Penumbra

by Dan Ackerman

  He looked around the office a while longer.

  “Did Your Eminence require anything else?” Rhys asked.

  Arden poked him in the ribs. He didn’t know why Rhys’s formality bothered him so much. It shouldn’t have. It should have bothered him when he showed those subtle bits of insolence. Maybe he just didn’t like him being so formal in front of Mace. The juxtaposition did feel uncomfortable. “Call me Arden for once.”

  “I don’t think I can,” Rhys answered softly with his eyes on the ground.

  “Oh, Ardi, don’t be weird,” Mace scolded. To Rhys, he said, “He gets a little funny sometimes, don’t take it personally.”

  “Very rude, Mr. Baker,” Arden scolded.

  Mace rolled his eyes. “You didn’t come down here to hang around all day.”

  “I have lunch with Cathie later.” Cathie and, for some awful reason, Bull. Arden didn’t plan on staying long.

  Mace nodded.

  Arden glanced at the time. He was, actually, already running late. To Rhys, he said, “Have someone get me a shot of Twelve before I go. I’m going to need it.”

  Rhys hesitated but went anyway. He must have assumed Arden had taken one with breakfast, too, which Arden had.

  He needed something to get him through this lunch. He’d agreed to it before he’d known Bull would be there.

  Rhys took a while to bring him the Twelve and when he did, it was only half full.

  Arden eyed it, and Rhys, with suspicion.

  Mace cleared his throat. He’d personally witnessed Arden have a full-blown shitfit over not being brought exactly what he’d asked for, especially when it came to formulas.

  Arden reflected on those moments with embarrassment as he took the shot Rhys offered him. “What happened?”

  “I spilled it, Your Eminence, I’m sorry. I can get you another if you like,” Rhys said with all the deference and sorrow in the world.

  Not a drop on the glass or tray to indicate a spill. And, not to mention, even if Rhys had actually spilled it, he knew better to bring a peer anything less than what they’d requested.

  “Ardi,” Mace began shakily. “I’m sure he’ll—”

  Arden held up a hand and threw back the shot. “I’m not the same sort of mess I was then, Mace, don’t worry.”

  Mace showed his teeth, but it was guilt and nerves and second-hand embarrassment, not a smile.

  “I’ll check in later,” Arden assured them. He hugged Mace goodbye and poked Rhys again on his way out.

  Rhys’s face barely changed, but it changed all the same.

  Arden grinned at him. His legs felt weak and not just because he thought Rhys was handsome. He couldn’t ask Mace to come with him, not in a thousand years, so he said, “Rhys, walk with me.”

  “Of course, Your Eminence.”

  They made it out of the bay before Arden had to reach out for Rhys to steady himself. Feebly, he said, “Good thing you spilled half of it.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Eminence.”

  “Just help me walk.”

  He’d made thralls help him walk before, sometimes even made them carry him, so nothing should have felt strange about leaning against Rhys like this.

  “Where are we going?”

  “This place called Mint, it’s off Curie’s Esplanade,” Arden said. “I just need help getting there. It will wear off by the time lunch is over.”

  “Whatever you need, Your Eminence.”

  Warmth and calm filled him up. He nestled his face against Rhys’s shirt. “Let’s skip the stairs today.”

  “Wise choice, Your Eminence.”

  “Arden.”

  “No, I’m Rhys.”

  Arden giggled. “You’re really funny sometimes, Rhys.”

  “I do my best to amuse when it seems appropriate.” He shifted his grip on Arden.

  Half-way through their walk, the Twelve settled and Arden could move on his own again. He leaned on Rhys a little longer than strictly necessary.

  By the time they reached Mint, Arden could mostly control his limbs and his emotions. He straightened his clothes and asked, “How do I look?”

  “Very well, Your Eminence.”

  “Be honest.”

  “You look high.”

  “Well, I am, so that’s probably good.” Arden flashed him a smile. “Good luck in Hydroponics Three. Did I ever say that?”

  “No.”

