Gold Warrior The

Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The Gold Warrior Copyright 2008 by Clare London Cover Art by Joanna H. Krupa Cover Design by Mara McKennen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-0-9815084-4-3 Printed in the United States of America First Edition February, 2008 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-0-9815084-5-0

For Peter, for his support, spirit and sense.

The Gold Warrior | 5

CHAPTER ONE The Choosing

T

he day was so much hotter than it should have been: it seemed that the climate grew more erratic every spring. Unless I was planning a campaign, I rarely listened to the ramblings of the Weather Weavers, but occasionally I would admit that they were right to complain about it. Today, the breast plate and leggings of my dress uniform were awkward on my body and my helmet was heavy – I could feel my long hair sticking to my scalp with the sweat and the belt of my sword dragging almost painfully at my waist. But I had worn all of this for many years – I, of all men, had no reason to complain. Inside the Arena, the sanded floor had been brushed down and the stone steps prepared for today’s event – the Choosing for Aza City. It was a very public venue and well-used: I could see that its decoration was a little tired and the structure always remained dirty, despite regular scrubbing by hordes of cleaners. There was always substantial building work going on throughout the city and it proved difficult to keep buildings at their best. But there had been great attempts to make the Arena look glamorous for this occasion. Banners and note-boards had been hung from the pillars at the side, the flags of the Households of the City were flying proudly along the top wall, and there were plenty of facilities to feed, clean, and relieve the large number of visitors that flocked in today. This event had occurred annually for hundreds of years: there were few excuses for it to be less than spectacular. Most of the Households had already arrived, settling with blankets and folded chairs, erecting the sun shades for the Mistresses,

6 | Clare London preparing some refreshments in case the public supplies were inadequate. Each Mistress was attended by a few of her Ladies and most of them also had the company of soldiers from their Guard. This had often seemed ludicrous to me, for what military danger would there be, during a Choosing? The attention of everyone was surely on very different things! But it was a matter of prestige, as well – I had always accompanied my Mistress, ever since I had qualified as a Silver Captain under Bernos, the serving Gold Warrior of the time. Now I stood as a Gold Warrior myself – the highest honor there could be for a soldier, let alone a man. The Mistresses were excited to meet each other, all gathered together – the sound of high female chatter choked the air around us. It would get higher and fiercer once the bidding began. Some of them only saw each other at these events, and although some were glad for this, others regretted it and regularly made plans to travel more to visit their cousins. Whatever their pleasure at seeing other friends, however, their eyes still strayed frequently into the center of the Arena, to the ring where this year’s candidates would soon appear. That was, after all, the main purpose of the day. A couple of my Silver Captains stood at my Mistress’s side. I watched them closely, for I was currently displeased with their lack of attention to her. She may have found them interesting in bed, but I demanded far more of them than a pleasing body. It was an honor to have been chosen for today’s duty, and I expected them to have anticipated their Mistress’s discomfort, standing for long hours at the side of the ring, with an inadequate sun shield and nothing but cooled water when the serving children came past. She had worn a thin, pale blue shift today, in deference to the spring weather, and a cloak in light fabric. Her badge of office was worn as a pendant around her neck. Her head was uncovered, her long dark hair caught loosely at the back of her neck with a brooch. She was no longer young, of course, like many of her favorite Ladies, but her skin was smooth, her hair glossy with aromatic oil and her brown eyes very bright. She was a devoted follower of the Devotions to Life. In return, they repaid her with good health and delayed aging. That’s how things were in the City: we all benefited in many ways from the Devotions. Just about then, she caught my eye and raised her eyebrows. She was amused at my frustration with the men. I swear the woman

The Gold Warrior | 7 should have been made Mistress of Magic, not of Exchequer! She had a wicked, sharp perception that many others underestimated. “Leave them be, Maen,” she murmured, leaning towards me from her position on the steps so that others would not hear. “They are excited by this as well – it’s an upheaval for them, this time of year. When I ask for something, they will be speedier than the hare to fetch it, never fear.” She had used my personal name rather than my rank and that was often frowned on, socially, though I of course would not chastise her. It was a measure of the time that we had been together and the ease that we had between us personally – and also, perhaps, her sometimes worrying tendency to chafe at the more formal requirements of her position. “Excitement is not part of their official duty, Mistress,” I replied rather dryly. But maybe they overheard me – the blond Justes straightened his shoulders guiltily and snagged another water from a passing refreshment tray. My Mistress smiled, unconcerned. When Justes handed her the water with the appropriate greeting, and the brief but formal salute of palm to his heart, she caught at his fingertips for a little longer than necessary. His eyes flashed with passion and pride: he would be the one she took tonight, in all probability. She liked his combination of strength and soft skin – he had the flexibility of a gymnast and the reflexes of a cat. Or so the word had it in the barracks. Mistress Luana was always interested in such things. “The Choosing of the Bronzemen – don’t you remember it yourself, Maen?” she asked. Her eyes met mine with an innocent expression that I knew to be false. I had been in her Household for all of my ten years of adult life; I thought that, by now, I should know her character well, both as a woman and as a Mistress. “Is that all too long ago, my grown-up Gold Warrior? Too long to remember yourself as a young, barely pubescent boy, desperate to impress, desperate to be Chosen by a good Mistress?” “I remember,” I said, determined to say no more unless she insisted. “Or perhaps the memories are clearer from when you were first a Silver Captain yourself – one of our youngest to qualify, I believe.

8 | Clare London One of our finest athletes and also our most excellent swordsman, which is, indeed, still the case. You stood here, like Justes and – and the other one–” Her memory failed her, for she couldn’t always remember the names of all the men she Called, unless they became particular Favorites. “You watched all the young boys, all the potential Bronzemen, full of your own criticism and professional wariness, questioning whether they would be a good crop that year.” “I wondered what Bernos would make of them,” I said. “Whether they would make good soldiers.” She smiled. “Whether they would be good servants in many ways, Maen! Whatever Bernos – and those before him – may have recommended, I do not choose only on the basis of potential military skills. As I said, it’s a difficult time for the Silvers – there will be a new batch of these gorgeous young things in the Household. My attention will be drawn away from the Silvers themselves, along with the other Ladies. There will be a time of some insecurity and frustration, until the positions have been re-established in the Household–” “And in the Guard itself,” I added. “For they will be soldiers, first and foremost.” I took a risk, interrupting her. But she had let me know many times that she would allow me to challenge her; to banter with her. I enjoyed it – and, I believed, so did she. She laughed softly, and Justes turned his head sharply to see if she called him, but she waved him back. She looked up into my face – for I was a good head taller than she – and she smiled purely for my benefit. “Did you never worry that I would tire of you – that, each year, I would prefer the new, soft, young bodies to your fiercely toned soldier’s muscles? That you would languish in my indifference, with nothing but your barrack companions for physical relief? That my gifts would be given to others, now and for the foreseeable future?” “I have never had any interest in gifts!” I said, a little too sharply. I felt Justes’s eyes on me now, but he would never challenge me, his Commander, in public. Mistress Luana’s eyes softened. “I know, dear Gold Warrior. And that’s partly why you have been my most frequent companion, ever since you were a callow Bronze with legs that seemed too slender to hold up your finely developing torso, and that bright copper hair that

The Gold Warrior | 9 would never lie still – but with a sparkle of certainty in your eye that made my choice a very easy one that day. And your loyalty and devotion has remained constant, all through your years as a Silver, hasn’t it? As my most handsome and most decorated soldier, then as my most accomplished Gold, now in charge of those that followed you, and always, as a fine and enthusiastic visitor to my chambers….” “Mistress…” I murmured, disconcerted. She shouldn’t be talking this way; I wished that the Choosing would begin on time today, and distract her. This was the stuff that she murmured in bed at night, that she said to make me blush and shift in awkwardness as she both embarrassed and stimulated me, the stuff that would then make her laugh, and me along with her, as she’d draw me in closer and use me as she wished. She was a generous Mistress, for she had no need to make my time so enjoyable; I was entirely at her Call, like any man, regardless of my own desires. But I believed that was her way: she would be as selfless with all lovers, not just me. In return, I knew that my role must never be taken as exclusive, and that her comments were for the softness of the pillow, not for the purposes of my own pride. But she made me smile, in return. She made me hungry for her – many times – and so, in turn, I could satisfy her. It had been a very good ten years, since my own Choosing. I wondered how many other Gold Warriors could say the same.

“MISTRESS–” announced the other Silver Captain, Orven. I frowned. His voice was pitched too harshly to be acceptably polite; his stance and behavior were still below standard. It was likely I would have him whipped later. There were many other Households represented here today, many other Guards; I would not have any of my men disgrace the Mistress in any way. Those standards were why we were already respected throughout Aza City. Orven coughed and amended his tone. “The Choosing is beginning – the Negotiators have entered the ring.” There was movement all round the Arena, some of the groups moving forward for a better view. The refreshment servants moved out into the aisles; there was the metallic clatter of soldiers shifting their swords into defensive position and the conversation of the Ladies quieted. The steps were a jumble of bright clothing and polished armor,

10 | Clare London simple but brilliantly colored jewelry, and badges of office glinting in the reflected sunlight. Some young woman laughed particularly loudly. The first Negotiator marched into the central ring and waved to the applause. His voice was amplified around the Arena through a voice trumpet, but most of the men who aspire to that role have a fine speaking voice of their own, and often rely on the projection of that alone to carry around the Arena. They are Chosen by, and for, the House of Trade; they will have been through Bronzeman training themselves, though few will have progressed as far as Silver Captain before being taken aside for specialist Training in their future role. I confess I barely listened to the opening speeches, the announcement of the Houses represented, the declaration of the number of young men to be viewed today, the more amusing stories told to flatter the Ladies and Mistresses and to lighten the mood even further. I only needed to know where the credits would be recorded, so that I could settle up and sign for any of my Mistress’s procurements – and I would make the arrangements for transport of the boys to her Household in the morning. Of course, I stood at attention for the Confirmation of Life – to declare Good Wishes for the City and the Devotion to the Queen. Everyone did, whether or not the acolytes of the Household of Devotion were there to ensure we did. For those few communal moments there was a swell of mumbled voices around the Arena, soldiers with their palms at their hearts, Ladies with heads bowed slightly. It was a proud sight. Then the proceedings started in earnest. Mistress Luana nodded her pleasure and gestured for us to move further to the front. She was a short, slight woman, and I knew of at least one year that she’d missed procuring a young boy who had caught her eye, purely because the Mistress of Physic had stepped in front of her at the critical moment and made the successful bid. I also knew she had taken her revenge a week later, when my intelligence had been able to tell her of a trip the Mistress of Physic was taking, leaving her Household unattended for three days. Mistress Luana had created a spurious reason to visit the Physic Household, and had availed herself of the young boy’s attentions for the whole of two long nights. She was gone, back to her own Household, shortly before the Mistress of Physic returned, only to find that one of her new recruits had already been initiated!

