by Clare London
“They fight among themselves,” I said, grimly. “They argue. There’s unnecessary conflict. These men are not soldiers.”
“No, I know. I think the strict discipline and the very singular strength has been lost to them somehow.” His brow furrowed as he struggled to think through such rebellious concepts. “But many of the men are better pleased with running the Place, with responsibilities toward a family instead. I don’t know, Maen….”
“Perhaps you only see what they want you to see,” I said rather harshly. “Your Devotions have stopped completely, and your body and mind will be disturbed. The Exiles would want us to be confused, and undermined. That way, they’re more likely to trick the information they want out of us. And they’ll want revenge of some kind. How better than to distress good citizens of the city?”
He sighed, though his gaze was still firm. “You’re right. You’ve always been right. And true, and good. I know I’m young. I know nothing except the city and the life of a Remainder. You’ve been close to the Mistress, and even the Queen’s Household.”
“Their life may seem attractive because of that very difference you describe. But such a society won’t work as well as you think,” I stressed. “They’re very rough here and not as sophisticated. They’re obviously suffering from lack of food and other essentials, and they don’t have the skills or the ability to improve their lot. They have pride, I’ll allow them that respect. But it means that they won’t want us to know how miserable their life is.” Dax’s eyes were turned away from me now, and I was suddenly, shockingly afraid I’d lost him—his attention, his trust, his admiration. But wasn’t it better he knew the truth?
“Is that what you want, Dax? That life?” My words were hoarse. I wanted to put my hand on his shoulder, and apparently I did it too, for I saw it resting there, large and rather callused. I felt the tension in his young body, and its echo shivered through me.
“You mean, to live here?” His reply was thoughtful, his voice also hoarse. But a hint of steel underlay his next words. “To live in a group like this, all ages together, men and women, children too? The opportunity to do more than the job you’re allocated by the House of Utilities, make more decisions than just how best to please your Mistress this night, look forward to something other than retirement in the Training School, and when you get old, the company of no one but your fellow soldiers, outliving their use?”
He shrugged off my hand, and the loss of contact was strangely hurtful. “The Exiles are rough, but there’s potential here, Maen, if they had help. There’s challenge. And yes, I would want that challenge, that freedom, for it’s what I’ve dreamed of in the Remainder camps—even in the Household, where I’d hoped to find a new, more satisfying way of life. What I’ve dreamed of!” he almost spat at me. And then he turned and ran from the cave.
Chapter Eight
I STRAIGHTENED my back, groaning. I’d thought I was the fittest I could ever be, but a couple of weeks of work in the dry riverbeds had shown me how limited my stamina was. Admittedly I’d lost some muscle strength while recovering from my wounds, and I was still in pain from my knee. Today was particularly bad after I’d put a lot of pressure on the leg. A thin but effective chain shackled to cuffs around my ankles hobbled me. It made it difficult to work effectively.
Both Dax and I had been put to work while the Exiles continued their attacks on parts of the city. There was an air of urgency in the camp that led me to believe we’d been caught up in a sustained campaign against the Queen—or so I understood, listening in to snatches of conversation and watching the movement of groups of men. I kept my quiet counsel, just noting who went missing from the camp, and how often, and in what state they returned.
We were still watched, but less carefully. Every man was preoccupied with preparation for the attacks and the expectation of being called into action at any time. I also thought Takk was still deciding what to do with us. I didn’t fool myself, however. I was waiting for further interrogation, knowing it could come at any time. So could our execution. In the meantime, they used our muscles to help maintain the Place. The work in the riverbeds was an attempt to shore up the banks, to retain what little natural water flowed through the hills. It was dry, painful work, as we often fell on the stones, and the base of the riverbed itself was cold and hard. There were other Exiles working with us, and I suspected they were criminals of some kind.
They were still treated with more respect and care than I was.
Eila came to watch us sometimes. It seemed she wasn’t expected to be part of the battle party, though I think she was annoyed at that, rather than pleased to be in the relative safety of the Place. She was presumably supervising us, but when we took our brief rest periods, she joined us for water and bread. A few days after we started our labors, another girl began to accompany her. I’d noticed there were specific, hereditary traits to those who’d presumably been born and bred here: thick dark hair and a short stocky build, even in the women. However, this new girl was slim and had lighter hair than many of the other Exiles. She looked very young. The Exiles brought their children into the life of the Place at the earliest age, it seemed. I didn’t think she was Eila’s daughter, as there was little physical resemblance, though I supposed she might have been a cousin of some kind. Her name was Veli, and she appeared fascinated by Dax from the very beginning. He’d smiled at her, having seen her elsewhere in the camp, and she’d taken this as some kind of encouragement. She was fascinated by his white hair, though her gaze strayed often to the rest of his body. We wore very little at work, just loose trousers and vest, and boots from a central pile of footwear, none of which seemed to fit anyone in particular. Our work kept us warm, and when we stopped to rest, there was a pile of furs we could huddle into, to keep our bodies from locking up with the sudden cold.
