Trueborn family hostage. The villains kidnapped one boy and sold him to the Pullati gangs and ransomed the other back to his noble parents.
The twins were the illegitimate sons of a Praetor and his secret Pyrrhaei paramour, separated at birth so that each forbidden lover might look upon their child's face and see a reminder of their one true love.
They were the bastard sons of the Rex and the late Princeps Worldholder, an epic love unconfined by age, legality, or social convention. Their royal parents raised them in utmost secrecy in a remote night-side domus, where the boys were trained as spies and assassins in service to the throne.
She liked the last story the best out of all the ones she'd dreamed up. She had always fantasized of being a spy and assassin, her lifeholder powers making her a master of disguise and a deadly, seductive foe.
Alas, she was a botanist. Pa said that he needed lifeholders to attend to the agricultural needs of the provincia, not an army of physicians and certainly not spies and assassins.
Yet he let Aix be a spy, and the impure old man wasn't even a full lifeholder but a worldholder too. It wasn't fair that her life should be so boring and the geezer's so fun. She would make a perfect spy, but her talents were wasted without ever being truly nurtured.
But her prospects were looking up with the fake Domi's presence. Finally, an exciting mystery to explore. Danger to dare. Excitement. Romance.
She smiled as her favorite marriage prospect by far walked past the open door toward his bedchamber. Lips curling, she rose from her divan, tossing the lesson book atop the cushion.
Her parents were in meetings this eve to attend to the ongoing emergency response. Tonight was the best opportunity, and she had been preparing all week.
She was going to seduce her future husband before someone else could claim him.
Her Pa thought her obsession with Domi--well, fake-Domi, though the real one would do almost as well as his more refined twin--was foolish. But he obviously did not understand true love. When you saw the person that was meant for you, why dally and daydream about what could be or waste time second-guessing yourself? No, she was going to woo him and win him, or die trying.
Domi was clearly everything she needed, not just in a marriage prospect but in a potential lover. He was handsome, the most important part. He was intelligent and funny, although the real Domi seemed more street smart and sarcastic and the fake Domi more educated and dry in his humor. Arbita and Sidus both liked the original one, which spoke well for him in her book, and her Pa, Ma, and Ros liked the fake one, also a fine recommendation.
Best of all. He--they--were obviously higher ranking than her, and thus her ticket out of her stupid, boring curia and off to a life of excitement.
Both were perfect for her. But the real Domi was gone, doing the Eternal Radiance only knew what. And so it was his twin she would seduce, and fast, before some other little tart got her claws into him. Edera had seen the speculative, appreciative looks some of the other girls in the conservatory gave the mysterious boy. She was not going to let them try anything without fighting for what she wanted. And she knew she wanted him. She was certain of it.
She'd never seduced a man before, but she'd read enough novels to have a few good ideas about what to do.
The gasp down the hall told her the boy had found one of them.
Smiling, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering in her belly, she sauntered toward his ajar door.
<>
Daedalus gasped, eyes roving in confusion over the transformation before him.
Candles. Someone had filled his bedchamber with candles. A great many of them.
Tealights lined the marble floor along the walls, softly glowing.
Pillar candles burned at the bases of the two columns in his vaulted bedroom.
Candelabra perched atop his wardrobe.
Tapers, tealights, pillar candles, and more covered his nightstand.
"W-what?" he said, staring in utter confusion.
A footstep behind him. He turned, eyes widening at Edera.
She leaned in his doorway. "I wonder if you might be interested in trying something with me," the Praetor's daughter said. Her cheeks were darkening, but she held his gaze with confident determination.
Was this what it looked like? Surely she was playing a prank or some such? There was no way a pretty girl could like him--or, well, his brother--in such a manner. Could she?
"Try what?" he managed to ask after several speechless seconds, trying to recover his composure. Let this not be some cruel joke or mere dream.
His whole body heated as she padded close to him and peered up into his face through a veil of dark lashes. "You may have noticed that we are listed as conjugal matches, Domi. Marriage prospects."
He swallowed hard as she closed the distance between them. Had he imagined the short pause before his brother's name? It was hard to think.
"Indeed, I did," he said with care, worried now. Bedding was one thing, an alluring prospect he never thought he would get to try so soon. But if it was a marriage with Domi that she was after, she might mistake any intimacy with commitment. With promises. Comitas always warned him about that. He was the only unmarried Princeps, and many saw him as a tantalizing prize without truly seeing him.
But Comitas was not here, and he was not a Princeps any longer. Nor a child. There was no Trellis to worry about if the two of them... If they... His cheeks burned. His whole body burned.
Her lips curled upward, brown eyes sparkling with a knowing glint. "My parents are away this eve," she said. "And to be frank, I believe two people considering marriage ought to get to know one another a little before anyone starts making any decisions." She tilted her head. "Don't you agree?"
