The Bid

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “So true.”

  9

  Hanna was nervous. She paced back and forth outside of Jhon’s room, rubbing her hands together as she thought herself in a circle about the next step she needed to take with him.

  Oh, but he wouldn’t understand! How could anyone? It was so hard for her to understand and she was the one who lived with this curse. This blessing.

  She paced for so long that Najir found her there. He came up to her and immediately wrapped her up into the comfort of his huge embrace.

  “Hanna,” he soothed her gently.

  “Najir, I don’t know what to do. I don’t have the right to do what I know I must do if I am going to save this family. I want to be up front and ask him to do this thing with honor, but…”

  “But you and I both know that no one is going to volunteer to die. No one ever has in the entire history of this family. None can understand that in order for there to be great reward there must first come great sacrifice.”

  “You would have done it,” she noted. “Had you been more like him, you would have done it gladly. You love me and this family now.”

  “After a full decade, yes. But Hanna, you no longer have that kind of time. Your family will never know full life unless someone like Jhon first dies. And time grows short. He is becoming keen to the understanding that there is something he has that I do not. I am afraid I have made it none too obvious that I would do anything for you, and that my love for you runs very deep indeed.”

  “I know it does,” she whispered softly, renewing the tightness of her hug around him. “And I know you are right.”

  “The fate of six others rests in your hands, Hanna,” he reminded her gently.

  “Seven,” she corrected, turning her head to look at the door. “Seven others.”

  “True,” he agreed grimly. “But death will bring a new birth to this family. It will become stronger and fuller for it. It is a sacrifice that must be made. Do not waver now, Hanna. Please, I beg of you. If I have the strength to bring him here so he might replace me in your affections, then you must have the strength to take the next step. Otherwise all of this is for nothing.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I know.” The understanding forced her to find strength. She stood up straight, leaving his arms. “I need you to go in first. See he is well fed and answer the questions I know he will have. I will come in shortly after you leave. Then this will draw to a close.”

  “And bring a new beginning,” he reminded her. “For all of us.”

  “Pray that you are right.”

  “I will pray. It is all I can do,” Najir said softly.

  “I need you to tell me some things.”

  Najir paused briefly in his stride across the room to set down Vejhon’s tray. He nodded shortly. “I will answer as well as I am able.”

  “And I will love the day I hear that phrase for the last time.” Jhon chuckled as he rose from the bed he’d been lounging on, taking note of Najir’s surprised curiosity at his laughter. “Yes, he has a sense of humor. Somewhere.” He laughed at himself again. “Either that or I’m a little stir crazy.”

  “You had questions?”

  “Sort of. Hanna mentioned a rule. A slave can be put to death for not addressing someone with respect.”

  “Yes. My Lady. Or my Lord. Depending on the sex, you see.”

  “Yeah. What else? I want to know what else can get me killed around here. I’ve made a habit of staying alive and I think I’d like to keep it that way for a bit.”

  “Hanna will be delighted to hear that.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Very well.” Najir sat down in the conversation area and for the first time, Jhon saw him actually lean back and relax. The man always walked around like he was at full attention. Vejhon was the first to appreciate military discipline, but there was such a thing as overkill even in his book. Sometimes, relaxation was the difference between death and life just as much as vigilance was.

  Jhon sat down as well, looking forward to something to ease his boredom. Since he doubted Najir would bring in a couple of fighting staffs and a few men for the beating, this would have to do. He selected from the food, beginning to recognize favorites already. He nodded an offer to Najir and, to his continuing surprise, the slave accepted and took a plate of meat for himself.

  “Your best rule, of course, is to be as low profile as possible,” Najir said. “There are those who are not above foul play to obtain a slave.”

  “I see. Kidnap them, wait till they are declared runaways, and then ‘find’ them?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Pricks.”

