Only part about seeing Massey now that gave me pause was the golem on either side of him. Not exactly the small stuff I’d built for Mini or the spider constructs Paine had showed off in Seattle, but big, hulking monsters of metal and stone pushed together in the vague shape of a biped. Pass themselves off as a gargoyle or a stone giant real easy. Only hint at the fairy within was a glass bulb where a heart should be. There, a geomancer could sense the anima concentration pulsing away. Ain’t young like Mini neither, gnome advantages or not. Old, older than the ones Plutarch has raised. Hundreds of years old. Been with the Guild since it was founded, if not the master-apprentice structures before it was founded.
Above Massey and his golems, the Guild crest was etched on a flat wall of marble. A single majestic mountain, above it the words We Build Unending and below it the Year 1612. Last time my mind was on nothing but Ceinwyn and the Divines, barely even noticed half this shit. Now I got five-hundred people staring at me and I’m gawking at the decorations like some tourist.
All that attention—all them eyes—what else could I do?
Gave them an I-don’t-give-a-crap shrug.
Showed them some canine.
Started strolling forward like I owned the place.
Eyes and heads turned to track my progress. I glanced from my left to right, picking out dozens and dozens of unknown faces. Some were young, some were old, some were in awe, others were severe. American, Asian, African, European all. Doesn’t matter if you graduate from the Institution of Elements or Her Royal Majesty’s Conservatory of the Elements or the new schools India and Brazil have put together, every Artificer ends up here or they aren’t allowed to make artifacts.
The exceptions to this over four-hundred-year-old rule are the state Chinese mancers, Artificers living in shitholes that even other shitholes think are shitholes, and me.
Me.
King Henry Price.
Always the exception.
Always the problem.
Always the Foul Mouth calling you a ‘fucktard’ and kicking you in the holy fuckballs.
Case in point . . .
“Shit, Massey, when these guys told me how you’d called in your string, I thought you’d take me in the back and give me a scolding, maybe a spanking if you were feeling particularly kinky. Didn’t think you’d get the band back together. Should I have brought some party gifts? SDRs for everyone, maybe?”
Lies. Knew exactly what Massey would do. Pushed him to do it. Played him.
Lies . . . still ain’t good at the out and out secret-keeping variety, but I started good and have gotten even better at bluffing, and this whole show was bluff from every side.
Massey’s thin face scrunched up on itself. Very proper guy, Massey. Doubt even his wife had heard him curse. Wife might have never even seen him naked. Can never be too sure how British people breed with all them Victorian sensibilities still hanging around. Probably involves opium and little Chinese men, but I can’t be sure.
Massey didn’t address me, instead nodding at both Estefan and Miles. “Thank you for escorting the charged, agents. The Guild thanks you for your cooperation.”
“Charged with what exactly?” Estefan finally started protecting me the tiniest bit. “The Guild is an administrative organization, not a law enforcement organization.”
Starts protecting me at exactly the moment when I just want the pretty boy to leave me to my doom!
Never trust the pretty ones . . . especially the pretty ones who want to save you.
“It is not a matter of law but a matter of contract, a contract that Artificer Price signed on graduation,” Massey calmly pointed out, speaking as much for the gathered members of the Guild as to assuage Estefan’s sudden outburst of loyalty. “He gave to us the right and responsibility to call out his possible misdeeds as an Artificer. There have been . . . many.”
“ESLED also signed a contract this morning. We have guaranteed his rights as a mancer, including his property, and promised that you will continue to do so during his stay,” Miles jumped into the game with an expression that you might even be able to call shit-eating.
Massey smiled thinly. “By all means, Artificer Price will not be treated as guilty before proven so and even if proven guilty will merely be suitably censured and reprimanded. While our accommodations are strict, he will be perfectly safe and his property rights will be as upheld as is feasible.”
Estefan and Miles glanced back at me, taken off guard by cooperation after having to put up with my troublemaking for the last fourteen hours.
