“What about his best interests?” Grendel put the coffee cup down on the desk and leaned forward in the chair. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any closer to figuring out what he really wants, have you?” His sharp eyes asked the real question.
It’s not wants at all, Anderson thought, as they stared at each other. It’s what he needs.
“There’s a hunger so strong in him that it makes a Green Beret look unmotivated,” she said. “Do I know what he wants? He’s a damn tease—one minute, he’s offering everything, the next minute he’s the proper, reserved companion who has no personal agenda.”
Grendel shook his head. “You know he wants to be a slave.”
Anderson pursed her lips and gave the bracelet another turn. “Yes. And no.”
“That’s helpful!”
“Sorry, Grendel, but that’s all there is. Believe it or not, he doesn’t say much about it.”
He hit her with a sarcastic look, just the edge of an eyebrow raised in exasperation. “Now pull the other, Trainer.”
She snorted derisively. “Oh, sure, he’s got all the right symptoms. Despite what you and Alex played with, he’s still prime material.”
“Well, I suppose I asked for that.” Grendel lowered his head and ran fingers through his hair. “I... it seemed like the best way to handle him. His responses were... amazing. God, what a player!” He became more animated, pushing himself up in the chair. “I never had so much fun doing that level of emotional torment. It was almost vampiric, but I can honestly say we probably fed from each other more or less equally.”
Anderson smiled slightly. “That’s the way it works best, isn’t it?”
“For some things, sure,” Grendel said. “The trouble comes when we confuse the pleasure with utility. And believe me, Anderson—there isn’t a more downright useful boy to have around. I thought we were prepared to continue without him when he was ready to move back here, but I swear, a week doesn‘t go by without me wondering how the hell we ever kept up before.” He sighed. “But it was too much. We used him, all right, used him like a slave. In so many ways. Except for the obvious. He’s caught in this state of... liminality. And you’re right. We put him there. It was wrong to drag it out this long.”
“Don’t throw that pity party yet, Grendel, I think what you did was exactly right,” Anderson said. “Don’t you think I do the same thing?”
Grendel forced a slight smile. “Here’s where I get to say that he never told me much about you.”
Anderson laughed. “Well, I hope you didn’t expect otherwise, my friend. But you know, I don’t need a five-dollar sociological term for the boy, he’s been betwixt and between all of his life. He was happy with you, and useful, he was doing what he was born to do, and that was fine—for as long as it lasted. But we’re all grown-ups here. Nothing is forever. It was time for him to finish up this paper and move on.”
“But how has he moved on?” Grendel insisted. “He’s beyond your student, Imala, he doesn’t belong here doing apprentice work. He’s a Master Trainer—he surpassed our house ages ago, and we’ve been holding him back.
“The paper is just an excuse, and a lame one at that. So, if he doesn’t move on, then why the hell wait for some bolt out of the blue to change the way things are? You know what he wants. We know what he wants. And so does he, however much... ah... “ He paused to consider a word. “However much nonsense he feeds us all about wanting only to do the right thing.”
She smiled at his neat avoidance of even a mild profanity. “And if I told him when he came back to pack his bags and go back to you, what would that solve?” she asked. “Would you take him on as what you’re so sure he wants to be?”
Grendel looked down into his lap and nodded. He stretched out a leg to reach into his pocket, and pulled out a silver chain with two small rings set into the ends. A lock dangled from one end, with a key inserted into the bottom. He dropped it into a glittering pile on the desk and retrieved his coffee.
Anderson eyed it but didn’t pick it up. “This is a new development.”
“Alex and I discussed it last night. We do miss him, and not just as a trainer, although he certainly is priceless there. He brought a sense of balance and security to the house. And, he kept us on our toes, which is a good thing!”
“He does do that,” Anderson admitted with a nod.
“If he’s not going to go on to be an independent trainer, then the only other path for him is to the auctions. There’s no way around it. Who else would he work with, other than you? And I’ve been imagining him on the block—and every time, I start to think about how we couldn’t afford to buy him. And I think of how many people would love to get their hands on him—and how deeply he—” He paused, and took a breath. “He was happy with us.”
“That’s charmingly—submissive of y’all,” Anderson said, settling back in her chair.
“Well, what else can I do? Don’t you think I’ve been wondering if I drove him away? If I denied myself and him something that could have worked just because it would have been difficult to manage?”
“I notice your pronouns have changed a bit.“
“You’re a riot, Anderson. Now stop analyzing me, and give me the real story here.”
“All right, I’m sorry about that. It’s habit; I have to learn not to do it with my friends.” She stopped playing with her bracelet and leaned forward herself, putting her elbows on the desk. “Here’s my most basic analysis of our boy. He’s still figuring out what he wants, because there’s nothing perfect for him to go after. He’s owned, he’s served, and he’s trained, and nothing has worked out perfectly, has it? Call it a mid-life crisis, call it a damn heavy case of depression, call it irresponsible—but he’s waiting for someone to up and tell him which way to go. I won’t—I can’t. And you’ve just become someone who might. Now, he has to consider that offer, and make up his damn fool mind.”