  Arden patted his arm, then turned away to walk inside the restaurant.

  He saw Cathie and Bull immediately but stopped to talk to a few people that he wanted to see marginally more than he wanted to see Bull. When he did make his way to the table, Cathie threw her arms around him.

  “Oh, we thought you weren’t coming!”

  “No, no, I just, I got caught up in one of the bays,” he lied as he sunk into her embrace. He badly wanted to stay there. He tightened his arms, which made him feel better until he remembered why he felt so awful about being here.

  He spied Bull over her shoulder.

  He stepped out of her arms. “You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

  “Don’t be silly, Ardi, of course we waited for you.”

  “I told you to order,” Bull said.

  A thrall appeared to take their orders as soon as Arden’s ass hit the chair.

  “Nice what kind of service being Autarch gets you,” Bull mentioned.

  Arden bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “The position has one or two perks,” he agreed as amiably as he could.

  He snagged a piece of bread and shoved a piece in his mouth, then shredded the rest of it over a plate as he waited for someone to say something.

  Cathie started to talk about her ladies’ club project, which had something to do with getting presents for disadvantaged children on Giving Day.

  Arden ate another piece of bread. “Uh. What children?” he asked.

  “Some of the poor little dears whose parents have had a hard year. So many businesses are…temporarily closed.”

  Arden snorted and slid down in his chair. “Those children.”

  “What else did you think I meant?”

  He had thought she meant awful little urchins like Linley. “I thought you meant getting the ugly ones surgery.”

  “Arden, that’s so bad!” she scolded.

  “You’re right, sometimes the ugly ones grow up okay-looking. Better to wait.” He looked at Bull. “Maybe start one for disadvantaged adults. Some of them really could use work.”

  Bull huffed and crossed his arms. He was good-looking, in a meaty sort of way that appealed to certain people.

  Arden’s eyes found the pale, circular scar on Bull’s arm. His heart sped up and he ate more bread as if that would help.

  “Will you come visit my ladies’ club?” Cathie asked. “I know you’ll be a good influence on them.”

  “Will I?”

  “You’ve been so charitable lately. It will impress the importance of it on them,” Cathie said.

  “What charity?”

  “Oh, well, just…how you’ve been with that thrall. Going above and beyond, really. And now Raleigh’s family will be so put upon,” Cathie said. “It’s only right…”

  Arden tried to interpret what she’d said and figure out how what he’d done in Hydroponics Three could count as charity. It took more than a few minutes, so he gave up. “I don’t know, send me a message. I might be busy.”

  “You should make time. You might find someone, too.”

  Arden wrinkled his nose. He liked Cathie, but he’d met her friends and didn’t think they held anything for him romantically.

  Or sexually. His taste in women got finicky.

  “Like I said, message me, I’ll try to make time.”

  She put her hand over his. “I hope so. They’ll be thrilled.”

  “I’m sure they will be,” Bull said.

  “What about you, Bull? Any fancy clubs that need special guests?” Arden asked.

  “I don’t think you’d be inter
ested,” Bull said.

  Cathie said, “Bull’s taken up this new sport, uh, cross…crossby?”

  “It’s a combination of two old Terran sports,” Bull explained. Everything he said to Arden seemed to come out through clenched teeth.

  “Fascinating. Tell me more,” Arden encouraged flatly.

  He fantasized about assorted other things while Bull talked about a sport that sounded irrationally dangerous. Eventually, that coupled with the Twelve he’d taken started to make him, well, not exactly drowsy, but languid and cozy. He felt that way until Bull cleared his throat, then grunted.

  Then it got hard to ignore what had happened.

  He made himself swallow a few more bites of food. This much Twelve on an empty stomach wouldn’t do him any good.

  “How’s your soup?” Cathie asked.

  “Good,” he said with the realization that this was soup and not just a dish of pasta unusually light on pasta and heavy on sauce.

  “You’re looking at it kind of funny,” Cathie pointed out gently.

  “Uh. I’m.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m a little warm.”

