by Lyn Gala
Temar shifted in the seat, pressing his bound hands down into his lap to take the pressure off the rope as he studied the farm that was going to be his home for the next ten years, unless he had a brilliant idea, sometime in the next five minutes. The edges of his mouth stung, but at least he had managed to stop crying. Crying wasn’t helpful. Of course, it didn’t hurt anything, and Temar thought he was justified in feeling a little self-pity. As soon as those records were burned, he had no proof that anything illegal was going on. And after seeing Ben Gratu’s darker side, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man went out and broke some of his father’s pipes, just to cover up for the water theft.
The sled bounced to a stop, and a bald worker stuck his head out of the main door of a three-story barn that sat on the far side of a well-tended and well-watered garden.
“Boss?” He stepped out into the light, and Temar recognized Cardan Smith. His face heated with shame even as a little flicker of hope burned, deep inside. Cardan was a good man. He’d helped Temar and Cyla replace a fallen fence and had undercharged them by quite a lot. No way would he go along with water thievery. Temar glanced over at Ben Gratu. Maybe. Temar was starting to suspect that he wasn’t a particularly good judge of character.
“God’s luck, but I did pick up an interesting purchase this morning,” Ben said in a friendly tone as he got out of the sled. Cardan, however, was looking at Temar with a frown, and Temar could feel his face heat. Sometimes he hated being so different, and this was one of those times. With his fair skin, he knew his blush would be turning his face bright red.
“You bought his slave papers?” Cardan asked. His voice was cautious, but Ben just pulled Temar’s box of test results out of the back and then stacked a load of purchased goods on top of that.
“I thought I was getting the even-tempered Gazer,” Ben said with a dismissive snort that suggested he’d been wrong. He sighed and stood up and looked at Temar with great sorrow. “I know your father has told you these lies, boy, and I understand how hard this is. If I open this door, are you going to kick?” The false sympathy and the suggestion that Temar was some sort of wildcat made Temar blush harder. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on breathing for a second.
“He give you trouble?”
“None that I couldn’t handle,” Ben said, his voice clearly suggesting that yes, Temar had given him quite a lot of trouble. He reached through the open window and patted Temar on the arm. “I know it’s hard, boy. You’re stronger than you think you are, though.” After that bit of unctuous advice, Ben shook his head and turned to his worker. “He’s a teenage boy, and he’s had a lifetime of his father telling him how everyone else is out to get them. Between his father’s paranoia and his sister’s quick temper, I’m surprised the boy has the common sense he’s managed to show, up until now. He’ll settle in as soon as he calms down.”
Cardan leaned on the front of the sled and looked through the glass at Temar. “I always thought the boy had inherited all the common sense in that family.”
“After hearing him go on about Landholder Young, I can safely tell you that he inherited all the foul language, that’s for sure. If Young hears half the accusations this pup is spewing, he’s going to demand a few labor days, at the very least. I would just as soon we keep George away from our young fool, at least until he grows up and learns to control his mouth.” The suggestion that Ben was trying to protect him made the tears press up in Temar’s eyes again. He’d been such an idiot for thinking that Ben would want to help. He’d been such an idiot for thinking that anyone would go out of their way to help him.
“George has the sense of humor of a pipe trap plant.”
“That’s an insult to pipe trap plants,” Ben countered. “Can you escort him up to the house? Watch out, because he’s one to kick and bite at the most unexpected moment, and the first day of a ten-year slave sentence would test the common sense of anyone, even without the Gazer family temper.”
Temar sat through the exchange with his face hot and his guts twisting. “No worries. If I can work with that bad-tempered boar of yours without getting gored, I can handle one wisp of a boy.” Ben turned away and picked up the box from the dusty ground. When Cardan opened the sled door to release the restraints, Temar tried staring desperately at the box. If the box went into the fire, he had nothing, no chance. He needed to get someone to look at his papers before the council could sell his sister to Ben Gratu’s friend. He needed Cardan to notice that box
Without fighting the tight grip, he stared first at Cardan and then the box in Ben’s hands and then back to Cardan. He’d give twenty years off his life in exchange for five minutes of telepathy. Unfortunately, Cardan didn’t seem to notice as he pulled Temar into a small room with a couch and several chairs made of windwood branches. A rock arch led into a second room with the mechanics. Temar strained forward. The incinerator and recyclers would be in here. He couldn’t let his work end up being recycled into fertilizer.