Grendel grinned as her accent became stronger. “You wouldn’t like it if he took me up on this.”
“Oh hell, if it makes him happy, he should do it. And if anyone will go out of their way to make him happy, it’d be you and Alex. However inappropriate I may think that is.” He laughed, and she waved one hand limply at him. “It’s true,” she protested. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that everyone should do this kind of soul searching to make their slaves happy. And believe me, if that’s what’s gonna come out of your mouth, there’s a house in Santa Cruz that recently lost a trainer... Maybe they’ll take you in.”
“But you made your best point, Trainer. He’s been there, done that. Paid the dues. Maybe it’s time he got what he needs to make him happy.”
“Happy again? Now, since when does everyone have the right to be happy? We have our jobs to do, Grendel, and sometimes they’re not going to be richly, personally fulfilling. No matter how much we pay in dues. You have to weigh the plusses and minuses here—where do you think he should be? Off playing, or doing what he has to do?”
Grendel laid a hand down over the collar. “This shows I am not playing any more.”
“Oh? And what will you use for leverage in these mental games he adores so much, these emotional torments you feed from—when he has what you’ve only teased him with for these few years? Hmm?”
Grendel’s eyes narrowed, and he folded his hands. “Will you act as his trainer and make the offer?” he asked, his voice tense.
Anderson stared at him and started to say something, but she bit back the words. Then, she smiled gently. “Of course. Why, Ah’d be honored, suh.” She raised her shoulders and bent her head in an exaggerated bow. “But I’ll also answer his questions honestly when he asks them. As his trainer.”
“That’s fair,” Grendel admitted, relaxing again. “A damn shame, since he’ll listen to you, but fair.” He ran his fingers through his hair again, sweeping it back. “But if he’s smart, he’ll take the chance on a collar. I shudder at the thought of being in your debt, Trainer of Trainers, but I’m g
lad I came.”
“I’m glad you did, too, and believe me, there are few things worse than owing me anything, Mr. Elliot. But we’ll see what Parker says, and more importantly, what he does. How is Rachel working out, by the way?”
“Wonderfully. Excellently. But she was well trained, as you know. Well prepared, at least. We always feel a little short staffed—the trainees have to learn household chores earlier than usual. But it all works in the end.”
“That’s what we hope for, Grendel. That it all works out in the end.”
Chapter Fourteen
Chris came in at 12:30. The early-to-rise household seemed asleep as he let himself in the front door. He was preparing to hang up his coat when he heard the discreet cough beside him. It was Tara.
She said softly, “I’ll take that, Chris. Trainer is waiting for you in the kitchen.” She took his coat and bag, and he patted her fondly as he passed her heading toward the rear of the house. It took skill to come up behind him so quietly. He rubbed his chest through the shirt before he stepped into the harsh white light of the kitchen.
“An early night for you,” Anderson said as he came in. She was seated by the counter, idly flipping through Vicente’s index file. There were a few cards on the counter beside her.
“And a late one for you. Is there something wrong?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that. But come on in and set a while. It’s time for another chat about you.”
He sighed, but took a stool. “What happened?“
“I saw Grendel tonight.”
He stiffened, and looked a little surprised, and a flash of pain showed just for a second. He recovered his composure and nodded for her to continue.
“Well, there’s no reason to mince words. He brought this.” She nudged the collar across the counter toward him, from where it had been hidden by her sleeve. “If you’re willing to serve, they’re willing to own.”
That one got him. He took a deep breath, and his right hand came up to cover his mouth, index finger tucked across his upper lip. Anderson didn’t smile, but she knew that gesture, as she knew dozens of others in him, some of which he probably wasn’t aware himself. This one was a cry for security. And a sign that he was very, very tired. She looked at his eyes under the steel rims of the glasses, and then focused her attention on the chain. She generously gave him the time he needed to gather himself, and when he started stroking his mustache and let his hand drop a little, she nudged it again.
“Nice quality. Not their usual style, is it?”
“No, it isn’t.” Chris sighed and picked it up. “No, they usually use steel, larger links. This is a formal style.” He let it slide from one hand to the other. “So. This would be... acceptable... to you?”
“If it were not, I would have said so to Grendel. No, I think this is something important enough for you to make the final decision on.” She didn’t have to stress the word “final“—she could see he caught it anyway. He ran his fingers along the chain thoughtfully, looking down for a moment, away from her eyes.
“What do you think?” he finally asked.
“It’s about time you asked me that.” Anderson stepped off the stool and stretched. “What do I think? I think it would make you very happy—for a while. And then you’d realize that it’s all too easy for you, and you’ll start thinking of new ways to make your life harder, and I’ll hear from you in, oh, a year? Maybe two.”
“It’s a kindness that you’re so gentle with me,” he said wryly, rising along with her.
“You don’t respond to gentleness, my boy. You like a boot in your butt to get you going. Now, I’m giving it to you. You think it’ll be different because you’ll wear a collar? Hell, Grendel and Alex will give you anything you want to come back and make things better.”
He closed his fist around the collar. “I’m sure you didn’t mean any disrespect by that, Trainer.”
