75 pages • 2-hour read
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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of death, graphic violence, child death, and enslavement.
“Fear, my father once told me, is simply our realisation of a lack of control. And that is why when we are afraid, sometimes the only way we can cope—the only way to dull the edge of that lack—is to put our faith in those who appear not to suffer it.”
The opening line of the novel captures the introspective tone of the first-person narrator and introduces a recurring idea in the narrative. At several points, different versions of Vis return to the relationship between fear and control. This philosophical statement establishes The Tension Between Choice and Circumstance: The more characters gain control of their choices, the less afraid they feel.
“I once told you that it is how they change you. One compromise at a time. That every man has to find his line, and never cross it. Do you still believe that?”
This question from Eidhin reminds Vis and the reader of a concept first introduced in The Will of the Many, in which Eidhin argued that each person must know what their moral line is and then be resolute in never crossing it. This line is a motif throughout the novel and represents the overarching theme of The Tension Between Choice and Circumstance.
“What justification could a person possibly give themselves before handing over their very Will to the nebulous control of the Republic? […] Fear, naturally, played its part—but not always. Sometimes it was greed loosely masquerading as ambition. Sometimes it was misplaced faith that others would behave fairly and rightly. Or social pressure, the inevitable belief that the majority cannot be wrong. The reasons were complex and many-faceted and unavoidably varied from person to person.”
Catenicus reflects on the choice to submit to the Hierarchy, recalling a conversation he once had with his sister Ysabel when they were children. They could not comprehend the coercion and social pressure to conform. Like Relucia, he believed the choice made all members of the Republic complicit in its oppression. He later acknowledges that this choice is far more complex than first imagined, partially in defense of his own choice to finally cede his Will, crossing a moral line he once vowed he would never cross.
“Will, we were taught over and over at the academy, is a gift. Not just in the sense that it is something good and wondrous, but that it is literally a gift: it can only ever be given, never taken.
[…] Like any power, it can be coerced. Fought for. Demanded. Requested under false pretences. But in the end, it is always the giving that is the important part. It can be reluctant. It can be because it is expected, pressured. It can even be a last resort against death itself.
The reasons never matter. It is always a choice being made. Always a personal responsibility.”
In contrast with the previous passage, Catenicus here concludes that no amount of coercion or fear removes each person’s responsibility to make the choice. This statement contributes significantly to Catenicus’s beliefs about the line between choice and complicity, laying the weight of responsibility on each person to refuse to be complicit in the system, despite the pressure they face.
“She finally turns to glare at me. Her eyes glisten. Her voice is ice. ‘He’s dead, Catenicus, and you are using my father’s grief to get revenge for it. You may be a hero. But what is the point of heroes if they don’t save the ones you love?’”
Livia demonstrates an instant dislike for Catenicus because she blames him for Callidus’s death. She asks an important and difficult question about the role of heroes and The Moral Ambiguity of Sacrifice. Her question suggests that the self-sacrifice of heroes is meaningless if it cannot save one’s friends and loved ones.
“But Ahmose is not like the Overseers or the Gleaners. He is not a mindless tool of Ka. And as Eidhin would say, there has to be a line.”
Just as Catenicus reflects on his moral line, Siamun—his counterpart in the world of Obiteum—also thinks about the line he will not cross. While Catenicus crosses his moral line when he cedes his Will, Siamun’s line pertains to his ability to co-opt a iunctus, which he refuses to do to Ahmose no matter how expedient it might be in some circumstances. He later crosses this line, but only with Ahmose’s permission. This line also reflects Siamun’s feelings of friendship for Ahmose, and Ahmose’s trust in him.
“I do believe her. I believe her and I forgive her and I know that I cannot fault her for her secrets; mine are greater and deeper by far. But nor can I trust her. Not fully. Not ever, anymore. My parents were right. Love requires more. Anything less is a self-deception, a dream from which I’ll inevitably be woken.”
Following Emissa’s explanation for her actions during the Iudicium, Catenicus decides that he believes her story but still cannot trust her. This moment highlights the paramount importance of trust in a relationship, thus contributing to the theme of The Necessity of Trust and Friendship. He believes that without full trust, in both directions, a relationship will not survive.
“One of the great Styrecian philosophers once argued that the concept of home is, at its core, about safety. That no matter how familiar you may become with a place, no matter how long it is your abode—if it ever loses its sense of comfort, you can no longer truly call it by that name.
I cannot describe what I feel as the Transvect approaches the lush green hills of Solivagus. I was here for a year. I left only four months ago. It is as familiar a place as I have ever been, outside of Suus.
But this was never a home.”
The narrative explores thoughts and feelings about home at several points. Here, Catenicus thinks about the argument that a place can only be considered home if one feels comfort and safety within it, which is why he never thought of Solivagus as home despite living there for a year. Deaglan echoes this sentiment when he feels at home in Luceum despite only living there for several months.
“‘But it wasn’t the same.’ I keep my eyes on the path ahead. I’ve thought about it too. ‘Wasn’t hopeless. We had choices.’