“Boy’s about white eyed with fear,” Cardan said, his hand tightening around Temar’s arm. Temar felt another tear escape, leaving a cold trail over his cheek.
“Slavery would leave even me white eyed with fear. Give him a little time to come to terms with this.” Ben set the box down on a long sorting table. A cooling unit, a recycler and an incinerator all stood side by side, thick insulation between them, and Temar tightened his jaw. A small trail of spit escaped from his gag, and Ben leaned over with a rag in his hand, gently wiping Temar’s face, from his chin up to the corner of his mouth.
The touch made Temar’s body stiffen in terror. “He’s handling this about as well as such a young man could,” Ben said kindly. That kindness was a slap in the face that made Temar hold his breath, as he waited for the choking grip around his neck or the affectionate pat on the face. The fact that he didn’t know which he would get was actually far worse than the casual cruelty he would have received from the hand of Landholder Young.
“You’re having remarkable patience with him,” Cardan said. Ben lifted the supplies off the top of the box with the notebooks, and Temar stared in desperate hope at those piles of notes that he had collected and maintained so carefully. Ben lifted the first out of the box and smiled at Temar.
“I think young fools deserve a little patience. After all, the whole point of the slavery system is to help those who have been handicapped by poor parenting. Isn’t that what Naite Polli is always saying?”
Ben pulled the heavy door of the incinerator open and put the first notebook in. Temar made an inarticulate cry behind his gag, but Cardan merely patted him on the arm, the way someone might soothe an anxious goat about to be castrated. And the image wasn’t far off. His power was in those notebooks, in his carefully kept records, and Ben piled them inside the heavy machine.
Ben changed the subject. “So, any word on that south field?”
“Still under watered. I was hoping that, with the Gazer farm shut down, we could start watering our seedlings their full allotment.”
“If there’s a broken pipe, the pipe traps are still getting half our share,” Ben said with a weary sigh. Temar frowned in confusion. Ben should have all the water he needed if he was stealing, so why did he feel a need to play these games?
“We should get out there and find that broken irrigation pipe. You should have gone to the council and complained about the Gazer farm years ago. So, whose land is that now?”
“No doubt George Young will get the land to repay him for the Gazers’ tricks, because the slave prices weren’t enough to replace the water and the damaged crops.” Ben paused with Temar’s last notebook in his hand. If Temar had evidence that implicated him in his hand, he would be panicked and sweating, but Ben only looked thoughtful. “Honestly, I don’t know that George is going to care about a leak any more than old Erqu Gazer did. Maybe we should petition the council to cut the Gazer farm off the irrigation system altogether.”
Cardan rubbed his bald head. “George’ll protest t
hat.”
“George protests everything. The council is going to engrave a chair for his butt.” Ben shook his head and leaned against the incinerator, the notebook still in hand. “He can get the land back on the system after he’s done a few burns and gotten those pipe traps ripped out… and after he’s found that damn leak. But it’s a waste of water, and it’s keeping us from getting our full share. Erqu was… lost… after his wife’s death. I wouldn’t have taken that man to the council for all the luck in the stars. He was a good man.” Ben fell silent, his sorrow appearing so real that Temar had trouble believing his eyes. Then Ben seemed to pull himself out of his grief as he pointed a finger. “But George had better be ready for a fight if I don’t get my full water share. If he takes one drop from me, I’ll petition to have him doing labor days.” Ben poked his finger in Cardan’s direction, and Cardan smiled.
“George Young doing a hard day’s labor prepping the ground?” Cardan outright laughed at that thought. “That would mean moving his own sorry ass or hiring out the work.”
