Penumbra

by Dan Ackerman

  He had officers take statements and arranged bail. Once the peers’ parents and guardians had come to bail them out and apologized for their children causing problems, Arden typed his code into the padlock.

  He gestured towards the door.

  “No one paid our bail,” the blonde thrall said.

  “Yeah, and no one ever fucking would, I bet,” Arden said.

  “Mara, let’s go before you start something else,” one of the thralls hissed at the blonde. To Arden, he said, “Thank you, Your Eminence. We appreciate very much everything you’ve done for us.”

  Arden wrinkled his nose. “Head home.”

  The other two scurried away.

  Mara didn’t go as fast.

  Arden caught up with her. “What were you talking about with that girl? Ridea?”

  “She asked if I had kids.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think she was trying to be friendly. Everyone assumes that workers start having kids as soon as they can but…”

  “Propaganda, am I right?” Arden joked.

  Mara didn’t seem to know what to make of that. “We started talking about why I didn’t and why I didn’t plan on it.”

  “Mmm. Have you been to a med center?”

  “One of the officers checked us out. Said I was fine.”

  “Are you fine?”

  She didn’t look okay, not just in the sense that she’d been in a fight. She looked angry and exhausted, a bone-deep expression of both emotions on her face. Bags under her eyes and a scowl that hadn’t gone away. She spoke to him like she hoped he’d pick a fight, too.

  She answered, “Fine as I’ll ever get.”

  He grimaced. “Do you know Rhys?”

  “Your Rhys? Yeah, everyone knows about him. We don’t all know each other though.”

  He didn’t like the way she’d said Rhys’s name. He walked quietly alongside her until they reached the lift that would bring her to the lower decks of Eden. He pushed the button for her.

  She glanced at him. “Uh. Thanks. Your Eminence.”

  He shrugged. “Keep your head down. People are going to be mad you’re pressing charges.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I don’t want to have to assign a safety officer to keep you alive. We had to do that when that woman pressed charges against a peer a few years ago.”

  It had been Rhys’s idea to give the woman protection.

  The lift arrived.

  “I’ll keep an eye on your court case. Try not to punch the judge when he rules in her favor.”

  “She started it,” Mara insisted.

  Arden gave her a smile and waved when she stepped onto the lift. He wandered back to his room and couldn’t get back to sleep.

  By the time the Six wore off and he felt tired, he’d already showered, washed his hair, and gotten dressed.

  He deflated halfway through breakfast and wanted a nap. He picked the berries out of his oatmeal.

  Rhys found him staring vacantly into his oatmeal. “Busy night?”

  “Mm.”

  “I heard what happened.”

  “I bet everyone has.” Arden yawned. He rubbed his eyes. “How are you?”

  “I didn’t get much thinking done. People were up all night talking.”

  Arden gestured towards the mostly untouched breakfast. “Help yourself.”

  Rhys yawned and poured himself a cup of tea.

  Neither of them said much.

  Finally, Rhys stretched and said, “I’m sorry I walked out like that yesterday.”

  “I don’t know, I want to walk away from things all the time.”

  “It’s overwhelming.”

  “I can tell.” He rubbed his eyes and poured himself more tea. He wondered if he needed something stronger. Maybe more Six if he wanted to make it through the day. “Do you want to write up your contract today?”

  “Can you stay awake for it? Maybe you should go back to bed.”

  “No, no, I can…We should get this done.” He looked around for his tablet and collapsed onto the couch with it. He curled up on his side, opened a new document, and set it to take dictation. “Let this contract show the arrangement between the employer, one Arden Torre, Autarch of Eden, and the employee, Rhys Malek, for the position of First Chamberlain to the Autarch. This contract ensures the following terms outlined below for a period of one year from the date of its signing by both parties.”

  He closed his eyes, took a breath, and carried on outlining a standard work contract. Once they had the barebones, they hashed out the details, free of tricks or loopholes.

  Arden fell asleep at one point.

  He woke up to an edited version of the contract waiting for him.

  Rhys snored quietly at the other end of the couch.

  He read through the contract one last time. He signed it then poked Rhys in the side with the corner of the tablet.

  Rhys woke with a gasp.

  “Sign.”

  “No more changes?”

  He shook his head.

  Rhys signed the contract.

  “Do you want to take a nap?”

  “You have appointments—”

  “Cancel them. Do you want to take a nap with me?”

  Rhys nodded.

  Arden took the tablet, set it on the table, and dragged a throw over them. He nestled up against Rhys and fell asleep almost as soon as he got comfortable.

  Arden woke to dozens of gifts piled outside his door, delivered discretely by thralls in the night. He called for help bringing them into his rooms, then hopped into the shower with a bouncy, nervous energy. He washed his hair and took care picking out his clothes.

  When Rhys arrived, which Arden had made him promise to do, his heart had shimmied up into this throat.

  He hadn’t been excited for Giving Day since he was a kid, really, but something felt different. He’d always had people to give things to and plenty of things to give, but it had never felt important before. His friends and family had never needed anything.

  He hurried over to Rhys and grabbed his hand. “Hi!”

  Rhys’s eyes slid over Arden to all the shiny packages and parcels piled on his coffee table.