Eila seemed to find it amusing at first, the longing gaze Veli gave the prisoner from the city, but she could also be irritated by it. I found this erratic mood interesting, for I was sure she’d brought Veli along for that very purpose in the first place. And I was proved right. After a few days and more than a few urgent, whispered conversations between her and Veli, Eila allowed Dax out of his chains to take a longer break than me. Then he went off somewhere with Veli, and wasn’t back for a while. When he returned after this trip, he had trouble meeting my eyes.
There were other days, other trips off with Veli. Dax refused to acknowledge anything about it to me. For Devotions’ sake, did he think I was stupid? I knew they’d been coupling. I’d learned from overhearing the crude discussions of the Exile men that Exile women were sexually active from their first admission of a womanly cycle. Dax himself had told me that the life of the Remainders was similar, the children becoming available both for coupling and for work as soon as they emerged from childhood. It had been a surprise for me to learn this, for in a Household, the Ladies and their soldiers waited for a few more years of maturity before entering fully into breeding and pleasure. It was another example, perhaps, of how little I actually knew about life outside the Household, even within my own home city.
For once, Dax’s liaisons were no business of mine. Things had changed very subtly between us during these weeks away from the city. Dax and I had become comrades here in the Place, men together, not recruit and commander. There was no way I could maintain any kind of superiority over him when we were both prisoners stripped of rank and respect.
This was brought most starkly into relief by the way the Exiles themselves viewed us. They tolerated Dax, even welcomed him in some cases. No one seemed concerned that his chains were often missing; no one spoke with any disgust about his coupling with an Exile girl. I’d found him laughing with some of the men at times. I’d seen him crouched beside a fire with them, examining their weapons, sharing the same food. Was it because he’d been a Remainder? Many of the Exiles had come from that stock, and even though Dax had unusual looks for a Remainder, his attitude and background were similar to theirs.
It was a very different situation for me. When I caught people’s gazes, I was met with suspicion and fear, sometimes even hatred. It wasn’t because of my looks, which weren’t so very different from theirs. My hair was darker than Dax’s and my skin colored by the sun and years of work on the training ground. Of course, I was much taller and of a very muscular build, and I couldn’t fail to see that the Devotions had kept my body younger and fitter than Exile men of the same age.
I suspected I was a symbol of the city, the place so many of them had been expelled from or found untenable. In the city I’d been a person to admire, the sign of all that was good and strong. Here I was a reminder of detestation and exile. I was ashamed to admit how much this new treatment depressed me.
I’d revised my opinion of the Exiles, as well, having been too dismissive of them at first, believing them to be an immature society made up of rejects and miscreants. I found their lack of order offensive in the extreme, but I could see they ran the camp as best they could and in many ways it was efficient enough. Their arguments and their communal debates were exhausting, though. I would often hear them outside my tent, the fire burning too long into the night, the women—and men!—disagreeing and haranguing each other. But by the end of the debate, a decision would have been made among them, and they’d follow it with surprising enthusiasm.
The role of their women continued to distress me—or was it that I found the belligerence of their men so shocking? Many of the women deferred to the men completely, and many men treated the women with appalling disrespect. I found the presence of their children distracting, yet it was strangely heartening to hear the sounds of their playing and their relentless cheer, even in the face of a difficult time for the camp. The Exiles were very different, indeed, their way of life totally foreign to me. Yet it seemed to work happily enough for them.
But I feared for Dax. Although they’d treated us with some semblance of care, I believed they’d kill us as soon as the battle parties returned and Takk turned his attention back to his camp. I’d never tell him anything that would threaten the city that had succored me all my life, and Dax knew little enough to tell, but I feared they’d torture him in the hope of loosening my tongue. Eila had promised as much.
I watched him at work, and I watched him asleep at night, for we shared a small, battered tent on the outskirts of the campgrounds. I watched him every time he returned from his dealings with the fragile Veli. Throughout it all, I wondered how I could protect him.
“THEY’RE A fine couple, aren’t they?” came Eila’s voice, low at my ear. “Veli and your young apprentice?”
I started. I’d been sitting alone in a corner of the rest tent, savoring the fresh water someone had left for us and rubbing circulation back into my cold hands. I was on digging duty that morning, and the ground had frozen overnight. Whatever the weather during the days, the nights were always cold on the rock face. Dax had been with me for a while, but he was currently away with Veli. It was true I’d been watching out for his return, and Eila must have seen that.
I didn’t reply to her at first. I remained very wary of her motives in her dealings with me. Admittedly she intrigued me, and I couldn’t deny she was an attractive woman, but I was determined not to underestimate her, suspecting she was of stronger mettle even than Takk, who was obviously their dominant male. Whatever she liked to say, the ruling of this Place may not have been such a partnership, after all.
And maybe I still had plenty of conflicting issues about my relationship with women.
