by Clare London
“You attacked him? Raised a hand to any of the other boys?”
“No!” He looked shocked. “Maybe I would have struck out at him, sir, but he caught me unawares with the bindings.” He lifted his arms behind his back, his shoulder muscles flexing with the effort. His brow creased with anger. “The filthy coward—”
“That’s enough!” I hissed. I drew my dagger and the boys behind me shifted uncomfortably. The blond boy stood his ground, but I saw his body tense. I reached behind him and sliced away the ropes binding his wrists, watching him move his arms back down to his sides. He winced a little with pain. I could see he wanted to massage his wrists, for the ropes had cut deeply. But he stayed still, bearing the discomfort in front of me. Despite my anger, I was impressed with his courage. He would indeed become a favorite—and maybe, one day, a brave Gold Warrior.
I turned to face the others. “Today you are boys!” My voice carried throughout the courtyard. “Today you are mine, to accept you into this Household, and to impress on you your duties and your responsibilities. But after tonight’s welcoming ceremony, you will be boys no longer. You will be Bronzemen of the House of the Exchequer!”
I started to walk slowly, in front of the line. “You think you know what this means. You think you’re special—you’re already favored. But let me tell you that everything you have a year from now, you will have earned. I will make you soldiers of the Mistress, and I will make you the best! You’ll work so hard on the training ground that your bodies will ache and a sword will seem heavier than the body of your sparring partner—and then I’ll make you carry both across the field to the barracks. You’ll learn to ride a horse as if it were an extension of your own body, until it hurts in the very bones of your ass to sit on its back, and yet you feel the loss of a limb when you dismount. You’ll learn to feel the arms you carry as a part of your body—you’ll value them as dearly as the prick between your legs—and at the end of your days, as far more precious! You’ll learn the strategy of battle, and understand what it means to follow your commander and support your Guard, at all times, exhausted or tired, awake or asleep. You’ll follow the daily Devotions, as we all do. You’ll learn what the city can do for you as a member of this Household—and you’ll learn what you can do for the city!”
I stopped; aware I had every boy’s rapt attention. “And so what else do you know about Bronzemen? You hear tales that not only are they soldiers, they’re lovers as well, eh?” A few eyes shifted nervously. “I told you I’ll make you soldiers of the Mistress, but she will make you servants of her Household. You have the duty of servicing the Household—of pleasing it—of offering it entertainment from the drudgery of daily life. You also have the honor of giving us the future children of this city, of enabling the Mistress and her Ladies to bring forth the new generation.” I could see the glint of excitement and zeal in their eyes. I’d seen this before, many times. To be a Bronzeman was a thrill beyond anything else.
My voice rose again. “But don’t think this makes your life any easier, nor more pleasant! This will be just another part of your duty, offering your body in the same way, entirely for the service of the city, either on the battleground or at a Lady’s demand. And the punishment for failure will be just the same!” I walked back past them, my gaze flicking deliberately up and down each boy’s body, noting the weaknesses, appraising potential strengths. “So you’ll return, exhausted and worn from the training ground, and you’ll find yourself called by the Mistress or one of her Ladies. Let me tell you now: she will not tolerate lateness, she will not tolerate filthiness, she will not tolerate inattention. You must always answer a call. There must never be any delay or any reluctance. Your sole purpose is to please your Lady. Your sole respect is for your Mistress.”
I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that the blond boy was also staring at me, listening carefully. I wasn’t quite sure what the expression was in his eyes; excitement of a different kind, I thought. “All of you, you belong to your Mistress now, and you’ll do whatever she asks. That’s not a request. That’s now your life! You will obey at any time. With no complaint. And when you’ve given service to the Lady who called you, you’ll return to the barracks, and I will likely put you on dawn duty just because I feel it’s character building. So you will learn to answer to me as well, with just as much punctuality, cleanliness, and your full attention. If at any time”—my voice was deceptively gentle now—“you displease my Mistress, she can have you whipped or punished in whatever way she chooses. Never doubt that! And it’s likely that I, or one of my Captains, will carry out that punishment.”