  Arden flapped his hand toward them. “You can help me open those later. Sometimes I get really nice chocolates. Come in here.” He gave Rhys’s hand a tug.

  Rhys went, but Arden had to give a pretty hard tug to get him to move. “I said not to get me anything.”

  “Uh, no, you actually asked me to give a vast sum of money to a person I don’t know. Eight two six whoever,” Arden said, still holding his hand and pulling him towards the bed. “Here, here, sit.”

  Rhys didn’t sit. “Arden, I—”

  “I did it, shit. Same deal I gave you. First thing this morning, but you can’t open that.”

  His eyes, dark and beautiful as the speckled sky outside, widened. His lips parted.

  For years and years, Arden had not thought of Rhys’s lips. He’d never felt warm when Rhys had murmured in his ear. Had he been too miserable? Too numb? Or just a fool?

  He didn’t know why Rhys looked so miserable. “I wanted you to have something to open,” he offered meekly. “Is that awful of me?”

  “No.”

  “Will you open it?”

  “Of course.”

  “And will you get that look off your face?” Arden teased.

  Rhys forced a smile.

  Arden kissed him then took a few boxes out of his closet. He placed them in Rhys’s lap then sat on the bed beside him, knees pulled him to his chest. He watched and tried to wait, but soon enough, he urged, “Go on!”

  “I didn’t get you anything.”

  “Yeah, but everyone else did, so I won’t miss it.”

  Carefully, Rhys tugged one end of a ribbon. It took him a million years to open the first box. Three shirts of various styles, neatly folded, of finer fabric and richer colors. The same for pants. A nice jacket, some good socks. A new, well-made pair of shoes. A
tidy little update to his wardrobe for his new job.

  Rhys examined each object awkwardly but with reverence. The shoes seemed to impress him the most.

  Arden understood why. The shoes he wore now had lumpy seams where they’d been glued back together.

  “I thought about getting you new undies, but I didn’t know if you’d like that.”

  Rhys chuckled.

  “Besides, you can afford that now.”

  “Thank you.”

  Arden pointed to the last box, smaller than the rest, and less neatly packaged. He had purchased it last minute and hadn’t had the heart to make a worker wrap it in the middle of the night.

  “It’s heavy.”

  “Open it.”

  He peeled back the wrapping paper and opened the box to reveal a metal tin that could fit in the palm of his hand. Within rested a dense cake of soap, richly scented and laden with moisturizers.

  “I know how much you like that scent. Now you have one for home, too.”

  Rhys smelled it and grinned. He gave Arden’s leg a quick, friendly rub. “Thank you.”

  Arden pecked his cheek. He heard the door. “Oh, that’s lunch. I figured you wouldn’t want to go out.”

  “It’s a little wild out there.”

  “Mmm, well, everyone’s got to see if the Public Chamber is any different from any other year. I think we’re giving out oranges this year.”

  Arden went out and directed the worker to put their lunch on the table. He then realized he’d covered it in gifts and rushed over to make space for the tray. “Thanks, Fari!”

  “You’re welcome, Your Eminence. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Arden nodded towards the gifts. “Yeah, grab one of those on your way out.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t care, pick one.”

  “Where…Where should I bring it, Your Eminence?”

  “Home.”

  She openly frowned at him. She looked to Rhys for reassurance.

  “Take two,” Rhys advised from where he leaned against the frame of Arden’s bedroom door. “He won’t notice.”

  “You’re so bad!” Arden scolded, giving Rhys a playful smack on the arm.

  Fari took only one package, the one closest to her, and looked uncomfortable the whole time.

  After they ate, Arden and Rhys opened his gifts.

  He only wanted about six of them, the ones from people who knew him.

  What a problem to have. He’d have to make room in the closet.

  “Come help me make space.”

  “Why keep them?” Rhys asked. He selected another chocolate from an array and took a bite.

  Cherry-filled.

  Arden would have spit it out.

  Rhys ate the whole thing.

  “Uh. It would be sort of awful to throw them away. And very rude to send them back.”

  “I’m sure you could think of something else.” Rhys took another candy and waited, chewing the caramel slowly.

  Arden put a hand on his hip, trying to think of something else.

  “Doesn’t your friend have a charity for poor unfortunates?” Rhys suggested mildly.

  “What? Cathie’s ladies’ club?”

  Rhys nodded.

  “Well, I don’t…” Half an idea rattled across his brain. He tried to grab it.

  “It is Giving Day,” Rhys suggested more strongly.

  “Oh!” He looked at the pile. “You want me to give them to people?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “To thralls,” Arden clarified more for himself than Rhys.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Arden snorted.

  “You gave one to Fari.”

  “I don’t have enough for everyone!”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  Arden sighed.

  “I’ll be impressed.”

  As much as Arden didn’t want to admit it, he wanted to impress Rhys.

  Rhys snagged his tablet and settled onto the couch. He burrowed under a blanket with his knees pulled close to his chest. Every so often the tablet let out a beep or a chirp.

  He was playing a game.

  Arden smiled at him, though Rhys didn’t notice. He returned his attention to the pile of gifts. He tried to puzzle it out for a while. “I don’t know, do you just want to invite your friends?”

