Honor's Price

by Sever Bronny

  Carp stared at Leera, who kept her head down. “Are you smirking at me again?”

  “No,” Leera said with disdain, adding something vile under her breath.

  “What did you just say to me? Work detail!” He grabbed Leera by the robe and yanked her out of the line just as Pointy Chin joined them.

  Augum was about to do something really stupid when someone else strode over.

  “I have a better idea, Disciple Jessop.” It was Brandon, and he was standing straight, face rigid, hair once more slicked back. And he still wore his white robe.

  Disciple Jessop’s pointy chin rose. “Oh?”

  Brandon nodded at Leera. “She has money. Fine her five whole crowns. That should teach her some manners. And the money will help the cause, for as our esteemed Disciple Darby teaches, we are to put the needs of The Path ahead of all other needs.”

  “Work detail’ll teach her manners quicker,” Carp snapped, sizing Brandon up with disgust.

  “There is no rush, sir,” Brandon replied, ignoring Carp. “The work will be accomplished regardless, is that not so?”

  Disciple Jessop thought about it. “I suppose that is so. Very well, five crown fine. Hurry up, girl.”

  Leera frantically dug into her satchel and withdrew the five crowns, which the elder Path Disciple snatched and placed into a pouch. Then he flicked a dismissive hand at her.

  “You may get back in line,” Carp said importantly.

  Thankfully, Leera didn’t provoke him further and dutifully stepped back in line, head bowed.

  Augum met Brandon’s gaze and tried to convey his thanks with a look, but Brandon marched away.

  “That was a close one,” Laudine whispered when they were alone again, taking a deep breath. “And look at Brandon. ‘None be so sorry as those who make their friends worry.’ ”

  “Seems he’s taken what Augum said to heart,” Caireen said.

  “But now we’re short five crowns, aren’t we?” Laudine added. “Anyone have anything to spare?”

  The friends shook their heads.

  “Didn’t have time to work for more crowns last night,” Isaac said.

  The line moved along, and with each step forward, Leera grew increasingly unnerved. “Maybe we shouldn’t have given all that money away the other day,” she said.

  The friends, conspiring to come up with a plan, didn’t notice that an older student in emerald robes had joined them and was clearing his throat.

  “Oh, hello there,” Laudine said. “Didn’t see you.”

  Augum recognized the man as someone they had given money to yesterday.

  “I have a confession,” the man said. He had to be around thirty years of age, and he had dirty blonde hair and a short beard. “I didn’t need the money you gave me. I was just greedy and took it anyway. But my family is well off and I’m ashamed for having taken it.” He reached out with a small pouch of coins. “You have all taught me what courage means. Take it.”

  Laudine took the pouch. “That is very brave to admit—” but the man hurried back to his place in line.

  “That was odd,” Isaac said.

  “ ‘Every good deed deserves its due,’ ” Laudine whispered. She surreptitiously spilled the coins into her palm and counted. “Twenty-one crowns! That’s surely more than we gave him.” She handed Leera five then gave everybody two crowns. “And I’ll save these two for Bridget. There, that way we can pay off any frivolous fines they dole out today.” She flashed a dimpled smile at Augum. “Nice to have the occasional supporter, isn’t it?”

  Augum’s group at last reached The Path Disciples, who checked off names as they went. The friends each paid their seven crowns. But there was a problem paying for Bridget’s share.

  “What do you mean she has to pay her dues herself?” Leera snapped, eyes low.

  “Those are the new rules,” Disciple Jessop said with a sneer.

  “But she’s recovering from—”

  “Wait,” Augum said, nodding at the distant portal. “Look who it is.”

  Bridget rushed over, glowing with health. “Sorry I’m late.” She kept her eyes low as she dug seven crowns from her satchel. She handed them over, flared her seven ivy arm rings, and said, “Bridget Burns, 7th, earth.”

  The disappointed Path Disciple waved the friends by. “Yeah, yeah.” They walked off as fast as they dared and didn’t look back.

