Without Magic

by Tye Tivillus

  Chapter 5: Banquets and Pranks

  Will waited, holding out a hand for shush. After a moment there was an impatient snort from Alexander, and heavy footsteps as he wandered away to find Master Sir. Quickly Will threaded a long piece of wire into the keyhole in the door, clasping the loose end tightly in both hands. He whispered a few words of magic, twisting his hands into strange positions and gesturing carefully at the door. As he worked he explained to Bo what was happening,

  'The locks are made so that if you try to use magic on em then they melt and yer stuck in 'till someone breaks the door down.' He grunted slightly, twisting the metal wire and breaking off the chatter for a manoeuvre that needed some extra concentration. 'But there's no problem if I just magic the wire, see? It aint magicin' the lock, I'm magicin' the tool what I'm using on the lock. It's a small thing but it makes all the difference.' With one last twist the lock clicked sharply, and the door wobbled on its hinges, indicating that it was open. Stowing the wire quickly around his wrist, like a particularly cheap bangle, Will held his finger to his lips, and he, Bo and Johan, along with one or two other boys crept from the room, closing and locking the door behind them. Bo, however was still reeling from what he'd seen Will do – it was one of the first pieces of true magic he'd ever seen performed in his life.

  'You know magic?' Whispered Bo incredulously. No one on the streets had known how to do something as complex as using a wire to pick a lock. Will grinned cheekily, explaining that there was a lot you could learn if you lived at the castle all your life. Bo had to agree, feeling somewhat jealous of the white haired boy's skills. There was one other thing that was bothering the teen. He whispered to Will,

  'Alexander said he was gonna talk to Jayne, is that Master Sir's real name?' Will looked back with wide eyes.

  'Yeah, that's Master Sir's real name. It's a girl's name, is why he likes being called Master Sir. Not many people know but I heard summun talking to him using his real name once when I was sneakin-er... Doing some cleaning inside a cupboard, real quiet like.' Bo wondered what Alexander was going to talk to Master Sir about. The weapon master had said there would be no trouble over the rack that Bo broke, but now Bo worried the story would come to Master Sir's attention and he would get into trouble. To get his mind off the worry, he asked Will what they were doing again. Will grinned, seeming to be bursting with excitement to the point where he was no longer able to casually instruct Bo to 'wait and see'.

  'Okay, get this right, some folks came over from the Great Desert. You know? The place where all the magic comes from.' Bo nodded thoughtful. From his talks with the mage, he knew that the Great Desert shared a border with his kingdom - Redland, and that lots of mages lived and worked there. If the mage's stories were to be believed, then they had giant tomes of magic that contained unparalleled wisdom, and that each generation of magicians were devoted to working out new and ever more potent spells to add to them. It was a centre of learning. The mage had claimed that they lived on the back of a giant tortoise that was free to roam the desert, and that the tortoise contained a source of powerful magic that could be drawn on in times of crisis. Thinking back to his friend, Bo felt a sudden pang of homesickness, but there was no time to dwell on it, as Will continued his speech. 'Well, the advisors to The King says they been eyeing off our land and that they are workin on spells what can kill everyone in the city, right? So he says we have to all go to war with them, but --'

  'War?' Interrupted Bo, aghast. He'd heard no such thing back on the streets. All his life he had thought rumours filtered through the city and ended up in The Gutter, the same as everything else, but it seems this one was either only just starting to get out, or it had been well contained. Will gave him an odd look,

  'Yeah, are you deaf? Everyone's been talking about this war for ages. Why do you think there were so many people in the fighting ground today?' Bo shrugged, forgetting that Will couldn't see him in the dark. How was he supposed to know the fighting lesson had been unusual? He wasn't privy to things that went on in the castle. Will sighed, 'well yeah anyway, so there's been this war that everyone has been worried about, although I guess not everyone exactly. Uh anyway The Great Desert sent a peace group out. That is a bunch of boring brown-nosers who talk a lot about a whole lot of rubbish, and they hope that if they talk enough there won't be a war. Everyone has to be real nice to em even tho they smell funny and they don't have proper manners or nothin.' Bo nodded, wishing Will would get to the point. They reached a wall hanging that Will pulled aside to reveal a passageway inside the thick stone walls. There was a dark narrow stairway just beyond. Before they entered the passageway, Will turned. He folded his fingers over one another, before quickly moving to steeple them and then performed a quick string of gestures that Bo could not quite catch in the half light. Muttering a few words that made no sense to Bo, Will looked back up again and winked, 'just a little magic to make sure our feet are silent.' With these words, he padded into the darkness, making no noise that Bo could make out. Feeling somewhat claustrophobic, Bo allowed himself to follow in Will's wake, too caught up in what was going on to turn back now. Ignoring his discomfit, Bo listened as Will continued. 'They are all having a welcoming banquet, even though the mooks have been here a whole week. It was 'cos The King was out hunting or something, and he only just got back. Anyway - turn left – I decided to give my own little welcoming gift to the desert people. Okay stop.' Will had directed them through a short maze of corridors that Bo felt certain he would never be able to remember come morning. The white haired teen seemed to know his way well, even in the dark. Bo wondered why Will had bothered silencing their footsteps if he was going to insist on whispering. The dark skinned teen also noticed that despite the silver collar's claim, his own feet were slapping just as noisily as ever on the stone floor. Luckily, he had learned through long and sometimes painful experience the virtue of silence, and in his time in The Gutter had gotten quite good at walking silently. Small slits of light shone through into the hall where Will had called for the group to stop, and every boy pressed an eye to them.