  Rhys looked up from his tablet. “Hmm?”

  “Invite your friends.”

  “Um.”

  “Alright, maybe not.”

  Eventually, he had laundry carts delivered directly to his room. He piled the gifts, old and new, into the carts.

  Rhys watched.

  “Impressed?”

  “Are you planning on bringing those to the Public Chamber?’

  “No, let’s go to the Quarters, see who’s home. Help me push the other one.”

  Rhys put on his shoes and picked a cart.

  Arden wheeled the cart out into the hall, fighting with a finicky wheel, and realized halfway down the hall he’d have to take a lift. He tried not to think about it and steered the cart into the nearest lift.

  Except it wouldn’t fit.

  “You have to use a service lift.”

  “Ugh.”

  “They’re at the end of the hall.”

  Arden whined, backed up, and pushed towards the service lift.

  Three workers stood beside the two of them on the large lift. They huddled into a corner, far from their Autarch as they could get.

  “You want one?” Rhys asked.

  The trio exchanged looks.

  “It’s Giving Day,” Rhys encouraged.

  One older woman stepped forward, peered into the cart, and selected a glittery black vase. She examined it, then stepped back with it cradled in her arms.

  Arden smiled at the other two, which didn’t help the situation.

  They didn’t take anything.

  He left the lift on a random level and glanced at the signs.

  Quarter Three.

  People milled around doing various chores. A few children chased each other around, giggling and wrestling. They climbed over the hodgepodge furniture in the common areas. Patched screens showed cartoons and a few adults sat off to the side, either mending clothes or preparing meals.

  On either side of the halls, people had their doors open. Cords stretched between apartments, over the common areas, draped with laundry.

  The whole place smacked of oranges.

  “Careful!” one adult scolded.

  The child they’d warned didn’t listen. A ball bounced towards Arden and he plucked it out of the air, appraised its many scuffs and patches, and tested its heft. The ball didn’t quite hold air. His fingers sunk into the sides.

  The child who’d thrown it, a girl of maybe six, eyed him.

  Three more children crowded around.

  “Can I have it back?” the girl asked.

  Arden tossed it up and bounced it back to her using his elbow.

  She smiled but barely caught it.

  “That one’s in rough shape,” he pointed out. “Hard to play with.”

  “It’s my best one.”

  “Not anymore.” He dug deep, all the way to the bottom of the cart. He knew he had a handball in there somewhere. When he found it, he gave it a bounce, first on the floor then on his knee.

  He saw Rhys watching him and had to show off. He bounced it up on his knee again, did a spin, caught it on one shoulder, rolled it down his arm, and elbowed it towards the children.

  “That’s not a regulation pass,” Rhys pointed out.

  “Knees aren’t feet. It’s regulation.”

  “You must have been a pleasure to play with.”

  The child who’d caught the ball stared at it. “We can really have it?”

  Arden nodded. “Sure.”

  The kids scampered off with it, back to their chasing and climbing without a second thought for Arden.

  None of the adults had noticed them
yet, too absorbed in their chores.

  Arden wheeled a little closer to the common area. He caught smells of long-simmering stews and snippets of conversations, little snatches of songs, as he passed by the rooms.

  One man caught him looking inside.

  Arden lifted his chin, then checked himself. He settled his posture to be friendlier. “You want something?” He jabbed his thumb towards the cart.

  The man limped over, steadying himself on a cane. “Can I help you, Your Eminence?”

  “If you pick something out. Our rooms needed tidying.”

  The man kept his gaze lowered, or, he did when he thought Arden was looking. He peered into the cart and cast a lot of suspicious glances towards Arden when he thought he wasn’t.

  Rhys pointed out a set of sheets and said, “They’ll be soft as petals.”

  The man took the sheets and shrunk away from them. “Thank you, Your Eminence.”

  “Thank you.”

  They handed out a few things to interested parties in Quarter Three, which Arden came to understand was colloquially known as Giant Step because the lift sometimes stopped too early or too late on their floor, leaving a drop between the lift floor and the exit.

  He advised them to put in a work order.

  Rhys covered his mouth.

  One woman shook with the effort to keep her response contained.

  They stopped in on other floors, not in any order.

  Children picked things out the most eagerly. Most of them didn’t seem to recognize Arden and just understood that he had a cartful of things they could take. One little boy picked out a furry scarf, wrapped it all the way around his face, and ran away, bumping several corners as he went.

  They didn’t visit every deck in the Quarters, but they did get rid of all the sundry items Arden had brought.

  He recruited someone else to return the carts to the laundry.

  Back in his room, he made Rhys try on some of his new clothes. “To make sure they fit!” he’d insisted.

  Rhys had played along for a few outfits, while Arden had watched, laying on the bed on his stomach with his feet in the air. Rhys hadn’t gotten dressed after. He’d folded up his new clothes and put them back in the boxes.

  Arden didn’t complain.

  He liked to watch Rhys, especially because he’d spent a lot of years barely noticing him. He wanted to make up for lost time, maybe. Appreciate what he’d overlooked for years. Not the whole ten years they’d known each other, but longer than he should have.