The Gold Warrior | 11 It was the normal way of things – and my Mistress gained a good deal of amusement from it, as well as sexual satisfaction. All the boys were available to any Mistress, from the time of their procurement, and it would also have been unthinkable rudeness to refuse a visiting Mistress the hospitality of any of the Bronzemen in the Household. There was plenty of this one-upmanship going around: the Mistresses enjoyed the sport, as well as the pleasures of their own Households. But today, my Mistress had a prime position at the ringside and the attentions of all three of us to ensure that her desires were communicated to the Negotiator. The first hour was always the most frenzied, when the best of the youngsters was brought out on view. Today, the Negotiator called for them with a grandiose sweep of his arm and his signature sound – a mixture between a song and the caterwauling of kitchen cats – which he had developed as his own particular style, to engage and amuse the crowds. I knew this man, slightly – he had Trained under a soldier who had once been a Silver Captain alongside me, by the name of Varden. After Varden had displeased my Mistress somehow, she had passed him across to the Household of Trade, and he had prospered there. I heard that he was being considered for promotion to Gold Warrior around the time of my own achievement; I had contacts with Captains in other Households, and there was a busy, informal channel of news that passed between us all. Then the information had ceased and I never heard any more about him. Some said that Varden’s history at our Household had damned him, though I never really knew what his fault had been. Privately, I thought that he had deserved better luck in life: he was an excellent soldier and the closest I had to a friend. I hadn’t been pleased to lose his company, though no one sought my opinion on it. Friendships were never a priority for soldiers; we weren’t allowed the luxury of official Favorites, like the Ladies. I was distracted away from my inappropriate thoughts by the boys filing out from the tower structure at the north end of the Arena – there were holding rooms there, and cleaning facilities, and a few Trade offices. The youths would have been brought from the Central City School on the previous day, cleaned up, and instructed one more time in how to behave. For some of them, it would not be their first Choosing, but then that was all the more reason to be alert. There was a loud wave of noise and laughter and admiring cries from the spectators, at their procession into the open Arena – a sign that the

12 | Clare London Choosing would be a rewarding one this year. The boys wore nothing but the cloths that folded around their narrow waists and between their legs: the Choosing is always held in the warm springtime, and the lack of restrictive, cumbersome clothing both keeps the children calm and also allows the best view of their bodies. Then the formalities were carried out. The Negotiator passed down the line, calling out the lineage of each youth, for the Mistresses to consider the worth and history of the boys’ Households. This had a significant effect on the bidding. Some Households were respected throughout the whole of Aza City – their children were well-bred and much prized. Every child was branded with their mother’s lineage at birth and carried that mark throughout their life. It included the Household mark – and only if they were passed to another Household would there be any further mark added to their birth brand. It wasn’t an enviable thing, to have a trail of Household marks added to your brand – it implied that you were a troublesome possession. There were more practical benefits from the branding process, as well. At Choosing time, the brand helped the Mistress to avoid any of her own offspring, which she was strictly forbidden to procure. The Choosing was established to be a process of free trade; family ties were never to be taken into account. We could all imagine the disaster if a Mistress procured her own birth son, but was then unable to take him as a lover! It would make a mockery of the whole process. Every Bronzeman had to be available for the Mistress, sexually – and most would be initiated by her, over the first few weeks of their time in her Household. Only then would they be available for the Ladies as well. The bidding had begun – a chaotic process of cries from the crowd and House banners waving frantically to catch the attention of the Negotiator. The boys were drawn to the side, one by one, and turned slowly for the viewing. Most looked bemused, as if their instruction hadn’t prepared them for the reality of the Arena. It was a large structure, open to the air, with high pillared walls, and the numbers attending the event grew every year. The youths saw few soldiers when they were in the School, and they were protected from the numbers of adult citizens that thronged the City outside. This would have been their first exposure to such a crowd. Some of them looked frightened at the sudden swell of noise, and the none-too-gentle

The Gold Warrior | 13 handling of the Negotiator and his assistants. But, as always, some seemed to respond to the excitement, standing all the taller and almost basking in the glamour of it all. As I did every year, I thought about the day that I might see one of my Mistress’s sons in the ring, one that may have sprung from my own loins. Though there were still a few years to go before any would be old enough to come to a Choosing: boys were rarely taken before sixteen. I’d never confessed this curiosity – and never would. It was a shameful, private pride of my own, and I would never admit it to anyone. But that wasn’t to say I could repress it entirely. I looked around at the few Gold Warriors that had accompanied their Mistresses here today and wondered how many of them were thinking the same. It wasn’t for us to know if we’d sired a son – if it had been our seed that had been fruitful. The child was always the property of the mother and joined the City’s Central Nursery and School within days of its birth. The only connection a mother might have with her child, after its assisted birth, would be to see them procured by another Household within the City; hopefully it would be one that she admired. She would be thankful then, that she had contributed a child that would be of service to Aza City overall. Was I selfish in my thoughts? I’d always tried to be a devout citizen, all through my life, as taught by the School, and then by my Trainer. And, of course, by my Mistress. ‘Devotion to the City is everything – Service to the City is our Reward.’ That was one of the many phrases we learned over the years – one of the many Chants to express our loyalty to the City and to the Life. I gazed back at the youths in the Arena. Any boy child who was not Chosen would be returned to the School. There were quite often a few that did not meet standards, despite having been put forward for Choosing. Perhaps it was unfair in some years, when the rest of the boys might be unusually fine. But they each had three chances to be procured, attendance at three Choosings. Then, if unclaimed, they became a Remainder for the rest of their life. Remainders worked for the City, of course, but only a small proportion of them would ever be seen in a Household – they would likely never be seen again by their birth mother. It was by no means a shameful fate, for most of the population was designated as Remainders. They had their own pleasures and achievements, I believed. That’s what the

14 | Clare London Chants told us – ‘Service to the City’ was the only way for us all, regardless of final career. I knew it was quite likely that all the Mistress’s sons would attend a Choosing at some stage: they were bred from those who had been Chosen themselves, of course, though I avoided any personal vanity in my own case. But this arrangement had stood for the many generations that our society had been established, ever since the first Colonization here and the Establishment of the Cities by the Four Queens. The process of Choosing usually produced very splendid specimens. It was considered fair that everyone had the opportunity to Choose their Bronzemen from a central resource; it enabled the strengthening of some Houses, both in bloodline and in military prowess – it also calmed any inappropriate loyalties that might conflict with the Devotion to the City. Yes, the system had been carefully planned and promoted by the Queens since the day our race came to this planet, and we were not the people to question that at any time. I looked carefully over the boys today, for my own purposes. My Mistress would listen to my advice – though the decision was always hers. I looked for a strong body and a confidence in bearing, an awareness of their growing limbs, and good co-ordination. Some would be my soldiers, the rest would be allocated out to the Household’s other two Gold Warriors for Training. I was pleased that Mistress Luana often allowed me to make my own choice, after her procurement. And she? Well, I knew that she looked for the same – and then she also looked for those with blond or copper-colored hair, for I was one myself, ten years ago. I knew that she liked a tall youngster, one with slender hips and limbs, like a young colt. She sought a look in their eye of intelligence and wit – she could see through the nervousness and the fear, to see the potential of these boys. She wasn’t only looking for a strong and loyal Guard, she was looking for the future breeding and prestige of her Household. The Household of the Exchequer already had a fine reputation and its boys commanded an excellent level of credit at the Choosings. She’d want to maintain that reputation. When I looked across at her today and saw the shine in her eyes, I wanted to smile. For I knew that she looked for fun, as well!

The Gold Warrior | 15

MISTRESS Luana had eaten the snacks that the Remainder servants had brought around and was relaxing on a folding chair. She’d drunk plenty of wine – which she loved – and settled her account with the Negotiator. Many of the Mistresses had already left; some could afford more staff in their Household than others, of course. Mistress Luana was a member of the Queen’s Central Council, so she had additional privileges and a wealthy supply of credit. She had already Chosen a fine selection of six – I was pleasantly surprised with the quality this year and was looking forward to the Training of the new Bronzemen. “There’s a sparkle in your eyes, Maen, that reminds me of the boy you were ten years ago,” she called to me happily. Justes knelt at her side, passing the wine as she required it, and reveling in the touch of her hand on his neck. I was more relaxed now; the honor of the Household didn’t seem so critical, as the day was wearing down and the arrangements were coming to an end. “You’ve Chosen well, Mistress,” I smiled. “As you always do. I will arrange the transport for them to the Household tomorrow.” “Sir–” said Orven, a little hesitantly, moving up beside me. He looked very remorseful for his earlier inattention. For Life’s sake, perhaps I wouldn’t have him beaten. Perhaps I needed to make allowances for this being his first Choosing as a Silver; Mistress Luana told me occasionally that I was too harsh with my men. I was definitely guilty of that with Orven. Something about him had always sat uncomfortably with me and I found it difficult to trust his motives at all times. That was a dangerous weakness in a soldier of my Guard. “Sir, there are still some boys in the ring.” I looked over at Mistress Luana, and she was looking back into the ring, too. It was as if they had forgotten a last batch of youngsters. The Negotiator’s assistants looked flustered and embarrassed – a Choosing was not usually such a disjointed event. But they would not have wanted to miss the chance of having these last few Chosen, having to wait another year to put them forward. There were low, angry discussions, out of earshot of most of the crowd; there was the sound of a harsh slap on someone’s head. The dirt on the floor of the ring had been well and truly scuffed, the Negotiator’s voice was a little hoarse, the sun, although lower now, still beaded sweat on everyone’s brow. It had been a tiring day.

16 | Clare London Then it seemed the decision had been made. The final boys were pushed forward and arranged for viewing. There were five of them on show, standing in a line, the matching sets of bare toes turned inward, nervously, their hair shining with their own sweat and the fresh washing. Two of them clenched their fists at their side, shaking a little; two others looked almost angry, that they’d been left until last, when many of the best Households had already left the Arena. The fifth one stood a little way apart, a tall, white-blond boy with a broad shoulder span and pale skin: there was already the hint of good muscle definition on his chest and stomach. The cloth on his groin was a little greyer than the others, his hair a little less shining. But he stood steadily, his body well balanced, and he exuded an air of challenge that none of the others had, almost as if he were hostile to this whole event. I found that an unusual – and ungrateful – attitude. But he was the only one who caught my eye. “Maen…” came the Mistress’s voice at my ear. She sounded a little sly, a little cautious. “Maen, you seem almost shocked – you seem entranced! Is it that blond child on the end?” I made some murmur of protest. I was merely interested in an uncommon specimen, I assured her. I listened to the lineage announcement and heard the ripple of scorn around the remaining audience: the fifth boy was a Remainder child, he had no Household lineage at all! It was a rare situation – the Remainder children were bred for the Utilities and other support functions within the City. It was a calculated program, controlled by the Mistresses and the Central Council, so as to protect their numbers and to match the available resources. All for the good of the City, of course. The male children could, theoretically, be considered at a Choosing – but the Remainders had largely withdrawn from the event in past years. They had not presumed to contribute specimens fine enough to be attractive. A Choosing wants only the best, only the strongest, only the most handsome. This boy was all of those things! He had every right to be here at the Choosing – and a better right than any my Mistress had Chosen so far today. What was I thinking? That this boy was the best-looking candidate I had ever seen, during the three years since I’d been promoted to Gold Warrior? That was exactly how I felt. My pulse pounded in my head; my mouth was dry. He looked as bone-thin and immature and basically unformed as all the rest, but

The Gold Warrior | 17 there was something about him that shouted to my senses, that alerted every intuition I had ever had. It was so strong that I almost imagined he could sense my stare, that he would look up and meet my eyes. But the Arena was wide and our position was still some way back. He continued to stare into the middle distance, his eyes a dark, fierce blue. He focused on none of us. “Do you want him, Maen?” Mistress Luana asked. Her voice was steady now - she was serious. “Yes, Mistress,” I said, before I realized I was speaking aloud. “You must Choose him – for the Household.” She raised her eyebrows, probably at my insolence in presuming to tell her what to do. My past history with her didn’t allow a complete disregard for protocol. “The decision is already made, Gold Warrior. He is mine – I bid whilst your eyes boggled and your tongue tried to lick life back into your dry lips. You know what a fondness I have for blonds….” Her laugh was soft but somehow it didn’t sound as carefree as before. I looked at her and couldn’t read her expression. It was easy for people to see her slight, feminine beauty and forget her vibrantly sharp intelligence. I didn’t want to be accused of that, myself. “Settle with the Negotiator,” she said, curtly. “Justes will see me back to my carriage.” I nodded, wondering why my throat was so tight. It was from the dust and the heat, surely that was why. Then my Mistress seemed to relent a little, and her hand touched at my hip as she turned to leave the Arena. “Come to me later, Maen,” she murmured. “Come at midnight, I will have worn the Silver boy out by then.” She looked up at me, her questioning eyes belying her vulgar jokes. “Come to me tonight, Maen. I need you.”

