When all are accounted for, he enters the room, closes the door behind him, and starts right in on the day’s lesson. Nobody is ever late or absent from the Taoiseach’s class. Not without prior consent from the Taoiseach or a note from the infirmary. And even then, he expects to be informed well in advance. Rumor is every season one person comes in tardy to a lesson early in the season—usually someone who has complete lack of respect for authority—and that one tardiness is all it takes for the Taoiseach to receive perfect attendance throughout the remainder of the season.
“Compromise.” He starts into his lesson. “The right and wrong moments to do so…”
Wonderful. There is proper etiquette for making decisions to benefit others. I slouch a bit in my seat, but not so much that he will notice.
He continues. “Are you willing to sacrifice something of value? For that is what you are doing when you compromise. If something you cherish, something you would not bend for, something you cannot live without was being taken from you in this compromise, would you do it? There is no correct answer, is there? For it is an equation of the greater good. That is what we would all like to think, but that is not how we all go about compromising. Is it? Compromise is a mold that takes a different form depending who is working it. You must, and I reinforce must, compromise based on the greater good and leave your selfish antics in the gutter. That is what I will be lecturing on today…” His eyes target me once again, then he proceeds with the lecture.
I find it hard to believe he understands what compromise is. He takes anything he wants. He frolics in the misery of others, looking down on us always. What does he know of sacrifice? He took my life away from me without compromise. He killed my parents. He took my sister. He murdered my best childhood mate. And he tore a chasm between me and my new best mate. I have nothing left to sacrifice except my own flesh, so what good is this lesson? It’s all delusional.
Following my dreadful Social Etiquette class is Intro to Regeneration. Thus far, I have mastered the physical tests but fallen short in understanding any of it. Supposedly this is a class I should breeze through, and although I’m told my talent is above average, I don’t have any of the knowledge as to why or how it is that I do what I do. Astor has been a great help with this topic, constantly encouraging me and pushing me to understand.
“Welcome, Elder. Welcome. Have a seat.” Master Backwater runs his lessons far more relaxed than the Taoiseach does. For starters, we don’t have to remove any clothing, and we can sit anywhere as long as we are not disruptive. It’s a needed comfort following the previous lesson.
All my classmates are several seasons younger than me because this is a first-season course, which is probably why his tolerance for poor manners is higher. The Taoiseach’s class is a third-season course, hence he expects the students to be properly trained in basic etiquette by the time he lectures them. Judging by how every other instructor runs their lessons, that likely isn’t what happens, though.
“Class, today we will discuss the limitations of regeneration. Now, you all know you cannot create life from nothing. You must have a substance that is alive and well. Whether that be a single cell, a seed, or a complex organism, it must be alive.”
My hand shoots into the air. I’m not typically one to speak out in a lecture. I typically struggle to absorb what’s already being presented and wouldn’t dare to add to it. But this is the perfect opportunity to get more information on what Astor cannot give me.
“Yes, Elder.”
“If all you need is a single cell to regenerate life, then are we capable of bringing someone back from the dead? Resurrection?”
Master Backwater smiles, and the entire room fills with snickers and whispers. “Elder, I think you know the answer to that question,” he replies politely.
“But if all you need is a single cell and you can regenerate from there, then it ought to be possible.”
“Challenging what is already known. I appreciate that, Elder. However, we cannot resurrect a conscience. That is where the problem lies. There is a possibility you may be able to bring the flesh back to life, but without that consciousness, it will rot and deteriorate.”
“How do you know the conscience leaves the body?”
“Elder, it is taboo what you are asking about. We do not choose life or death. Even if our talents were capable of such, it would not be acceptable. Let’s move on, shall we?”
Not true. There is no other explanation for what happened to Captain Crowbill. Is there? Maybe he wasn’t dead. His heart stopped beating. But does that mean he’s dead? By definition it does. Right? Maybe I ought to drop it. Nobody seems willing to carry on the conversation.