  “Yes,” Najir chuckled. “But stay visible and in public places and all will be well. Hanna does not desire slave behavior, she only wishes us to do it so we can remain unharmed. For instance, to walk behind her in silence unless addressed directly.”

  “Lovely,” Jhon said dryly, grimacing.

  “You may not lay aggressive hands on anyone who is free, unless they imminently threaten your life or the life of your Master. Even then you had best be able to prove it. Not an easy thing. And it becomes less and less easy to prove the higher in rank your accuser goes. Of course, there are ways, and Hanna’s rank speaks for much as well, but you need to have charge of your temper. Recklessness does not go well with this position in life.”

  “I may have a temper, Najir,” Jhon countered, “but I have an art for concealing and controlling it when I must. I am not known for being a commander who acts rashly. I could hardly have become Colonel of the Valiants otherwise.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Najir agreed grimly. “And that is a good thing because this is a society that fights with stealth and cowardice. They threaten with words in whispers while smiling with amicability for others to see. Knives find hearts in dark alleys and a moment’s lack of vigilance will mean death. And there are those who realize that, for you and I, our own deaths are something we have reconciled long ago, so they will not hesitate to strike where our hearts lie in others.”

  “Effective. I have used it myself when necessary,” Jhon said. “But you speak of using innocents, and I do not. My enemy may love his brother more than himself, but unless his brother has done ill himself, he doesn’t belong in the fight. If the brother is as evil as his kin, then I feel no guilt in using him.”

  “Spoken like a true man of war. You have truly been in the worst of its evils, I think.” Najir looked as though he wanted to ask him about it, but Jhon watched him dismiss the impulse. “Furthermore,” he continued as though his original lecture had never come to a pause, “slaves are always banded. Unbanded slaves are considered runaways.”

  “Uh-huh. Figured that much out myself.”

  “Slaves may carry no coin. Your currency is your band. The mark of the bellcat is the emblem of House Drakoulous.” He indicated his own armband. The stones set in it were different, but otherwise the etched catlike shape in the gold was obvious. “It tells merchants that anything you purchase is to be charged there. And of course, if a slave purchases large amounts of items that can be considered rations or travel supplies, it is messaged back to the owner immediately.”

  “To thwart the clever runaway.”

  “Basically. You will find a lot of checks like that around you. Slaves are treated like barely tamed thieves. Most merchants will insist on delivering the goods directly to the House until you become better known and trusted to be…controlled.” Najir sat forward a little. “But you must look on it differently than that. I consider my behavior a long-term deception. A crucial act of undercover immersion in an enemy state, if you will.”

  Najir had Jhon’s full attention. The tension coiling up through the soldier was quite clear. “Hanna,” the veteran slave continued, “is constantly in threat. You have taken note of the guards? This city, the High City, stretches for miles in all directions before it ends and officially becomes the Low City. In all of that acreage, this uppermost crest of the mountain we are on is where the
High Houses sit. There are forty in all still standing after war, famine, and more through the long centuries. Each House has a Master, and that Master holds equal political power as all the others in the Chamber of Masters, our body of lawmakers.”

  “Ah, but we both know nothing is equal when it comes to power and desire,” Vejhon countered, his expression sardonic. “There are innumerable underhanded ways to try and manipulate a vote if you do or do not wish to pass a law.”

  “Which brings us to the Feuds. The House Feuds have gone on so long that no one recalls when or how they began. For the longest time Houses freely murdered and kidnapped heirs and members in a mass of guerilla politics. The net of hatred was destroying the PAN, that is certain. But sanctions were finally brought into place against the Houses. Anyone caught in the act of Feud will be exiled from the Chamber and from the Cities.”

  “So let me guess: the trick became not to get caught and not to leave a trail…but the Feuds are very much alive?”