18 | Clare London

CHAPTER TWO Passions Suffered

I

’d spent several hours registering the new Bronzemen and supervising the preparation of their quarters. The Silvers were dutiful, yet surly – perhaps Mistress Luana had been right when she said how unsettling it was for these ranks at Choosing time. I preferred to ignore such nonsense – they were professional soldiers, for Life’s sake! They had no expectations of attention – they had only the respect of their Guard and their City, to be earned. Most of all, they had all had their time as Bronzemen and that had now passed. I personally believed that the heady excitement of that time was well compensated by the benefits and maturity of a Silver Captain’s status. I knew that my beliefs were not shared by all – I was no fool. But I was a Devout citizen – and I knew the duty that was required, both of me and my men. While they were in my Guard they would abide by it. Or know my anger. Surprisingly, Orven had worked particularly hard, so I praised him for it. He had escaped my wrath after his attendance at the Choosing. He wasn’t as well-built or as stocky as many of the other Silvers – to be honest, he struggled during some of the Training, to reach the same standards of physical fitness. But his musculature was developing well and his upper body strength had increased substantially. He had a gritty determination that carried him along even when his body was weakening. And his blade skills were within the top five best of my Guard. But he wasn’t popular in the barracks. Although I’d not give gossip any formal attention, I was aware of it – and according to his

The Gold Warrior | 19 fellow soldiers, Orven had alienated most of them with his arrogant and greedy behavior. I couldn’t be concerned with such inappropriate things as popularity, of course, but I kept it in mind. Otherwise, I received the usual commitment and quiet obedience from my best Silvers, including Fremer and Grien. I went back to my office, leaving them to conclude the work in the quarters and to disseminate the orders for the week ahead, including the duties for collecting, cleaning, and dressing the boys the next day. My Mistress would inform me of the allocation of the boys to their Trainers and I would brief the other Gold Warriors as required. My Guard was the largest and the strongest; although the other Gold Warriors did not officially report in to me, my Mistress often used me as the first point of authority. There was a quiet cough by the door to my room and I looked up from the papers on my table. A Gold Warrior was allowed an office within the military block to carry out his administrative duties, though he must return to the main living quarters in off-duty time. I spent a lot of my time in that office – it wasn’t a particularly comfortable room, being cramped and sparsely furnished, but I found it a quiet place. I had never been afraid of my own company. My Mistress had always understood this, for which I was grateful. My visitor was Grien. “Busy time, eh, Maen?” He smiled widely at me – he had a very friendly manner which often cheered me, though I was concerned that it would prevent him from being promoted to Gold Warrior. He worked well, and was very accomplished physically – he was our current champion in the spear and axe events. He was also an excellent wrestler and he beat me more and more easily, as years went by. And he was a tall, attractive, dark-haired man – he’d always been Called very frequently by the Ladies and had been designated a Favorite by many of them. Even my Mistress spent longer with him when he was a Bronzeman than many of the others. I liked him, personally; I knew that wasn’t of significance, but I couldn’t deny that his assistance helped me to run the barracks more easily and pleasantly. If he sometimes lacked the gravitas that was needed to progress in the service of the City, I thought that it would pass. When my Mistress looked at him, she’d smile gently but she didn’t look as if she would trust him with her Household. I had always believed that to

20 | Clare London be the most important part of our duty. Then I would see him at work or share a joke and a drink with him, and I’d question that certainty. I was delaying his Appraisal for these very reasons. I had some latitude in scheduling the periodic reports, but I couldn’t delay it for much longer. And now he was here, smiling at me with easy warmth. I pushed the papers aside and smiled in return. “Supper’s ready?” Grien lowered himself down into my one other chair and nodded. “Devotion in half an hour, then food.” He moved gracefully for a grown man. He wore only the sleeveless vest that we have on under our armor, and the trousers made of soft, thick fabric, tucked into his boots. He’d removed his belt – he carried no arms, not even a knife. Grien could be an almost reluctant soldier; he fought with a ferocity that few matched, but when he was off duty he dropped the clothes and insignia of the military at the earliest opportunity. None of us had many personal clothes, for they were not required for City service, but Grien had the most of us all. “It went well, I hear – the Choosing. That fool Justes has been boasting he’s been Called by my Mistress, and it seems that a couple of the others have also been Called by the Ladies. Their lusts are high, in anticipation of the new Bronzemen – they need some reminder of the technical details, eh?” He smiled at his own crude wit, knowing he could be fairly relaxed in front of me; we were both soon to be off duty. “The rest of us on late shift are going into the City for a drink or two–” “Or three,” I said, though teasingly. Everyone knew Grien loved to drink. “Or three,” he agreed with a laugh. He peered at me, as if searching my expression, and his eyes suddenly clouded – his moods could change like that, very swiftly. “How many will it take, then?” “What do you mean?” His voice was low. “How many must I – or you – drink, before you’ll join me in the quarters tonight?” I tensed, my hands suddenly tight on the side of the table. I knew this was an invitation beyond a casual drink with the men. This wasn’t the first time Grien had asked, nor the first time I’d refused. Understand this, I wasn’t offended – far from it! But it wasn’t my wish tonight.

The Gold Warrior | 21 “You need some relaxation, Sir…” he said, in the same low, vibrant voice. The title sounded mocking in his rich tone. “I have been Called by my Mistress at midnight,” I replied, quietly. “I can join you in town until then. After that, though, I have no idea when I’ll be back in the quarters.” Grien bit at his lip and there was a slight flush on his face, though he wasn’t usually a man to be embarrassed. “Of course. You are one of her Favorites. Though after tomorrow, she’ll have new blood to entertain her for a while, eh?” “Yes,” I agreed. I didn’t want to say anything more. The air in the room felt tight with tension. Grien stood up suddenly, his chair scraping across the floor. He stretched out his long, athletic limbs. He was a very attractive man, indeed, and he knew I was watching him. “She won’t Call you forever, Maen. And there’s no restriction on enjoying yourself with the rest of us, is there?” He was right, of course. It was expected that the Silvers maintained their prime condition, and the development of a strong body often led to an equally healthy libido. It was important that they were able to enjoy whatever pleasures of the flesh they could. Therefore, if a Lady didn’t Call you, there was no shame in coupling with the men of your Guard, your fellow soldiers, even the Golds. In fact, it was encouraged. The Silvers must be kept satisfied; it allowed them to concentrate all their mental energy on their military duty to the City. Grien had moved over to the table, smoothly, like a feral cat. He was almost predatory. He landed a hand either side of mine, the hard sound thumping on the wood. His head bent down over mine. I could smell the freshness of cold water on his skin, from his wash after the day’s work, the underlying muskiness on his vest of leather straps, the tang of metal from the armor he’d worn all day. On his breath, I could smell the ale that he must have already supped in the barracks kitchen. He always had allies there who would supply him in advance of a meal. “Don’t you feel the need any more, Maen?” he hissed. “Is that what it is, to be a Gold? You make the requisite Devotions – and in return, you’re driven to avoid your natural desires, to repress your urges, to devote yourself to your paperwork instead?”

22 | Clare London I leapt to my own feet, angry at his blasphemy. Too late, I realized my face was now very close to his, my furious breath dusting his cheek. His eyes locked on mine, his expression a far more complex mix than mere anger. “Relax, Maen,” he growled. “I know what a model citizen you are. I just wish you’d loosen up a little. Show the man underneath the Warrior to someone other than our Mistress – someone else who could offer you the attention you need.” “You?” I said harshly. His eyes flashed with fury, though I’d not meant it insultingly. There was a sudden movement of his upper body, his arm lifting towards me, reaching for my neck. Before I could move away, he’d gripped the hair at my nape, his fingers tangling in it, a forceful caress against the skin of my neck. His face was pale and far too close. I wasn’t afraid of him; there was nothing he could do that would put me in danger, we both knew that. But that familiarity was the very thing that made me pause – that, and an instinctive reaction to drop my head back, baring my neck and pushing only a token resistance against his possessive grip. Then his heated breath was on my face and his mouth came down on mine. His thick tongue licked at my lips, asking for entrance between them. I opened my mouth wider to protest, but when Grien’s tongue thrust inside, I let it. In fact, I leant further in towards him, savoring the warmth and the strong sweetness that could only be found in a masculine mouth. I was vividly aware of the callused pads of his fingertips gripping at my flesh; I could feel the loose threads of his dark hair caught against our chins as we came together. My lips were crushed against his and the pulse in my neck was throbbing painfully. My tongue slid across his, caressing the rough surface, teasing at the sensitive taste buds, seeking to plunge into his mouth in return. He groaned. It woke me up from my erotic daydream. I pulled away, perhaps a little more slowly than I should have done. His hand fell away from my head and we both pulled ourselves upright again. “It’s been too long, Maen,” he whispered. His voice sounded ragged. He licked his lips, as if to savor the last warm drops of my saliva. “The passions are there, as always – I can taste them! They’re

The Gold Warrior | 23 so strong in you, I’ve always felt it, even now you are a Gold Warrior. You’re doing yourself no good holding them in. You need relief as much as we all do–” “As you do!” I snapped. My heart was beating too quickly for comfort; I had been caught unawares and for that I was angry with myself. The desire had shot through my body like the fastest arrow. The mere touch of his mouth had ignited something very deep and low inside me, something that threatened everything that kept me together. The passions that he spoke of – these were not something that I liked to admit to anyone, apart from my Mistress. But I had never been anything but honest, had I? My body liked the feel of Grien’s body: the thick arms around mine; the strong, square jaw, rough with evening stubble, rasping under a questing tongue; the dark shadow of muscle across his body. It would be all too easy to fall in with him tonight, drink with him, sitting tightly beside me in the crowded bar, fumble with him in the alleyways outside, then collapse, exhausted and drunk, on to his bed at the end of the night and let him strip me. My imagination shied away from the further delights that I knew he’d offer me. I knew he was a good and intuitive lover. He was never too rough - his coupling would be very satisfying. But not tonight. He was watching me regain control of myself; he looked fascinated at the passage of expressions on my face. “You are a strange enigma, Gold Warrior,” he said slowly. “I think that I preferred you as a Silver; we all knew where we stood, then, eh? But you’re right, I like coupling – I need it.” There was no apology needed and he was a proud man; he’d not give one. He was a worthy Silver and I was proud to have him in my Guard. This other matter between us – that was a different thing altogether. “Find someone else,” I said. My throat was uncomfortably tight again. “I’m not denying you that satisfaction, and it’s not personal, Grien. Nor is it because of my Mistress. I just want no one at present. Find someone else….” “It’s you I want,” he replied. He looked almost sorrowful. “But you know that, don’t you?”

24 | Clare London I could only stare at him. In the background we heard the clamor of footsteps and distant male voices – the thin, metallic clang of the supper gong. The rest of the Guard was moving towards the kitchen, eager and hungry. Tomorrow they would be sharing rations with Bronzemen – there would be less food for a while, though of better quality, in honor of the new recruits, and eventually the cooks would balance their store cupboards again. Someone shouted along the hallway and there was a loud, raucous laugh in reply. Grien’s answering smile was slightly forced, as if it hurt him to support it. He twisted his lithe body, turning away as abruptly as he’d entered, and he left the room. I stood for quite a while longer, my hands on the table, supporting myself still upright.