"Yes," he agreed thickly. He could not believe that this was really happening. Was she truly offering to let him do such things? With her?
He had always been counseled to approach these matters with great care. It was best to avoid undesired political entanglements, to say nothing of any intense feelings that might bleed over into the Trellis before he was experienced enough to avoid such.
But now there was no Trellis and no throne of his own to protect. There was just this beautiful girl offering him something he had thought he would have to wait until his marriage night to try.
Edera closed the distance between them and took his hand. He was surprised to find that her warm hand was as damp as his own. Was she nervous too? She seemed so confident.
Nervous or not, her voice and gaze were steady as she peered up at him. "Is that a yes, you agree with my statement, or a yes, you agree...?" Her eyes slid past him, past the flickering candles, to his bed beyond.
Daedalus reached behind them with his free hand, pawing blindly at the door. He could not have torn his eyes away from the beautiful, willing girl before him if he had tried. "That is a yes to both," he said, and tugged the door closed.
<>
Domi couldn't seem to do anything right. Everything under the sun he did displeased Comitas in some way. He used to think Valens was the world's most harsh taskmaster. He'd been so naive.
But finally, finally, the protocol handler looked at him with approval.
"You can recite the entire Ovidiana from memory, Basilicus?" the woman asked.
"Yea--Yes, Erus. Every Cultus and Disciplina, my Ma made me and most of the other kids attend the recitation at observance and then listen to the storytellers in the forum after." They hadn't been allowed to snatch during those two hours, either. "We were to repeat back to her as much of what we heard as we could." It had taken him a few years to memorize the whole holy book. Radix, though, just listened once and knew all the words by heart.
He flicked a glance at the other Pullatus, smiling. They were dusting the bookshelf in the tablinum office with one hand and holding a slender book of poetry with the other. Their toe caught one of the small stacks of books they had piled on the floor, no doubt to squirrel away to the Eyes only knew where, but they caught their balance with an agile skip without looking up from the page. His heart warmed watching them.
"Interesting," Comitas said. "Show me, Basilicus."
And so he did.
<>
The next morning, Domi did not know whether to praise or curse his Ma for her unusual teaching methods as he stood before the Rex and three Principia and prepared to recite the report Fons and Peritia had prepared for him on the Blightlands response.
His heart hammered in his chest as he stared at four of the five most powerful people in the world, his mouth pasty and dry and the Trellis glittering warningly outside the window of the Rex's tablinum office.
His four rulers cast uneasy glances at the window, and Domi's hands shook. He folded them before him lacing his fingers together to try to still them.
One chair before him was empty. Where was the Princeps World--
He felt the blood drain from his face. Oh Eternal Radiance, that was him now.
The Rex extended his hand toward the high-backed chair. "Please, Basilicus," the old man said, "be seated. No need to stand for this briefing."
Domi eyed the chair, unsure whether he could force himself to step toward these four people. Power radiated off of them. It was not just in his imagination but in the thick wavering and golden ringing of promenia around them. He could feel all of them tugging lightly at the Trellis itself, connected to it in some way he could not yet fathom. He wondered how he felt to them. Could they sense the weight, heat, and terrifying immensity of the Trellis poised over him like some awful burning bird, fiery wings outstretched over the whole world, molten talons clutching his flesh and soul?
"It is alright, Basilicus," the Princeps Mindholder said. She wore the face of a legendary Pale Woman in her early middle years, with strawberry blond hair and pasty skin that contrasted eerily with her kind eyes and tone. Her tone was soothing, but it did little to put him at ease in front of these great people. "You are not in trouble. We know this has been a very trying time for you. Sit."
"Rest, Basilicus. Have a seat and rest," the Princeps Lifeholder commanded.
Princeps Oliva's familiar voice snapped him out of his fear. This woman had visited him at his bedside. She had cared for him twice. Joked with him, even. She was a person, just as he was. A person nearly as old as the Rex, and inconceivably powerful, but still, a person.
Swallowing and feeling a little of the tension bleed away, he crept to the seats and sank gingerly into his chair. His back already ached as he adjusted his posture to something he hoped resembled Daedalus.
The Rex smiled reassuringly at him. "It is good to see you up and about, Basilicus. You had us very worried."
"My." He cleared his throat and fear's stranglehold on his voice eased enough for him to get the other words out. "My thanks, Augustus."
The ancient man nodded and Domi tried not to stare. It was weird seeing the Rex without the ruby crown. But this was not an observance or speech, just a weekly meeting. The Rex quirked a small smile. "So my daughter tells me that you are taking her betrothed as a lover."
Domi could not believe how casually the old man spoke. Shouldn't he be offended or something? And lover? "We... Sidus and I are not--"
"I am sure. You are quite young for that. But she tells me that you and young Sidus will be courting. It will be wonderful to have our families become closer if you two do become serious."
