by Clare London
“Will they… couple with me?”
I tried to see if he were concerned at this, or accepting. Remainders coupled with both men and women equally, unlike the strict hierarchy of the Household. The Mistresses tolerated this, as it kept the Remainder population peaceable. “They may, one day. If you want. However, they can’t touch you as a Bronzeman. It’s forbidden, on pain of death. When you become a Silver, they can couple with you, but only if you agree. You have the same rights as they do then.”
Dax stared at me, his brows furrowed. “And as a Gold Warrior, sir, like you? What’s the purpose of your Devotions?”
Like me, he’d said. Like I was someone of another world. Suddenly I felt my position most keenly, and I answered too abruptly. “My Devotions have changed as well. I no longer need to provide either pleasure or breeding, though it isn’t unheard-of for a Gold Warrior to contribute in those ways. What’s important for me is to offer sound advice and support to the Mistress. To plan her campaigns, to protect her city wherever it’s needed, and to train and control her soldiers.”
“And that’s all of it, then.” I could see him musing on this. “All the life as a soldier. Duty, devotion, and death.”
“I would say service and satisfaction!” I retorted. His gaze was still on me, his chest heaving slightly under his tunic as he breathed carefully, concentrating on understanding. I tried to put all my enthusiasm and pride into my voice. “It’s a fine career for you to aspire to. With the help of the Devotions, your own hard work, and the support of your Mistress, you can achieve the highest rank.”
It was as if he’d stopped listening, even as I started talking.
“So it’s her you care about, sir? Do you love her?”
I blanched at the naivety of the boy. It was close to blasphemy, and I wondered what they taught children now in the Central School, that Dax could speak so rudely. Or perhaps the Remainder society he’d grown up in had corrupted him. I’d speak to the Gold Warrior at the House of Schooling and maybe also at the House of Maintenance.
“It’s not a question of loving her, Dax. That’s a word the younger Ladies use, just in fun, in sexual play with their men. It’s not something that men consider, and it’s not something soldiers are required for. I’m at her call, and that’s what I’m committed to. It’s an honor that she even notices me, that she gives me some of her time.”
Dax caught in a sharp breath. His eyes narrowed as if he disapproved of something.
Suddenly angry, I wanted to take his shoulders and shake him. “Why do you look like that, boy?”
He didn’t seem intimidated, but glared back at me. Again, the challenge—the lack of respect! It infuriated me, yet it excited me as well somehow.
“You may talk freely, Dax. I can’t say I’ll give you that opportunity again, but I’ll not hold it against you. You show strong intelligence and much promise. It’s critical that you understand your position now, before you take a false step.”
He shook his head slightly. His skin looked mottled, as if it didn’t know whether to flush from anger or go pale with fear of me. I looked down and saw that I’d taken hold of him. I gripped his wrist, though he made no move to pull away.
“I look at you, sir, and I see a strong, passionate man,” he said. “They tell me you’re the best Gold Warrior here, possibly in all the city. That you’re harsh but fair, and your loyalty to the city and your ferocity in battle are the finest. But then I hear such passive speech, about how you’re owned by the city, and the Mistress, and you do only your duty. It’s confusing to me, that’s all.”
I released his hand at once and rose abruptly. This was too much. I’d allowed myself to be distracted, and this was my punishment. “I can have you whipped again for that.”
“I know you can,” he said steadily. His face flushed darkly, and he rubbed the fingers of his other hand on the wrist I’d been holding. “Though that wouldn’t have stopped me saying it, even if you call me stupid. You won’t be the first.” His eyes turned up to me, and the expression was pleading. “I want to learn, sir! I want to talk to those who have intelligence, who have knowledge, who can tell me the way of things here. It’s all so different.”
“You can learn that from anyone in your Guard.” My words were hard and clipped short. “You have designated mentors among the Silver Captains.”
“You, sir.” His chin was set stubbornly. “I want to learn from you. The best. The finest.”
“Why me, Dax?” I didn’t know why I asked. Conversation with this boy was becoming high on my list of uncomfortable duties.
“I trust you, sir.”
His eyes were wide and the expression as dark as the deep waters in the courtyard well. He looked as young as his age, yet as old as Bernos and his like.
“I don’t understand you, Dax.” I sighed. I was almost afraid to ask more, but I did. There was some kind of madness in me this morning. “Your questions of me… do I assume you have someone, boy? Someone or something you think of beyond your duty?”
“No,” he said quickly. “You misunderstand, sir. I’ve explained myself badly. Please forget I spoke.”
That was one thing I couldn’t do, but I wouldn’t let the boy know that either. “I’m sorry, Dax, if I was too harsh with you. I want you to succeed and I’m afraid such ideas and talk will only antagonize the Guard. There are no personal relationships, you see, beyond loyal soldier and friend—”
He interrupted me again. “I apologize, sir. I never meant to be disrespectful.”
I laughed then, a startling sound in the quiet room. “And I believe you, boy. But that doesn’t hide the fact that you are, that there’s something in your every word and deed that disturbs me.”