MY Mistress’s rooms were on the south side of the Household – all of its buildings had been constructed around the central courtyard, but the Mistress’s rooms and the barracks were at opposing corners. Between us were the stables and the servants’ quarters, and various offices and guest rooms that were required for the business of the City. There were Silver Captains along the corridor to her room, who saluted me as I walked the length. The corridor was wide but uncarpeted, and the walls were painted in a plain color to complement the stone bricks that formed the building itself. This Household was relatively new and had only been established in this location for the last four generations. It was always a problem to get raw materials from the harsh land around the City; the construction of any new center was always a protracted, frustrating affair, and there was rarely any requirement for a Household to be anything other than functional. This was understood to be the Queen’s own wishes – an austere decoration was encouraged in any new structure. This best served the City’s needs and prevented waste of its resources. At least, this was the outward appearance. I was saluted through into my Mistress’s reception room, and I stood for a while whilst her Secretary called for her. I thought that she must be alone – most of the barracks were on rest shift tonight, as Grien had told me, and they had gone down into the City to celebrate the successful Choosing. So when Justes had returned from our Mistress’s

The Gold Warrior | 25 quarters about an hour ago, it had been to a quiet and relatively empty room – I’d heard his groan of relief as he fell on to his bunk, heard the clatter as he hauled off his boots, and fell exhausted back on to his thin bedding. I’d smiled. My Mistress was lusty and well experienced in bedroom tactics. Justes was still young – he was overly enthusiastic in his response. Such a combination meant that he was easily tired as a lover. When I’d washed and left the barracks to take the same path, he was asleep on his bunk and snoring loudly with his trousers still unfastened. I didn’t envy him the ridicule his fellow soldiers would give him when they returned from town. None of them would care to be reminded that they’d been in the same situation themselves in the past. One of my Mistress’s Ladies came out from the inner rooms to greet me: there was always someone to attend to her at any hour of the day or night. The Lady looked me up and down as if to check my acceptability. This was unnecessary, for she knew me well and I was, after all, a Gold Warrior. But my status was lower than any woman of the Household, and I knew that. She had every right to examine me. Not, however, the right to Call me to her bed, like she might any of the Silvers – not, at least, without my Mistress’s permission. No Lady could; that was a privilege of my rank as Gold Warrior. And then I laughed at my false pride – it was unlikely that anyone would have Called me tonight, not with a barracks full of younger, stronger Silvers to choose from, and not when there was the prospect of a new intake of Bronzemen arriving tomorrow! “Please enter,” murmured the Lady. She stifled a yawn – it was a difficult duty, the midnight shift. I would have sympathized with her, but I knew that it would be socially unacceptable. It wasn’t for a soldier to converse with a Lady unless requested. The wine with her supper had obviously been good and my Mistress was more than a little flushed; she was dressed only in her blue silk robe, and that had slipped off her shoulder more than once. It was because of the relaxed way that she lay, stretched out on her bed. The room was a luxurious contrast to the austere corridors outside. I believed that many of the Mistresses had created small palaces for themselves, as regards bedroom decoration, using the

26 | Clare London richest fabrics and the softest linens. It made for a more enjoyable night for many of us men – and it wasn’t for us to question the way they might take advantage of their position. There were soft lamps on the walls of the room, casting mysterious shadows about the furniture. The paint on the walls was a deep red color and there were tapestries draped across the corners, bringing a certain warmth to the cold stone. There was carpet – something not found in many places of the Household – and there was a room to the side that I knew held a private bathing area, with perfumed oil and creams, continuous hot water, and towels that were softer than the bed linen itself. Her bed was large enough for four people – not that she hadn’t entertained that many, at some times – and there were pillows, rather than the folded cloths that we used in the barracks. I’d spent many comfortable hours here during my career. My Mistress’s long hair lay spread out on one of these pillows at the moment. She yawned widely, then waved her cup for me to refill. She drank some more wine and reached for me, tugging me down from my position seated on the edge of the bed beside her, and she kissed me with her tongue and her lips, and her fingers at the side of my freshly shaven face. This had been the pattern for the last hour. It hadn’t been unpleasant, and our kisses were familiar and enjoyable, but neither had we consummated anything yet. I was still fully dressed, apart from shedding my boots and sword. I wondered why she had Called me at all. Justes was maybe a little inexperienced, but I was sure that his enthusiasm would have been more than enough for her entertainment. “You wonder why I Called you here, Maen, don’t you?” Uncanny, her perception! Or maybe I was too easy to read. “Perhaps I just want to talk. Perhaps pretty blond Justes, the Silver boy, had sufficient energy to wear out my sexual appetite. Hush!” she smiled, catching my cynical look. “All right, perhaps that’s not the truth. But I do want to talk, and tonight you are the best companion for that. It was a good Choosing, wasn’t it?” I nodded agreement. She had excellent judgment, for the whole ten years that she’d been in office here we had a fine Guard and had contributed many good children to the City. She pulled herself tipsily up on to her arm and gazed at me. “And the boy, Maen?” “The boy?”

The Gold Warrior | 27 Her eyes narrowed. “Now, my soldier, I am slightly drunk and almost naked in your arms, and I allow you a freedom of speech that no one else has in my presence. But I am not stupid, nor will I ever be! Remember that you are a man and that I am your Mistress, and do not play verbal games with me.” I hastened to calm her, to apologize. I hadn’t meant to be coy – I had been caught unawares by her question and had genuinely wondered what boy she meant. Of course, now I knew. She sighed; it seemed that her desire was speaking for her tonight. “He is beautiful, Maen. You know that for the truth – you saw it, too, don’t deny it! He’ll be spectacular in uniform and he promises great strength and vitality. Will that please you, for your military standards?” “He’s a Remainder. I don’t know what traits he may bring with him that are incompatible with life in the Household.” “They have all been raised in the Central School,” she protested. “That’s the whole purpose – to offer the Life and the Schooling to all children, regardless of their final status. It is an absence of discrimination: that’s what the Devotion demands of us.” “I know,” I said. I knew that I should tread carefully; she herself had said she wasn’t to be regarded as stupid. “But even in the School, I believe that the Remainders keep together and the Household children find and bind to their own. It’s more than just the brand – there’s some characteristic that they recognize in each other. That’s why it’s so rare to find a pure Remainder at the Choosing–” “–and, in return, why the children of Household lineage find it so traumatic if they are never Chosen, if they have to consign themselves to being a Remainder.” She nodded in agreement with me, her eyes troubled, and I was privately surprised at the extent of her understanding. “They do not mix so easily, moving between the worlds. A citizen of the City is not quite as generic as we are led to believe.” “I’m sure the boy won’t be a problem, Mistress.” “And you will Train him well, won’t you, Gold Warrior?” she murmured. Her hand stroked almost aimlessly along my bare arm. “If he’s in my Guard, I will,” I smiled. I knew the answer to that one already.

28 | Clare London “And you know that he is,” she laughed. “You deserve each other – I want to see the sparks that will fly! Something about him made me question whether he’ll be eager to assume the honor of Bronzeman or whether he’ll be more of a challenge for you. But keep him away from your rapacious Silvers, for he’s mine until he’s qualified. All for me – and my favored Ladies….” She laughed softly and rolled on to her back, the flimsy silk robe slipping away completely now from her fine body. Her breasts were pale and had grown fuller with every child she had borne. They rippled now, like soft, shallow pools of flesh – I could take one in my hands, like a frothing cup of warm ale, and bring my lips to it to taste. She always liked that caress. I needed no reminder about the sexual exclusivity of Bronzemen; I knew the Rules as well as she. The young men could only couple with the Mistress and the Ladies until they were fully Trained and passed as Silver Captains. At their Bronzeman time, they were at their finest and their most fertile – they were needed purely for breeding and for the intensive training that would make them some of the best men in the City. But when they were Silver, then they would be available to all. They were stronger, then, and more emotionally stable; they could enjoy all kinds of additional pleasure, for the Silvers were the mainstay of the military and were to be indulged to a large extent. Didn’t I know that well enough? I ran a garrison of them. I understood them. I had been one myself. My Mistress’s voice broke in on my musings. “Do you wonder about your own sons, Maen? At the Choosings? Did that boy make you wish for that, in some way?” “No–” I stuttered, afraid to expose my thoughts to this woman, who seemed already to know them. Sometimes our conversations filled me with a nervousness that I barely understood and I had to trust that Mistress Luana would not harm me deliberately. “His bearing was nothing like a son’s – even though he’s still so young. Believe me, I’ve never sought anything like that from the Bronzemen, I’ve never sought that wish at all. I think of my own personal contribution to the City, I admit. But I don’t know if I have ever sired any child of yours or anyone else’s–” “No, you don’t,” she said, sharply now. “And I may never tell you. You’re not allowed to have any connection, you have no rights

The Gold Warrior | 29 over the fruit of your seed at all. Though maybe in those years to come, when any child of your seed will be ready for the Choosing – maybe then I will tell you.” “You don’t have to,” I hastened to say. After all, it was set clearly in the Rules. “Such rights have no value for the service of the City.” “No they don’t, you’re right,” she said, her tone still sharp. Her gaze was dark and unfathomable to me. “Don’t repeat my own Devotions back to me, Gold Warrior. You’re not the person for that!” I flushed. I prepared to leave, but she grasped at my arm as I sat up from the bed. “Hush, Maen, you’re not usually so sensitive to my taunts! You cannot go and leave me untouched, can you?” Her expression was a mixture of amusement and some coyness. She pulled herself upright, brushing her hair back over her shoulders and leaving the robe behind her on the bed, a pool of shining fabric at her hips. She knew the power of her naked beauty, the seductive smell of her perfume and her cushioned flesh. She had bathed for me – she always did, between lovers. But I was flattered, for it was a courtesy that some Mistresses saw no need for. I felt the familiar tremor in my body; I felt the smile of anticipation come to my face, unbidden. She reached a hand to my face and stroked my cheek. “You know that we’re promised a visit from the Royal Household soon?” she murmured. “The Queen herself?” I was startled. “Maybe not.” Mistress Luana let a frown creep across her brow. “Likely she’ll only send that daughter of hers, Seleste. I’ll need your support should that visit happen, Maen.” The eyes that caught mine were unclouded by drink – we both knew the importance of the news. It was a rare honor, to receive the Queen’s Household. And yet, sometimes, not such an honor. And then my Mistress seemed to relax again. “And so, Gold Warrior, where were we? My breasts are hot, and the skin tight and hungry for your special massage….” I started to apologize for my inattention, but, rather to my surprise, she pulled me down on to the bed on top of her quite suddenly and kissed the words away. She gave the small, throaty moan that showed she was aroused. “Enough of the

30 | Clare London dreams of the young, Maen. I admit that, tomorrow, I’ll allow my desires to get completely out of hand, and I’ll survive on nothing but honey wine and soft, virginal flesh, for two weeks at least, I think. Will you ensure that the food trays are left at my door at regular intervals?” I was laughing already, even as she slipped open the cords of my shirt and ran her fingers through the soft hair on my chest. I shrugged the garment off my shoulders and saw her eyes run greedily over the muscles of my torso. “You’ll handle your responsibilities as well as you always do, Mistress,” I teased. “All I ask is that you leave me sufficient to create a soldier or two, after you’ve taken your own satisfaction.” She laughed, pleased at the compliment. “But tonight, Maen, it’s just us! My favorite warrior, and his most splendid, gorgeous body….” I smiled. She had a garrison of those, surely, from Bronze to Gold, and I was nothing more special than the others. Her words were to please me, I was sure – and that gratuitous kindness was only one of the reasons that I thought her the best Mistress in the City. “And we know what we like, Maen, I think, because our bodies have coupled for years. There’s a special, more mature satisfaction to that, isn’t there?” “I think so,” I laughed in reply. I had to confess that she made me feel rather immature – it was a skill of hers. With her lips on my neck, and her habit of tickling at the brand on my inner arm, it distracted me from the attention I should be giving her. “But how am I to know, Mistress? I’m a Gold Warrior now – I’m not expected to have the pure beauty of the Bronzemen, nor do I have the sexual prowess of the Silvers. I can only offer you companionship and protection, and my loyalty and commitment to managing your men of the Household. This time of my life isn’t meant to be one full of lust and tumbling in sheets and hour after hour of Ladies’ satisfaction–” I paused. I wondered if I’d been too outspoken. But that was how I understood the role of the Gold Warrior; wasn’t that the truth? We were rarely Called to our Mistress or her Ladies. At this time of our careers, our sexuality took a naturally calming path. We had our Guard to nurture and control, we had lives full of bureaucracy and organization and the planning for military games, and there was always the threat of potential conflict. We were the ones that a Mistress might choose as a companion at a games event or at a formal banquet. Our role was to be an agreeable, sensible, reliable support to the Household.