Up next is my Organics lesson, in which we learn about what objects have and don’t have the ability to be manipulated. It is a rather dull topic to me. Essentially everything that is alive and grows can be manipulated, and sedentary objects like rock cannot. I suppose there are several nuances like fire and water that cannot be manipulated as well, and this is what the course is all about, but it seems obvious to me what can or cannot be manipulated. There is a presence about them. Like there’s an energy I can sense. An aura. I just know.
After my Organics lesson, I have one last course to attend. Stealth and Combat with Master Stormwood. He’s taken a liking to me; though, I have yet to figure out why. Initially, I thought it was my unique ability to heal myself. But after discovering it’s common among Lahyf, I’m not sure what he thinks of me. Could it possibly be he thinks I’m a Graft? Like Grimry accused me of. Regardless, I’ve improved due to the personal attention he’s been giving me.
“Perzkeeler! Linderman! Out of the thorn pit. Alderock, you’re up!”
Linderman hustles and exits the ring. Grimry pauses at the thornwood fence before climbing out of the ring. “Sir?” he pauses, waiting for permission to speak.
“Yes, Perzkeeler.”
“Why do we not get the privilege of sparring with Alderock, sir? Only you have sparred with him since the day he stepped into this ring. I think it would benefit him to have multiple opponents, not just yourself, sir.”
What he really means is he wants an excuse to pummel me himself. He’s a good fighter in the ring. And he has a good point. How am I to expand my skills if I fight the same man every time?
“I accept the challenge, sir, if you’ll have it,” I say.
“Perzkeeler, get out of the ring. It doesn’t concern you why Alderock spars with me. Alderock! In the ring.”
Master Stormwood leaps over the fence without touching it. It is only waist high, but he makes it look too easy. And with his colorful locks bouncing as he plants his feet and his muscles tight and glistening with the never-ending heat, he is an intimidating, flamboyant presence. I place my hand on a portion of the fence between thorns and use it to hold my weight as I hop over. My tunic snags it and frays the bottom hem.
“Defend!” the master commands just as I get into a ready stance.
The Master of Combat charges. I anticipate an upper blow with his fists, but he quickly drops and sweeps my legs out from under me and stomps down. I manage to roll out of the way before his boot crushes me. He allows me enough time to get to my feet, and he is at me again, this time with fists flying. I parry, parry again, defending his attacks, but he is too quick. He hits me in the chest, knocking the wind from my lungs. Then another in the jaw, throwing my head to the side. Then another in the gut, leaving me hunched over. And a final upper cut into my forehead, sending me sailing backward onto the rough, granular dirt.
Why don’t we spar in a grassy meadow?
“Again.” He waves a hand, gesturing for me to get to my feet.
It’s a struggle, but I do so. He’s so tough on me, I would think he is intentionally pushing me to my limits.
“Defend!” he calls out. And he charges again.
He leaps into the air, utilizing his knee as a projectile. He is quick with the attack, but I easily spin out of the way. With his back facing me, I t
ake the opportunity to counter. I fully extend my leg and hit him in the back with the ball of my foot. He already had a forward momentum, so it merely causes him to stumble and nothing more. I move in with his back still facing me. He flips around and plants an elbow across my ear. The pain is excruciating, but I don’t let it slow me. I counter with a jab of my own. I make solid contact with his chest, but he’s too dense, and his footing is remarkable. It doesn’t faze him. He grabs my arm, pulling me in closer, and headbutts me. The world around me whirls and gets blurry as I stumble backward. I feel another blow to my chest, and suddenly, the clouds above me are whirring like I’m in the eye of a storm.
“Again!” he calls out.
He is relentless. With my talents, the injuries are nothing and the pain is only temporary, but it is exhausting, nonetheless. And the pain is real. I climb to my feet and get into a ready stance, digging my feet deep into the sand.