‘We had choices,’ she agrees quietly.”
Catenicus and Aequa compare the feelings of terror they felt during the naumachia attack—a climactic event in The Will of the Many—to what they felt during the Iudicium attack. They agree that the naumachia was far worse because they had no power and no options then, whereas during the Iudicium, they had more training and knowledge, and therefore more choice to influence their outcomes. This recalls the novel’s opening lines, as the version of Vis in Obiteum defines fear as resulting from a lack of control.
“For all the horrors I have seen, for all the dangers I have faced, I have never taken another life before. Not truly. As much as I felt the weight of what happened with Estevan at the naumachia, and as much as I may have been responsible for his death, some part of me has always known that it was Estevan himself who made that final decision.”
Deaglan considers a complex idea of culpability following the fight with the assailants at Loch Treanala, when he claims to have killed someone for the first time. He concludes that he was not to blame for Estevan’s death at the naumachia, because Estevan actively chose the actions that forced Vis to kill him. The conscious choice to kill is one of the moral lines that each version of Vis struggles with. Deaglan is the first to actively cross it.
“It has been almost five years since I have been honest about who I am. Five years since I wasn’t hiding something. I am almost lost without the need to lie.
When I finish, Conor shifts. Comes to sit beside me and puts an arm around my shoulder.
‘You are here now,’ he says softly. ‘We are all with you, brother.’
Seana smiles. Tara and Fearghus nod.
And I know I am home.”
Deaglan tells the full truth to his new friends at Loch Treanala, including everything about his past and how he arrived there. He tells them things he has not even told his closest friends in Res. This moment highlights The Necessity of Trust and Friendship and echoes earlier thoughts about home. He feels a sense of belonging and safety at Loch Treanala that he never felt at the Academy.
“‘Evil?’ Relucia gives a bitter chuckle. ‘He was placed in an impossible position. Condemn his entire family to become Octavii, or sacrifice one of them for hope. His evil wasn’t taking three years of my life, Vis. It was being part of a system which could demand it.’”
In sharing a story about her father placing her in a Sapper for three years to pay off debts, Relucia shares one argument about The Tension Between Choice and Circumstance. She argues that her father’s action is less evil than his choice to be complicit in the Republic that expects such actions in the first place. Once he chose to participate in that system—effectively ceding his will—he lost the ability to choose. She thus argues that everyone who submits to such a system is evil whether they benefit from it personally or not.
“You act as though we’re enemies, but you want to protect others from our fate as much as I do. And you may not want to do it with violence, but…gods. What other choice do we have, now? We can spout a lifetime of words and they will echo and fade, and history will not remember a single one. I don’t like it either but when power is so entrenched, so impossibly distant, blood becomes the only possible currency of change.”
Following her comment about complicity in a system, Relucia then immediately claims that the Anguis have no choice but to use violence. She argues that violence is the only option in resistance, thus choosing to compromise one’s moral principles against murder is better than choosing complicity in an oppressive system.
He wants the hunt.
I can think of only one other reason for that.
‘I’m bait.’ But not for anyone in Caten, surely. Vek. ‘You’re trying to draw out the man who’s going to cause the Cataclysm, aren’t you. You’re trying to draw out Ka.’”
“A society cannot make a man a monster, Diago. But it can give him the excuse to become one.”
The meeting between Deaglan and Cristoval provides important clues to the plot and themes. Deaglan finally learns what his counterparts already know about the Concurrence and Synchronism. More importantly, however, Cristoval also makes an argument about choice and morality that echoes Catenicus’s reflection that societal pressure does not remove the responsibility of individual choice.
“He lays a hand on my shoulder. ‘This is all to say, Son—it has to be you. You. Not just because you find yourself in this situation, not just because you are lucky. But because you are one of the very few who could. You have always been a marvel. And that gift, that talent, isn’t costless.’”
In response to Deaglan’s complaint that it is merely bad luck that has placed him in conflict with the Concurrence, Cristoval says that the real bad luck is seeing injustice and not having the power to do anything about it. By contrast, Deaglan is one of few with the knowledge, power, and skill to do something. He therefore also has the responsibility, which will require sacrifice on his part. Though the novel frequently explores The Moral Ambiguity of Sacrifice, this conversation presents Deaglan’s sacrifice as an act of moral clarity.
“Baine thinks sombrely.
‘We do not stop learning when we get older,’ he eventually tells me. ‘“Know your line.” It is good advice for a son. For a man, even. But for a father?’ He leans forward. ‘To protect our sons, Catenicus, there is no line we will not cross.’”
Baine reflects on the symbol of the line, which he taught to his son but now contradicts. He complicates The Tension Between Choice and Circumstance by arguing that some situations require moving or ignoring the moral line they once defended. Specifically, a father’s duty to protect their children supersedes all other boundaries, an idea embodied not only by Baine, but also by Vis’s father and even Decimus.
