Half-Breed

by Anna L. Walls

  Whenever they were around strangers, Canis stayed close to Mia. When she went into the town market, he was her shadow and carried all of her purchases. She even got permission to buy him some new clothes. He was growing so fast, and if he wasn’t a slave, there was no point in dressing him like one. She wouldn’t let him have the black shirt and pants he picked out, but he flat refused to look at the lighter colors she wanted. In the end, he got dark blue pants, a white linen shirt, and a sleeveless tunic that matched the pants. She would have bought him a pair of boots but Patro wouldn’t allow it; he didn’t want to invest the money into boots he’d outgrow in a few months. She did buy him a heavy, wool cloak with a hood that happened to be brown; winter was never far away in the north. Since it brushed the ground, he would be able to use it for two or three years before it was too short.

  These shopping trips allowed Mia to keep Canis away from the auction blocks and slave displays. Therefore, he wasn’t around when Gem was sold. Her sale brought Patro more than seven thousand gold pieces from a very prestigious house of pleasure in the city of Chicago. Patro was able to sell four more slaves to the same house, though they didn’t bring as much all together.

  That night, Canis was restlessly prowling the halls of the slave house when he saw some people who didn’t belong. They were leaving Patro’s quarters late at night and they were acting in a very unusual manner, they even left Patro’s door open when they left.

  None of the three men saw Canis where he lurked a few yards away in a dark hall; he was only another shadow among shadows. When they were out of sight, Canis approached the door to investigate. Inside, Patro was sprawled on the floor, though he was starting to move.

  “Canis, did you see them? They got everything,” he said hoarsely, as he brought a hand to his bleeding head.

  Canis was off. He owed no allegiance to Patro, but he was good to Mia and that was enough for him. A few seconds later, he found the men who had taken Patro’s gold and followed them to two more waiting in the alley. When he was finished with them, they lay very still and he was on his way back to Patro, leaving them where they fell in the melting slush and new falling snow.

  When he reentered Patro’s apartment, he found the man sitting at his small table. He deposited the gold in the middle of the table then soaked a towel in a washbasin on the counter. Then he pulled Patro’s hand away from his blood-drenched head and placed the towel there.

  “Go get Mia,” said Patro, but Canis no longer took orders from Patro – common sense chores were one thing, but Mia could do nothing here. He put the gold away in its locker then paced the floor; he wouldn’t leave Patro alone so debilitated. Near dawn, he heard a noise out in the hall and opened the door. Passing by was one of the slave house clerks. Canis showed the man his bloody hand and beckoned him into the room.

  “What happened here, Master Patro?” asked the man.

  “Someone robbed me,” replied Patro as he held his splitting head.

  “I’ll get the housemaster. He’ll be very upset to hear about this. Oh my. Oh my.” He was out the door, running all the way, and Canis could still hear his cries of “oh my” several turnings away.

  A few minutes later, the man returned with three others, the housemaster, his best healer, and the man who was in charge of house security. To have one of the slave masters attacked within house was a tremendous blotch on the house’s reputation. If word got around, it could drive him out of business, and Patro was one of his biggest clients, being one of the few slave traders who traveled around the entire valley. His commission from this one slaver’s sales lined his pocket with comfort for an entire year. To lose him would be a real pinch.

  Half an hour later, Patro was tucked into his bed with his head neatly wrapped. Mia sat by his side and still Canis paced the floor.

  “Canis, sit down,” said Mia. “You did very good tonight. Master Patro is very pleased with you.”

  That was not why Canis paced. He had never killed before, though he’d wanted to at times. A dead body was…still, too still; it bothered him. It bothered him that it had been so easy. It bothered him that they had been so vulnerable. Were people really so weak? He expected people to be harder to kill than the animals he hunted, but there was surprisingly little difference other than size. Without their weapons, they died just as quickly as a rabbit.

  Because of his injuries, Patro was forced to remain in the city for five days longer than he had intended. The housemaster, in an effort to keep Patro happy, didn’t charge him for the additional days of his enforced stay, and house clerks brought all potential transactions to his apartment. On the fourth day, Patro ventured out for the first time since the foiled robbery.

  When he returned, he sent for Canis. “Canis, you have saved me from a grievous loss and for that I owe you a debt. Would you come with me?”

  If Mia hadn’t brought him, Canis wouldn’t have come to the summons, but now that he was here, he looked at Patro with his ever-present blank stare; it was all he could do to hide his curiosity. A gentle nudge from Mia prompted him to take a step toward the door – the closest signal of assent he would give.

  Patro led the way up the Grand Market Street. It was an amazing street at least two hundred yards wide, paved with stone and sporting constables at almost every corner. People crowded the stalls, making way slowly for passing carriages and even slower for the occasional cart drawn behind a slave, unless a stick-wielding personal guardsman was clearing the way.

  Eventually Patro led them to a large building. It might not have been the biggest building in the city, but it was certainly the biggest building Canis had ever seen, excepting perhaps the slave house complex where they usually stayed. It was stacked four stories high with the uppermost windows up under sharp eves. It loomed over most of the other buildings in the area, though Canis could see other buildings as high or higher farther on. Over the door hung a massive sword carved out of wood, and painted on the blade was the words Chicago School of the Sword.