  “Are you alright?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Yeah. I’m fine.” He took a few more bites and dredged a piece of bread through the soup. “Are you still in that book club?”

  Cathie laughed, assured him she was, and told an amusing story about the last book club meeting.

  After lunch, Arden went to visit his uncle, Mama’s brother Winslow. He was old, older than Mama by about twenty years. It made him a little doddering, but he was a sweet, jolly little man. He always gave Arden sweets, which made him feel like a little boy.

  He let himself into Winslow’s apartment and called, “Winnie?”

  He got no answer and a horrible, cold fear sliced through him.

  “Winnie!” he demanded.

  A round face framed by white curls peeked out from the bedroom. “Oh, Arden, I thought I heard someone hollering. Let yourself in, why don’t you?”

  Arden scowled. “I’m Autarch. I don’t have to knock.”

  Winslow secured a housecoat around himself. “What can I do for you this afternoon?”

  Arden shrugged. “Aren’t I allowed to visit?”

  “Of course you are, of course you are.” Winslow shuffled over to a side table, picked up a lacquered wooden bowl, and shuffled over to Arden with it proffered.

  Arden took a candy.

  “Come have a seat.” Winslow replaced the bowl and went to a stuffed chair.

  Arden seated himself on a similarly plump couch. “How’ve you been?”

  “Oh, you know,” Winslow began and meandered into a vague but lengthy description of his last two weeks, which was that last time that Arden had visited him.

  After that he told a few stories from Arden’s childhood, asking him if he remembered things and filling in the details Arden couldn’t. From there, he moved into his own youth and told Arden about the girl he’d somehow almost married.

  Arden had heard all these stories before, but he liked their familiarity and the warmth with which Winslow told them.

  Finally, Winslow started to yawn and start talking about a nap. He stretched.

  “Alright, Winnie, I won’t keep you anymore.”

  Winslow offered him another candy and hugged him long and tight. He patted his back and said, “Come back anytime.”

  “Have a nice nap, Winnie.” Arden kissed the top of the old man’s fluffy curls. “Love you.”

  “Oh, you too, you too.”

  Arden retreated to his chambers for a nap of his own. He really shouldn’t have had that much Twelve, because he napped until the middle of the night. He did have some lovely dreams, soft, pillowy ones that made him want to stay in bed for another day.

  It took Rhys and Mace, but mostly Rhys, Arden assumed, three weeks to sort out the production issues in Hydroponics Three and Four. Some of it had to do with the new workers Arden had transferred to their bay, a lot more of it seemed to do with the fact that the thralls weren’t too afraid to sneeze anymore.

  Those bays still lagged behind their counterparts to some degree, but Arden deemed that acceptable given what Mace had inherited and the short time they’d had to implement changes.

  He invited the two of them to his chamber to celebrate.

  Separately of course.

  He had different things to tell both of them.

  He lavished Mace with praise and served him bubbly drinks that tickled their noses and made them giggle like they were teenagers again. He asked him to keep doing exactly what he was doing and told him that Rhys would leave at the end of the week.

  “And I really like your haircut!” Arden insisted for the third time.

  He might have had too much to drink.

  Mace touched his hair, now much shortened and parted to the side. “I thought it looked a little more professional. Maybe if I look like I know what I’m doing…” He chuckled.

  “You pull it off.” He almost reached out to touch Mace’s hair. He could have gotten away with it. They were friends and Arden was Autarch. He could have gotten away with anything he wanted, though they might not have been friends afterward. Instead, he grabbed Mace’s hand. “I’m proud of you.”

  Mace grinned. “I know, Ardi, you told me four times already.” He set down a half-full drink. “I, uh.” He glanced at the time.

  “You have somewhere to be?”

  “I…” He blushed. “I sort of have a date.”

  Arden squealed then covered his mouth. “With who!”

  “Lourdes Guzman.”

  “No, oh, she’s so pretty!”

  Mace nodded his agreement.

  “Didn’t she just get divorced?”

  “A few months ago.”

  “Mason!” he scolded.