He gazed back at me, and now there was a grin on his face. “Your smile, sir. It’s good! I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you laugh like that. If such amusement is the result of disturbing you, perhaps it’s worth it.”
We still sat in the Hall. I was uneasily aware of the duties awaiting me, yet no one had come to seek me out. And there was still so much to be learned from—and about—this strange boy.
“Dax, you speak all the time of being a Remainder—of your job there, that you were unhappy there. But why should you think of yourself like that? Surely you were in with all the other young men, from all backgrounds. The education is for all. The House of Schooling accepts all children. All young men may be put forward for Choosing.”
Dax bit back a harsh, involuntary laugh. “So you’re told, sir. Do you really believe that all the children of the city are educated equally? That they all have the same opportunities?”
I stared at him. But that was the Queen’s Rule. The children were to be schooled to a certain standard, and only when they were youths would they be put forward for Choosing, or passed onto service as a Remainder. There was no personal pride or shame in either destination; that was just the way it was.
Dax’s expression was a strange mixture of discomfort and irritation. “Why do you think so few Remainder boys come through to the Choosing? Why so few girls of Remainder stock ever take positions as Ladies? From its birth, a child’s bloodline is known from the brand on its arm. Household children are expected to go forward to service in a Household, albeit not their own. But Remainder children stay just as they are, forever. We’re already alienated, even at our birth, divided from the other children.”
“No.” I had no idea what else to say.
“Yes. Sir,” he replied. A painful sigh escaped him. His tone became more impassioned—he sounded almost distressed. “Listen to the name: Remainder! What does it mean to you? It means the people who are left behind, the people who are found wanting. Never the best, never the favored! They breed among themselves. They never improve their bloodline. They’re corralled further and further into the Remainder world. The children are taken from school as soon as they’re old enough to use machinery and tools, and their schooling interrupted or neglected completely. The women are used either for bree
ding new Remainder children or as workers like the men. They work their guts out for the city, and then they die for the city, old and tired and poor.” His eyes looked damp, as if he were close to tears, but from sadness or anger, I didn’t know. “That’s the world I wanted out of!” he spat out. “Do you know how difficult it was, to get put forward for the Choosing? To be seen—to be considered—to get the Negotiator to see beyond my brand?”
I was appalled. I knew his speech was totally disrespectful, but I was more astonished by the content, by the deep feelings behind it. Was that really how it was?
“I’ve shocked you, sir. How long since you’ve been to see the Central School?” he asked, a little more calmly. He looked wary of my reaction.
“Not since I was taken from my own schooling to this Household.”
He nodded, as if that was what he expected. “Every year, life gets harder. We get less important.” He bowed his head, his hair swinging forward to hide his face. “We keep the city running. We are its veins. But we’re neither its brain nor its senses.” His sigh was soft now. “We’re nothing.”
We were both silent for a while. I was conscious of his gentle breathing beside me, his hands gradually unclenching. A thread of his white-blond hair caught the edge of my eye, as he raised his head again.
I took a deep breath. “You cannot speak this way to anyone else, Dax.”
“I know, sir,” he replied with the hint of a wry grin on his face. “I’ve learned that already, in the barracks. But thank you.”
“What for?”
“For allowing me to talk to you, for listening. For any time you’ve found for me during my training, for I know you have the whole barracks to look after. But since the day I arrived, since you spoke to us all….” He hesitated, and flushed. “I’ve admired you from that day on, sir.”
“I had you whipped.”
“I know, sir. I deserved it. It was your right to do that. I’m yours to train in whatever way you choose.”
I felt as if the ground shifted beneath me, unstable and unsteady. He seemed unnaturally close to me. I listened to the calm words in that firm young voice, and watched the set of his strong, muscular shoulders. “How has it been with the Mistress, Dax? Have you been called?”
“Yes, sir.” He met my gaze with complete composure. “Many times.” The flush seemed to have spread to his neck, and we could both hear noises outside the Hall that heralded the approach of servants to prepare the room for the next Devotions at midday. “May I go now, sir? I have a training session with Fremer and the heavier horses, and he dislikes lateness. Even if I tell him that I was talking with the Gold Warrior.”
It was something about his tone. Or maybe his attitude. Something slipped through the respectful words and shook me, time and again. I saw him in a totally different way from the other Bronzemen and kept being distracted by the man he was and what he was growing to be, rather than the soldier I currently commanded. Sometimes he made me angry, but then he’d delight me in equal measure. I was aware of everything about him: the movement of his body, the reflection of the morning light in his eyes, the occasional breeze through the Hall from the corridors outside, lifting that astonishing hair of his. It had been cut to a more reasonable length, of course, but its lack of color was still conspicuous. Still striking.
I wanted to ask him how it had been—his initiation into the world of women’s desires. Not that I wanted graphic details of any kind, but rather to know if he’d found her the kind and sensual Mistress I knew myself. I wanted to know he was content with his role there, at least.
What on earth did I want to know?
I watched Dax hurry back to his training, not understanding why I was so disturbed by our conversation. The boy just needed the proper guidance. He would have to conform to the training and lose his rebellious thoughts, and then he’d learn the true strength of service to the city.
