What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  After a while, the door opened and the marshal gestured for Bowe to enter the main chamber. Inside, Veliro sat on a large couch, sunk down so far that Bowe thought he’d need to be excavated before he could stand again.

  “So the last of the Bellangers,” Veliro said. “I’m glad I have a chance to meet you.”

  “Not as glad as I am, I can assure you.” Bowe poked himself. “I still have to double-check that I’m still alive.”

  Veliro reached out a chubby arm and retrieved a cream bun from a tray. Several plates of dessert lay within reach. The theme of the room was cushions. Small cushions, big cushions. Red cushions and blue. Patterned and plain. Cushions in the corner, cushions on the floor, cushions on top of cushions. Couches piled so high with cushions that a cushion mountain needed to be scaled before they could be used. Surprisingly, there were no cushions on the walls—only tapestries.

  “Nice place you have here.” Bowe squinted at the walls to check if there were pictures of cushions in the tapestries. “But it needs something soft and cuddly to take the edge off.”

  Veliro didn’t smile. “Not many Greens have come, despite the offer of help I made. Do you know why?”

  “Perhaps it was the slaughtering of a random boy in the square. Some are squeamish about that sort of thing.”

  “Always good to whittle away the squeamish. They have no place in the ascor.” Veliro took a bite of his bun, leaving dabs of cream around his mouth. He ate with his mouth open, and the sight of the cream and pastry churning inside that gaping maw made Bowe glad he had a strong stomach. “Before you ask for help from me, I must warn you: Lessards are traders; we deal in bargains. Greens who make bad bargains are taught a lesson.”

  “And lessons are not meant for the squeamish?”

  “Why not go to Alandar instead of me?” Veliro asked. “You lived with the Raines, after all.”

  “Alandar already gave me money.”

  “Let me guess: half a gold at two percent interest per day?”

  “Two golds at five percent per day.”

  The cream cake fell from Veliro’s hand and landed on the couch by his leg. He didn’t seem to notice. “Five percent? And you accepted? I guess the traders are not the only ones who punish Greens for making bad bargains. Alandar likes to draw out the punishment, of course. You have your money, so why did you come to me?”

  Bowe hesitated. He didn’t want to admit how clueless he was. But it was surely better to admit it now, at the start of the Path, than suffer for the ignorance later on. “I don’t know what to do with the money.”

  Veliro just looked at him. “I don’t know whether to laugh at you or feel sorry for you.” He reached for another pastry. “I suppose you’ve heard about your family’s last night? When you were found alive among the dead.”

  “In snippets.” He’d gotten the gist of it from various taunts down through the years.

  “You may not have heard this little detail: after the Bellanger family killed themselves, the three remaining Guardians walked through the Bellanger mansion. The old Lessard Guardian, Cenarro, wore a sapphire ring.”

  Bowe looked at Veliro blankly.

  “Helion’s fire, boy, do you know nothing about your family? The Bellanger color was—is—azure, and the family gemstone is a sapphire. Why did Cenarro show support for the Bellangers when the family wealth had just been destroyed and they’d killed themselves?”

  “I don’t know. Why?” Bowe knew that the Raine gemstone was a diamond, but he’d never thought to wonder about the Bellangers’.

  “No one knows. Or, if they do, they haven’t told me. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

  Bowe shook his head.

  Veliro sighed. “Cenarro is no longer with us, but I’m not inclined to interfere in a long-term scheme he may have planned. House Lessard probably isn’t going to go out of its way to hurt you. That mightn’t help you much, though, since it sounds like Alandar wants you all to himself.” Veliro paused to lick some cream from his fingers. Bowe hoped that he’d wipe the daubs from around his lips; it was hard to take Veliro seriously when he looked like that. “Now, you wanted some instruction. It’ll cost you. Are you willing to spend some of the gold that Alandar gave you?”

  Bowe didn’t have a better plan. The money owed was just going to multiply if he did nothing. If Veliro could give him some tips on how to wisely use it, he might have a chance. Some secrets that would help him invest the money. So he nodded.

  “Now, there’s twenty-five silvers in a gold, so you have fifty silvers total. What if I charged you twenty silvers?”

