The Last Plutarch by Tom O'Donnell

Author:Tom O'Donnell [O'Donnell, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

Issenian’s jaw worked soundlessly. Her hands came down slowly from her face, spreading outward, a slow-motion version of the “settle down” gesture Meric’s mother–his Plebian mother–used to make when he and Reed played too rough.

“What did you do?” she hissed.

I thought that much was obvious, said a detached voice in Meric’s head, looking down at Helicus’s body. A Plutarch’s body.

I killed a Plutarch.

Things were moving too fast. Though his faith in the Plutarchs had been shattered, the old rotting structures in Meric’s mind still held them up as sacred beings. Killing one was inconceivable. The rage was dissipating. A piece of him was trying to retreat, to block everything out. Issenian was talking. He watched her lips without comprehension.

Swan came toward him, one hand over her mouth, the other reaching. Meric looked at her dumbly. She put her head against his chest. Issenian grabbed his arms and shook him. The words penetrated.

“I was helping you escape! All you had to do was follow,” she said.

“And leave Swan to that … that …”

Meric gestured toward Helicus.

“She would have survived. What do you think will happen now?” Issenian shouted.

“It doesn’t matter,” Meric said, because it didn’t. It was all meaningless.

Issenian made a frustrated sound and began pacing, tucking her hands under her arms to keep them from shaking. Swan looked up at Meric.

“You did all that? With the Fog? But how could … You can’t…”

Meric shook his head. It was too much to explain. Swan grasped for answers. Coming up short, she breathed deeply, shook her head, and kissed Meric’s cheek.

“I don’t care how you did it. I’m just glad it’s over,” Swan said.

“Oh, it’s far from over. Gods, Lillian, what have you got me into?” Issenian muttered.

“Lillian said someone would come for me in a few hours. What took so long?” Meric asked.

“Have you lost your mind? I did come for you. It’s only been a few hours,” Issenian said.

Could that be true? It had seemed like days…

“Was using us as slaves part of this brilliant plan?” Meric asked.

“Insolent bastard! Who do you think you are? Do you know what I’ve risked for you? Godsblood.”

She paced again, stopped, gathered herself.

“Helicus was my only way into the White Palace. I only meant to get you far enough outside to descend through the Fog, but he wouldn’t leave, and I needed an excuse to take you. Sexual intrigue was always his weakness. Now he’s paid the price for it. No one will be surprised about that much. She wasn’t part of the plan at all. Gah! I’ll have to get you both out now. And by out, I mean out. There’s nowhere in Panchaea they won’t find you.”

Meric and Swan stared at her.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Issenian asked.

“We have to leave the city,” Meric said.

Swan moaned. Like most Plebians, she’d never been outside the perimeter-wall.

Issenian contemplated Helicus’s body, calming herself, calculating.

“Abraxas can’t know you’ve used the Fog. With luck he won’t know the extent of what Lillian has done. You must not be caught, or it will all unravel.

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