  Inside the Hall of Rapture, the friends enveloped Bridget in a squealing group hug. After fighting everybody off and playfully declaring them jackals, she begged for news, only to slap two hands over her mouth as she burst with a muffled cry upon hearing about Eric’s death. But Bridget was a fighter. After a good cry, she straightened and smoothed her robe. “We have to get to class. I overheard one of them say they are planning on fining those who are late.” And the group set forth together.

  Augum wanted to ask about the scroll she had uncovered in Archives but figured now was probably not the best time, considering the others were filling her in on everything else that had happened, including the success of yesterday’s transference ceremony, Augum’s daring new coal tunnel plan, and what Brandon had done, which instead of heartening her, unnerved her further. The look on her face was one of torn confusion.

  At least Augum had great classes today. Survival. Theory of Standard Spellcraft. Sword and Sorcery. But something felt off, yet he couldn’t put his finger on what. It was only when he reflexively glanced over his shoulder that he realized what it was.

  “Great, now there’s four of them following us,” he whispered, recognizing the pair of inexperienced younger Canterrans who had followed him around yesterday before he ditched them. The other two were taller and bulkier, but otherwise looked identical to the other sapphire-robed overseers.

  Isaac dropped his satchel. “Oops.” When he stooped to pick it up, he stole a glance. “Those other two are high degree, I can guarantee it,” he said when they resumed walking. “I think they know. I think they know what happened to their missing colleagues and they suspect you, but for some reason they’re not moving in for the kill.”

  “They don’t know,” Bridget interrupted. “The ones I overheard talking earlier said the missing Path Disciple and two overseers probably got drunk together, and if they didn’t show up by lunch, they’d be in trouble. So we still have time.”

  But something didn’t add up. Why hadn’t they snatched Augum up yet, or all three of them, for that matter? Especially after Eric had been publicly hanged, and Augum had stood up for his boyfriend, Iguyin. Surely Katrina would have made it plain that Augum should be hanged too.

  “They’re waiting for us to do something,” Augum muttered.

  “What are you going on about, Stone?” Isaac asked as they hurried to class.

  “They know I purposely lost my tail yesterday, so they might suspect we’re trying to start a new resistance.”

  “Are you saying they’re monitoring us to see what we’ll do?” Bridget asked.

  “That’s my guess. Anyone have a better theory?”

  Caireen adjusted her satchel. “I think they haven’t snatched us up yet because we haven’t officially broken any rules, and they’re keeping up the pretense that if we follow The Path and be meek little lambs then we won’t get kidnapped.”

  “Could be,” Laudine chimed in. “If they snatched too many of us at once, the rest of us could band together to form a resistance.”

  “Right, because they don’t actually have the warlock numbers to take us all down at once,” Haylee said. “Like Flagon theorized, only about a third of the overseers are high degree.”

  “So they’re playing it cautious,” Jengo said. “Makes sense.”

  “Not to mention if they snatched us in particular, the odds of an insurrection increase,” Leera added, taking her turn to opine on the matter. “And something tells me the golden Daddy’s Boy wants to prove that he could quell a kingdom without causing a fuss.”

  They arrived at Augum’s class first. He was
loath to part with them, especially Leera, but knew he didn’t have much of a choice now that class attendance was mandatory. “Guess I’ll catch up to you all next class.”

  “You know it,” Leera said.

  He wanted to squeeze her hand, but the overseers were watching. “Be careful,” he said instead.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she sniped, only to secretly blow him a kiss as the quietly talkative bunch strolled off to their separate electives—Leera to Cryptography, Bridget and Laudine to Mythology, Isaac and Caireen to Studies in Governance, Jengo to Apothecary Studies, and Haylee to Nobility and Class Studies. Augum watched Leera’s hair sway as she joked with Laudine. The two young overseers he had ditched yesterday gave him a nasty look from within their hoods and followed his friends. It seemed they had gotten into trouble for letting him out of their sights. But the two older ones remained to watch him.

  He sighed and entered the classroom.

  Survival Class

  Augum withdrew the requisite scrolls, a quill and an ink bottle from his satchel before floating that satchel under his desk to practice his Telekinesis. He had no intention of concentrating on the lesson and focused instead on how to start the Arcaner course without drawing suspicion, something that seemed impossible with two Canterran oafs following him around everywhere.