“‘Eidhin trusts you, in a way I did not think he would ever be able to again. I protected my son, with what I did—but I broke him, too. And as much as I wish to lay the blame at the feet of the Republic, it was not their duty to keep him whole. It was mine.’ He swallows. The admission hard. ‘That trust is a delicate thing, now, no matter how it might seem to you. As fragile as glass. If you break it, you break him all over again. Maybe forever, this time. I know I already ask the impossible, but I ask for one more miracle. Help him without betraying him. Save my son without destroying his desire to be saved.’”
Baine argues that trust is fragile and easily broken. More crucially, one’s trust is vital for survival, as it impacts one’s willingness or desire to be saved or to persevere in the face of tragedy. This echoes Catenicus’s earlier reflection on the necessity of trust for the survival of friendships. The irony here is that Catenicus has already injured Eidhin’s trust by keeping so many secrets, a mistake he will need to fix to save Eidhin.
“The door solidifies, freezes in time for just an instant before it swings away from my touch. Immediately, the wild, frantic fuzzing around it begins again.
I wait, heart pounding, not sure what to make of it. But nothing happens. I am alive. Unharmed. I step inside.”
The symbolism of doorways occurs throughout the novel. This doorway, the gold mutalis door in Qabr, is the most significant example, as it requires Siamun to push past his fear and trauma from the naumachia, and to actively choose destruction. He has avoided this door for most of the narrative but must cross this doorway to claim the weapons he needs to kill Ka.
“‘People value only one thing now, and it is the same thing they have always valued. What is they say, again? The needs of the many will always be loud.’ He leans forward. Hooked nose inches from mine. ‘But in the end, it is only the strength of the few that matters.’”
After Decimus brutally murders Aequa, he taunts Catenicus by claiming no one will care about his actions. He argues that the chaos of civil war has revealed the unspoken truth that people only care about power. His assertion that strength is more important than anything else is a turning point in Catenicus’s character arc and in the plot, as it drives Catenicus toward his negotiation with Ka.
“I never said I had the right, Diago. […] Just the responsibility.”
Relucia argues that it is sometimes necessary to sacrifice some lives in order to save others in the future. Her statement articulates The Moral Ambiguity of Sacrifice, as she argues that those with the power have the responsibility to sacrifice others for the sake of a greater victory. She unknowingly echoes Ka’s similar argument in the final chapter, both of which try to justify mass murderer.
“No. I told myself I had no choice, but I did. That’s the point. I should have drawn my line long ago.”
Previously, Catenicus has defended many of his actions by claiming he had no choice, having been forced or manipulated into situations by the Anguis and others. Now, while trying to convince Eidhin to make a difficult choice, he admits that he was merely lying to himself and should have made the choice to stop. This admission is a turning point in his character arc, as he accepts that he is responsible for the current bloodshed and must do what he can to stop it, even if that means negotiating with Ka.
“‘No. That is means, not purpose.’ The dark shape shifts. ‘More than nine in every ten dead, in this world. It is a horror and heartbreak that cannot be explained in numbers or words. But that sacrifice is to save the one in ten. It is to prevent the obliteration of two worlds, and the enslavement of whichever remains.’ A pause. ‘And as a few hours ago, you are now the only man alive who can fulfill that purpose. […] A choice of many lives, or all of them, Catenicus. That will be your burden now.’”
The final chapter reveals several important pieces of information, while also contributing significantly to the themes of The Moral Ambiguity of Sacrifice and The Tension Between Choice and Circumstance. The man who claims to be Ka argues that the Cataclysm is a necessary sacrifice to save many others. He also reveals that Catenicus is now the only one who can make this choice, implying that the Siamun has successfully killed the version of Ka in Obiteum.
“‘The Concurrence have not brought you here.’ We both flinch and curse at the statement of the dead man in front, abrupt in the hollowness of the thin chasm. He turns to us, and I can suddenly see an awareness in his gaze that hasn’t been there since Caten. ‘They are the enemy. Humanity’s enemy, which I have fought my entire life. Do not conflate us.’”
Another crucial revelation in the final chapter is that Ka and the Concurrence are not the same, as Caeror and Veridius have long believed. The Concurrence is, rather, a system of linked iunctii that act autonomously and are trying to enslave all three worlds. Ka fights this system, using the Cataclysm to keep it at bay. This plot twist is not fully addressed, leaving questions to be answered in the next installment of the series.
“I accept this may seem abhorrent, but understand—that is a sacrifice that men like you and I must inevitably make. Instead of the easy gift of our lives, we must suffer the hundred little deaths of self in order to protect this world. Not because what we do is good, but because good will no longer exist if we do not.”
Ka articulates one understanding of The Moral Ambiguity of Sacrifice. With the phrase “men like you and I” he draws an equivalence between himself and Vis, suggesting that both share an extraordinary degree of power and thus the responsibility that comes with it. His self-justifying argument is that by killing and enslaving thousands, he has sacrificed his moral identity for the greater good.



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