The Gold Warrior | 31 We had no need of a raging libido, which could only likely be assuaged by our own Silvers. They had aspirations elsewhere, with Mistresses to petition and fellow Silvers to spar with, in bed and out. I did wonder at my own libido – I wondered at my feverish response to Grien, earlier this evening. I looked at the naked woman lying under me, and I wondered why I still felt the same fire and regard for her that I had as a Bronzeman. The stab of desire was in my chest, and sinking lower still…. The conflict inside me was disturbing. Mistress Luana also looked disturbed and I was afraid that I’d upset her somehow. “You are not a typical Gold Warrior, Maen.” Her voice was soft and had the seductive comfort of her pillow talk. “You’re still rich in everything, everything you brought to me as a raw, delicious Bronzeman. Not many still have the hunger at your age, at your position, I agree – but I like that in you.” “What else is there for a Gold Warrior, then?” I asked, softly. “Am I a changeling in your Household? What possible need do you have for me…?” “You’re fishing for kind words, soldier!” she protested, but she was smiling and her eyes were fevered. Her breathing had become shallower, as my chest leant gently against her breasts, as I brushed the tight nubs of her nipples and sprang them erect. “It’s not your place to question. You serve us and we allow whatever we think appropriate.” “For the service of the City…” I murmured into her ear. I licked carefully at the pale, dimpled flesh of the lobe, lapping at the tiny holes, left empty after she’d removed her formal jewelry. She whimpered softly. “I’m glad you are in my Guard, boy….” “I can be in many more places, Mistress… I can give you everything I have; it’s all yours to command….” My hand was between her thighs, gentle but firm – I knew where I was needed tonight. She gasped as I slid a confident finger between her lips and then inside her. She was damp and very hot. I was glad that I pleased her. My other hand slipped under her small, tight buttocks, stroking at the soft, puckered flesh between them, teasing at the nerve endings that I knew excited her. “Ahh… yes, I can feel what you have to give, Maen!”

32 | Clare London she laughed, her breath hitching as I stroked at her. “I can feel it very strongly, that great column of hot flesh, pressing against my poor, soft thighs. Please remove those trousers and give it some air! Move closer, between my legs, oh yes….” We laughed some more as I dropped my trousers on the floor and wriggled on the bed to get us both comfortable. We enjoyed this teasing, bantering intimacy; this was often the way we spent our coupling nights. The robe got tangled on my feet and she gracefully moved sideways to give my larger body some more space. Then she spent some time herself, reminding herself of my body as if she’d not seen it for months, as if she needed to touch every rib and trace every line of muscle down my legs, in case I’d changed. As if I would, for her. I knew my duty. And then, when my skin ached for her and I dropped my lips to her breast, to suckle like a true supplicant should, her words shivered into a sometimes incoherent murmur of delight. “Which is better, Maen?” she sobbed, as I rubbed the pad of my thumb on her swelling clitoris, drawing out both her bud and her gasping need. “The softness of a woman or the strength of a man?” “In battle?” I teased. “In the games? In the mines and the fields–?” “May Life spit on you!” she groaned, a rather coarse expletive that I’d rarely heard outside of the barracks. Inevitably, one of my own men would have taught it to her. Her hips arched up from the bed; her thighs shuddered with the tension. “In bed, you know I mean in bed! You’ll soothe yourself with your magnificent Silver Captains when I’m amusing myself with the Bronzemen – you’ll have to, for there’ll be no Calling for Golds when the young men arrive. Not even you, ahhh–” Her sobs were wrenched out of her as my fingers twisted inside her and pressed at that single, sensitive spot that made her hands tighten on my shoulders and her eyes roll up into her head. “Tell me how it feels, to take another man as strong as you!” I shook my head, gently, my lips still wet on her body. “Another time,” I said. “There’s no one as beautiful as you, Mistress. No one better than you….” Even as she dismissed the words as flattery, she loved to hear them. “What do you want, Mistress?” I murmured. “How–?”

The Gold Warrior | 33 “Nothing unusual,” she groaned, impatient for me now. She had no shame in admitting her desires and she had few inhibitions. She was a very lively and rewarding lover. “Not tonight. No outrageous gymnastics; nothing worthy of the stories told by your Captains or the strenuous achievements of my early evening Silver boy!” She could feel my laughter reverberating against her body; she’d imagine my wondering just how thoroughly she’d worn Justes out. “Maen, I just want your splendid body against mine and your hard member inside me. I want to feel your skin and hear your soft grunts of pleasure–” I caught my breath, the fierce impatience rising in me now. “Enter me, Maen.” Her voice was more like a sob. “Now!” “Mistress….” I rolled over her, taking my weight on my strong shoulders. Her legs parted around my hips and I pressed firmly into her. I felt the groan burst out of me – she was always so warm, always so consuming. Her body rocked gently with my thrusts and she clutched tightly to my arms, pressing herself up against the front of my body. I felt the beginnings of sweat between us, making our movements slicker and I heard the wet slither of our flesh. “I want something that we will both enjoy,” she gasped. “And when I climax, you can kiss away my tears.” “Tears?” I was instantly concerned, but her lips were on my face and her fingers were tugging at my single gold ear ring, the badge of my rank. “Closer, Maen–” she gasped. We were both too hot to concentrate on words now. I could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Her teeth bared a little, they nipped at my shoulder as her head pressed against me. We were both close to climax, though the foreplay had been no more intense than other times. Our minds, I thought, it’s our minds that dictate the desperation tonight. I felt shaken, a little shocked. She cried out, her body trembling underneath me even as I kissed her neck and pulled her thighs tighter around me. “Let me hear you, Maen,” she gasped. “Didn’t I say I needed you tonight?” I had no control over the cry that dragged out from my mouth – its source came from deep within my body, from my very groin, hurtling up through my chest and forcing its way past my heart without a care. It was the time that no Mistress could control, either, and I

34 | Clare London could feel her eyes on me – bright, fierce, hungry – as my climax shuddered through me and into her. It robbed my arms of their strength and my eyes of their sight, and I fell to the bed beside her, spent.

The Gold Warrior | 35

CHAPTER THREE First Defiance

T

he dawn promised the fresh brightness of a late spring day and I’d been in the courtyard for a couple of hours already. The transport was due to arrive just after sunrise with the seven new youngsters for the Household. The other two Gold Warriors, Hull and Bernos, were with me. Together we ran the three Guards of the Household and would divide out the new recruits between us. Hull was the most recent promotion and his Guard was of a small number: he tended to handle the domestic requirements within the Household, including the security of the Ladies’ quarters and guest rooms. Bernos was more experienced than I, and had in fact been my Trainer when I joined the Household. I had a great respect for him, though my responsibilities had gradually eclipsed his. This didn’t seem to cause any friction between us – and those kinds of personal feelings weren’t encouraged. “Are the boys here yet?” asked Hull. He was younger than I, sandy-haired, and often abrupt with his men. He had yet to mature in the role of Gold Warrior. I was in charge of today’s arrangements, as I usually was. My Mistress didn’t adhere to any ideas of hierarchy, or length of service, nor was she expected to. Any of us had only the responsibility that she saw fit to give us – and she saw fit to give the new Bronzemen into my hands. They would be brought on a wheeled pallet drawn by horses: they were secure enough and there was no need for any luxury. They were bound for the life of a soldier, and although the Household of Trade would be concerned that they arrived in good condition, there was no need to pamper them. There were usually

36 | Clare London rough seats on the pallet, sometimes a blanket. A low wooden rail ran around three of its sides, giving the boys some security as it travelled over the rough roads. The renovation work in the City extended to far more than the buildings, and the materials were just as scarce. The route to and from the Choosing Arena had been mended several times over the last two years, and yet it was still full of holes and stray stones. The Household of Utilities had a long string of explanations for lack of progress on the building work, all of which sounded suspiciously like excuses. “Not here yet,” Hull called over to Bernos. The older, heavier man met my eyes and smiled. “So we’ll leave it to you, Maen. Send the boys to our Captains when they arrive.”

I heard the rumble of the vehicle before I saw it draw up at the Household gate – and then it clattered through to the courtyard, as if it were in a mad hurry. The Remainder who drove it leapt from his seat and came to meet me, hands clutching his paperwork, shooting a few covert glances back towards his human cargo. There were several of my Silver Captains on duty with me this morning, including my most trustworthy, Fremer and Grien. There’d been plenty of volunteers, for a change, though the dawn shift was never popular with some. But it was the first glimpse of the Bronzemen – the first chance to see their new companions, the new recruits who, for a time, would eclipse them both in popularity and importance. I had no worries that the Captains would behave inappropriately, and I always thought that a little display of curiosity never went amiss. “Sign here, sir.” The driver’s tone was slurring with haste – he sounded fraught. I didn’t imagine that the journey had been that bad, and his attitude angered me. We were both servants of a Mistress, but he had some obligation to show a Gold Warrior the proper respect. Grien appeared at my shoulder, perhaps sensing my anger, and keen to mediate. “You’re too hasty, man,” he said to the driver. He smiled slightly, as if he was being friendly, but his eyes were as hard as mine. “You’ll report the journey properly before you go, and before we sign

The Gold Warrior | 37 for anything. Are all the boys present? The numbers as on the manifesto? I can only think you’ve got up too early to find your manners – or perhaps you had problems on the way here that we should know about.” The man’s eyes darted sharply to Grien’s face. He looked frightened. “Maybe I did. Maybe it’s sorted, now. There’s nothing to report, either to your Mistress or mine.” The other Captains were helping the boys off the pallet, and I looked across. Six stumbling, nervous children, soon to start their adult lives, lined up against the shining breast plates of their new superiors. They were tired from the journey and their clothes were dust-stained. There was a general air of excitement, though, of anticipation at seeing their new Household and pride at having been Chosen. Then there was the one, tall child with white-blond hair, shaking off the help of the Silver Captains with the most casual disrespect I’d seen in a youngster outside of the prison. He tripped as he clambered off the pallet, but he pulled himself upright and stood deliberately apart from his mates. His expression was antagonistic, arrogant. His clothes were stained from far more than this morning’s journey, as if, unlike the others, he had no best set to wear for such an auspicious occasion. And his hands were bound behind his back. “Why are his hands bound?” I asked, my voice low and seemingly calm. The driver looked at me, defensively. Grien winced beside me; he recognized my tone. “He’s – he wouldn’t sit still, sir. I was – I was afraid he’d fall, so for his own safety–” My hand was at the man’s neck before he could formulate the next word in his throat. He gave a soft gurgle and his head lolled back in my grasp. “That’s nonsense and you know it,” I hissed. “I’ve never seen a boy arrive in this Household with any kind of restraint, unless he was being brought in on a criminal matter. Has he committed a crime, somewhere between being Chosen by my Mistress yesterday, and arriving here this morning in your care?” Grien stepped forward again and touched at my hand. “The man can’t reply, sir. You’re cutting off his windpipe.” I released the miserable driver. He dropped away from my hand like a cloth doll, but one that scrabbled hastily back to its feet.