I stopped talking for a moment and shifted my sword as if to make it more comfortable on my hip. But I saw their gazes slide warily over my uniform, over my weapons. They saw my strength, and they probably saw a hard glint in my eye. A few of them murmured, a few nodded, as if they were already respectful of their role, already eager to respond to me as their trainer. I was pleased with this initial reaction.
My voice firmed again. “You’ll curse me. You’ll likely hate me. And then you’ll learn the ways of a soldier and of a man in the service of the city, and be proud to honor that. Remember that! We are all soldiers, the same as you. We’re all in the service of the city. We ask nothing more.”
Like a well-rehearsed chorus, my Captains cried the devotion. “Devotion to the city is everything. Service to the city is our reward!” The boys stared at them, eyes wide and chests heaving slightly with shallow breaths. A few managed to stutter out the devotion, or at least the final words of it. I nodded, pleased enough with the morning’s show of obedience. The rest of the day would be given over to settling in the new personnel, getting them clothes, measuring them for a set of arms, and feeding them up with a couple of good meals. They’d be shown the stables, where they’d help with the mucking out and then the cleaning of the barracks. It was important their first taste of life in the Household was one of obedience and an awareness of their obligatory duties, for this would become their life. Then, as the afternoon wore on, they’d be taken to the guest rooms, and washed and prepared for the evening feast.
There’d be other people to prepare them, then; other physical skills to be discussed, other sexual and sensual knowledge to be learned. My Mistress had hired one of the Instructors from the House of Physic, who had more knowledge of the human body than just its practical workings. He’d been a Bronzeman himself, and then a Silver Captain in the House of the Exchequer, albeit for a brief time and not in my Guard. We occasionally passed Captains to other roles within the House and Aza City itself. When specialist skills were found or an aptitude recognized, the men were retrained and moved out of the life of a soldier.
The Bronzemen wouldn’t all be called on their first night in the Household—but there’d be none left as virgins by the end of the week.
I looked again at the boys gazing around at the buildings, the walls and doors of the barracks, the Silver Captains, the show of arms. They were becoming more confident in their surroundings, fidgeting now—hungry, probably, and impatient to start their new lives. “Take the boys away, Fremer,” I ordered, and the slender, lithe Captain who worked so well and often beside Grien moved over to the line.
I turned to Grien, standing beside the driver who’d brought the boys. The man’s grip had wrung deep creases into his papers, but now I was ready to accept them. When I held out my hand, he flinched slightly, but passed them to me. “Now I will sign for receipt of your delivery,” I said. My voice was cold. “Grien—deduct ten credits for the injury suffered by one of the boys. I don’t expect there to be any complaint about it.” The man’s eyes narrowed, but when I took a step toward him, he paled. “I pay for our goods,” I said. “But not your abuse of them. Do you wish to take that to your Mistress?” The fear in his eyes told me he didn’t. He snatched his papers back and fled.
I walked back to stand at the edge of the yard with Fremer, watching the boys file past. I put out a hand, stopping the final one, th
e blond. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Dax,” he said. Just the single word. It was a sharp name—a Remainder name.
“Dax….” I said slowly, swallowing his continued disrespect toward me. Seemed the lesson had not yet been learned. I wondered how long it would take him to submit to the discipline of the Guard; I had not thought him stupid. “The driver was an ignorant fool, but you were no better. There will be far worse to face in your life than a few cruel words, and I expect you to remember your duties better than you have today. You’ll behave like the rest of the Bronzemen—you’ll earn your position with something other than good looks and a boy’s promise. Do you hear me?”
“But I’m not like the rest of them,” he said.
Beside me, Grien drew in a sharp breath. The remark was astonishingly insolent. I had no idea what possessed the boy to challenge me yet again. My hand was controlled, but it was fast—I slapped him, just once, across the head and hard enough to make him rock back on his heels, gasping. I had not held back my strength or my anger.