  Bowe didn’t have many options, but he knew he couldn’t do that. “I can’t pay you that much.”

  “Looking for a better deal, are we?” Veliro said. “Name your price.”

  “Two silvers.” Bowe could at least show Veliro he knew how to bargain.

  Veliro’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t kid around here. You need me more than I need the money. Shall we say fifteen?”

  “Four.”

  “Ten. These cakes don’t come cheap, you know.”

  “Five.” If you ate the other half instead of splattering it all over you, you might have to buy less.

  “Eight,” Veliro said. “I should be insulted at how low you are pricing my services.”

  “Six.”

  “Done.” Veliro held out his arm. Bowe had to lean all the way across him to clasp it. Veliro’s grip was strong. Once the deal was sealed, Veliro settled back into his couch, looking worryingly satisfied. “Now, there are three things I must tell you before you go.” Veliro rang a bell that had been hidden between two plates of cakes. Two marshals in mint-cream uniforms entered. “One: you must pay the six silvers on the way out. Two: the number of silvers in a gold changes with the price of the two metals and is currently only twenty silvers to a gold, so you were paying more than you thought. Three: never pay for something until you see what you are getting. Now get out.”

  Bowe felt woozy. What had just happened? “But you promised to teach me.”

  “I just did. Twenty silvers to a gold. Never pay for something until you see what you are getting. Whether my lessons are worth six silvers, only time will tell.”

  “So all that about the sapphire ring was a pile of ash?”

  “No, that was true. And be glad it is true, because Greens have left Lessard Mansion in a coffin for making better deals than you. Now leave, before I come to my senses.”

  * * *

  The two marshals left Bowe outside in the street feeling like a fool. The Lessard meeting had revealed him as an idiot twice over. Veliro made him realize what a bad bargain Bowe had made with Alandar, only to coax Bowe into making a worse one with him. Bowe walked towards the Fortress. He’d find the final mentor there. The sun had almost set, and an evening breeze brought some relief from the heat. The light hadn’t diminished much, just changed color as Helion took over from the sun in providing brightness.

  The Fortress was the Grenier mansion. It was built with black rock and was feared by the escay. Bowe hadn’t intended to go there before being dumped out of Lessard mansion for he was no warrior. Why would the warrior clan help him when the Raines, who had raised him, and the Lessards, who claimed they wouldn’t go out of their way to hurt him, had just left him worse off? But right now, he didn’t have much to lose.

  As he got closer, he heard the mingled shouts, screams, cheers and thuds that were suggestive of a full-scale riot. Bowe decided that visiting was a bad idea and had begun to turn around when he noticed that a side gate on one black wall was ajar. It was where the commotion was coming from. He’d peek in and then move on.

  A scream rang out, louder than the surrounding tumult. A scream of pain, and genuine fear. A scream that Bowe recognized. He squeezed through the gate and shoved through a circle of onlookers. Inside a training ring stood Dulnato, the scowling Grenier Green, with a sword in hand. At his feet lay Vitarr, whose own weapon lay beyond his reach. Vitarr was cut and bruised and
curled into a ball.

  Dulnato raised his sword and slammed it into Vitarr’s ribs. The sword’s edge must have been blunted, or Vitarr would have been cut in half. Vitarr didn’t scream this time; he just jerked where he lay.

  Bowe knew that if he stepped into the training ring and picked up the sword, he’d just join Vitarr on the ground. He looked around frantically and spotted Drakasi watching. Bowe ran over and grabbed the mentor’s arm. “You have to stop this. He’s killing him!”

  Drakasi turned and glared at Bowe’s hand until Bowe snatched it away. “Lions survive, / Insects die, / The Path persists.”

  Bowe wanted to scream in frustration. Vitarr was about to die, and he was getting this poetry garbage. There was a sick noise as Dulnato landed another blow, this time on Vitarr’s arm. “I’ll give you two silvers to let him go,” Bowe said.

  “Dulnato, stop.” Drakasi held up his hand. Bowe was glad to know that the warrior could speak in something other than a three-line poem.