She waggled her finger at him. “Don’t go all formal on me, buster. You know I like them both. They’re my friends, and you love them, and that’s great. But it’s not enough for you. You can’t keep running away from these decisions, Chris Parker. One of these days, it’s gonna be one way or the other. You play, or you serve. Or give it all up and join a monastery.”
“We don’t have monasteries,” Chris said softly.
“Well, whatever y’all have. Be a rabbi, whatever. Don’t change the subject. If you take this offer and go back, what will you be?”
“Their majordomo, I suppose. I would be best suited for the job.”
“Right. And Rachel will go back to being housekeeper then?”
He sighed. “Which would not be fair to her.”
“Forget her, we’re talking about you. So there you’d be, in the exact same place you were last year. And what will have changed for you? You’ll still need the attention, won’t you? Or will you wean yourself off of all that, and be happy just training?”
“I could be.”
“Oh, give me credit for having half a brain, Chris Parker.”
“It could be different. If I were truly theirs, I could—”
“Parker.”
“But I could be useful, Imala—”
“Training novices? For how much longer? How many times are you gonna break them in and let them go? How long can you go on without the credit, without the freedom to establish your own school?”
“Maybe I don’t want my own school,” he snapped. “And it’s not about my own school, is it? It’s about yours!”
Anderson gave a little hoot of surprise and smiled. She leaned slowly against the counter and said, “Ohhh. My first name, and a raised voice.”
He looked a bit shocked himself. He immediately stepped back and drew himself up before her. “Trainer, I’m very sorry for losing my temper. And for the tone of voice. Please excuse me—I’ll not do it again.”
She softened her smile just a little and reached out to touch his shoulder. “And if I called you to formal manners, you wouldn’t hesitate, would you? You’d hit the tiles so fast, you’d smash your kneecaps. And it would be a relief, wouldn’t it?”
He closed his eyes and turned his face away from her. “Try me, Trainer.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think so. Let’s go up front and pretend that we’re equals, all right?”
He followed her mutely, and sat stiffly in the arm chair by the fireplace.
“Would you rather go formally into the Marketplace?” Anderson asked. “In two months, you could be at the Amsterdam auction.”
“Don’t you think I’ve considered that? It’s been on my mind for years.”
“Yes, I know. But you haven’t asked me to prepare you in quite a while. I just thought you’d decided not to leave your life up to chance. It’s a valid decision, especially for you.”
“No, it’s not!” Chris banged the arm of the chair, hard. “I’ve spent years teaching other people how to bear it, and dammit, I should be able to do it! But I can’t! I’m not—I’m not good enough for the block.”
Anderson stared at him for a moment, and then laughed out loud. “Excuse me? Mister, I trained you! I watched you change—in more ways than one! Chris, I could have put you on the block years ago, and not as a novice, either. If I put you up today, I could easily say you were my crowning achievement. Perfect control, perfect obedience, and pretty hot in the sack to boot.
“With these new muscles of yours, you’d look beautiful up there—and fetch a very respectable price, too. More than enough for your purposes, certainly. You’re not common, no. You’d be pretty unique, and that would gain some attention that I know you’d rather not have. But your old fears don’t apply any more. You’ve added to your basic value in a way that Grendel frankly called priceless. So, if that’s what you want, let’s not chase the colt around the field; let’s just do it.”
“And then what? Who do you think will bid for me, Trainer? And for what purpose?” He rubbed his chest and looked frustrated; he jerked his hand down and held onto the chair a
rm again. “You tell me. What would any potential owner want from me?”
Anderson nodded. “Okay. Now we’re talking about it like adults.”
“All I can be now is a trainer! There’s just no way around it. I’m not priceless because of my obedience or my responses or my attitude...” He paused and looked down at himself, running one hand down his torso. “Or my body,” he added bitterly. “Hell, I’m not even valuable in the one service skill I was trained in. I only have value because of what I offer professionally as a trainer. Or, as a... curiosity. A trophy. If I go back to Alex and Grendel, at least I can pretend—” He broke off, and hit the chair again.
“Oh, and that will solve everything, won’t it, Chris?“
“I hate you, Imala. Have I ever told you that?” He looked up at her, challenging.
Anderson laid a finger on her chin, thinking. “Why, as a matter of fact, I do recall your muttering something like that way back when you were doing something involving a kitchen floor and a toothbrush.”
They gazed at each other. Tension began to shift, and slowly, he relaxed, throwing his arms over the edges of the chair and sinking back into the pillows. “Now, how the hell did you hear that?” he asked, amusement in his voice. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Seeing through walls, reading minds—nothing, compared to my parabolic hearing. What was it you said? ‘I hate this fucking place, I hate that fucking bitch,’ I think it was.”
“You know, little Golden Butt could benefit from some of your super powers. You should hear what he’s muttering.”
“We’re not talking about him, Parker, we’re talking about you.”
He looked back at her, seriously. “Tell me what to do, Trainer. Please.”
“I won’t. You don’t want to hear what I want you to do. And you know I need you to make the correct choice yourself, or stay right where you are until you do. At least here, you’re doing what I want.”
“Then—I can’t decide. Not yet.”
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