  In the room beyond, a long table was set with a rich fare. There were so many foods that Bo had only heard about, he could feel his mouth watering. It certainly didn't help that he had missed his dinner in order to polish weapons for Alexander. Closest to him there were plump roasted ducks, and well cooked lamb that had fat literally dribbling from it. There were plates of crackling, and small pastry coated dumplings. Further down Bo could see fiery looking salads that contained all sorts of fruits that were red, yellow, and orange, artistically displayed in their bowls. There were sauces of all textures and colours set along the table, plates of spices for garnishing dishes, and large jugs of wine. The eating had already started, but only just. Everyone was still busy piling their plates high with food. How they could stand to wait until such an hour for dinner, Bo could only guess. He could easily spot the foreigners. They were wearing strange, bright clothes. Some were in blue, while others sported red, or purple. Most of them were wearing a horrible dirty orange colour. If Bo had been made to guess, he would have said they were colour coded, but he had no idea what the colours signified. Their clothes of choice consisted of a strange one piece set, that looked like trousers joined onto a long sleeved shirt. Often the men had a belt that broke up the ensemble and helped to give their bodies some shape, rather than looking like they were wearing sacks, while the women's clothes were distinctly better fitting, having been tailored to suit the shapes of their bodies. In total there were about twenty of the desert people, and they sat well dispersed amongst a gathering of over thirty of King Samuel's people. There was one man that stood out above the rest of them. He presided over the table, perched high in an expensive chair right at the end. He wore rich robes trimmed with expensive fur, and sported a large number of rings and necklaces. His body build, however, showed that he was unused to sitting down for long periods of time, as he was built on the muscular side. Bo gasped as he realised he was spying
on The King himself. Will clapped a hand over Bo's mouth, frowning angrily. He hissed,

  'Shut up you ninny, there are over ten grand mages in that room, and any one of them could find us if they thought to look. We'd be deader than a rat in a bin of water if they hear us.'

  Bo shut his mouth. It was too dry to make any further sound anyhow. He was suddenly wishing that he was back in his room, sound asleep on his bed roll. Silently the slaves pressed their eyes to the holes once more. Bo watched proceedings with a horrified fascination, wondering what kind of mischief Will had gotten him into. 'Watch when the wine is handed out' breathed Will. Bo had to strain to hear him. 'I switched the wine, that was supposed to go to the desert dwellers with vinegar.'

  As if on cue, Bo watched as The King ordered one of the serving girls to pour wine for the guests. The girls did so, handing the first glass to a man in blue clothes. On closer inspection Bo realised the man was much younger than he'd expected. He looked no more than one or two years older than Bo himself. He had rich black hair, that was parted neatly on one side. His face was a little long, with a strong nose and intelligent brown eyes. His skin was very tanned, but Bo suspected it was from spending a long time in the sun, rather than a natural complexion. He was also a good handspan taller than anyone else sitting at the table, although he stooped his shoulders as if ashamed of that fact. With surprisingly nimble hands he grasped the cup he was given and took a long sip of the 'wine' that was inside it. For a moment Bo thought he would spray the vinegar all over the table, so surprised was his expression. The teen watched as the man in blue struggled to swallow the vinegar rather than spitting it out. Impatient for a response, The King asked what the man thought, and the man bought himself some time by dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. When he was done his expression was smoothed over, and any trace of disgust was removed.

  'I was very... surprised... by the taste. You have an interesting local selection here.' he said diplomatically, unobtrusively sliding the glass away from himself as he spoke. Will hurried away and Bo could hear him cackling with amusement even though he had managed to go some distance down the corridors before losing control of himself.