Agreeing or not, I still saw the translation behind Massey’s words: we can’t throw him in the Pit as punishment, but we can still throw him in the Pit for his own protection. In the nicest room, of course and yes, we will give him certain rights normal Pit prisoners don’t receive. However, King Henry Price goes in the Pit for the duration of his hearing. I am Alexander Massey, he has made a laughing stock of me, and I’ll break him as much as I’m legally allowed to break him.
Like waiting to ‘arrest’ me until a massive chunk of the Guild has been called together for whatever reason. Other lovely surprises awaited down below, no doubt, as well in the hearing itself. If Massey ended up pulling a full trial on my ass, I could only imagine what witnesses would say on the stand or the picture they might paint.
So it might get a little rough. You knew this was a possibility. Willing to pay the Price, ain’t ya? Right there in the name, shithead.
“It’s fine, boys,” I eventually said to settle Estefan and Miles down. “Take off, eat some fish and chips, bang a duchess or two for me. Everyone knows where I am. Everyone knows the Guild Master is responsible if anything happens to me. Besides, Massey here doesn’t want to hurt me. Wants me to join the team, do what he says, learn the error of my ways. You know . . . slap me in the face with his big ol’ geomancer dick.”
Massey hissed air out of his eagle hook of a nose, but kept his mouth pushed into a smile while nodding at the ESLED agents to leave.
Estefan still seemed uneasy. He leaned next to me so he could whisper, “I’ve been in the Pit. It’s sterile and safe, but still manages to unnerve you. Plus, there’s hundreds of crazed mancers in there and you won’t have the Mancy to defend yourself.”
“Just my fists and my wits,” I agreed with him. “I’m fine. This day’s been coming since I decided to start my shop. It’ll be alright. If you’re not into the duchess banging then go home and kiss your wife. Also, instead of taking shitty assignments like this one, maybe act like an adult and tell her you ain’t ready for kids, okay?”
He shook my hand as a pretty boy smile broke out over his lips. “We’ll see. Maybe you have grown up . . .”
Turned to Miles and shook his hand too. “The Employee seems to have a soft spot for you, use this information wisely. Get sneak-peek tickets for some geeky movie and she might even go on the date with you.”
Miles leaned in to whisper back. “Sorry to ruin your matchmaking attempt, but I’m kind of dating a stripper from Las Vegas.”
Huh . . . it’s always the quiet ones.
I waited until they were at the door on the other side of the hall to shout out, “Hey, Estefan! I’m also sorry that all those jokes made you feel so sensitive about your tiny penis, man! Can you forgive me?”
“Nope, I take it back,” Estefan grumbled under his breath as he left the room, “he’s still an asshole.”
It’s not like all of the Guild heard it. Only like half. Some of them are old and don’t hear nothing anyway.
A few even laughed.
One lady snickered.
Massey’s smile went from unpleased to very pleased once the ESLED agents had exited. He walked past me like I was merely the prop he wanted me to be, addressing the assembled Guild members. “A strange beginning to our traditional five-year meetings, I know, but Artificer Price has left me little choice in the matter. You have all heard about his flaunting of our traditions, his exemption from joining our number, the allowan
ce by Maudette Lynch to let him ‘go it alone.’ That is, I believe, the phrase put to me a few years ago, as if one boy could do what we together could not.”
Prop, I could be his prop. Contrary to my character, I stood there and took the mockery without opening my foul mouth a centimeter.
Massey put his hands up in a placating gesture, revealing long, thin fingers that I imagined could do some serious damage to a piano. “I promise it will bring no interruption to the meetings or the presentations themselves, the lecture halls and talks will be open as always, as will the bar!”
He actually got a round of laughter for that one.
“But! We will be having a disciplinary hearing, a very public hearing in which Artificer Price will stand accused of breaking our bylaws and will be shown to have damaged the reputation of all Artificers. Many of you shared with me your opinions and grievances concerning the decision the Institution made with Artificer Price and many of you have also stepped into my office to voice trepidation about his actions since then.