  Mace shrugged. “We’ve always been, uh, fond of each other.”

  Arden gave him a push. “Then go, fuck, what are you doing here with me?”

  Mace hugged him before he left.

  Arden waited about five minutes, slugged back the rest of Mace’s drink, then buzzed for Rhys. He’d expected Mace to stay a little longer.

  He poured himself another drink while he waited and poured one for Rhys as well.

  He stared at the drink and reconsidered.

  He’d taken a little bit of flack recently for this whole business with Rhys. All the struggling supervisors had gotten touchy, Raleigh’s friends and family had been cool, and the Council had outright hated what they’d done.

  They hadn’t even cared when he’d shown them the increase in productivity. They didn’t care about eggplants unless theirs came out cooked wrong.

  In fairness, badly cooked eggplant tasted disgusting.

  Rhys came in and gave a small bow.

  Arden snorted. “So fucking formal all the time.”

  “I apologize, Your Eminence.”

  Rhys had acted strangely the past few weeks, too. Skittish, almost, or worried about something. He’d declined to tell Arden about it and Arden had only asked once. If Rhys didn’t want to tell him and could promise it wasn’t about work, then Arden wouldn’t press the issue.

  “Come sit.”

  Rhys sat and awkwardly took the drink Arden handed to him.

  “You did a nice job this month.”

  “H-Three and H-Four have good projections for the quarter.”

  Arden tapped Rhys’s drink. “It’s good.”

  Rhys took a sip.

  Arden stretched out on the couch and nestled into the pillows. “Don’t you feel excited?”

  “Of course.”

  “You don’t seem like you feel excited.”

  “Your Eminence?”

  Arden pushed himself up and sighed. “Mace is excited about it,” he pouted.

  “Supervisor Baker will get credit for revitalizing a years-long failure. He has every reason to be excited.”

  Arden felt a smile grow on his face. He sipped his drink, then set it down. He scoote
d a little close to Rhys. “Are you jealous?”

  Rhys took an enormous swallow of his drink and winced, either at the bubbles or the taste.

  “Rhys, are you mad at me?”

  “Of course not, Your Eminence.”

  A lie, plain as the nose on his face. Arden grinned and pushed a little harder. “Then why are you so grumpy?”

  “Why the fuck do you care!”

  Arden’s stomach dropped and his heart tightened. He stared at Rhys, then grinned. He forgot about the conversation he’d meant to have.

  Rhys looked horrified.

  Arden moved in to wrap himself around Rhys. A thrall couldn’t have given a stronger come-on, not even if he’d stripped naked and crawled into bed with Arden.

  Rhys put his hands on Arden’s shoulders. “No.” Not defiant, not pleading. Just firm. Sincere.

  “No?” Arden asked. He settled back a little.

  “No.”

  Arden sat back all the way. “Okay.” There wasn’t anything else to say.

  Rhys swallowed. “You own me.”

  “I own everything,” Arden pointed out. Rhys didn’t look in the mood to hear about the technical differences between indenture and slavery.

  “I can’t do this if you own me.”

  “Oh.” Arden rubbed his nose. He’d drank too much to figure out what Rhys was angling at. “So…”

  Rhys glanced at the drink he’d swallowed as though he suspected it of something.

  “They’re strong but not strong enough to make you say that after one drink,” Arden told him. “Three or four is when we get into unexpected outbursts.”

  Rhys rubbed his mouth.

  “So…what exactly are you asking me for, Rhys?” Arden asked. He honestly had no idea, but he did want to know where this would go. He could give Rhys anything he wanted as long as it existed on Eden.

  Rhys studied him. Cautiously, he proposed, “Clear my debt.”

  Arden took a few seconds to consider it. He slugged back the rest of his drink, shrugged, and said, “Okay.”

  He had thousands of thralls and four generations of their slow, steady trickle of attempts to pay back his family. Peers rented the thralls from Arden and what they earned went towards their debt, minus their rent and provisions. Rhys’s debt made no difference to him.