The Rex looked genuinely pleased, beaming at him like a kindly old man as he talked about his daughter's future husband planning to court someone else. Promethidae were weird. "Ah, yeah, Basilicus," he said, sure his face was afire.
The Princeps Mindholder laughed loudly. He did not realize that he had used the wrong title until she spoke. "Oh, leave him alone, Augustus. You have got him so nervous now that he's saying all kinds of strange things today."
The Rex chuckled. "My apologies, Daedalus. You must forgive an old man his gossip. Please, we are eager to hear your update."
"R-right." Domi tucked his lip between his teeth, trying to recall the first words Comitas had made him memorize. He stopped the nervous habit as he saw the Princeps Lifeholder hide a smile behind one ring-heavy hand. "I will do my best to give you my Blightlands team's appraisal of the situation to date."
Once he started speaking the prepared words, it was somewhat easy to keep going. This was just playing a role. He could almost separate himself from this situation and his nervousness, using the flow of memorized words as a shield.
He told them about the team he had assembled of worldholders and others from Provincia Sicarii, the territory closest to the growing swath of blight. He told them of their preliminary calculations from afar of the place the rogue promenia clouds would likely first touch the Trellis proper, and the team he was sending to the area to attempt to delay the advancing corruption. And he told them of his plans to secure the night-side restoration tower, which he had been shocked to learn Valens himself had secretly visited and assessed for its potential to rehabilitate the whole Trellis.
The idea that any of these were truly "his" plans was laughable, however. He barely understood yet what the Blightlands even were. Most of the planning had been done by Peritia, Valens, and Aix while Domi had been resting and recovering in the wake of his violent inheritance of the Trellis.
When he was done, the four world rulers looked pensive. Then the Rex cleared his throat. "It is a good plan, Basilicus. But I do have a concern."
Domi bit his lip. "Y-you do?" Crap, Comitas had not given him anything to memorize to help him respond to concerns or questions.
"Indeed." The old man glanced at Domi's three fellow Principia. "We are, sadly, short on worldholders for an endeavor this great. The Blightlands are urgent, but the damage to the provincias these past few days requires the attention of most of the world's trained worldholders, and even some of their alumnas." He sighed. "With the matter of the Blightlands still secret, the Praetors will not understand if we call away yet more worldholders from local emergency response efforts."
Domi frowned. The words slipped from his lips before he had a chance to think about their wisdom. "Why's it have to be worldholders? We could use Pullati.," he said, remembering his Ma's idea.
"Pullati?" the Princeps Forgeholder asked, her brows arching.
The Princeps Mindholder studied him. "What do you mean?"
Domi cursed himself as he felt sweat break out on his skin. "Sorry. Forgive me. I said that without thinking. Of course we cannot use Pullati. They are--" He could not bring himself to speak ill of his people, even as a ruse. "--not Lightholders," he said instead.
The Princeps Forgeholder shook her head. "No, please tell us your thinking, Basilicus. I'm curious."
His face felt very hot. "Well, I was just thinking. Everybody has jobs, right? Things to do to bring in the crops and whatever." He swallowed, aware he sounded nothing like his brother. How would Dae speak? "However the Pullati lack work. They are a large bunch, erm, population of unused labor. They can't do stuff with magic. But some of the stuff that needs to be done is not magical. Like assessing damage and rebuilding things. Let the worldholders and other sorcerers focus on the sorcery and hire Pullati to do the rest."
The Princeps Forgeholder smiled. "Your idea is compassionate but impractical, Basilicus. The Pullati are unemployable. They're lazy and uneducated. Nothing but thieves."
Lazy? Domi glared. "They are thieves because they have no jobs. You got to be in the Compendium to be given work, remember? So they spend all their time doing other things to earn the coin they need to survive." He leaned forward as they frowned at him, except for the Princeps Forgeholder, whose lip curled in indulgent amusement. "So why not give them something better to do with their time than steal?"
"You want to pay the Pullati to do this work?" Princeps Oliva said. She, at least, did not sound scornful, only baffled. "Even though they have no training, no experience?"
"We give them training. Teach them what they need to know," Domi insisted. "They can't do everything that needs to be done to address the emergency responses and the Blightlands, but whatever they can do that worldholders and other Lightholders are currently doing should be given to them so sorcerers can do what only they can do."
The Rex frowned. "I think it is a bad idea, Basilicus, and a waste of coin." Domi wilted, but then the old man shrugged. "But it is your coin, and your disaster response. If you wish to proceed with this unorthodox idea, that is your prerogative. I look forward to hearing your update at our meeting next week."
For a long moment, Domi could only stare. Had the Rex truly just agreed to his Ma's idea?
Then realization sank in. His prerogative, the Rex just said. He was pretty sure that meant he was allowed to do what he wanted. And Eyes Devour, he wanted the Pullati to have this opportunity.
Domi grinned. "Then I will proceed and let you know how it goes, Augustus," he said.