38 | Clare London Hoarse words fell from his mouth in a mixture of fright and protest. “He attacked me, sir! I’ve never known a boy do it – they’re full of high spirits, sure, but they’re happy enough to get in, and behave well, and put up with the journey. I’ve done this run for years, sir!” His voice was regaining its strength and so was his protest. “But this one!” He looked over at the blond boy, who deliberately ignored him. He flushed. “Called me such names, sir – called me a traitor, and a filthy slave, and then he fought with the other boys, and I thought they were going to fall out, or damage each other, and my Mistress would flog me for that–” Grien glared at him and he ceased his sputtering talk. His face was red, his hands clenched at his sides. More than mere name-calling rested on the outcome of this little scene. I turned towards the boy. I felt Grien stir, but he stayed at his post as I strode across the yard. The other boys had fallen silent; they watched my progress with a mixture of fright and awe. I suppose that a Gold Warrior might be an impressive thing for them to see, at their age. It was a far more impressive thing to incur the wrath of one! I stopped a foot away from the blond boy and stood there, staring at him. I was well over a head taller than he was, and much broader in the upper body. I wore full dress uniform of breast plate and apron and leggings, and I wore the full-faced helmet. I carried both sword and dagger at my waist. Today, I was the absolute Gold Warrior, which was exactly what I wanted them all to see. “Look at me!” I ordered the boy. For a moment, I thought he might refuse; his eyes were still staring, determinedly, at something in the middle distance. I remembered this look of his from the Choosing. But just because he didn’t see something, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Slowly, he turned his head and looked up at me. His eyes were wide, and a deep blue, rather than the washed out, pink-rimmed look of many other fair-haired people. His forehead was high and his face rather angular, with high, sharp cheekbones – his mouth was pursed tightly shut. The skin of his neck and face bore some scars and bruises, suggesting that his life hadn’t been easy so far, but it still had the smoothness of his childhood, the delicate sensuality that would fade after long years spent outside, at work and in battle. His lips were dry, but their color was as pink as a dessert wine and I could see their fullness as he bit at them between his teeth. It was his hair that was so

The Gold Warrior | 39 striking – it was very long, longer than mine, and caught back behind his neck with a piece of cord. Loose strands fell over his forehead, teasing at the corners of his eyes, catching in his pale lashes. It was astonishing hair – I’d never seen any that shade before – as if the sun had quite bleached out any color, yet left it fine and silken. I stared into his eyes, holding his gaze. He was angry, but there was fear in his expression as well. He knew he had no standing here, not yet. He knew he had behaved badly; he knew he was in trouble. His whole body was tense with it. Yet even as he stood there, awaiting my punishing words, he held himself proudly. His limbs were well formed and hinted at strength and agility. He was extremely attractive; I felt an uneasiness that I quickly rejected. I knew without a doubt that he could become a Favorite of my Mistress. “You know where you are?” I asked. His eyes narrowed and he nodded. “And why you’re here?” The nod came again – this time, he straightened his body, lifting his head even more bravely. His tunic looked too small for him, like he’d had a growth spurt and outgrown it recently. It hung out from his belt in several places. His trousers were tucked into shabby, worn boots, but I could see that the legs of the garment were too short, too. He would soon receive new clothes: it wasn’t a problem. “Are you unwilling?” was my next question. It did happen, though rarely. “You do not wish to be a Bronzeman, to accept the Training for the Service to the City?” One of the other boys snickered softly, through nerves, I assumed. I let it pass and kept my look focused on the boy in front of me. “No.” His voice was deeper than I’d have thought for one so young and so fair-skinned. “I’m not unwilling.” He offered nothing more than that. I heard a breath indrawn sharply behind me. “No –Sir,” I corrected him coldly. “I will remind you of that only the once.” “No – Sir!” he snapped back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Orven and another Silver flash glances at each other. “The man mocked me, Sir.” His voice shook slightly. “Tried to tell me I had no right to be with the others.” He flushed deeply, but his words were still clear. “He said that if I really wanted to sell my ass, I should offer to my own kind, not corrupt the blood of the Household.”

40 | Clare London “You attacked him? Raised a hand to any of the other boys?” “No!” He looked shocked. “Maybe I would have struck out at him, sir, but he caught me unawares with the bindings.” He lifted his arms behind his back; his shoulder muscles flexed with the effort. His brow creased with anger. “The filthy coward–” “That’s enough!” I hissed. I drew my dagger and the boys behind me shifted uncomfortably. The blond boy never flinched – but I saw his body tense up. I reached behind him and sliced away the ropes binding his wrists, watching him move his arms back down to his sides. He winced a little with pain; I could see he wanted to massage his wrists, for the marks of the ropes had cut deeply. But he stood still, bearing the discomfort in front of me. Despite my anger, I was impressed with his bravery. He would indeed become a Favorite, I thought – and maybe one day, a brave Gold Warrior. I turned to face the others. “Today you are boys!” I said, my voice carrying throughout the courtyard. “Today you are mine, to accept you into this Household, and to impress on you your duties and your responsibilities. But after tonight’s welcoming ceremony, you will be boys no longer. You will be Bronzemen of the House of the Exchequer!” I started to walk, slowly, in front of the line. “You think you know what this means. You think you’re special – you’re already favored. But let me tell you that everything you have a year from now, you will have earned. I will make you soldiers of the Mistress – and I will make you the best! You’ll work so hard on the training ground that your bodies will ache and a sword will seem heavier than the body of your sparring partner – and then I’ll make you carry both across the field to the barracks. You’ll learn to ride a horse as if it were an extension of your own body, until it hurts in the very bones of your ass to sit on its back, and yet you feel the loss of a limb when you dismount. You’ll learn to feel the arms that you carry as a part of your body – you’ll value them as dearly as the cock between your legs – and at the end of your days, as far more precious! You’ll learn the strategy of battle, and understand what it means to follow your Commander and support your Guard – at all times, exhausted or tired, awake or asleep. You’ll follow the daily Devotions, as we all do – you’ll learn what the City can do for you, as a member of this Household – and you will learn what you can do for the City!”

The Gold Warrior | 41 I stopped; I had every boy’s rapt attention. “And so what else do you know about Bronzemen? You hear tales that not only are they soldiers, they are lovers as well, eh?” A few eyes shifted nervously. “I told you that I will make you soldiers of the Mistress – but she will make you servants of her Household. You have the duty of servicing the Household – of pleasing it – of offering it entertainment from the drudge of daily life. You also have the honor of giving us the future children of this City, of enabling the Mistress and her Ladies to bring forth the new generation.” I could see the glint of excitement and zeal in their eyes – I had seen this before, many times. To be a Bronzeman was a thrill beyond anything else. My voice rose again. “But don’t think that this makes your life any easier, nor more pleasant! This will be just another part of your duty, offering your body in the same way, entirely for the service of the City, either on the battleground or at a Lady’s demand. And the punishment for failure will be just the same!” I walked back past them, my eyes flickering deliberately up and down each boy’s body, noting the weaknesses, appraising the potential strengths. “So you’ll return, exhausted and worn from the training ground, and you’ll find yourself Called by the Mistress or one of her Ladies. Let me tell you now, that she will not tolerate lateness, she will not tolerate filthiness, she will not tolerate inattention! You must always answer a Call – there must never be any delay or any reluctance. Your sole purpose is to please your Lady; your sole respect is for your Mistress.” I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that the blond boy was also staring at me, listening carefully. I wasn’t quite sure what the expression was in his eyes; it was excitement of a different kind, I thought. “All of you – you belong to your Mistress now and you’ll do whatever she asks. That’s not a request; that’s now your life! You will obey at any time. With no complaint. And when you’ve given service to the Lady who has Called you, then you’ll return to the barracks, and I will likely put you on dawn duty just because I feel it is character building. So you will learn to answer to me, as well, with just as much punctuality, cleanliness, and your full attention. If at any time,” I said, my voice rather deceptively gentle now, “you displease my Mistress, she can have you whipped or punished in whatever way she chooses. Never doubt that! And it’s likely that I, or one of my Captains, will carry out that punishment.”

42 | Clare London I stopped talking for a moment and shifted my sword as if to make it more comfortable on my hip. But I saw their eyes slide warily over my uniform, over my weapons. They saw my strength and they saw the hard glint in my eye. A few of them murmured, a few nodded – it was as if they were already respectful of their role, already eager to respond to me as their Trainer. I was pleased with this initial reaction. My voice calmed again. “You’ll curse me; you’ll likely hate me. And then you will learn the ways of a soldier and of a man in the Service of the City. And be proud to honor that. Remember that: we are all soldiers, the same as you. We are all in the Service of the City: we ask nothing more.” Like a well rehearsed chorus, my Captains cried the Devotion. “Devotion to the City is everything – Service to the City is our Reward!” The boys stared at them, eyes wide and chests heaving slightly with shallow breaths. A few managed to stutter out the Devotion, or at least the final words of it. I nodded, pleased enough with the morning’s show of obedience. The rest of the day would be given over to settling the new personnel in, getting them clothes and measuring them for a set of arms, and feeding them up with a couple of good meals. They’d be shown the stables and where they’d help with the mucking out and the cleaning of the barracks. It was important that their first taste of life in the Household was one of obedience and an awareness of their obligatory duties, for this would become their life. Then, as the afternoon wore on, they would be taken to the guest rooms and washed and prepared for the evening feast. There would be other people to prepare them, then – other skills to be discussed, other knowledge to be learned. My Mistress had hired one of the Instructors from the House of Physic, but one who had more knowledge of the human body than just its practical workings. He’d been a Bronzeman himself, and then a Silver Captain in the House of the Exchequer, albeit for a brief time, and not in my Guard. We occasionally passed Captains to other roles within the House and the City itself. When specialist skills were found or an aptitude recognized, the men were retrained and moved out of the life of a soldier. The Bronzemen wouldn’t all be Called on their first night in the Household – but there would be none left as virgins by the end of the week.

The Gold Warrior | 43 I looked again at the boys, gazing around at the buildings, the walls and doors of the barracks, the Silver Captains, the show of arms. I could see they were becoming more confident with their surroundings. They were fidgeting now – hungry, probably, and impatient to start their new life. “Take the boys away, Fremer,” I ordered and the slender, lithe Captain who worked so well and often beside Grien moved over to the line. I turned to Grien, standing beside the driver who’d brought the boys. The man’s hands had wrung deep creases into the papers in his hand – but now I was ready to accept them. When I held out my hand, he flinched slightly, but handed them over to me. “Now I will sign for receipt of your delivery,” I said, my voice cold. “Grien – deduct ten credits for the injury suffered by one of the boys. I don’t expect there to be any complaint about it.” The man’s eyes narrowed but I took a step towards him and he paled. “I pay for our goods,” I hissed. “But not your abuse of them. Do you wish to take that to your Mistress?” The fear in his eyes told me he didn’t. He snatched his papers back and fled. I walked back to stand at the edge of the yard with Fremer, watching the boys file past. I put out a hand, stopping the final child, the blond boy. “What’s your name, boy?” “Dax,” he said. Just the single word. It was a sharp name – a Remainder name. “Dax…” I said slowly, swallowing his continuing disrespect towards me. Seemed the lesson had not yet been learned. I wondered how long it would take him to submit to the discipline of the Guard; I had not thought him stupid. “The driver was an ignorant fool but you were no better. There will be far worse to face in your life than a few cruel words, and I expect you to remember your duties better than you have today. You’ll behave like the rest of the Bronzemen – you’ll earn your position with something other than good looks and a boy’s promise. Do you hear me?” “But I’m not like the rest of them,” he said. Beside me, Grien drew in a sharp breath. It was astonishingly insolent; I had no idea what possessed the boy to challenge me, yet again. My hand was controlled, but it was fast – I slapped him, just once, across the head and hard enough to make him rock back on his heels, gasping. I had not held back either my strength or my anger.

