An abandoned boy, a grieving prince, and a reclusive sorcerer find themselves caught in a web of peril and mystery...
Domi, a young thief abandoned on the street at birth, just wants to save his dying foster mother. But first, he must survive the m...
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Domi hated the way Promethidae dressed. The hot, confining fabrics were a nightmare, and he regretted every day he used to fantasize about wearing a fancy paenula. Once, he had mocked the snobby dunces he'd seen lording it over others in the forum. Now, he was one. The Eternal Radiance must be laughing at his expense.
Even so, as soon as Valens departed, leaving only a promenia cloud to follow Domi around like a hungry pup, he forced himself to dress in his best tunica and paenula. If he meant to go visit the Praetor—who he had a strong suspicion hated him—and convince the man to assign him an awesome conservatory instructor, Domi needed to appear respectable.
Most days, he didn't care about colors or styles of fabric, or give any thought to Promethidae fashion. Today, though, he pulled out a clivia-blue tunica and paenula with a bit of pride. He killed two of the nasty creatures, after all, and saved a bunch of worldholders from the bestias.
Not that anyone had bothered to thank him for his fine work. As soon as he had regained true awareness, Valens had given him a long—well, long for Valens—lecture about obeying instructions. Then Arbita went off about how messing around with promenia would get him killed.
That was gratitude for you.
As soon as he finished getting dressed, he looked around for Valens to say goodbye, but the domus stood empty save for his aedificans's trailing promenia. The arse had left without saying farewell.
Domi rolled his eyes and took his leave.
It felt weird to walk to the Praetor's domus alone. In truth, it had been weird walking there with Valens for salutatio that morn. Armati guarded the gates, but they hadn't challenged him when he arrived with Valens earlier today, and they didn't stop him now. The starholder guards didn't do more than glance at him, in fact, noting his black laurel and then dismissing him.
The soft whine of promenia greeted his ears as he passed, and he wondered what they were doing with it. Perhaps he was expected, though he didn't understand how promenia might tell them that.
It appeared he and other sorcerers in the city had free access to visit the Praetor whenever they wanted. It made no sense. Cerasus ruled a whole provincia, and not a small one either. Provincia Sicarii had a population of three and a half million people, according to Radix's nosing around, and Cerasus's Silvula Salutis curia enjoyed substantial influence in the sorcerous world. Shouldn't the Praetor be far too busy to meet with whatever sorcerer felt like waltzing into his palace?
But waltz in Domi did, all alone well after Dimming. If he wanted to do a little breaking to make his own contribution to the lift, this would be the perfect time, but he was not stupid enough to mess with Cerasus's family twice. Best to behave himself so the Praetor might assign him to someone Domi would have a chance to impress. He would eventually start going to the conservatory, after all. Perhaps not yet, but soon, he hoped. When he got there, he wanted to work with the best teachers. Serenitas seemed capable out at the waystation, and her alumnas appeared to like her. Better yet, Valens seemed to hate her, which made her that much more appealing. He hoped Cerasus would assign him to her.
Domi found his way through the palace corridors with ease, years of breaking giving him a fine-tuned sense of direction. And so, though he only visited the domus once before, he soon found himself striding into Cerasus's salutatio hall.
Rather than sitting in the chair where he had presided over salutatio that morn, the Praetor instead reclined in a dining couch. Domi stared, unaware until that moment that snobby rich people really ate their meals in those ridiculous things outside of the wondertales.
Then he remembered himself and cleared his throat, stepping closer. He tried to recall the polite stuff people said earlier today. "May the Eyes pass over you." He rather liked the pleasant greeting.
Cerasus must have taken notes from Valens; the Praetor didn't glance up at Domi, but instead dipped flatbread into a bowl of sauce and said, "You don't speak to me first." He took a bite.
"Sorry."
The Praetor shook his head as he chewed, then said, still without looking at Domi, "You don't speak at all until addressed."
"Sor—" Domi broke off, blushing at his mistake.
Luck was with him; the Praetor ignored the slip, setting the other half of his bread aside and at last glancing up at Domi. "May the Eyes pass over you."
Relief flooded him. "And you too, Prom—err, Dominus."
"I see your aedificans cannot trust you alone, yet."
"Ah..." He shifted from foot to foot, nerves getting the better of him. "Yes, Dominus. Things keep, um, happening."
"So I've heard. I have given some thought to a suitable minder while he's away. Someone high enough rank to counter aught you might mistakenly or intentionally do."
"I'm not doing it on purpose," Domi said. The last thing he needed was the man who'd ordered his death a month ago to decide he was trying to cause problems. "I promise, Dominus."
"Hmm," Cerasus grunted. "Well, Serenitas is out of the question. You are ranked a little higher than her." Domi's jaw dropped. How was that possible? He could do only two things with his magic, and neither on purpose. "And the other instructors won't do. They're all out of your lineage. Except one."
"There's another worldholder instructor at the conservatory, Dominus?" If he couldn't work with Serenitas and get on her good side, perhaps this other worldholder would be as influential, if not more so.
"In a manner of speaking. Serenitas is the only worldholder officially on staff, but there is always the Gardener."
Domi must have misheard. "The Gardener?" he repeated. When the Praetor did not correct him, he added, "You mean a gardener, as in...?"
"Yes." Cerasus frowned at him like he considered Domi a fool. "You know, someone who tends plants? Gardener."
Eyes devour him, the Praetor was serious. "But—"
"You are to report to him tonight. You can't be left unsupervised. Valens is powerful, but even he has limits to his control over promenia at a distance."
Dreams of impressing one of the conservatory instructors floated away. He was being assigned to a gardener. A gardener, not even a real teacher. What did Cerasus think he would learn there? How to prune hedges? "But, Dominus—"