She laughed at my stubborn look. “They’re just having fun, Maen. It’s perfectly natural. Don’t you feel it yourself? There are girls who’d love to share a bed with you, you know. You must have seen them hovering around the work areas. It’s not just Dax who attracts the attention. To have a real live Gold Warrior here—and especially one as impressive as you—well, what would you expect? You could have your share of it too. You could be warm under someone else’s furs instead of on your own in your tent, breathing someone else’s moans, thrusting into their body, sleeping between their legs. I’d allow you to visit one—or two—if you chose. I’d be lenient for a while.”
“You’re in charge,” I said sharply. “I don’t doubt you’d send me wherever you wished, whether I wanted it or not.”
My mood was increasingly aggressive, but in a very different way than my controlled military strength, nothing like the way I was in the city. I was quick to anger these days, and eager to voice an opinion, though it was rarely asked. I was often too ready to rise to Eila’s baiting. I blamed the change in my equilibrium on the loss of Devotions. I was exhausted from the work and still recovering my full strength after injury, but Eila had been right when she said I’d start to feel the flow of blood in my veins again, that I’d feel a vibrancy I’d not felt since I was a Bronzeman. Each morning I woke with a clear head and thoughts running richly in my mind. I was aware of the change of weather on my skin in a way I’d never experienced before; the very basic food tasted as if it were something new.
And I felt the rush of sexual excitement in my body on waking, with a persistence I found hard to deny.
Eila put a hand on my thigh as she sat down on the bench beside me. I knew she was provoking me, for that was her way. It kept me uncertain of how things were, and presumably she knew that. I’d often catch her watching me, and Takk too when he was in the Place, though at the moment he was always away on raids. Eila had been left in charge of the camp… and me. I never knew whether she expected me to be the frightened prisoner or the aggressive Warrior. Did she hate me? Fear me? To sit so close to me today was unusual. She must have known I could overpower her now; the manual labor had succeeded in developing many muscles that had been dormant in me. But what could I do if I attacked her and tried to escape? I still bore the shackles, and we were still high in the hills. And I wouldn’t leave Dax here alone.
“You’re right, soldier,” she hissed softly. “You’re entirely at my disposal. And you know we argue over it, don’t you? Takk and I, over what to do with you.”
“Let me go, then,” I said swiftly. “Both of us. You’ll get nothing from me. I won’t betray my city or my Mistress.”
“Nor your Queen?”
“No,” I replied, bemused. “Nor my Queen.”
Her face flushed with something dark and furious, and I think she wanted to strike me. “Have you ever seen her, Maen? Your Queen?”
“Once. I was a new Silver Captain when the battle for Queenship was held in the arena. She was magnificent. She held all contenders at bay. Her men were intractable, her strategy reckless but imaginative—”
Eila made a sound of anguish, interrupting me. “She must have used magic. Her men fought madly, with suicidal zeal! There’s no other plausible explanation for it, except that she drew on spells and tricks from the time of colonization, to protect her from her sisters’ attacks and inspire her own troops. Many men died that day, far more than was usual, even in a battle like that. She defiled the event, for she conquered her opponents unfairly. It’s a tournament, Maen, or meant to be, not a bloody war.”
“I suppose that may have been so… but she was a marvel to behold.”
“And she was the only one in people’s eyes, wasn’t she?” Eila’s voice was sharp, with a tone I’d never heard in her speech before. “A glorious, bloodthirsty, victorious, beautiful woman, claiming her birthright, destroying her insignificant fellow siblings—”
I stared at the passion in her face. “You were there.” My breath caught, realization hitting me with a cold shiver, even in the midst of such a chill morning. “You were one of them!”
Eila’s eyebrows rose slightly and there was a blush high on her cheeks. “I was indeed, soldier. Maybe you weren’t so mesmerized by my elder sister, after all. I was one of the youngest, never expected to be a serious challenge, but I still had to participate. I was a precocious child and considered old enough at that time. It’s the way of things in the city, isn’t it? All
the sisters meet and battle, and only one will take the Queenship. I believe it’ll happen again in a year or so, with my sister’s children. They’ll meet in the arena, and years of kinship and, perhaps, friendship will be destroyed in a single event. Many will lose their lives as well, for of course it’s the only time women battle on their own behalf. One will go onto the greatest glory and adoration and power—but the others will lose.”
“You survived.”
She made a noise of discomfort. “I did. Much to her disgust! Any siblings who survive are nothing but an embarrassment and a horror to the reigning Queen. They may have been gentle, womanly sisters in the Royal Household, but who knows what kind of support they may be after such a crisis? After all, they might still harbor ambitions to be Queen. They may still be a threat to her position.” She saw my horror at all this and laughed, a short, bitter sound. “There were such plots after the battle, believe me. Two of my older sisters were reluctant to relinquish their positions and return to being nothing but Ladies, serving the Queen, maybe not even in her own Household. There were dark, secret betrayals, and loyal Guards were used and abused, persuaded to infiltrate and undermine the Royal Household.”