  After that, the small group hurried back to their room. Bo was almost dead on his feet and he groaned when he remembered that slaves were woken up before dawn. He imagined that would give him only about four hours of sleep. Will unlocked the door, and then locked it again using his magic. Had he been less sleepy, Bo might have marvelled that his friend had never been caught out at his little trick, but it was late, and Bo'd had a busy day. Almost as soon as his head hit the bedroll he was asleep. His dreams were filled with strange things that were only half recognised; here the interior of a trailer, there the hot forge where he'd had the collar put on him. The last image burned into his memory as he struggled awake was of the boy he'd found in the upper levels of the weapon storehouse, with his eyes rolled back, chest heaving as he gasped for breath.

  The next day came all too quickly. Barely awake, Bo rolled out of bed, and Will briefly spent time admiring the swollen cheek that he'd been unable to appreciate in the dark of night. In the cold pre-dawn light it looked much worse than it was. Grumbling incoherently Bo hurriedly redressed his hand. It looked much better than it had yesterday, and was starting to hurt less as well, although the skin around it was still an alarming shade of dark red. As soon as the bedrolls were stacked, there was a click and the lock opened up to show one of Master Sir's bowmen, leering at the slaves nastily. Without saying anything he moved on, wishing to get his duties over and done with so he could run back to bed for an extra five minutes. Bo, Will, and Johan headed out into the corridor, toward the refectory. The brassers were barely awake, but Will seemed as bright and sprightly as always, calling out to friends he could see across the hall, and making jokes with other slaves who were similarly wide awake. Someone bumped into Bo's arm and he glanced over to see Allie. She did a double take, her eyes clearly on his bruise.

  'Wow what happened to you yesterday?' she asked, as though it was any of her business. Wearily, Bo explained that he'd taken a few punches from some silver collars. 'I'll bet it was Aaron and his group,' decided the girl. It wasn't a question, and Bo's expression was enough to confirm her suspicions. 'He was hanging around the girl who was supposed to be showing me the ropes yesterday. She said something about Will and Aaron slapped her down where she stood before hurrying away in a huff. She spent the rest of the day moaning and whining about Aaron to me, so don't worry - I know all about him and his bully boys.' Allie pursed her lips disapprovingly. Bo shrugged, not sure why she insisted on talking to him. It wasn't like they were friends. Huffing at Bo's lack of response, the girl flounced away, looking for better company. The teen shook has head, as Will slapped him on the back.

  'She looks like a handful!' he said gleefully. Bo rolled his eyes, as Will asked what the girl's name was.

  'Allie. Anyway I don't really know her, okay? She's just a busybody.' Will whistled at Bo through his teeth, and nudged him with an elbow, teasingly suggesting that Bo was head over heels smitten with the girl. The jokes continued all the way to the breakfast hall, and all through breakfast as well (another helping of bitter gruel). Bo was glad when something else distracted Will. One of the cooks handed Will an extra plate.

  'what's this, seconds? Have I bin a good boy already today?' grinned Will. The cook cuffed Will across the head playfully.

  'Donchu eat that Will, I want you to deliver it to that brasser what's laid up in the infirmary. You wouldn't want it anyway, no magic'd food is allowed in there, so it tastes like puke.' Will didn't stop grinning, but he became more serious. Bo thought that puke would be a better taste than the food he'd consumed so far, but he wasn't about to say that in front of the cooks, just in case they took him at his word, and tried to improve his meals with a bit of vomit as thanks for the critique. While most of the slaves were still hungrily slurping down their gruel, Bo, Johan, and Will went to visit the brasser they had rescued yesterday.

  The infirmary was only a short walk away from the eating hall. It was much cleaner than the rest of the slave quarters. So clean in fact that Bo felt like a grubby farm animal that had wandered into a temple. There was a quiet chatter amongst the healers, but apart from that there was silence. Bo fell in behind Will, using him as something akin to a human shield. He didn't want to be questioned by any of the mages, who all seemed to be quite tall and held themselves away from the slaves as though the three boys were trespassing vagabonds. Will spoke to one of the nearest healers, who was wearing undyed cotton robes.

  ''Scuse me, we came to give this food to the brasser what's in here,' said Will, holding out the still steaming substance. The healer gave the gruel a sniff, before wrinkling her nose. Bo could only agree, it wasn't something to whet the appetite.