  He glanced at them. They stood against the far wall under the subheading Sucking Out Poison: The Correct Method, and were surely bored out of their minds, their deep hoods obscuring their faces. They were higher degree, yes, but probably not much higher. He guessed 6th to 8th degree. Any higher would be a ridiculous and extravagant use of arcane talent.

  Augum glumly sat back, puffed up his cheeks, and expelled a big breath. The classroom was the usual large square, with tiered bleacher-style desks that had sat hundreds back when the academy had higher attendance. The ceiling was eternal, disappearing into a distant mist. And the walls were plastered with parchment notes, the ink on some faded so badly it was near invisible. Large, blocky subheadings shouted things like, Surviving in the Wilderness. Are You Prepared for a Fight with the Elements? Or, Adapting to Terrain: the Ins and Outs. Or, Disaster Strategies: How to Survive the Apocalypse, an old classic from an era when people expected the Unnameables to come down and slaughter them all for their sins. Other subtitles dotted the walls haphazardly. Edible Plant Life, Animals as Food, Hunting Skills, Cooking, Organizing the Camp, Tools, Shelter, Survival at Sea, Arcane Survival Applications, and so on.

  Arcanist Pedworth was late, as was Katrina. Including Augum, there were six students in the class, a few of whom chatted anxiously in low voices. Usually there were nine students, but two had been put to work for the Canterrans. Almost all were older as Survival was considered an advanced class.

  Katrina at last entered, shadowed by Ethios Kamagant. She flicked a hand for the elite Black Eagle to stand by the wall and sashayed over, hips swinging. She smirked as she plopped into a seat right beside Augum.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up.

  “Taking a seat. You mind?” She adjusted her tiara.

  “I absolutely do.”

  “Oh, hush your whining, I won’t bite. I just want to have a friendly little chat.”

  “We have nothing to say to each other. You stole my castle. You had Eric murdered.”

  Katrina’s gray eyes went cold. “I’m a princess now, and you’ll watch your tone unless you want to hang like poor Cousin Eric did.” She nudged a shoulder toward The Butcher, who stood apart from the Canterran overseers. They kept nervously glancing at him, but the old man maintained a cool gaze on Augum.

  Augum pondered his options, but he was curious what she wanted from him.

  “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said with a cat’s smile. She leaned closer, making Augum lean away, and whispered, “Between you and me, I couldn’t give a donkey’s hoof if Cousin Eric was a wayward. But if there’s one thing I cannot abide, it is betrayal. And he betrayed me. Nobody betrays me. Nobody.” Her smile sweetened, as did her voice. “Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

  “Are you threatening Brandon’s life now?”

  “Don’t be paranoid. And he’s nothing to me. He might be making a cheap attempt to win back your good graces, but nobody actually cares what he has to say because he has nothing of value to contribute, except to be used as a pawn in someone else’s game. He is a tool, a manure shovel.”

  “Are you at all aware that you act like a depraved, malignant villain?”

  “You call everyone you do not understand a villain. You need people like me to feel superior so you can parade about on your moral high horse, bleating Arcaner nonsense. Arcaners went extinct for a reason, and you already see why. You can’t break your own silly made-up code of honor, you can’t compete with people like me, people free of the shackles of moral servitude. You know what I am? A princess, Augum. An ambitious princess. What are you? You’re a lord in name only. A has-been without a castle, without land. Actually, that makes you less than a lord now, doesn’t it? I’d say that makes you nothing more than a peasant. As for me, I’m a Southguard and a Von Edgeworth.”

  And a traitor, and one day I’ll prove it and see you locked up in a warlock gaol for the rest of your harpy days.

  “Aww, look at all that hatred bubbling up,” she whispered cooingly. “Not very Arcaner-like, is it? I have to say, I’m settling nicely into your castle. Guess which room I took? Come on, play along. Guess.”

  “The lavatory?”