  Canis had learned several new words during his travels with the slave master. He knew what a slave was now and what a beating was, but this was a new word. He wondered what ‘school’ meant and he wondered what other new words waited for him in this building. He would have to be on his guard – he was always on his guard, but this was new. He didn’t like new things.

  Inside, a wiry man with gray hair met them, though that looked to be the only sign of his age. Patro wasn’t an overly tall man, but this man scarcely cleared his shoulder. He was little more than five trim feet of compact muscle.

  “Canis, this is Master Dagon, and he is not called master for the same reason I am,” said Patro. “Master Dagon is a master of the sword as well as many other skills. Because of what you did for me, I would like to further your education in this way. You’re quick and you’re smart, and you’ve already shown me that you’re a good fighter. Because of that, I have hopes of seeing you in the arena under my banner.” He turned to Master Dagon. “Master, this is the boy I spoke to you about. I believe he has a lot of promise. As we agreed, I will pay for his room and board as well as his lessons for one year.”

  “He’s very young,” said Dagon. “It’ll take him a year to develop some skill with a small sword. It will take him two or even three to become skilled enough to enter my classes, and longer still before he’s big enough to be allowed to compete in the arena, no matter how skilled with the sword he becomes in the time he spends here.”

  Patro nodded then turned to Canis. “Do you want to try this?”

  This was indeed a surprise and doubly so because it was a pleasing surprise this time. He studied Patro’s face for a long moment, looking for any sign of deception. When he didn’t see any, he turned to explore farther into the building.

  Patro and Dagon followed. “He doesn’t say much,” commented Dagon.

  “I’ve never been able to get him to talk. It can be frustrating, but he’s smart enough,” replied Patro.

  Canis went to the f
irst door of many that lined the entry hall on both sides. Inside, he saw three people. The older man, young though he looked, was showing a lunging motion to two half-grown boys. He watched for a few minutes then he turned back to Dagon. The question was obvious as was the signs he used to ask it. He pointed at Dagon and at the three in the room.

  Dagon smiled. “I’m glad to see that you can make yourself understood. I’m not teaching this class because these are beginners. I won’t be teaching these young men until they are much further along in their training. However, the young man who is teaching here is one of my students.” He called out to the young instructor. “Leonard, could I bother you for a moment?”

  The man named Leonard nodded to them, then he waved his two students to rest, and came over.

  “Leonard, this is Canis. He may be one of your students if he decides to stay. Would you like to show him some of what he will learn here?”

  “Certainly, Canis is it? Have you ever handled a sword before?” asked Leonard.

  Canis looked at him for a moment, then for the first time in over a year, he responded to a question put to him by another person; he twitched his chin sideways in denial.

  Leonard was surprised in the inhibited response but he took it in stride and led Canis over to a sword rack where he selected a lightweight slender blade that was not too long and handed it to Canis. Standing beside him, he brought up his own much heavier sword and showed him, by example, how to hold it, then he showed him a few basic swings and thrusts with a brief explanation for both.

  Canis imitated everything Leonard did. He knew what swords were used for. He’d been around Patro’s guards for close to two years, and though they hadn’t used them very often in actual fighting, it happened, and they frequently practiced with them, either with each other or alone. Canis knew that swinging a sword was different from swinging a stick. He also knew that he was supposed to hang onto the sword, though he was very good at throwing a stick.

  Leonard continued the abridged lesson. “Would you like to try your hand against me now? I’d like to see how much you remember.” He faced Canis and saluted. He held the salute until Canis imitated the move, then he said, “The salute is a show of sport. It means that you mean your opponent no harm. Now, to add to the fun, would you like to make a wager?”

  Dagon watched Canis’s every move and he smiled at this. “I’ll wager. For every successful block he makes, I’ll knock off one gold piece from the price of his tuition, and if he draws blood on you, Leonard, you get to make up my losses, if there are any.”

  “Master Dagon, that’s a little stiff don’t you think,” protested Leonard.

  “No, I don’t think so. Surely, you’re better than a kid who has never held a sword before, if not, I may start you back at the beginning again.

  Patro was smiling too. The price for these lessons was going to be expensive. If Canis could knock off at least one gold piece from that price, he’d be thrilled, and he knew how crafty Canis could be. Neither Leonard nor Dagon knew how much damage this small boy could do to four big guards without using a sword.

  Canis was excited; he couldn’t believe Patro actually wanted to improve his fighting skills; he listened to every word Leonard said and imitated all his moves. He noted things like weight-shift and shoulder-slant. He planned to use it all in this challenge. He would need it if his enemies persisted in being men. He had one small thing in his favor though; he was far more deadly than any of them suspected. No one knew how five thieves had died in the alley behind the slave house.

  Dagon moved the two of them into the middle of the floor, waving the other two students aside to make room. Then acting the part of referee, he marked the beginning of their match.