  'As thoughtful as that is of you, he isn't with us any more.' Will cultivated a look of polite confusion, and the healer sighed at his apparent stupidity. 'He was taken away, I don't know where to. Master Sir took him last night, saying there was a better place for him to be.' She sniffed disdainfully, 'I don't see what place could be better, we have very high standards here.' Will looked worried, but he smoothed the healer's ruffled feathers by saying that the infirmary was indeed very high quality, and that Master Sir wouldn't know a healer from a chicken, for all that he boasted about his wealth of knowledge and high upbringing. The white haired slave took the gruel back to the cooks, explaining the situation. They seemed as confused as Will had been, but simply accepted matters without thinking to enquire any deeper into them.

  That day, Will, Bo and Johan were to sweep out the lower levels of the castle. They weren't alone in the task, as there were two more groups assigned to the task, giving a total of nine slaves. Even with nine people working on sweeping, it took well past the lunch break to finish the task. By the time Bo was finished he could swear that he had a much better idea of how the lower levels were laid out, and would probably be able to navigate them
by himself in the future. Will had been highly skilled with the broom, although he claimed not to have used one since his days as a brasser. He soon finished his own portion of the work and slipped out, after assuring Bo and Johan that he would be back, and making sure they knew what they were doing. The day passed without much happening. Even though Bo had completely finished, Will was still missing, and there was no one to tell him what to do. Stashing the broom back where he had taken it from, Bo wandered over to the weapon storehouse. Like yesterday, the area was abandoned. Cautiously, Bo crept inside, wondering if he was allowed to do so without an invitation from the weapon master. Like the day before he breathed the unique odour of the place in, enjoying its comforting bouquet. Alexander was already inside, checking to make sure everything had been stored in its proper place. He gave Bo a curt nod, and Bo walked directly over to the pile of swords he had been shining yesterday. He paused and turned to look at Alexander. It took a while for the weapon master to see that Bo was hesitating over his task, and with an irritated sigh, he rightly guessed that the boy was waiting for permission to touch the weapons.

  'Can polish swordz now. Go.'

  Bo spent several hours polishing the weapons, working through his mealtime for the second day in a row. Wiping the sweat away, Bo felt some satisfaction in seeing that he had finally managed to polish his way through the entire pile of weapons that had been laid before him. Alexander came over as the sun was setting, and gave almost every weapon a thorough check, often nodding his head in approval. Bo's arms ached once again from the work, but every time Alexander approved of his work, he felt it was worth the effort.

  'Iz good. Zo good, you come back tomorrow, and whenever you haff time. Iz lots of veapons, alvays needink polish.' The fat instructor gestured at the warehouse in general and Bo's eyes widened in horror. He wanted the entire warehouse polished? Alexander grinned, 'Iz good. I don't like to polish, and you do good job. No need for me to polish any more, yez?' With that he dismissed Bo, who was both surprised and irritated. The teen wondered if he had just been suckered into doing hard work that was supposed to be done by Alexander himself. He was missing his meals to polish, when he could be enjoying his free time exploring the castle. Grinding his teeth in irritation, the brasser couldn't think of anything to say to Alexander. Why pick on him? Was it just because he'd broken the rack or was it some other reason? Bo's apparent irritation only seemed to heighten Alexander's amusement, and so the teen quickly left before the weapons master could start laughing at him outright.

  Bo reached the courtyard at a quick trot, keeping a wary eye out for Aaron and his crew. He didn't want to get caught out a second time if he could help it. Unlike the day before, the sun still peeked over the horizon, shedding light on the courtyard. There were still shadows to hide in, but they were fewer and far between. Bo decided to travel around the perimeter of the courtyard, sticking to the shadows himself in an attempt to avoid trouble. Trouble, however seemed to cling to Bo like a flea to a mongrel. He could hear raised voices coming from nearby. One was clearly Master Sir's while the other was the deep tones of an unknown man. They were standing directly in between Bo and the slave quarters, making it difficult to impossible for him to sneak past them without being seen. Even if he could have crept past, however, Bo was transfixed by curiosity.

  'I tell you, it's inhumane!' said the desert mage in a raised voice. His brown eyes were wide with outrage. Master Sir was leering at him, in one hand he clutched the slender arm of a serving girl with a silver collar.

  'You may not have slaves where you're from, but here it's perfectly acceptable. You should get off your high horse and take a look around you. These slaves are better off than those who live in poverty in The Gutter,' retorted Master Sir in a smug, condescending way. He was clearly pleased that the other man had lost his temper. The mage seemed to fume at this, and his voice became louder still. His tone of outrage was clear and he was stepping closer and closer to Master Sir as he spoke, looming over the shorter man.