He would learn! I was sure of that. I was determined he would.
But the disturbance remained.
Chapter Five
MISTRESS LUANA sat at her desk. Her countersignature was required on the latest capital projects, including the renovation of the stables roof, and significant repair at the public Remainder baths. I’d spent most of the previous night with her, and she’d allowed me to stay on in her quarters until the morning, when we both dressed and were ready for duty at an early hour. I stood at ease by the door and watched her read, carefully yet swiftly, making calculations on her papers. I saw her smile with pleasure, then purse her full lips with wry irritation at some incomplete submission. Her handwriting was bold and flowing, unlike many Ladies’, and individually small clutches of paper passed gradually from one side of the desk to the other. She listened to my report on the Guard, on the status of our weaponry, on the progress of the Bronzemen training. She made brief, intelligent comments, and in return I enjoyed seeing her skills at work. Breakfast had been brought for us both, though her secretary obviously disapproved of such latitude given to me, a mere soldier. As she left the food and took her leave of the Mistress, she looked both shocked and angry at my presence.
“I’m a scandal here,” I said gently and not without amusement. “I should have been sent back to my quarters after use.”
“Then I’d have the bother of calling you in again after breakfast, for your report!” My Mistress continued sorting the papers and notes on her desk. “I will send and call as I wish, Maen, as you know.”
“As I well know,” I murmured in agreement. I was rewarded by her bright, dark eyes darting up to sparkle at me.
“Maybe you are distracting,” she said slowly. Her smile was gentle, yet possessive. She was modestly dressed as she always was at work, in a long-sleeved, deep-hemmed silk gown, with a jerkin of smooth animal skin, and an intricately woven leather belt around her waist and hips. But her face was still flushed, and her hair required further arrangement. We’d woken an hour before her official duties began, and I’d spent the spare time between her legs, laughing and kissing as she moaned and gripped my hair at her moment of ecstasy. “Perhaps I could have asked my questions on the state of the stables from one of your reliable Silver Captains, or even one of the more promising Bronzemen.”
“Perhaps you could, Mistress,” I said calmly. “Any of them would consider it a great honor to be called on to help in your work, in however minor a way.”
She met my eyes with a challenge. “And talking of the Bronzemen, they seem very promising this year.” There was an edge to her voice that I couldn’t quite identify. “A couple are still rather immature, but the rest are excellent. Strong young men, full of energy and enthusiasm and a touching loyalty to your training.”
“I’m glad you find them pleasing,” I replied steadily. “I hope that none of them has given you any trouble, has misunderstood or failed in his duties.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Maen, is that a specific query? Or just your general caution? I rarely have problems with your recruits. You train them well. They may still be inexperienced, but at the moment, that’s their charm.”
“Their charm,” I repeated.
“That’s what I said.”
I wondered whether we were both talking about the same things. Of course, she would be concerned that the young men were pleasant companions in bed, as well as promising soldiers.
“And then there’s the boy Dax….” she began slowly, and this time I didn’t mistake the look in her eye. It was almost malicious. “That young man is very unusual. He has a singular attraction, most definitely, and an excellent look about him. I can only hope he’s as fertile as his body promises. But the pleasure is well hidden. He holds it inside himself and covers it with scowls and aggression—”
“Not toward you!” I let the protest escape me, rudely interrupting her.
“No, not to me,” she assured me. For a moment, her eyes flashed anger. “Don’t worry about that, for he’s a sharp one too. He learns quickly the proper way to behave with the Ladies. But, with
him, it never seems quite sincere enough. Though never enough to punish.”
I felt cold fear wash over my body. Punishment from the Guard was one thing, but a Lady’s displeasure could be far more devastating. I couldn’t help myself—I remembered Varden and his disgrace, his expulsion from the Household. I remembered his eyes, deep with sorrow, anger, and humiliation. I remembered a proud, brave soldier who’d been found wanting: I remembered a good friend. I’d never discovered what his sin had been to deserve such abandonment by everything that he’d fought for and protected with his life.
Mistress Luana was continuing. “Dax’s body is magnificent, Maen, though you’ll know that already from his time on the training ground. I can rely on the rigors and discipline of my Gold Warrior’s training to develop such a soft, boyish bud into a full, muscular branch of manhood, can’t I?” She seemed to realize I wasn’t fully concentrating, and her sharp words snapped me back to attention. “I was saying that he’s full of the deliciousness of a young boy, yet has the strength of a growing man. It’s a delight to have him in my bed!” Something made me blanch—I couldn’t have said what—and I prayed that my Mistress didn’t see my grimace.
She sighed, rather theatrically, and put down her papers. “And yet his coupling is cautious. As if he were afraid of letting go. As if he has part of his thoughts and passions elsewhere. Though I can assure you, if I had any stronger evidence of that, I would have asked you to beat it out of him before now. But I have kept him for myself. The Ladies can amuse themselves with the other Bronzemen. I’ll not pass Dax into the Household for a while longer.” She looked back at me, as if she expected a response. “He’s a challenge, Maen. For both of us.”