  Dulnato paused with his sword over his head. He glared down at Vitarr and didn’t seem inclined to follow the mentor’s orders.

  “You won’t last long in training with me if you can’t follow instructions,” Drakasi said.

  Dulnato growled and let his sword fall to his side.

  Drakasi turned back to Bowe. “Just because I have interrupted the fight, doesn’t mean I’m just going to let your friend go. Why should I? After his performance in the fighting ring, he deserves to die. You think I care that much about a few silvers?”

  Bowe searched his mind for some way he could persuade Drakasi. “It’s not the value that you place on the two silvers that I offer, but the value I place on them.”

  Drakasi frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Bowe knew that the Greniers valued warrior ideals, so he tried to appeal to that honor code. Loyalty and sacrifice for a companion was surely something that Drakasi would respect. “I borrowed money from Alandar and have already spent some of it. That money is now my lifeblood, for the Raines will see me dead if I cannot return it with interest. And I will freely give up some of my lifeblood to save my friend.”

  “Blood and death, / To save another, / Exalted above all.”

  Yes, I know you are a terrible poet, Bowe thought. Just give the word to free Vitarr.

  “Did you know that you were the Green I was supposed to kill yesterday? We only changed targets on the day. Someone is looking out for you.” Drakasi said, considering.

  Bowe held his breath. Several light pink uniformed marshals had arrived, and now watched at a distance.

  Finally, Drakasi nodded. “Very well. I will release the Green. But not for two silvers. His incompetence has disrespected this place. I will require more lifeblood than that.”

  “Four silvers,” Bowe offered, holding Drakasi’s gaze.

  Drakasi didn’t blink.

  “Six silvers, and you ensure that both Vitarr and myself get out of here safely.” Bowe offered his forearm.

  Drakasi clasped it, and Bowe breathed a sigh of relief.

  “If either of you return to the Fortress again, I may not be so merciful.”

  Bowe threw Vitarr’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him out the same side door he had entered. Vitarr’s jagged breaths lapped against his neck. Despite the dangers the day had brought, at least they were both alive.

  Chapter 4

  40 Days Left

  The wide-brimmed straw hat kept the heat off, but more importantly, it let him blend in. His white ascor clothes were now dirty enough to be indistinguishable from the everyday grays and browns that everyone else on the street wore. He jostled against a few escay as he crossed the street; he didn’t like having to brush against them, but he was getting used to it. He didn’t have a choice; he no longer lived at Raine mansion so apart from a few marshals and Greens, everyone he met was an escay.

  Bowe ducked into a narrow alleyway. Halfway down the alley, he hinged open the wooden boards tied with string that served as a door to the room where he and Vitarr stayed. “Hot out there,” he said to Vitarr, who sat inside.

  “Stop saying that.” Vitarr sat on a small stool, his back leaning against the wall. His arm was still in a sling, but he looked healthy. A small, square window high on the wall let in enough light for Bowe to see that the grayish tinge had left his face.

  “Have I said it before?”

  “Only every blasted time you’ve returned. You think you’re being funny, but you’re not. Just annoying.”

  “Can’t I be annoying and funny?”

  “Shut up already. Helion’s balls. Did you hear any news?” Vitarr massaged his arm under his sling.

  “The newsbard didn’t have much to say about the Path. All the talk was about a shipment of red garnets that were stolen from the Lessards and a trading ship from Jarind that was impounded, suspected of allowing a spy into Arcandis.”

  “Nothing to say about the Path? Seriously?”

  “Seems to be quiet. Reyanu, Zidel, and Dulnato are all doing well, and no one has challenged their position. No Shadows or Wolflings of note.” With only three Greens deciding to be Elects, and no other strong contenders, the Path had become so uninteresting that the newsbards barely mentioned it.

  “Any particular news about Dulnato?”

  “No.” Several days ago, the newsbards had reported that Dulnato had promised to kill both Bowe and Vitarr after being denied blood in the training ring. Bowe now regretted revealing that news to Vitarr.