  'How dare you ask someone to give up their freedom and then have the gall to say they were better off!' Master Sir didn't back down, clearly unafraid. It took Bo a moment to realise that it was because he had three of his boys standing at his back, hiding in the shadows. The teen felt a lump form in his throat. He worried that if the foreign diplomat did not give up the fight that he would soon be skewered by three arrows and dumped in the woods somewhere in a shallow grave. The man in blue seemed ignorant of the threat posed by Master Sir, however, and was trying to argue with the man rationally. 'Fine!' he declared after a moment, when it became apparent that Master Sir would not be swayed. For a moment or two the tall desert man fumbled with a pouch. Master Sir went stiff and the bowmen standing in the shadows all went for their weapons, worried that the foreigner was going to cast a spell or bring out a weapon. Instead he threw four silver coins at the feet of Master Sir. The Master simply looked at the coins scornfully, although Bo felt the man was greedily waiting for a chance to snatch at them. 'You only understand money, am I right? Well I want to buy this girl's freedom.' The girl in question started to sob bitterly, much to the shock of the large desert man.

  'Please sir, I like it here. I get food and a roof over my head. I get medical attention when I need it. I know sometimes I have te do things what other folk wouldn't want te do themselves, but I don't- I can't. Please, I don't want to be free.' The man in blue reeled back as though he'd been slapped in the face. Bo bit his tongue, wishing that he'd been there instead of the girl. He wouldn't have turned down his freedom, but then, she'd probably been brought up as a slave. He could understand her not wishing to leave the life she knew well, especially if she'd made it all the way to a silver collar. Master Sir grabbed up the coins before the man in blue could take them back, a smug smile plastered to his face.

  'pleasure doin' business with you, Sir. As you can see though, this girl here is happy with her station. You can pretend you bought her the freewill to choose to be a slave, if you like.' The tall mage's jaw clenched in anger. He couldn't rightly force the girl out of slavery, but he didn't like the fact that she was so happy with her life. Bo could see that it went against the man's every ideal. Master Sir could see it as well, and he leered in victory. 'Any time you feel like wasting your coin again, be sure to see me about it.' With that he turned and dragged the girl after him. She stumbled before breaking into an awkward forced trot as he lead her away. The mage scowled. He looked like he wanted to chase Master Sir, but in the end he simply turned on his heel and walked back to the castle with long strides.

  The rest of Bo's trip back to his quarters was uneventful. He met Johan and Will in their room. All of the boys were gathered around Will, who was telling them of his latest exploits, which largely consisted of hiding a mouse in one of the noble girl's huge dresses, and waiting in hiding. He described in great detail how she had shrieked, ripping the garment from her body, and how she had looked in her underclothes for the tiny creature, afraid that it would bite her. Bo shook his head, uninterested in the graphic detail that Will was etching out for the other boys of the woman, as though he was a lovestruck poet. Instead the dark skinned teen made use of the fading light to changing the bandages on his hand. Eventually Will finished his tale and came over to have a look at Bo's awkward work. Tutting at what he saw, Will took over the bandaging, doing almost as good a job as Alexander. As he worked, he eyed the tin of cream.

  'That's pretty expensive stuff you got there.' Bo looked up at him, surprised, and Will grinned at his friends confusion. 'Them as fight a lot get wounded a lot, and they tend to build up a resistance ter healin' magics. This kinda cream is special made, where all of the herbs what go in it are magic'd to make em super potent, but the cream itself isn't magic. You remember what I said about the lock last night?' Bo nodded, 'Well it's like that. It's magic, but it aint, if you catch my drift.' Bo hurriedly explained that Alexander had given it to him, which caused Will to raise an eyebrow, but the white haired slave a
sked no more questions. It was then Bo remembered about the incident that happened in the courtyard, and he relayed it to Will, vaguely aware that everyone else in the room was keeping a curious ear open as well. Bo omitted his own opinion of the matter, however, and he was glad he did. As soon as he finished his tale Will frowned angrily and spat on the ground, 'Huh, they think they're so much better 'n the likes of us. What do they know about it? Isn't life better as a slave in the castle than a corpse in The Gutter? They shouldn't prod their nose where it don't belong.' A few of the others nodded in agreement, and Bo remained silent about his desire to be the one the desert mage had chosen to free, sensing that it would win him no favours with his new friends. It was true that he was fed, clothed, and cared for, but he was also expected to work without pay, and he'd heard what some of the other slaves were forced to do. Not to mention the collar that sat around his throat every day. Will may be used to being treated like a dog, even a prize hunting dog, but Bo felt cheated, like his own life had been snatched away from him. That night he got to sleep very quickly and had no dreams. He felt better in the morning than he had the previous day, but he was still not good company.