My words were harsh, spat out for him alone. “Tomorrow you’ll be a Bronzeman, though that gives you no other rights in the Household of your Mistress. But today you’re a loose-tongued, insubordinate child, and one who’s a guest of the garrison!” I grasped his shaking chin and forced his head up to look me in the eye. Tears of pain shone at the edges of his wide eyes. “Look at me, boy! I am in charge of that garrison. I am in charge of what happens to you now, not your liberal school tutors, not some coarse lackey, and least of all you, yourself. By tomorrow, you’ll learn you have no rights in any place except what you earn here—and you’ll show the appropriate gratitude for merely having a life that can give service.”
I shook him loose and turned to Grien. My throat was tight from anger and disgust. “For the troubles this child has caused and the insubordination, he will be punished.”
“Sir—” Grien began, almost as if he meant to question me. A look at my face dissuaded him.
“Thrash him, Grien. Five lashes only, for I’d not want him totally incapacitated for tonight’s attendance.”
Grien hesitated for a moment as the boy’s body slumped in front of me, trembling with shock. Then the Silver Captain stepped forward and took the boy’s arm.
“Do it now,” I said coldly. “We have plenty of other work today.”
BERNOS CAME across to the stables at noon. He came to view the two boys who, that night, would move into his barracks and begin their training with him tomorrow. I valued his friendship, for he’d been my mentor, and I was glad to see him. It was an isolating business sometimes, being a Gold Warrior. I still had Silver Captains as my companions, but there was no mistaking the change of attitude since my promotion; always the awareness I was in direct charge of them. I also had more dealings with my Mistress and the management of the Household, a role that took me away from company, rather than further into its comfort. But then, we weren’t in the Household to seek our own comfort.
Bernos understood all of this. He was a man like myself, who’d given continuously loyal service to our Mistress and to the city. He accompanied my Mistress on many occasions to the meetings of the Central Council, and was the very epitome of a successful and typical Gold Warrior. As far as I knew, he was no longer called to my Mistress’s rooms nor to any of the Ladies—he had no further coupling duties. He did have the companionship of a similarly equable Silver Captain called Lydre, however, and together they handled most of the administration and training of their Guard. I had no idea if they coupled or whether they were just of a similar mind. Bernos seemed perfectly content with both his lot and his life.
I’d always aspired to be just like Bernos, but on days like these, I felt I still struggled to achieve it. I wondered why the scene with the boy Dax had so unsettled me. I was almost ashamed of myself, though I couldn’t have explained why.
It seemed Bernos wanted to talk about more than the new intake. With my agreement, we went outside to the training yard, which was currently empty after the morning’s exercises. He indicated we should sit together on the stump of a fallen tree and he looked into my eyes with a seriousness that was sobering. “You’ve heard we may have a visit from the Royal Household?”
I nodded. “Do you have any idea what it’s about?”
He was in contact with a couple of other Silvers who had trained under him, only a year ago. The Royal Household had demanded additional soldiers for their Guard that season, and Bernos had sent them his best. Their allegiance was to another Household now, but I knew they still had a loyalty to their trainer, and messages passed between them occasionally.
His eyes looked tired—he was, indeed, one of our older soldiers, now nearly forty years old and the veteran of many battles with the Exiles on our planet. But I knew he was still strong, knew his will was always firm and true. “The Queen is nervous about the Exiles. They’re planning another attack, Maen. I know it. I don’t even need the spies to tell me there’s new unrest. I can feel it in my water and smell it in the dust that blows in through the city gate.”
“We’re well protected—”
“We’re sitting targets!” he thundered back at me, and I saw a couple of passing Captains look over in surprise.
“Watch your tone,” I warned, gently but firmly. This was my Guard and I couldn’t afford any unrest. “If you believe something other than the Queen’s Defense Bulletins, tell me.”
Bernos was agitated, but he reined in his excitement and lowered his voice. “It’s so much more than that, Maen, and you’re possibly the only other man who’d understand the signs. You were always my best student, always the brightest Silver Captain. And not just because of your military skills but also your intelligence and a wit you let loose far too rarely.”