The Master charges. I preemptively attack, and he slows. But my fist is already extended to strike him. I’m going to pay for this. He grabs my arm, twists it. My body follows. He pins my arms behind my back with one hand, and his other arm wraps around my neck. I struggle and struggle, but his grip only gets tighter. I manage to break my arms free, but it doesn’t help me. His other arm reinforces his choke hold around my neck. The class watches intently as I look out to them for help. They start to get blurry. I can’t tell where the thornwood barrier stops and my classmates begin.
“Argh!” the Master screams out in pain. He pulls a blackened arm from my neck and conceals it in his tunic.
“So…it’s true. You’re a Graft,” he whispers to me. But he doesn’t expect a response. “No biting!” he yells for the class to hear.
“But I didn’t—”
“We’re done here. Although anything will stand in a real battle, that is not what I teach here. We fight honorable battles. Get out of the ring. Next up!”
With my lectures exhausted for the day, I make way to Astor’s miniature palace. We rarely spend a moment apart when I’m not in class. After my impotent attempt to take our relationship further ending in blatant rejection, there have been many more awkward moments to follow. It hasn’t deterred us from spending time together, but I am unsure how I am to behave in certain situations. Why hasn’t the Taoiseach given a lesson on proper etiquette for courting a woman? Probably because his personality has never given him the opportunity to get that far in a relationship. I’m sure any woman who has come remotely close has been consumed by the darkness of his shadow.
As I approach the cottage, I stop and gaze upon the mansion belonging to Master Sephyre. It didn’t occur to me what the effect of skipping his course today might have. His generosity is considerable, and I fail to be decent enough to bless him with my presence in his lesson chamber. But he put a knife to my throat. The man is vile in the core and could use a little disrespect to tame that arrogance, but it doesn’t stop the guilt. I can’t tell Astor. She’ll give me her own lecture on what I already know. I’ll make attendance tomorrow despite my suspicions.
“Stone!” Astor exclaims as I step through the door. “Let’s take a break,” she blurts erratically and pushes whatever literature she’s reading to the edge of the table. In a nice neat pile, of course.
“What? A break?” I respond soberly, caught off guard by her enthusiasm.
“Yeah, a break. Let’s take a break from our studies. You’ve accelerated rather quickly in all your subjects except aeronautics, of course, but your injury is an excusable justification, so I think it’s time for something a little more entertaining. What do you think?”
I perk up at the thought of something more entertaining. My intentions must be obvious because her eyes shift down to the table, avoiding eye contact before continuing.
“There’s an Ironball match going on tomorrow night at the arena. I don’t know much of the game, but I’ve heard the local Iron Eagles are going to dominate the Crimson Carnivores. It ought to be fun to get out, don’t you think? Enjoy something for a change. What do you say? Let’s go.”
“Tomorrow?” I grimace. “I thought maybe…you meant tonight. Take a break tonight.”
“Don’t be so erratic. We will plan for tomorrow. Tonight, we study.”
“Okay.” I force a smile. “Let’s go.”
Astor’s face lights up.
Humanity delivers yet another wonderful surprise to keep the faith alive, and the balance. They have begun to resist the Taoiseach and his destructive force. If I am to be the deity they all expect, I have to take a page from the falling Taoiseach. I must treat them as something lesser than myself. I cannot be a man. I must treat them as pawns for me to control and sacrifice as needed. I am capable.
41 Harris
“J
aymes, do you know I witnessed something new today? When you’re as old as I am, the happenstance to come across a new experience is a treasure beyond any other. Listen and open your eyes to the world around you, and I promise you won’t regret it.” I pull the decanter closer and fill my tumbler half full. I drop in four cubes with the pincers. I swirl it around a bit to help the ice dilute the savory burn just enough, then I take a generous sip.
“What did you witness, sir?”
Her chatter is insufferable. Not the simple question, but the enunciation that was taken from her. I would correct it for her, but she has taken a liking to it.
