The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (19 page)
“You're not giving it all you've got,” Anaxantis complained. “How
am I supposed to get any better if you're going to hold back on me?”
They were standing in the middle of the training grounds. All around them pairs of clansmen were training their sword skills.
“I'm not. I'm really not,” Ehandar said. “You've become quite good at this.”
“You're just saying that,” Anaxantis muttered, but he seemed pleased all the same.
Ehandar let his sword come down near the hilt of that of his brother, who felt a jolt running through his hand up to his elbow.
“Ouch,” Anaxantis cried out, dropping his weapon. “That hurt.”
“You weren't paying attention. You were complacent. You lowered your defenses. You hurt.”
Ehandar put his sword back into its sheath. Anaxantis picked up his and did the same.
“Let's go have a drink and rest for a while,” Ehandar proposed.
“Besides, you're sweating and I want you out of this sharp wind.”
“Makes you wonder how I managed to survive at all, before all you guys started fretting over me.”
“By sheer accident,” his brother replied laconically. “It's a miracle.
Praise the Gods.”
They had almost reached the open tent, when Lethoras came up to them.
“Ehandar, a word please,” he said.
“Sure,” the prince replied.
It had taken some getting used to, but since so many people called Anaxantis by his given name, he had decided not to mind either.
“You guys talk. I'm off for that drink,” Anaxantis said casually.
“You know I'm the chief sword fighting instructor,” Lethoras said.
”The thing is, I could use some help. Eh… if it is something you wouldn't mind doing, that is.”
Ehandar looked surprised at him.
“What kind of reputation do I have around here anyway,” he thought.
“No, of course I don't mind. It's not as if there's much else for me to do around here. Why would you think I'd mind?”
Lethoras looked embarrassed and scratched the back of his head.
“Hm… you being a prince and all that malarkey. My mistake…
There's the older pages on the one hand. They're nobles, but they're a handful, I can tell you. And then there's the clansmen. They put on less airs, but there are a few promising swordsmen among them. Frankly, it's all getting to be a bit much.”
“I'll gladly help out, if you think I can be of any use,” Ehandar said, toning down the enthusiasm in his voice.
To his own surprise he felt flattered.
“Sure you can help. You're a decent swordsman yourself.”
“Decent?” Ehandar said, raising his eyebrows.
“Well last time, when we had our little joust, I had you retreating steadily. If that had been a real fight, eventually—”
“Eventually nothing,” Ehandar interrupted him. “I was retreating, eh? I was tiring you out, that was what I was doing, and it was working too. More importantly, I was making you show me all your moves, my friend. By the way, I knew most of them.”
“So I noticed, but not all. At least two or three—”
“Ha, but I know them now. You tried them out on me while I was on my guard, fighting cautiously and defensively. They're useless to you now under whatever circumstances. I can parry them blind— folded,” Ehandar grinned.
“Yeah, I thought as much,” Lethoras grinned back. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. I have a lot going on lately. A friend of mine has a moribund daughter. Barely eight years old, the poor thing. Poor father, as well. He's almost going crazy. I have to keep an eye on Mirkadesh. There still are remnants of the Renuvian Plains Robbers we haven't smoked out, and the whereabouts of their ill gained treasure remains a complete mystery. And of course your brother had to make me a duke, as if I needed a silly title and the grief that goes with it. And then my sisters…”
Ehandar looked mildly amused and at the same time surprised at the Cheridonian working himself into a fit. Lethoras noticed his look and burst out laughing.
“Sorry to bother you with all this.”
“No… no, not at all.”
“But, seriously, are you in the market for a couple of fine sisters?”
“Gladly, if you can take two lousy older brothers off my hands,”
Ehandar replied mock seriously. “Perfectly amiable guys. Just don't
turn your back on them, or you might see a sword point coming out of
your chest.”
“On second thought, I think I'd better keep my rapacious serpents.
At least they want me alive and earning money for them.”
They both erupted in laughter. Lethoras patted the prince on the back.
“Let's go get a drink. You'll make a good instructor. You can teach them all my moves, since you know them anyway. They'll be lucky to have you.”
They walked back to the tent.
“Three mornings of the week it's the Clansmen. They're an informal lot. Hope you won't mind. The pages call us My Lord, of course. Also three training sessions a week. Afternoons,” Lethoras said.
“What are you guys talking about?” Hemarchidas asked when they entered.
“Ehandar is going to help me train the older pages and the clansmen at sword fighting.”
Anaxantis didn't seem to have heard. Ehandar and Lethoras sat down at one end of the table to discuss further practical arrangements.
The other Cheridonian sat down next to his friend.
“Is this wise?” he asked, whispering.
“What?”
“Letting your brother help in the training of the clansmen,” Hemarchidas said irritated. “It will give him no end of opportunities to bond with them.”
“So what?” Anaxantis asked innocently.
“So what? They're supposed to be your clansmen. Not his.”
The prince shrugged.
“What harm can it do? He needs to get out more. Meet other people.”
“What harm can it do? What harm can it do? Sometimes I don't understand you.”
“My brother is a fantastic swordsman. The clansmen will learn a lot from him and as a result will be a better fighting force. That's a good thing, I would think,” Anaxantis said smilingly.
“Argh. I give up. You're being deliberately obtuse. You know perfectly well what I mean.”
“Yes, I do,” Anaxantis said, suddenly serious. “It isn't a problem, Hemarchidas. I want him to make friends. He has few enough as it is.”
The Cheridonian knew he was fighting a losing battle and kept quiet.
“Thank you, Lethoras,” Anaxantis whispered, when he got the chance to talk to him without anybody listening in.
“What? Oh, that. You're welcome. I never thought I would, but I'm starting to like your brother. He will be a real asset as well.”