44 | Clare London My words were vicious, spat out for him alone. “Tomorrow you’ll be a Bronzeman, though that gives you no other rights in the Household of your Mistress. But today, you’re a loose-tongued, insubordinate child, and one who is a guest of the garrison!” I grasped his shaking chin and forced his head up to look me in the eye. Tears of pain and shock shone at the edges of his wide eyes. “Look at me, boy! I am in charge of that garrison. I am in charge of what happens to you, now, not your liberal school tutors, not some coarse lackey, and least of all you, yourself. By tomorrow, you’ll learn that you have no rights in any place except what you earn here – and you’ll show the appropriate gratitude for merely having a life that can give service.” I shook him loose and turned to Grien. My heart was tight in my chest, from my anger and disgust. “For the troubles that this child has caused, and the insubordination, he will be punished.” “Sir–” began Grien, almost as if he wanted to question me. A look at my face dissuaded him. “Thrash him, Grien. Five lashes, only, for I’d not want him totally incapacitated for tonight’s attendance.” Grien hesitated for a moment, as the boy’s body slumped in front of me, trembling with shock. Then the Silver Captain stepped forward and took the boy’s arm. “Do it now,” I said coldly. “We have plenty of other work to do today.”

BERNOS came across to the stables at noon time. He came to view the two boys who, that night, would move into his barracks and begin their Training with him tomorrow. I valued his friendship, for he had been my mentor, and I was glad to see him. I felt the isolation, sometimes, of being a Gold Warrior. I still had Silver Captains as my companions, but there was no mistaking the change of attitude since my promotion; there was always the fact that I was now in direct charge of them. I also had more dealings with my Mistress and the management of the Household. It was a role that took me away from company, rather than further into its comfort. But then, we weren’t in the Household to seek our own comfort. Bernos understood all of this. He was a man like myself, who had given continuously loyal service to our Mistress, and also the City. He took his Devotions regularly; he accompanied my Mistress on many

The Gold Warrior | 45 occasions to the meetings of the Central Council. He was the very epitome of a successful and typical Gold Warrior. As far as I knew, he was no longer Called to my Mistress’s rooms, nor by any of the Ladies – he had no further coupling duties. He had the companionship of an equally equable Silver Captain called Lydre, and together the two of them handled most of the administration and Training of their Guard. Again, I had no idea if they coupled or whether they were just of a similar mind. He seemed perfectly content with both his lot and his life. I had always aspired to be just like Bernos, but on days like these, I felt that I still struggled to achieve it. I wondered why the scene with the boy Dax had so unsettled me. I was almost ashamed of myself, though I’m not sure I could have explained why. It seemed that Bernos wanted to talk about more than the new intake. With my agreement, he took me outside to the training yard, which was currently deserted after the morning’s exercising. He drew me down on to a fallen tree seat and looked into my eyes with a seriousness that was sobering. “You’ve heard that we may have a visit from the Royal Household?” I nodded. “Do you have any idea what it’s about?” He was in contact with a couple of other Silvers who had trained under him, only a year ago. The Royal Household had demanded additional soldiers for their Guard that season, and Bernos had sent them his best. Their allegiance was to another Household now, but I knew that they still had a loyalty to their Trainer: messages and news passed between them occasionally. His eyes looked tired – he was, indeed, one of our older soldiers, now over forty years old and the veteran of many battles with the Exiles on our planet. But I knew he was still strong, knew his will was always firm and true. “The Queen is nervous about the Exiles. They’re planning another attack, Maen. I know it – I don’t even need the spies to tell me that there’s new unrest. I can feel it in my water; I can smell it in the dust that blows in through the City gate.” “We’re well protected–” “We’re sitting targets!” he thundered back at me, and I saw a couple of Captains looking over in surprise.

46 | Clare London “Watch your tone,” I warned, gently but firmly. This was my Guard – I could not afford any unrest of my own. “If you believe something other than the Queen’s Defense Bulletins….” Bernos looked agitated, but he had reined in his excitement and lowered his voice. “It’s so much more than that, Maen – and you are possibly the only man who could understand the signs, along with me. You were always my best student – always the brightest Silver Captain. And not just because of your military skills, but due to your intelligence, and a wit that you let loose far too rarely.” “Tell me,” I said, simply enough. What made me believe that it would not be simple at all? “They grow stronger and smarter, Maen – haven’t you noticed? Every attack is better planned, better resourced. They have increasing knowledge of the City and its operations; they have new entry points each time. They are by no means the band of loose-living, degenerate failures that we are led to believe.” “They’re Exiles,” I replied. I wasn’t sure if I were trying to convince myself or Bernos. “People with no power, no strength to make enough of their own lives. Men who have failed to be of use to the City and women who cannot maintain control. Children who are born with unfortunate handicaps that give them little chance of survival–” Bernos was staring at me. “I knew that you were always loyal – as I am myself. But I would not credit you with naivety! It’s so much more than that, as you must know; you are close to the Mistress, you mix with her Ladies on the Council. We have added steadily to the world of Exiles for many years and the numbers are swelling with far more than nature’s misfits and weaklings. We have Exiled political rivals. We have sent out soldiers who are strong and fierce, but have been found to molest Bronzemen. We have sent out women who have the will of a Mistress, but who persist in whoring themselves to the desires of men, for Life’s sake–” “Hush.” I lifted a hand. “So what do you think is happening out there? The winters are freezing outside of the City – there are few areas where soil will maintain crops or where wood and stone lend themselves to dwellings. They have no Devotions to keep them healthy,

The Gold Warrior | 47 to extend their lives. They are cut off entirely from the Life. What else could there be for them?” Bernos sighed. “I think there is far more to the Planet than we imagine, Maen, and I don’t consider myself a traitor to think this way. I know that other Warriors think the same – that some Mistresses are aware of far more than the Queen’s pacifying Bulletins. I know that the Exiles are a growing danger to us. Each time, we sit here in our City, smug within our man-made walls and we watch their attacks at the gate. We kill some of them, we protect our population, and we return to our lives with no change to our strategies. But each time they grow in number or strength; each time they send scouts out to different parts of the City walls. We have always repelled them but one day they will find an entrance that isn’t guarded – that perhaps we don’t even know of ourselves. And they’ll enter the City and wreak havoc!” “Ridiculous!” I gasped. “How could they, who have lived outside all their lives?” “Listen to yourself, man!” he growled in reply. “You believe your own tales. What have I just said? We send people out who are intelligent and resourceful and who have detailed knowledge of our ways. And we think that they’re incapable of banding together and pooling that knowledge – to strike back at the City and our Queen.” He looked over to the barracks, where Lydre was waiting. The Captain had been standing there, watching us talk, perfectly patient to wait for his Commander to finish. “Watch yourself, Maen,” urged Bernos, in a low voice that would not carry any further than my ears. “Prepare as best you can. The Mistress will want you near when the Queen’s party arrives. If you care both for the City and the Mistress, find out what you can, before we are surprised and both our lives destroyed.” He hauled himself up to his feet and held out his hand to bid me his farewell. Lydre appeared behind his shoulder – a respectful distance away, but still at his Gold Warrior’s command. Bernos turned his head to stare at his companion for a moment, and a slight smile teased at the edge of his mouth, as if he saw a pleasure there, in amongst his despondency. I watched them walk casually away, side by side, at ease together. I found myself envying them whatever they seemed to have

48 | Clare London found, even though I had a vague uneasiness that they somehow walked dangerously along the sharpest edge of the Rules. I felt – very suddenly – afraid of the future.

THE evening feast had begun; we could hear the fireworks over at the Mistress’s quarters. All the boys had been taken for bathing and dressing, and any exhaustion or bruises from the day’s work had been forgotten in the excitement of going up to the center of the Household and meeting the Mistress and her Ladies. Some of the boys would be asked to stay that very first night – some might just be taken aside for a quick, joyful fondle. All of them would learn what else was expected of their role, apart from my soldiering. Fremer had gone with them, along with some other Captains, and we maintained the usual duty around the Household as always. But for the rest of the Guard, it was the end of our military jurisdiction for the day. I’d taken the opportunity to sit for a while in the courtyard in front of one of the small evening fires, enjoying the mild weather. With a soft grunt, Grien let himself down on to the grass beside me. I had heard his footsteps, but I’d been lost in thought and I hadn’t stirred to greet or rebuff him. The fire in front of me was low now and I didn’t bother banking it up. In the background, I could hear the night guard buckling into their swords and calling to each other to look for pickings from the kitchen, after the feast. There were plenty of crude jokes about the Ladies’ appetites being for meat other than that cooked by the chefs – boys’ meat, the preparation of hot, young flesh for the dishes of their Mistress. My soldiers were just men, after all – when the attention was off them and the regulations eased, they would be rather less respectful. I was lenient in most cases. “Do you want to know how it went?” Grien asked softly. I didn’t answer – didn’t ask him what he meant. But he knew that I understood. He stretched out his long legs on the stubble of pale green grass. He leant back on his hands; his sword rattled quietly into place at his side. He sighed. “The boy was silent – he took the lashes without a word,” he said. His voice was very measured, as if he sought to hide any emotion. “There were marks on his back – he’s been beaten before, which I can well believe if he’s as impudent as that with everybody.

The Gold Warrior | 49 But he’s not been touched for a while. I tried not to break the skin too harshly, though there are fresh marks now; he still felt every stroke.” “And afterwards?” I asked. I deliberately didn’t meet Grien’s eyes. Grien laughed shortly. “He couldn’t help the tears. He’s a child, still. When he stood up, I told one of the other boys to go with him to wash the wounds and put ointment on. His temper came back again – he didn’t want help or company, he would’ve done it all by himself if he could have reached. And after he was treated, he came straight back to me, asking to be deployed. In a matter of minutes.” “It’s not temper,” I said. That wasn’t the boy’s curse, not really. “No,” said Grien slowly, watching me. “Maybe it’s not.” I was silent. Grien grimaced. “Yes, Maen, though you won’t ask me specifically – he had learned to call me Sir. He deferred to me; he showed the beginnings of a salute, although they all need training in that. I think you’ll find him a little more willing to obey you now.” My head lifted; he should never have used my name on the training field, but then there was no other person about and he knew this wasn’t a serious breach. I stared at him. There was some strange tone in his voice; was he criticizing my handling of the situation? If insubordinate behavior wasn’t dealt with on the first day, it would fester. He knew that as well as I. “What will Mistress Luana say when she sees his body? The stripes on his back?” said my best Captain, a little curiously, a little mischievously. The dying firelight sparked reflections in his dark pupils; I couldn’t help but see the mark of the man, along with the soldier. “I think he may be one of the first she Calls. He has that look that she likes, eh, Maen?” “He does, indeed,” I replied. I stood up abruptly. A stray coal from the fire spat out to the side and hissed to silence on the bare earth. “But she understands what I have to do to maintain discipline. To make them the men that she needs. If she’s unhappy with the marks on his body, she’ll wait until the soreness fades. There are plenty of other nights for that Bronzeman to meet his Mistress.”