  Once again the girl came and talked to him, chattering away about trivial gossip. Bo yawned, not interested in the news about what this slave girl or that slave girl had done yesterday (or not done, in most cases). Eventually he interrupted her, remembering something he'd been wondering about

  'Have you heard about the war?' The girl looked confused, so Bo elaborated quickly, explaining what he could remember of the news Will had told him. The girl went thoughtfully quiet, and they were split up before the conversation could continue. Breakfast was the same as it had been yesterday and Bo ate only half of the gruel. He knew he would regret it when he got hungry later, but he couldn't possibly force down any more of it. As a matter of fact the entire day went very much like yesterday, although it was much less eventful. It seemed that the excitement of the first few days was over, and soon enough an entire week had passed. Bo got to try his hand at washing, sweeping, mucking out the animals, mopping, and a number of other menial tasks. He learned the names of everyone he shared a room with, and sometimes he saw them around the place and called out greetings, feeling quietly pleased every time he received a cheerful hello in return. Will often finished his work very quickly, and would duck off without saying where he was going. Usually he would boast about his practical jokes later that night but once or twice he simply smiled and refused to say what he had been up to, claiming a real man doesn't kiss and tell. Every spare moment Bo had, on the other hand, was spent polishing weapons for Alexander, and he had become a lot more comfortable with handling them, as it was proved time and again that Alexander's word was good enough to keep his collar from going off. By the end of the week Alexander asked to see his hand, which was no longer painful, and the weapons master declared it healed, telling Bo that he was allowed to take off the bandage. It was a relief to the teen not to have to tend to his hand all the time, but all the same, he didn't like seeing the black X inked onto his skin. When he worked it often caught in his peripheral vision and he would be reminded of his status. Little by little, Bo's blonde hair also began to grow back. It was his only defining feature, as there were very few dark skinned people with blonde hair, and it was commonly thought to be a genetic trait that was dying out. Although he'd never really thought that much of his hair, he realised that with new hair growing the new slaves were suddenly starting to look like individual people again. The shaving had been more dehumanising than the teen had realised, and he was glad to finally have some fuzz back on his head.

  Every morning Bo would have brief conversations with Allie. He had wondered why she insisted on speaking to him at first, given his less than enthusiastic response, until he realised that many of the other new brassers shunned her, and the silver collar guide she'd been lumped with was a self-concerned condescending type. It seemed as though Allie had no other friends to talk to. Bo didn't think he would have been able to cope with being taken in as a slave and not having any friends with which to talk to and learn from. He briefly tried to imagine what would have happened if he'd been given to Aaron or someone like that and couldn't help shuddering in distaste. After that realisation Bo decided to talk to the girl as often as he could, even if he saw her out and about and they were both rushed off their feet, he would have a few kind words for her. For her part, Allie seemed to soften, but was much the same as ever in other respects – just as haughty, and proud as she had always been. Will joked more than once that she must be Bo's sweetheart for him to pay her so much attention, but in truth Bo had no interest in courting her. He quickly learned however that putting up with the teasing made it end much faster than if he protested against it. The morning talks took on more significance near the end of the week, when the girl started to tell Bo about various tidbits she had heard in the women's quarters about the war. She revealed that one serving girl who had been at a few of the peace talks said that they were not going well. The desert dwellers talked and talked and talked, but they never seemed to listen, and while no one wanted to speak ill of the King, he hadn't seemed interested in peace talks either, almost as if he wished for a war to start. To Bo, this was bad news. He knew that should a proper war break out it would be the people in The Gutter who suffered first. Even though his family had betrayed them, he had an almost habitual worry for their well-being that no amount of resentment could quell. He also feared for his mage friend for the first time in days, wondering who was taking care of the old man, and what would happen if a war broke out. He was eventually forced to admit that there was nothing he could do, and tried to put the thoughts out of his mind through concentrating on his day to day activities.