I shift in my high wood-back chair to look out the window beyond my deck. The same deck Jaymes has been utilizing to spy. Though, there’s not too much to spy within these walls. Only the petty maneuvers of man trying to fool himself into believing the existence of everything is all for our benefit. Designed for us to control and manipulate at our own will. She will spy only arrogance within these walls. Nothing of importance we don’t all already know. And deny.
“Have you ever heard a hummingbird’s song? They are the hastiest of our brilliant feathered friends, and it’s not something everyone has a chance to experience even in the longest of lives, but today that is what I experienced. Soft and petite, just as you would expect from such a creature. It was a perfect tune. But then again, perfect for whom? Perfect for you or perfect for me? Perfection belongs to only those who seek it. You know, Jaymes, like you, I once cherished a life in which I had passion, power, prestige, and purpose. That day is long gone, however. I now seek perfection. I know it is imperfect in every way to do so, but I have lost everything else. Perfection is the only thing left for me, and there is no practical way for me to explain myself to you. Jaymes…” I pause to ensure I have her attention. “…if you do not obey, I will see to it your brother suffers the consequences alongside you.”
She remains silent. Her thoughts are walled off. And her amber eyes fail to give away any sign of emotion. Ellia is certainly molding this one out of her own cast. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out if it is a soldier or an explosive. She’s undeserving of either. Although her talent is remarkable, I chose incorrectly. And now she is a pawn in my game of balance.
It’s a pity Ellia cut out her tongue. She is quite a young beauty, but a lady without a tongue of her own is rather dull. That lisp just isn’t as eloquent as the confident voice she arrived with.
“Please nod if you understand what I’m saying.” I’ll avoid having her speak if I can.
Jaymes gives the smallest portion of a head movement that most wouldn’t recognize as a nod, but she does as requested. Bare minimum. Fear only works on those that allow it. She is not one of them. Not anymore.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not, but your brother, Stone, is here, Jaymes. He is here, and he is making a feeble attempt at spying on you. And me.”She remains still. So, she knew. Or has Ellia’s training taken her this far? “Spying isn’t the right word. A spy is typically used for deceit and betrayal. That is not what he’s doing. He is…he’s seeking knowledge. He’s studying us.”
Jaymes’s eyes give away some information. She is excited by this. She’s happy her
brother is looking for her. I can use this.
“But like I said, it is a very feeble attempt. As if it’s an obligation. He’s made a life of his own in this city and has nearly all but forgotten you. He met a girl.” I pause for a reaction. Nothing. “In fact, I know her very well. We have a history together. She’s a lovely young girl. Her name is Astor.”
There it is. Jaymes remains still, but the agitation is noticeable. She clenches her jaw and grinds her teeth.
“Do you recall her?” She does. There’s a stretch of season between them, but they’ve acquainted. And she isn’t fond of her. At least that is my interpretation from what Astor has mentioned. “Stone is happy. He seems to have forgotten about all his troubles while with her. They even plan to share a leisurely evening at the Ironball match. He seems to have found a new life. He almost seems…happy.”
“So, it’s true then? Astor is another one of your pawns. A spy.”
A faint curl forms on my lips. “It is all just a game, isn’t it? I would agree. And I must admit, I’m growing rather tired of it.” But you’re not worthy of replacing me. Your brother, perhaps.
A sudden knocking infiltrates my chamber. I need to utilize the guard. The interruptions are intolerable.
“Come in,” I command.
“Sir.” The Shadow intrudes, opening the door wide enough for her to squeeze through, but she comes no farther than one step into the room. Her brow raises subtly as she sees who I’m entertaining. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes. You are. You are interrupting, Ellia. What is it?”
“My apologies, sir. I will come back,” Ellia says.
I know she isn’t sorry, but she’s rather good at acting the part.
“Please do so,” I reply with a dry anger in my tone. I wasn’t always so fixated on etiquette and perfection. It is a lifetime of tolerating subpar behavior from all those around me that has driven me to this. I wish I could surround myself with only those who would make me a better person, but at this point, the idea is, I hate to think it, impossible. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s them, but I lean toward the latter. “Ellia, wait.”
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