  “Some, at least. There are families that have made peace and you can see we are the better for it. But there are some who will never reconcile. The jealousy and hatred runs too deep. Hanna has tried to extricate herself from her part, but there is more than one House that focuses contempt on House Drakoulous, either because of issues long past, or because of the unshakeable power Hanna and her mother before her exhibited when it came to voting their consciences. This House has always been a marker of great change, a leader in reform in issues that those inured in their sins and spoiled by their privilege did not want to see reformed.

  “Luckily, this House has its friends as well. They are difficult acquaintances to keep at times, and none I know of own Hanna’s total trust and faith at this time, but she holds hope for the future of her people.”

  “It sounds like she is hoping for miracles.” Jhon shook his head. “By what you describe, what you both have described in great detail, this is a very corrupt society. Morally, for certain. Likely economically. Positively socially.”

  “Economics and our diplomacies with others on the outside are actually quite sound, considering. We are isolated from the rest of PAN…the country we are called,” Najir explained apologetically, realizing he had neglected to do so. “PAN is isolated from the rest of Vitale—our planet—because it is a continent free of borders with others. We are surrounded by oceans. The High and Low cities rest on a lush mountainscape, even running into the valley below a little where the farmlands lie and the country places are. But beyond that, you see, are the Yemm Mountains and the Goran Desert. Their intemperate conditions make them hostile places to live even with today’s technologies, so people prefer to live beyond them along the coasts and near the easy access of the large spaceports.

  “To prevent smuggling and other problems, travel to and from Vitale is limited to those ports on the coasts of the continents. All goods going inland from continental borders are offloaded from their delivery ship, put through an inspection process, and then allowed to be loaded onto short flyers for the trek inland. Anyone caught landing spacecraft inland without express permission to land in an inland port is subject to be shot down on sight or destroyed on landing. It would be suicide to try, really. Our neo-orbital satellites blanket this world with a sensor net too sensitive to toy with. This world,” Najir said with a low intensity, “will never fall prey to those alien races who try to insidiously inject forces for invasion.”

  Like the Cree had done on Wite. Vejhon knew that was the reference, and he boiled with the need to confront the other man, but controlled the urge fiercely. Had he wanted to speak in specifics, Najir was the type to speak plainly enough. The other man was confirming Jhon’s suspicions about his origins, but for his own reasons would not come to say so directly just yet.

  “So the economics are sound, and the planet secure. All Hanna has to do is clean up the moral fiber of her people and it’s a done deal,” Jhon said, his liberal use of sarcasm matching his wry smile.

  “Was it not you who said ‘One less culture on one less world can be a beginning to an end’? Hanna believes each little step she takes will lead toward that. When she heard you say that, she was no doubt elated to find you felt the same way. I would hate for you to disappoint her.”

  Not a scold, not a threat, simply an honest observation with a great deal of heart in it, Vejhon thought. Had circumstances been different, had he met Najir on Wite, it was his kind of heart and loyalty that he had always recruited with fervor into the Valiants. The only type of trust and companionship he had known had been amongst his men. Never too close, because that risked flawed thinking and other things unhealthy for command, and never totally trusting because even the best of men could be turned for the right price. But Najir’s absolute love and loyalty for Hanna was like Vejhon’s absolute love and loyalty for Wite. In his time, Najir must have been a damn good warrior for Wite’s cause. That would have been back at the beginning of the war. Now, he had accepted he couldn’t return to his home, and he had found a new cause to invest himself in.

  Hanna.

  “Have I answered your queries for now?” Najir asked, watching the other man think with the same enthusiasm he had seen him use to exercise.

  “And as a result, created more.”

  “It will be that way for a while. But Hanna will arrive in a short while and you can ask her what you will.” Najir rose and gathered the tray and plates they had done justice to. “I thank you for sharing your meal with me.”

  Jhon nodded at the politeness, a little amused by it because really it was not his meal to begin with. After Najir had taken his leave and he had washed up a little, Vejhon had little else to occupy himself with than the circuit of his thoughts.