  “What about you? I bet they still talk of you and your stupidity in rescuing me.” Vitarr tried to catch Bowe’s gaze. The newsbards loved making fun of Bowe, who had shot up the lists after surviving the first day only to plummet again when he had borrowed money at ridiculous rates from Alandar and then given it away to the other mentors. Bowe hadn’t begun to think about how he could repay his loan, especially now after the additional money he had spent on rent, food, and doctoring.

  The boards at the entrance rattled, and someone shouted, “You in there?”

  Vitarr and Bowe looked at one another. The escay who owned this place always came in the other way, and was quiet and respectful.

  “Bowe Bellanger,” the voice said.

  Bowe touched his fingers to his lips, quieting Vitarr. “Who wants me?”

  “I’m Glil, a Defender for Zidel.”

  “What do you want?” Bowe asked. He pulled the boards apart enough to stick his head out. Seeing the boy was alone, Bowe squeezed through.

  “Zidel wants to invite you for a game of Harmony.” Glil leaned against the opposite wall. He was a weedy-looking boy with sparse, straw-colored hair and long, dangling arms. Wide eye sockets made him seem like he was constantly staring.

  “Hasn’t he better things to be doing than looking for a Harmony partner? Avoiding the marshals, dodging Dulnato—just surviving?”

  “Those are your problems. Dulnato and he have an arrangement, and he never borrowed from the Raine bankers.”

  “Why would he want to play Harmony with me?” This could be a trap, but Bowe wanted to go. He was sick of just hiding.

  “Zidel wanted to meet the wildcard again.”

  There was obviously more to this than Glil would reveal, and it was likely that Bowe would never know what Zidel wanted unless he went. The first portion of the Raine loan would be due soon, so Bowe needed to start taking risks. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Not without me,” Vitarr’s voice said from within their room.

  Bowe leaned his back against the boards. “I told you to stay quiet. Zidel has asked for me. There’s no need for you to go.”

  The boards rattled against Bowe’s back as Vitarr tried to push his way out. Bowe leaned back harder. Then Bowe felt an almighty shove from behind, and he was flung into the dirt. He looked back to find the boards lying on the ground and Vitarr smiling. “Try and stop me,” he said. “Look, I don’t need the sling.” He flexed his arm and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt anymore.

  B
owe scowled, looking up at Vitarr from where he lay in the dust. “There’s no way you are going with us.”

  “This is no time to be lying around.” Vitarr sighed. “I may just have to report back to you on what Zidel says if you don’t hurry up.”

  Vitarr wrapped his good arm around Glil’s shoulders and guided him out of the alleyway. “I don’t know what that young lad would do if I weren’t around to take care of him.”

  Bowe pushed himself to his feet, picked up his hat, and ran after them. They had already joined the stream of people on the main street by the time Bowe reached the end of the alleyway, but it wasn’t hard to find them. Vitarr’s big head stuck out above a sea of wide-brimmed hats.

  “You forgot your headgear,” Bowe told Vitarr when he reached them. The air was heavy with the dust kicked up by thousands of feet.

  Vitarr smiled up into the sun. “The heat won’t bother me. Not after being cooped up inside for so long.”

  Bowe shook his head. The sun was doing its bloody best to melt the skin from his face, and this big oaf was smiling up at it. A woman with a parasol had to dodge Vitarr at the last second, and Bowe nudged him. “Watch where you’re going.” You big dope, he added mentally, but it was hard to remain mad at Vitarr when he kept smiling with that doltish grin. Bowe just hoped that he wouldn’t regret letting Vitarr come with him. What could Zidel want?

  Glil led them through Drywell Square. Stall owners advertised their wares in strident tones. Urchins dodged around and sometimes between the striding legs of the multitude. Pink-uniformed marshals circulated, keeping an eye on everything and everyone—the urchins, above all. Mouth-watering smells wafted through the air—exotic spices, grilled meats, fresh-baked breads. Bowe’s stomach growled, but he didn’t have any money to waste.

  A crowd gathered by the fountain, and Bowe and Vitarr pushed their way through to see what was happening. A teenager—a Green, from his clothing—was being shoved around by a group of escay. Bowe’s mouth fell open; escay knew better than to treat their betters like this.

  “We should help him,” Vitarr said.