  Canis stepped into the attack boldly. Never before had he matched against another person in a contest that wasn’t a desperate struggle for life or freedom. Until most recently, he had always fought to escape. There was no way he would survive an all-out battle – he wasn’t big enough, so he needed to survive in order to be able to fight another day. This fight bore none of those risks; in fact, he was supposed to learn this skill. With this, he could stand against any man, even if they too held a sword.

  He blocked the first and the second of Leonard’s swings with his sword braced by his naked off hand. He saw nothing wrong with doing that because the sword he held, though clearly a sword, it was no sharper than a stick. With each block, he forced himself closer to his opponent. Then he spun completely inside of Leonard’s reach and elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to double over in surprise. The unfamiliar weight and length of the sword, now supported by only one hand, dropped, and the only stretch of the blade that had any edge left on it laid a tiny cut on Leonard’s arm, but Canis had control of that arm.

  He threw his whole weight against the arm in his grip as he spun out and around his opponent. Overbalanced, Leonard toppled to the floor on his face in an ungraceful sprawl. Canis’s momentum carried him around to sit on Leonard’s back. Leonard’s sword hand was bent across his back in Canis’s lap. Not only did Canis have full control of Leonard’s sword arm, but his left heel was over Leonard’s shoulder and his right one was over Leonard’s neck.

  Dagon barked a loud guffaw. He had never seen such a combination of dirty street fighting and clumsy swordplay, not to mention the fact that small children normally didn’t dive into a fight, even if they knew it was staged for fun. As soon as he had recovered enough to talk and make himself understood, he said, “He did it. I didn’t think he’d get more than one block in if he tried, but he blocked you twice and drew blood, though I think that was pure accident. What went wrong, Leonard?”

  Leonard was still picking himself up off the ground. “I don’t know, sir,” he said. He hadn’t had much of a chance to analyze the encounter. All he knew was that he screwed up. A kid half his size shouldn’t be able to take him so easily, and he took him all the way to the floor – how humiliating.

  “You underestimated your opponent,” said Dagon still chuckling. “And you’ve spent too much time in the classroom. You need to get out more.”

  Canis had never been around much laughter and it took him a moment to determine that the laughter was not directed at him, though he was sure he had been the cause of it. He was starting to like these two men, even though he didn’t quite understand the banter that passed between them. He had never been around people who chided each other, then laughed about it. All interaction around the slave caravan was very careful and proper, and before he came to the caravan, all he remembered was hiding from people. He didn’t remember much laughter anywhere. He liked the laughter.

  “Well Canis, are you staying?” asked Patro.

  In response, Canis picked up his and Leonard’s dropped swords and handed Leonard’s back to him. He made no move to put the other sword away or even hand it over. This was his ‘yes’ answer, but it was also his desire to remain armed among armed enemies, an advantage he’d never had before and wouldn’t relinquish easily now.

  “I think he’s staying,” said Patro and he handed over a pouch of gold.

  Dagon opened the pouch, drew out two pieces of gold, and handed them back. “As per our wager, young Canis made two successful, though unorthodox blocks. And you, Mr. Kansas will bring me two gold pieces at your earliest convenience.”

  “Of course,” said Leonard with a wry smile.

  Canis looked at the young man. Kansas? Why would he be named after a city? Was he? Or was it just a coincidence? He might never know, and he certainly couldn’t ask.

  Patro stepped up to Canis and handed him another money pouch to which he added the two gold coins Canis had won. “This is spending money for you. Make it last. You don’t know much about the real world so be careful, and be safe. You know my route; I’ll be back here next year at this time. We’ll discuss continued lessons then.” He extended his hand to shake on it, but Canis wasn’t about to surrender his hand into another’s grip, least of all Patro’s. He accepted the mo
ney pouch then stood back to gaze at Patro with eyes long since schooled to neutrality. When Patro and Dagon left the classroom, he followed them back to the main entrance where Patro shook hands with Dagon before leaving.

  Would Mia come? He didn’t think so. He would miss her. He would see her again next time Patro was in town.

  Lessons

  Dagon showed Canis to the room he would be using during his stay and then left him there with, “You start in the morning, but I want you to understand, here we teach the use of the sword; I don’t ever want to see another display like that. There is a time and place for dirty fighting, and it’s not here. Here we fight clean. Do you understand?”

  Canis thought he did, but he wasn’t sure and he couldn’t ask, but then the sword master was gone. He’d learn this clean fighting and see what it was all about.

  He looked around his room. He’d never really had a place of his own. With his mother, his place was her closet. With the slave caravan, there was no place, merely a blanket roll, and seldom the same one. In his opinion, it had been infinitely better than sleeping in the closet. After the chains were taken away, he slept next to Mia wherever she slept, and if that was under a roof, it was usually in the corner of the kitchen.

  It had always been difficult for him to sleep in an unfamiliar place, so he pulled the blankets off the narrow bed and made a nest in a dark corner behind his small wardrobe. The room was many times larger than his mother’s closet, almost the size of her room, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep out in the middle even though the door was closed.