“The visiting ESLED agents were correct. We cannot punish Artificer Price as a criminal. But we can show him the error of his ways, we can convince him of his faults, we can say to the world at large that we do not condone his methods. We will do this as good, thorough geomancers should do it: by the book. And, of course, with my humble self as the Arbiter, how could we possibly go wrong?”
More laughter from some, silence from others, frowns from a few.
“It is my hope that at the end of this process Artificer Price will admit his guilt and beg our forgiveness. Being a fellow Artificer, we will forgive him, we will accept him with open arms into the brotherhood where he has always belonged.”
“Don’t suppose I get to say anything in my defense yet?” I finally asked.
Massey’s smile took on a cruel cast as he went full on Mr. Burns with steepled fingers. “Have no fear, Artificer Price, you aren’t on trial yet. Even when you are in your hearing we promise to be gentle with the Accused. Of course, due to his lack of membership, Artificer Price isn’t aware of our schedules. He can’t know that the meetings are precisely scheduled down to the minute and that breaking this schedule is seen as a discourteous transgression against your fellow Guild members. He also is unaware that the schedules themselves are only voted on during the third day, the first two days purely left for drinking, the congregation of old friends, and pure revelry as only Artificers can!”
Cheers.
Bastard got cheers while I was standing there holding my dick.
At Massey’s motion, the two massive golems shifted to stand on either side of me. The Guild Master had eyes the color of sand, specifically the pale sand of an hourglass. They said clearly that my time was up. “Let us go find a place to store you for the next three days, shall we?”
[CLICK]
I’d always thought of Massey as some busybody functionary. He was always at the main Asylum events. Winter War, Jobs Fair, Graduation. Never really impressed me. I figured he was the usual fail-upward politician. Plutarch had surely made plenty of disparaging remarks about him over the years. But I’d never seen him with the other geomancers, never seen him in charge, if you will. Always a guest, always out of his element. This Massey with me now still had his weaknesses and was exploitable, but there was also another side of him: a politician, yes, but one who was fighting to keep his power, one who would rub and massage and cajole any law he could to do so.
Before, my respect was none. Now, it was miniscule, but at least the scale could register it.
A few of the Counselors followed us into the elevator lift. So did one of the younger Master Craftsmen I’d yet seen. Later 30s likely. Not quite Ceinwyn’s age. What hair I could see under his skullcap was black and ruffled. With glasses and tiny black eyes, I was reminded of Russell Quilt, although here this guy was in the full Guild costume. Guild had a kind of part-cardinal, part-Jedi thing going. Robes I could survive, but they look like a bunch of cocksuckers in those skullcaps, I thought the same thought I’d had of them since school.
Me, Massey, the Russell Quilt twin, six Counselors, and the two big ass geo-anima golems—each of which could break me in half—all stuffed into an oversized elevator. Better than all of us stuffed into a regular elevator. Anyone starts pressing up against me and I’d be swinging some elbows, even if it’s the golems doing the groping.
“They took the show well, I thought,” Massey commented to the Counselors. Being a Counselor to the Guild Master didn’t guarantee you were on his side in all things, or that your counsel wouldn’t be that he was a moron, so I made an educated guess that these six were his closest allies in the Guild. The nodding and statements of agreement they sputtered out only seemed to confirm the guess.
As for the young Craftsman, he seemed skeptical and more on edge. Accent was Scottish. I think. Can’t be too sure, since my American ears ain’t so keen on the differences between all the neighboring countries England raped one after another. “Should we be discussing this around the Accused?”
Massey turned to me, bracketed by looming golems on either side. “He won’t be in any position to cause trouble during the meetings. Once they have passed the threat will have gone with them . . . for the next five years at least. I wouldn’t even mind to hear his thoughts about his predicament. How about it, Artificer Price? Surprised? Shocked? Worried? You should be.”
I studied the graybeards. Old men used to their positions, playing to the most conservative and highest power in the Guild. “I don’t think the Lady had this level of action in mind when she agreed to let you hold me accountable, Massey.”