The prince smiled gratefully.
The compound was situated a few miles outside of the city of
Naodyma. Roughly circular, it was surrounded by a man-high stone wall. A slave sat listlessly in an open cubicle near the gates.
The older man went up to him, while the younger one waited nervously before the entrance.
“Yphainas expects us,” he said to the slave. “I am Vardas and this is my grandson Lexyntas.”
The slave nodded in a bored way. He opened the gates and pointed out a low structure, with small windows.
“You can go up to that building. I'll go fetch the master.”
He closed the gates behind them, and while they made their way to the indicated building, the slave went up to a stately manor house further down the path.
They had waited for only about five minutes when a man in his late twenties appeared.
“The master will be here soon,” he said with an inviting smile, in an upbeat tone, while checking out Lexyntas.
“Thank you, sir,“ Vardas said.
“Call me Uckmyo,” the man said laughingly. “I'm a slave of Master
Yphainas. His most important slave. Wouldn't know what he would do without me, to tell the truth.”
He gave Lexyntas once more a look over from head to toe.
“That's him you're selling?” Uckmyo asked.
“Eh… yes,” Vardas replied uncomfortably. “Yes, I'm sorry to say it is.”
Uckmyo whistled shrilly.
“Yes, I can see why you would be sorry. A shame, truly a shame, but I don't think we have an opening in our own household for the moment. Damn. I'm sure we could have become good friends,” he added, beaming a broad smile at Lexyntas.
He unlocked the door of the building with a key hanging from a chain on his belt. They came into a small hallway with a door right before them and two on either side, from behind which came subdued noises. Uckmyo showed them into a little room behind the door in front of them. He bade them to sit down on a wooden bench that stood against the wall and wait for the arrival of the master. Except for that and an ornate chair the place was bare.
Yphainas was a man in his mid forties, carefully groomed and with a plain, but pleasant face.
“Please, remain seated,” he said to both men who were about to stand up. He himself sat down in the chair.
He mustered Lexyntas.
“You are?” he asked of the old man.
“Vardas. I'm his grandfather.”
“And you have the right to sell him?” Yphainas asked.
“Yes, I have, Master Yphainas,” Vardas answered unhappily. “But
in this case it is not my decision. Lexyntas here is doing this voluntarily.”
The slaver raised his eyebrows.
“Ha, yes, you see,” the old man explained, “times have been hard, as you undoubtedly know.”
“Yes, yes. I know. Ruined harvests. Epidemics.”
“Indeed. His parents died one shortly after the other, and he was left with two younger brothers and a baby sister. Apart from them, I'm his only remaining kin. There's no work to be had in these parts, and I can't support all four of them. Lexyntas is the oldest, and he wants his brothers and sisters to have a chance at a future. So, he is actually selling himself, you see.”
“There's a lot of that going around. In most cases it is the parents selling one or a few of their offspring. Anyhow, to make sure everything is in order, I will be requiring you to sign as well, seeing as it is you who will be receiving the money. Speaking of which, the market is saturated. A few years ago the boy would have fetched a top price. Now…”
He let the sentence dwindle.
“Stand up boy,” he said. “Take your mantle off.”
Lexyntas wasn't exceptionally tall for his seventeen years, but well built. Although it was almost winter he was dressed in a thin tunic, as was revealed when he took off the threadbare garment that served as mantle. He wore open sandals with woolen socks. He looked strong and healthy at first sight. All in all, Yphainas liked what he saw. He was just about to calculate what the boy would be worth in certain markets, when the old man spoke again.
“I have one condition, Master Yphainas,” he said softly.
“A condition?”
“I can only permit the sale to go through if you can assure me that you will, eh, place him as a field or household slave. I'm sure you understand what I mean.”
Yphainas understood.
“Damn. I could buy him for a song and probably sell him for ten
times what I paid for him to any whorehouse in Soranza. A slender,
muscular body, a handsome face. His hair is too short, but that's only
a question of time and a good barber,”
the slaver mused.
“I will want this to be recorded in the sales act,” Vardas insisted.
“Of course,” Yphainas said matter-of-factly.
“Except that won't be worth anything. Once he sale is concluded, he becomes the property of whoever buys him. His owner can use or abuse him as he pleases. You can't sell me a mule under condition that I will never make it carry a load either.”
“Well,” he said out loud, “let's see what is on offer.”
Lexyntas stared at him blankly.
“Undress, boy,” Yphainas said in a bored voice.
Lexyntas flushed and looked questioningly at Vardas. When the old man nodded and averted his eyes, looking into the corner, he started slowly to remove his tunic. He laid it upon the bench where he had sat and looked uncertainly at the slaver.
“Everything, boy.”
Lexyntas knelt down and took off his sandals and socks.
“Loincloth,” Yphainas said curtly, standing up.
Lexyntas colored more deeply red. Vardas was still looking at the wall in the corner. With trembling fingers the young man removed his
last piece of clothing. When he stood completely naked before the
slaver it was all he could do to keep himself from covering his private parts with his hands.
“Stand upright, arms beside you, legs apart.”
Lexyntas adjusted his position.
Yphainas came at him and took his head in both hands, his fingers feeling for irregularities under the thick short hair. Then he lifted Lexyntas's eyelids one by one.
“Open your mouth,” he said.
The slaver lifted the boy's upper lip, then pulled down his lower one.
“Look at the ceiling and keep your mouth open. Good. Now, breathe out softly. Good. Sweet smell. You must be healthy and have an excellent digestion.”
He began to feel Lexyntas over, once in a while pinching the flesh.
The boy couldn't help shrinking away.
“Stand still,” Yphainas said absentmindedly.
He grabbed the boy's member and felt it over, then lifted it to look at the ballsack.