  On the last day of the week, Will explained that those slaves that were not rostered on for cooking, serving, or 'entertaining' were given a half day off. Unfortunately for him, he was rostered to serve for the nobles. He explained that Master Sir always made sure he was rostered on for something at the week's end – it was the only petty revenge he could manage. None of the kitchen staff would have him, due to his notoriety as a prankster, and he was not fit for entertainment, mostly due to his eyes scaring people too much, which left him only one job. He didn't even bother asking any more whether he was serving on the halfday off, he could safely assume he was. Sure enough as lunch was called the slaves were free to go back to their rooms, or to chat with each other, and to visit the castle library or farm or other such trivial pleasures. Bo, although he felt hungry, did not relish the idea another lunch of bitter gruel. He could also hear that there were people training in the practice yards, and he was curious to see what the fighters did that made the swords and weapons so cursed dirty that they needed polishing all the time. Bidding farewell to Will and Johan, Bo jogged toward the weapon storehouse and practice grounds, opting to avoid lunch completely. Will called after him telling him not to get too ambitious with his girl on the first date, and to make sure the spot was clear, assuming his friend was headed to the small pond that he'd been shown on his first day. Bo merely stuck out his tongue at Will, shouting back that he hoped Will enjoyed his serving duties. When he thought about it, however, Bo realised he hadn't seen Allie that morning before breakfast. It felt worrying but he didn't know where he could ask after her, not to mention that he would never live down the teasing if Will found out he'd asked to see her.

  Bo found himself too late to see what was going on in the practice yard. Everyone was very sweaty, having been working out in the sun, and they were all drinking water from flasks. A few of them drank half and poured the rest over their heads to cool themselves down. Many were in the process of leaving. They were all required to place their weapons neatly on a tarpaulin, which Alexander gathered up as the last few trickled out. He heaved the large sack over one shoulder and trudged inside with it. Bo recognised the bundle all too well, it was often what his pile of weapons to polish looked like. Sure enough when he covertly follo
wed Alexander into the store room the man set it down next to the polishing cloth. The weapons master then threw a loaf of bread over his shoulder which would have hit Bo on the head if the boy had not caught it.

  'Vhy here? Iz lunch time, yez?' Bo enjoyed talking to Alexander, if only because he wasn't treated like a slave, rather than a human. Alexander was often grumpy, however, and was as likely to grunt or growl responses as say anything intelligible.

  'I'm not hungry.' Bo lied, swiftly devouring the bread he'd been given. Alexander turned to say something, and raised an eyebrow, seeing Bo licking crumbs off his face. The teen tried to look as honest as he could manage.

  'Bread tazte better vith cheeze and pickle.' Advised Alexander, tucking into his own lunch which seemed to contain both cheese and pickles. Bo's mouth watered at the thought of real food. He missed the heavily salted meat he had eaten on good days while on the streets and even the rotting vegetables, and the stiff as wood breads.

  'What is a pickle?' Bo tried innocently. He knew very well what a pickle was, and Alexander snorted in disbelief.

  'Vould geef you pickle, but you are not hungry, yez?' Bo's face fell and his stomach gurgled noisily, not above ratting out the teen as a liar if there was food involved. Alexander laughed as Bo grasped his stomach in an attempt to stop it from making incriminating noises. Eventually he allowed Bo a pickle, of which he seemed to have a ceramic jar at the ready. 'Not eat kitchen pickles, they are no good. My picklez, they are the bezt. You try, and then you agree.' Bo sat cross legged on the ground before devouring the pickle, savouring the flavour of the unexpected treat. He'd not been extremely fond of pickles previously but it was so much better than gruel, he felt he could eat the entire pot of them. Licking his fingers carefully, he agreed most readily that Alexander's pickles were the best he'd ever tasted. The weapons master flashed a grin, displaying his unusually white teeth once more, clearly well pleased with himself. Once the impromptu lunch was finished, Alexander threw Bo a short staff. It was about 3 feet long, and although the small teen looked at it quizzically there was no explanation. It was made of a rough wood, and Bo didn't think that he could polish it, even if Alexander wanted him to. At just that moment, there was a crackle and creak as the large door to the warehouse opened and a young man walked in. He seemed unaware of Alexander and Bo watching him, and looked around furtively, before cupping one hand to his mouth and bellowing out,

  'Mister Alexander?!' Alexander mumbled something under his breath. Before the boy could shout out again, Alexander waved to catch his attention. The teen trotted over to the weapon master apprehensively. He was of average height, which meant he was taller than both Bo and Alexander by about a half a hand. His skin was tanned, but despite the tan it was still moderately pale, indicating that his natural skin colour would have been about as white as Will's was. Although he wore a light shirt with suspenders, and heavily patched training pants, Bo could see he was incredibly hairy. The boy's shoulders were rounded in a slump, giving his posture a curved shape. His arms were unusually long, and unlike many of the young fighters, he had relatively long hair that occasionally fell across his eyes. Rather than well defined muscles, his body was also thicker set than many Bo had seen. Most importantly however, he had no collar around his neck. 'You said I should come back at week's end?' asked the boy. He sounded anxious, and rightly so. Alexander was giving him an intense frown.