“Neither did I,” Massey agreed. “But your actions have necessitated something grander than the pat on the bottom we thought might be required.”
Turned to the Quilt Clone next. He studied me back, bit more aggressive than Quilt himself ever would have. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I finally asked him.
A little smirk on his face, a tap on his glasses. “Master Craftsman Ulysses MacNess at your service, Artificer Price. I’m an accountant and a lawyer. I’ll be laying out the heaps of evidence we have on your malfeasance. I believe the rest of the Guild will find it quite illuminating.”
“Has the ability to make artifacts, becomes a lawyer . . . and I thought the Curator was terrifying,” I said.
Massey hissed at the name. “Don’t mention that Wilder in my presence unless you want your punishment to be worse than it already is.” He motioned to one of the graybeards, who finally clicked a button on the elevator wall. There was only the one button, so the destination wouldn’t be much of a surprise.
“You’re really putting me in the Pit?” I asked, not that I was against the placement, rather happy about it, just curiosity getting my mouth moving again. “More people than just the Lady will be pissed off about that move.”
MacNess smirked again as the elevator began a slow descent. “While it won’t be enjoyable, you won’t be in any life-threatening danger. You also won’t be placed in the prisoner or medical wards, but in a rather spacious apartment we built for hostages, back when wars necessitated such actions. The Cleansing Sphere is older than your Institution, older even than the American Civil War. Only the means and speed of arrival have changed.”
“Pampered just like a King should be,” I threw out a quip carefully crafted to sound pompously brave, masking insecurities. So basically . . . I let my inner Welf out.
Nodding, MacNess waved at the golems. “Now that they have tasted your aura, they will only leave your side when you enter your rooms for the night. During the day you will have the run of the facilities, same as any other well-behaved prisoner. As long as you play nicely with them and remember that there is no anima available to you, I’m sure you’ll pass the three days before the start of your hearing without incident.”
“Hearing . . . more like an inquisition.”
“You brought it on yourself,” Massey snapped, enjoying the discomfort I fed him. “And on
me, which was even more foolish.”
“Ah, so that’s it,” I decided. “People started whispering about replacing you, did they? Can’t stand up to one little boy, that kind of shit?”
“Yes, that kind of shit,” Massey snapped some more and proved he could curse. “With the twin horrors of your independence and a Wilder causing havoc hanging over me, something of significance was required to show the Brothers that I’m still as strong as the day I was first chosen to stand as Guild Master.”
“Profit reports not doing what they used to, huh? Guess I get why you chose diddling my bunghole over dealing with the Curator. Why fix the real problem, right? That’s the kind of thinking that made me go independent in the first place.”
“It is not the Guild’s duty to handle the Curator,” MacNess heatedly jumped in. “He is a North American menace. Your Learning Council or ESLED should have handled him months ago. We have enough trouble dealing with the Eldest Dukes of the Vampire Embassies in Europe, thank you very much. When you add in the rising Were Nation epidemic, we have our hands more than full.”
“You give us smallpox, we give you syphilis,” I pointed out, finally showing some predator.
The elevator clunked along.
Still had my usual anima pool of thirty minutes. Not at the Pit yet then, my pool not having been ripped out of me. Could’ve used that anima. Mancers have natural protections that hide how much pool they have stored up. Outside of the usual sense you get that someone is pooling or when someone releases a pool, it’s hard as shit to judge what people got up their sleeves, even in the same discipline. Hence why I made Anima Detection Lenses and the stupidly named Necklace of Confusion, thanks again, T-Bone.
“So the Guild starts rumbling about replacing you with someone who can deal with me or the Curator, whispers all around about how weak you are, and you decide to use me as an example of your strength. Double duty even, since the hearing itself will waste a lot of time they could be using to scheme. It will even have the gossip be about me and not about Guild Master Massey being a cocksucker. Five year meetings . . . guess this is the only time you can be replaced unless you really fuck up. Think I read some of that in your bylaws. Page one-hundred and six, right?”
The Pit of No Return (The King Henry Tapes Book 6) Page 9