“Or getting Cyla Gazer to do it.” Ben made an unhappy face. “There wasn’t anyone bidding her slave price when I left town, so the council might be forced to hand her over to Young.” Ben practically threw the last book into the incinerator and then slammed the door with far more force than it needed. “I don’t like the idea of her over there with that man. He’s not one to show anyone human respect, and he definitely wouldn’t respect a slave.”
Temar almost choked on the irony of that. Right now, Temar would far rather have himself and his sister in Young’s hands. He might take his fury and frustration out on them, but Ben frightened him far more.
Cardan patted him on the arm again. “Don’t think that we’ll let him do poorly by your sister,” he offered reassuringly, his voice deadly serious.
“Perhaps we can retire the northwest corner from pasture for a few seasons, turn the goats loose in there.”
“It’s not scheduled for livestock for another four harvests.”
Ben’s mouth curved into a slow smile. “Ah, but if we have goats so far from the house, I imagine some would get through that old fence on a fairly regular basis.”
“Which would lead to us having to ride up to Young’s place, looking for our missing stock. I wouldn’t mind catching that bastard being a bastard.”
“Me too.” Ben sounded so honest in his desire to protect Cyla that Temar thought, for a moment, that maybe he’d imagined the whole scene in the bedroom, maybe he’d hallucinated the entire hellacious week. How could a man appear so honest one moment and—Temar’s thoughts froze in a white storm of horror as Ben turned the incinerator on. The heavy machine thunked and hissed and then gave a mighty roar as it devoured all his work and then sent the ashes down to become fertilizer.
“We may lose stock to the pipe traps.” Cardan continued the conversation, never knowing that he was witnessing the end of Temar’s hopes. His father would forever be remembered as a fool, and he and his sister would be water thieves for the rest of their lives.
“Don’t you think it’s worth a few stock animals to make sure that Cyla doesn’t end up like that girl in Blue Hope?” Ben asked.
Cardan’s face hardened. His jaw bulged, and he pulled his lips back, so that the white of his teeth shone against his dark skin. “They should have done more than exile that man. What he did was an abomination.”
“Let the sandcats eat him. Some people are just born wrong.” Ben pressed his lips together into an angry line and shook his head. “I won’t have that happen here. If Young gets that girl, we will be keeping a close eye on her.” Then Ben turned to Temar and gave him another of those fatherly smiles that turned Temar’s guts to ice. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure we keep tabs on your sister.”
“That we will, boy,” Cardan agreed, slapping Temar on the arm. “We’ll keep an eye out for both of you.”
Ben’s smile suddenly looked far more dangerous. Temar fought an instinctive urge to run away, because clearly he wouldn’t get far. Even if he’d been free and ungagged, he’d never convince people that Ben Gratu was a water thief and monster. “It looks like Temar has calmed down some. Why don’t you head back out to the barn, and I’ll see if I can’t get our hellion settled in some, before the field crew comes in.”
“You got it, boss. Behave, boy,” he said with a final friendly slap on Temar’s arm, and then he wandered out of the mechanical room, leaving Temar alone with Ben.
Ben ran a finger over the door handle to the incinerator. “Do I need to explain the futility of screaming?” Ben asked, with an amused twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Temar shook his head. Clearly, Ben had won this fight. Temar’s family was gone, his land was gone, and his sister’s life was in the hands of a monster.
“Such a trainable boy,” Ben said, his expression widening into a big grin. He stepped forward, his body trapping Temar against the table as he reached around to pull at the knotted strip of fabric. Ben was taller, so when he leaned in, Temar was eye level with his chin and had a close-up view of the tiny, rough hairs pushing out of his face. Temar focused on the stubble, tracing patterns in the miniature forest of hair rather than look up into the mocking friendliness in this monster’s eyes.
With a last tug, the tie came loose, and Ben pulled it off, leaving Temar with a mouth full of fabric that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with. He looked at Ben, wondering if he dared to spit the soggy mess out or if that would bring back the anger. His throat still ached at the memory of those strong fingers wrapped around it as they threatened to strangle him.