  She snorted at that. “You get remarkably juvenile when you’re upset, you know that? It’s rather pathetic. I can see the farm boy in you now, wanting to spit on the floor in anger to make yourself appear big and strong and so, so wronged.” She winked. “I took your room, honey.” She inspected her nails, expertly painted with little black stars, no doubt by a scared-to-death servant. “Oh, and I’m thinking of turning Leera’s room into a kennel. What do you think?”

  I think you can go to hell.

  “No comment? Don’t be sore. It’s just a castle. Just stone and wood and a few rotten old enchantments.” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper again. “Let’s be honest, what matters is our name, our lineage. You represent the Arinthian line, and I represent the Von Edgeworth line. Yeah, I’m a Southguard, but you and I both know where our hearts lie. Our lines are mortal enemies, Augum. Mortal. Enemies. You know what that means, right?” She leaned ever closer, a viper ready to strike. This time, Augum held his ground. “It means you and I will forever battle until one of us perishes.” Her face darkened. “If you think for one moment I have forgotten that you got one over on me, that you humiliated me in front of tens of thousands—”

  “Oh, it roils you, doesn’t it?” he interrupted in equally venomous tones, leaning toward her and taking satisfaction in seeing her back off. “That humiliating defeat. You stay up at night thinking about it, don’t you? It bounces around in that vapid brain of yours, eating away at your fragile sense of self—” Augum twisted his fist, grinding it into the desk. “—eating away like a worm. And so you spend all your time stuck in fantasies of revenge, because like your house motto says, Honos alvara avenga. Honor always avenged. Stealing my castle wasn’t enough, was it? Same with my room. The castle, my room—all of it is meaningless because you can’t let anything go. That public loss will torment you forever, like your bloodline was tormented by my great-grandmother kicking the living snot out of your—”

  “Shut the hell up!” Katrina screamed, shooting up and looming over him, breathing rapidly, fists curled, tiara askew. She shook with rage, eyes reflecting the desire to throw the first punch like a common hoodlum.

  Augum merely sat there, knowing she wouldn’t soil her new title of princess with something so base as an unsanctioned schoolyard fight. No, what she craved, what she longed for, was for Augum to receive a historic comeuppance at her hand, something equal and greater than the humiliating loss she had endured at the Black Arena.

  Katrina froze, aware that ev
ery eye in the room was upon her. “Don’t you worry, the castle will be put to good use,” she hissed before snatching her satchel and marching off. She plopped down in a chair a few rows back, where she gripped the desk, knuckles white, nostrils flaring as she glared daggers at Augum.

  Although it had felt so damn good to have said that to her arrogant face, Augum knew it hadn’t been the wisest move, nor was it very Arcaner-like. He should have kept his mouth shut. Who knew, maybe he could have gotten something useful from her.

  Although, he did wonder what she had meant by the castle being put to good use …

  “Well, that was interesting,” Pedworth sang, but no one dared to so much as chortle. Everybody knew not to cross Katrina Southguard Von Edgeworth. Everybody, it seemed, except Augum.

  The old arcanist had walked into the room just as Katrina had stood to yell at Augum. Now the man, dressed in black arcanist robes, strode to his desk—chicken swagger and all—and dumped a pile of scrolls onto it.

  “A lively start to what I hope is a lively class,” he said, dusting off his hands. “Morose crowd today.” He ran a callused hand through a wild sprout of hair that circled a bald spot. He was well into his sixties and had a shuffling gait and dry and flaky skin. His eyes bounced from face to face, lingering on the overseers, who watched with folded arms, right foot propped up against the classroom wall as if they were part of a dance troupe waiting to start their number. A third one had joined them. He was an imposing overseer who received a nod from the other two, and he had apparently been tasked with following poor old Pedworth around. And the arcanist didn’t seem to like it one bit, because he kept looking over while he rooted through his scrolls.

  And then he spotted the Black Eagle and jumped behind his desk. “Gods help us all, that’s The Butcher!” He paled at the sight of the man, and he was already pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in months.

  “Just get to it already, you lowborn mule,” Katrina taunted from the back.

  Everyone froze. No one dared talk to an arcanist like that for fear of a public whipping.