“Tell me,” I repeated, simply enough. What made me believe it wouldn’t be simple at all?
“They grow stronger and smarter. Haven’t you noticed? Every attack is better planned, better resourced. They have increasing knowledge of the city and its operations. They find new entry points each time. They’re by no means the band of loose-living, degenerate failures we’re led to believe.”
“They’re Exiles.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince Bernos or myself. “People with no power, no strength to make enough of their own lives. Men who have failed to be of use to the city and women who cannot maintain control. Children born with unfortunate handicaps that give them little chance of survival.”
Bernos was staring at me. “I knew you were always loyal, as I am myself. But I wouldn’t credit you with naivety! It’s so much more than that, as you must know. You’re close to the Mistress, you mix with her Ladies on the Council. We’ve added steadily to the world of Exiles for many years, and the numbers are swelling with far more than nature’s misfits and weaklings. We have exiled political rivals. We’ve sent out soldiers who are strong and fierce but found to molest Bronzemen. We’ve sent out women who have the will of a Mistress but who persist in whoring themselves to the desires of men, for Devotions’ sake—”
“Hush.” I lifted a hand. “So what do you think is happening out there? The winters are freezing outside the city. There are few areas where soil will maintain crops or where wood and stone lend themselves to dwellings. They have no Devotions to keep them healthy, to extend their lives. What else could there be for them?”
Bernos sighed. “I think there’s far more to the planet than we imagine, Maen, and I don’t consider myself a traitor to think this way. Other Warriors think the same—that some Mistresses are aware of far more than the Queen’s pacifying Bulletins. The Exiles are a growing danger to us. We sit here in our city, smug within our man-made walls, and we watch their attacks at the gate. We kill some of them, we protect our population, and we return to our lives with no change to our strategies. But each time they grow in number or strength. Each time they send scouts to different parts of the city walls. We’ve always repelled them, but one day they’ll find an entrance t
hat isn’t guarded, that perhaps we don’t even know of ourselves. And they’ll enter the city and wreak havoc!”
“Ridiculous!” I frowned at him. “How could they, who have lived outside all their lives?”
“Listen to yourself, man,” he growled in reply. “You believe your own tales. What have I just said? We send people out who are intelligent and resourceful and have detailed knowledge of our ways. And we think they’re incapable of banding together and pooling that knowledge, to strike back at Aza City and our Queen.”
He looked over to the barracks where Lydre was waiting for him. The Captain had been standing there, watching us talk, perfectly patient to wait for his commander to finish. “Watch yourself, Maen,” Bernos urged in a low voice that would not carry any farther than my ears. “Prepare as best you can. The Mistress will want you near when the Queen’s party arrives. If you care both for the city and the Mistress, find out what you can, before we’re surprised and both our lives destroyed.”
He hauled himself to his feet and held out his hand to bid me farewell. Lydre appeared behind his shoulder—a respectful distance away, but still at his Gold Warrior’s command. Bernos turned his head to stare at his companion for a moment, and a slight smile teased at the edge of his mouth as if he saw a familiar pleasure there, in among his despondency.
I watched them walk casually away, side by side, at ease together. I found myself envying them whatever they had found, even though I had a vague uneasiness that they walked dangerously along the sharpest edge of the rules. I felt—very suddenly—afraid of the future.
THE EVENING feast had begun; we could hear the fireworks over at the Mistress’s quarters. All the boys had gone for bathing and dressing, and any exhaustion or bruises from the day’s work were forgotten in the excitement of going up to the center of the Household and meeting the Mistress and her Ladies. Some of the boys would be asked to stay that very first night—some might just be taken aside for a quick, joyful fondle. All of them would learn what else their role entailed, apart from my soldiering. Fremer had gone with them, along with other Captains, but we maintained the usual duty around the Household. For the rest of the Guard, it was the end of our military jurisdiction for the day. I’d taken the opportunity to sit for a while in the courtyard in front of one of the small evening fires, enjoying the mild weather.