  'Yez. You not very good at fighting. Vill need extra training. Found boy who iz zame level as you. Iz Bo.' Alexander pointed one meaty finger in Bo's direction, turning to Bo he gestured in the other teen's direction, 'iz Ruben. You vill help him learn how to fight like proper.' With that being said he gave Ruben a stick of a similar length and heft to Bo's. Bo opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't allowed to fight someone above his station, and Alexander gave his a glare, 'I say iz okay, iz okay, yez? Like polishing. Do good job.' Ruben looked uncertain about what was going on, but he seemed too afraid of Alexander to protest, and too easy going to worry too much once he was distracted with work. Alexander took them both through a number of basics, including a stretch and warm up, a basic stance, and a few basic swings. The wooden stick could be swung to attack a target at any point around the person, and Alexander demonstrated this with alarming force, giving both Bo and Ruben a few bruises that he said would help them remember the lesson. He made sure they kept a light footing, and a steady stance, always ready to correct them with his whipstick. Bo felt that he understood why Alexander's fighters were so wary of the portly weapon master. At the end of the lesson, the sun was sinking on the horizon. Bo was drenched in sweat, as was Ruben. It was very hot in the armoury but Alexander insisted that this was a private lesson and should not be spoken of among other people, making secrecy important. For the last task Ruben and Bo were told to spar. The winner was the last one standing. Bo looked at Alexander to see if he was serious. He wasn't smiling at least, and he impatiently gestured for the two to get to it. Ruben looked more worried than Bo did, his anxiety causing his fighting stance and grip to go wonky. Although Alexander was quick to correct him Ruben was clearly worried. Bo steadied himself, trying to remember everything he'd learned over the course of the lesson. His muscles were tired, and he could feel some of them shuddering when he rested his weight on them.

  Shuffling forward awkwardly Bo swung at Ruben with one of the practised blows. Ruben quickly jumped backwards, and Bo followed him, still trying to keep a fighting stance as he was going. Although he had fought with sticks on the street, and felt that the stance was slightly unnatural, he did not want to be corrected by Alexander. The result of this dedication to the basics was clearly very amusing to Alexander, who was trying to mute his chuckles unsuccessfully. Bo frowned angrily at the noise. He swung at Ruben again, and Ruben backed away. This continued until Ruben had backed all the way into a wall. Growling with irritation, Bo swung again. Having nowhere to go, Ruben whimpered, and blocked instinctively. It wasn't one of the well practised blocks, nor was his stance the correct stance. Bo followed up with another strike at Ruben's side, managing to hit the other teen, but also being hit in the arm when Ruben flailed his own stick fearfully. Alexander called them both back to the centre, and told them to start again. Ruben was clearly ready this time, and he went on a wild attack. Bo tried to block as he'd been taught, rather than instinctually, and incurred many a bruise on hands, shoulders, and arms for it. Finally one of Ruben's mad swings managed to catch him in the head, and Bo was floored. He felt slightly dizzy, but Ruben picked him up somewhat apologetically and they both walked back to Alexander to get a drink. After some water, Bo felt a lot better. Alexander crossed his arms, and had his bushy eyebrows lowered thoughtfully.

  'Ruben, you not try hard for proper stance, and proper hits. You need to remember these, not vild thrashing like fish out of vater. Bo you try too hard. Need to be flexible. Iz much work left, yez?' Alexander commanded that they both come back for training every week end, and showed them exercises that he expected them to complete every day, explaining that it would make them stronger. Bo handed his stick back to Alexander and groaned when he realised that there was still the polishing to do. The tired teen began to walk to the large pile of dirty practice swords, but Alexander motioned for him to stop. 'I polish tonight. Go before door iz locked.' Bo and Ruben left the armoury together. Neither said much, and they parted ways before getting to the courtyard, with Ruben going toward the castle, and Bo returning to the slave quarters. He arrived just before lock up to find that Will was complaining bitterly about the desert folk again. The silver collar slave claimed that they were the grumpiest lot he'd ever had to serve, and that they each took dinner in their own rooms.

  “I swear they all been looking at me kinda funny, and one of the guys gave me a pat on my backside. I really hope he doesn't get any ideas, because Master Sir has been hoping to foist me off on entertainment for months.” The boy pulled a face, and Bo had to laugh at Will's antics. The worst thing, Will continued, was that he
was on serving duties for the rest of the next week as well, and was already planning ways he could keep himself amused. Bo really hoped his friend didn't do anything too drastic - they were supposed to be on friendly terms with these desert people after all, and the white haired boy might get in real trouble if he sabotaged peace talks for the sake of a few pranks.