  From all the pieces he had been gathering, the entire country of PAN was run from this single city. The exact representation of other classes was a bit shadowed, but the Masters of the forty High Houses decided on what was law…no doubt among other duties. To be a voice of such political power, and obviously one that often dissented, was a heavy burden. Yet, Hanna gave no outward signs of the weight so far, or the responsibility she had to the rest of her family. She hadn’t even mentioned her family.

  That, he supposed, was probably clever on her part. She would risk herself, but she wouldn’t even speak of those she loved…just in case Jhon got any ideas she wouldn’t care for. Trust, but not total trust. Ahh…

  Fear. She had said her fear lay elsewhere.

  It lay with her family.

  How did she become the charge of her entire family when she was so young herself? Her age escaped him, but her youth was obvious in both her looks and her health, not to mention the fact that she was still idealistic in the way only the young could manage. He was not old, far from it, but he was old enough to feel the shortening of time as far as the extent to which he worked his body. Old enough to be isolated and embittered about a great many things. Enough to envy and crave the youth and optimism he saw in a black-haired beauty.

  Gods, how she had gotten under his skin already! Intentional on her part or not, it didn’t matter. She occupied his thoughts, worked his brain at solving tiny bits of the puzzle that she was, an endlessly fascinating cryptology. He realized that there was little else for him to do in the boring little room; he even acknowledged that it all could be ingenious tactics meant to brainwash him into obedience, but somehow it didn’t really matter.

  He couldn’t return to Wite. He realized that. Others outside of Najir and Hanna had told him so, and he had accepted that as fact. After all, the only way to get proof was to step foot on the planet and drop dead. He would opt out of empirical evidence in that instance.

  Slavery he would not accept, but there was something hidden beneath the surfaces here, and Hanna was orchestrating it with a clear plan in mind. Rebellion? He could get into that. Covert deception? Hmm, a challenge for him to be sure. Jhon had been much better at out-and-out firefights than sneak and peek undercover bullshit that required a great deal of patience and
inaction in the name of maintaining a cover. It had been a while since he’d had a challenge for himself he was actually afraid he couldn’t meet. It could be a blast.

  So, as far as substituting one life for another was concerned, as was pointed out to him most thoroughly, it could have been much, much worse. Besides, it came with fringe benefits. Black-haired, blue-eyed, blue-skinned, curved benefits.

  “I would pay a good price to know what thought has you smiling like that.”

  Vejhon jolted in surprise. The woman walked on air, he swore it. He hadn’t heard her make a sound. He moved to face her, his smile lingering a little longer as he let his gaze slide down her long, lithe form. She was wearing a body-hugging suit with legs reaching to her ankles and sleeves rolled just above her elbows. It was the first time he could recall her not wearing a dress of some kind, but the way the black fabric rested snugly to her skin made it a welcome change.

  She looked fit and well, far better than when he had last seen her. Jhon had to resist the urge to cross over to her and inspect her for himself with better care than he could from a distance. Najir had said she was fully recovered; she looked fully recovered, and he would make himself accept that.

  “Do you own shoes? Does Najir? I don’t believe I have seen you wear any.”

  “All Houses in the High City have the custom of removing all footwear in the foyer. The feet are cleansed there and then you are welcome to walk about knowing the floors are clean. It is healthful for when young children come to visit, because they spend much time on the floors. The custom also serves as a sign of peace. That you are relaxed and plan to stay a while is reflected by taking the time to unshoe yourself. You respect my home and everyone in it when you cleanse your feet here.”

  “An interesting idea. A good detail to know.” Vejhon walked up to her, reaching out to smooth back a stray hair from her cheek. “I enjoy the things I learn from you.”

  Hanna smiled softly at the flirtation of his touch and his words of double entendre. His closeness warmed her, as did the fact that he was trying to be charming for a change, and actually succeeding at it, in her opinion. The question was…would there be a question? Would he use this charm to further a cause of his own, like escape, for instance? What did he want from her?