Ben’s smile grew larger as he considered Temar. Bringing a finger up, he traced from the edge of Temar’s mouth to a spot under his ear. Temar suspected that he was following the red line made by the gag pressing into his skin. “Such a trainable boy.” Ben retraced the mark, pressing on the corner of Temar’s mouth. Temar sucked air through his nose as the pressure made the skin heat and sting.
“Ten years is a long time, but your life would go much smoother if you would yield to reason… if you’re a good boy and yield to me. There’s no cause to fight, because there is nothing to be gained.”
Temar watched with wide eyes, not sure how he was supposed to react.
Ben traced the edge of Temar’s top lip with a fingertip. “Do you want that out of your mouth?”
With a small nod, Temar watched Ben, feeling very much like the birdbug about to be pounced on by a sandcat. For a second, Ben didn’t do anything but run his work-rough finger over Temar’s lower lip and watch Temar with a predatory eye. Temar held himself perfectly still, his hands helpless and fisted between them.
“Such a very trainable boy.” Ben pressed down against Temar’s lip, and he allowed Ben to open his mouth and reach in for the soggy cloth. “You are so much brighter than your father even knew. You see the sides of the trap even now, don’t you?”
Temar dry swallowed, fear stealing his spit so that his lips and tongue tried to stick together. Ben tossed the cloth aside and pressed so close that Temar’s back had to arch against the hard edge of the table. “What would happen if you told your story to Carden?” Ben was back to sounding friendly and helpful.
For a second, Temar wasn’t sure whether Ben really wanted an answer, but then the hand that had been stroking his lip gave him a light slap across the face. “He’d think I was just accusing you because I’m angry. He wouldn’t believe it,” Temar blurted.
Again, Ben reached up, but this time he patted Temar on the cheek. “Good boy. You aren’t coming across as particularly reliable right now. And the less reliable you are, the less I have to worry about you, and the safer your sister is going to be. Guess what game we’re going to play.” Ben wiggled his eyebrows, and Temar watched him, terrified because right now anything that came out of Ben’s brain was not going to be good. “We’re going to go out there, and you’re going to play good slave until someone mentions water or George Young. Guess what yo
u’re going to do then.” Ben reached up and fingered a lock of Temar’s hair, stroking it with his thumb. After a second, he gave that same lock such a hard yank that Temar gasped. “I asked you to guess, boy.” Suddenly he didn’t sound as friendly.
At first, Temar was too afraid to guess anything. He wanted Ben to tell him what to do so he knew how to navigate this shifting sand he’d found himself walking. He felt as if, any second, the winds would change, and the dune would move under him, and he’d be buried under two tons of sand. However, his mind spun an answer out of Ben’s words.
“You want me to prove how unreliable I am.” He whispered the answer.
He’d hated giving answers in school because he’d hated having everyone look at him. They looked at him and whispered about his father or about how Cyla had gotten in trouble again or about how he came to school in clothes that were too large because he had to take whatever handouts others would give him. And as the terraforming ships grew rarer, the number of handouts others had been willing to offer had dwindled. He didn’t want anyone to notice any of that. Even when he’d had the right answer, he had preferred to remain in the back, unnoticed and uncommented on.
Now Ben was asking him to make himself the center of a scene, like his father when he was so drunk that he flung accusations as easily as clods of dirt.
Ben rested his palm against Temar’s cheek and stroked his thumb over the corner of his mouth, where it was still sore. “Good boy. I’ll never trust you until you show me you can earn that trust by doing what your master says. My friend wants to kill your sister, so you know that I’m the only one standing between the Gazer family and death.” Ben’s expression softened with worry. “Your father was a good man before your mother died so young, and I’ve wanted to do something to help you. I just always worried about drawing attention to myself. But now, I can help you. I can protect your sister, and I can make sure that these next ten years are easy for you. But you have to show me that you know how to appreciate my protection.” Ben’s hand paused, and he brought his other hand up, so that he cupped Temar’s face. Temar held himself perfectly still. He didn’t know the rules to this game, but he knew he had no power in it.