50 | Clare London I couldn’t help but see Grien’s face as I turned to return to the barracks; there was a look of puzzlement on his face. I was glad that he couldn’t see mine.

The Gold Warrior | 51

CHAPTER FOUR Duty, Devotion, and Death

T

here was no further word about the promised visit from the Queen’s House for another few months. It was enough time for me to have all but forgotten Bernos’s words, although I remained unsettled. In that time, I had been more than busy training the new Bronzemen. I had also completed Grien’s Appraisal, suggesting he be considered for Gold Warrior in the next assessment, and I had been Called by my Mistress more than a couple of nights. She hadn’t forgotten her more familiar lovers, despite her enjoyment of the new. I requested an increase of my Devotions but was refused by the Supervisor of the House of Physic. It wasn’t necessary, they told me: I had the requisite level for a Gold Warrior. I suspected that my Mistress had intervened, for all such requests would have to be passed through her – but maybe that was another symptom of my growing unease, a taint of paranoia. Nothing had changed, I told myself. My duty and my position were the same as ever, and would be for the foreseeable future. I didn’t understand why that failed to comfort me anymore.

THE line of Silver Captains at the First Morning Devotions was even shorter than usual – there were few that would rise for that Service if they weren’t on duty. There were several Devotions throughout the day and they could attend at any, so long as they met the daily requirements. This morning, we all took our positions in the Hall and

52 | Clare London made the appropriate responses. Some of the Captains held copies of the Chart of Devotions in their hand, as if they still had trouble remembering the words. The Voice of Life was amplified through voice trumpets to all corners of the Hall, and the Chants were repeated again and again; there was no excuse, really, for anyone not to know them by heart. Then each one of us, as we thought we had met our duties, would make our way to the Dispensary to receive our personal Devotions. I smiled at the Dispenser – this month it was an assistant from the House of Physic that I knew from other secondments to our Household – and stated my name and rank. She smiled back almost guiltily, her cheeks a little flushed, and marked me off on her central list. I saw that there were plenty of marks already. At the end of the day, she would use this list to report those who had missed any Devotions, for whatever reason. They would need a good excuse, indeed, to avoid a disciplinary mark against them. I barely glanced at the two blue pills that she dropped into my outstretched hand. I slipped them into my mouth and swallowed them. It had been the same routine, twice a day, since I had become a Gold Warrior. When I was a Bronzeman, I took one single red pill a day; as a Silver Captain, my Devotions were three yellow capsules, three times a day. Devotions were an established part of every man’s life and an essential one. No one wanted the sicknesses that came when Devotions were missed, and everyone was mindful of the punishments for disobedience to their Household and the Queen. I knew of the occasional instance of such disobedience and any culprits were treated strictly by my Mistress. One of them had been a Silver under my command, and I had felt it to be a personal failure. I had no interest in listening to the man’s excuses; I had no understanding of his complaints of how the Devotions made him feel, how they stifled his emotions. I had stood beside the Mistress as she had him lashed. It had been a harsh lesson, but one that I’d heeded.

THE blond boy, Dax, was the only Bronzeman in the Hall - in fact, by now, the only man still there. He sat on a front bench, his back to me. I stood for a moment, watching him whilst he was unaware of me. Then I stepped forward, and at the same time he turned back to

The Gold Warrior | 53 look at me. It was a strange feeling, the shiver that ran through me: his eyes were calm and unsurprised, as if he’d known I was there all along. I nodded to him. “It’s unusual to see a Bronzeman at the First Devotions,” I said, by way of greeting, though my voice sounded harsh and awkward in the large, empty room. It was far from usual for a Gold Warrior to stop to chat with a Bronzeman. “I’m used to it, Sir,” he replied. His voice seemed to have lost a lot of its aggression over the last few months and he had matured in many physical ways. His words were low and clear. “As Remainders, we took the Devotions every morning when we rose – and at supper time, too. Sir.” I knew that the routines were similar, yet specifically tailored for the Remainders. The Devotions were less flexible, for most of the Remainders were in generic work positions and served the same requirement of the City. It was easier to establish a blanket process, a common dispensation of the saving Devotion. Those Remainders who were chosen for the Breeding program took one set of tablets, and all the others, another. It was only when and if men joined a Household – when they had a future of a Bronzeman – that their commitment changed. Dax had adapted well to his new routine. There was a ripple of amusement in his eyes, as if he saw my thoughts. “I wasn’t chosen for the Breeding, Sir. So I’ve taken the same Devotions for all my life as a man. It’s no hardship to change one regular master for another.” I looked at him and couldn’t help wondering why he’d never been thought suitable for Breeding, for maintaining the Remainder population. He was surely of good enough – attractive enough – stock. I tore my thoughts away from the subject with some difficulty. His words had carried some current of conflict, but I’d missed the detail. “Your training is progressing well. Grien tells me you are particularly good at the axe, and Fremer is pleased with your handling of the horses. You ride as well as some of the younger Silver Captains.” He flushed slightly. I was amused that I appeared to have caught him unprepared for praise. “Thank you, Sir. I enjoy being with the horses, especially.” I continued to examine him. Grien had actually said that he was the best of the intake – that he showed remarkable potential. He was

54 | Clare London strong and he was quick. His intellect was sharp, and his concentration fierce; however, I wasn’t going to tell the boy that. So what other explanation could I have possibly given, if asked, for my sitting down beside him this morning? For tarrying in the Hall when I had a garrison to see to, to prepare for the day ahead? He intrigued me: that was all. “Dax,” I said carefully. “What did you think it would be, to be a Bronzeman? I asked you when you arrived, whether you were unwilling. Was that really the case?” There was a sudden, sharp flicker in his eyes. “No, Sir. It was an honor to be put forward – there aren’t many Remainders who’ve been Chosen. I understood it fully. I welcomed it, Sir.” I tried to marry the light of determination that I now saw in his eyes with his difficult introduction to the Household. The boy was surprisingly hard to understand. “I wanted to be a Bronzeman, Sir!” he said, more firmly, as if he thought I needed more reassurance. “I was never chosen to Breed – I was taken up for training in the worst kind of job in the House of Maintenance, in the sewers. I–” His face flushed again, as if afraid of admitting too much to me, but he obviously wanted to speak more. “I was always trouble to my Supervisors, it seemed. But I still wanted to make something of myself. You’re not likely to understand, Sir, never having been a Remainder.” “How do you know I was never a Remainder?” I was briefly confused. “I may have been Chosen from among them myself….” He bit back a smile, but not before I had recognized it as such. “No, Sir. You’re from Household blood – there’s nothing about you that speaks of the Remainder society. You’d know the look of it, if you’d been one of us. This was the only way I knew, to earn a position, to get out from that life–” “To serve the City.” I don’t know why I felt it necessary to remind him of his new duties. “Yes, Sir. To serve the City.” His response was calm, but was lacking in passion. I blamed it on the acoustics of the large room. “Your enthusiasm is admirable, boy. But there’s no room for personal ambition, except as required by the City. It’s not allowed – there’s no benefit to the City, otherwise. We all work for the City; we are all owned by the City. Everything we have and do is for the sake of

The Gold Warrior | 55 the City. You were offered as a Bronzeman and were lucky to be Chosen. The decision was the Mistress’s, entirely – it had little to do with whatever you yourself may have hoped for.” He stared at me for a while. His open gaze made me feel a little uncomfortable: there weren’t many who had that effect on me. “May I speak honestly to you, Sir?” “You must,” I said. I’m not sure that was what I originally meant to say, but that’s what came out of my mouth. “Is that always the answer?” he asked slowly. “The answer to everything? That everything must be for the benefit of the City? Can’t people have or do something for themselves because of some personal desires? Not just selfish ones, of course. Don’t you have people that you care about, whose needs are just as important–” I looked into those curious, dark blue eyes and I shook my head. “No, I don’t. Nothing is as important as one’s vocation – there are no people to care about except your Mistress and the City. She determines what’s right, what’s needed, and we carry it out. We support her; that’s our role.” An expression flickered across his face, but one that I couldn’t identify. Not without spending more time with the boy, not without getting to know him better. There was a deep, dull ache in my chest at the thought of that. “Tell me about her, Sir!” he said suddenly, as if the words spilled out involuntarily. “You forget yourself, Dax, demanding of me–” He interrupted my protest, a sudden spark of fear across his face. “I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to demand anything, not at all! I just wanted to know more about her – please, then. Please tell me about the Mistress – if you will. Sir.” It was something about the soft sibilance of his ‘Sir,’ of his address to me. I’d never noticed it on the training ground; I’d never heard it in the brief greetings and salutes we’d exchanged in the first few months of his life in the household. But then, of course, I had never had such a conversation with a Bronzeman at all. It warmed me. “The Four Cities were established when we colonized this planet.” I feared that my conversation would sound like a history

56 | Clare London lesson, but I needed to explain the importance of my Mistress, of her heritage. “There were four Queens who took charge of our world. Each took a City – each established the Households. Our City of Aza was the first to become self-sufficient, the first to begin trade and communication with the others.” “Are they far away? The other Cities?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. None of us knows, though perhaps the Queen and the Central Council do. This planet was hostile to us from the beginning – the first colonists had to travel great distances to find land and climate that would suit our kind. It’s likely that the Cities are far apart. We still struggle now, as you must know, to keep ourselves fed and supported both by the terrain and the weather. It’s been that way for hundreds of years now; there’s no appetite to seek the other Cities, to lose our hard-earned status trying to support them as well.” “But when do we see citizens of the other Cities? When do we travel there?” I laughed aloud at his excitement. “Not us, boy! Perhaps sometimes our Queen will travel; sometimes she will take Mistresses with her. But rarely more than once or twice in a year. Each City is proud of its own ways, of its own culture. Amalgamation is not encouraged – we may lose our unique identity and strength. And our Mistress is descended from the very first Queen herself – her line has always been close to the Queen and the Central Council. She is of pure stock, and the very finest of women.” “And women have always ruled here?” I stared at him, and he added a hurried, “Sir.” But it wasn’t that which perturbed me. “Of course,” I said. I wasn’t quite sure why he’d thought to ask it – it was the accepted way, wasn’t it? “It is women who make the decisions and initiate the policies that protect both us and the City. After all, it was the Queens and their women who Colonized this world in the first place - the Queens who had the Cities built and the people trained. It was found to be impossible for men to survive on this planet without help, because of some weakness in their physical aspect. Women nursed them to sufficient health to be servants of the Cities, and then created the Devotions as a way to help them and to control the diseases and ills of the previous world.”

The Gold Warrior | 57 “The previous world–?” I shook my head. “I know nothing of such ancient history. It’s not required for me to know any more than I do. We thrive under the Queen. We live longer; we are stronger, we are more content with our lives.” “I have a different pattern of Devotions, now that I’m here….” I smiled – I had explained this before to Bronzemen. Some of them found it difficult at first to understand that they must accept a pattern of Devotions that matched their progress through a life of service. “As a child, you will have had very little – just enough to keep you alive, as a male. Then as a youth, you’ll have started the regular pattern, like you told me earlier. And as a Bronzeman, your Devotions will change again – they allow you to develop to maturity more quickly, and also provide pleasure and breeding potential for the Mistress. The children you will help create will join the City’s resources and aid its growing development, so it’s important that your body is at its prime. By the time you become a Silver Captain, your duty is to defend and fight, whatever is needed, so it’s then your strength and stamina that are more important – your pleasure duties are still required, but breeding from you is less critical.” “They couple with each other,” he said, abruptly. I wasn’t sure if it were a question or an observation. “The Silver Captains. We hear them; the barracks is close by our quarters.” I bit my lip. I knew that some of the Silvers were noisy partners – some also liked to provoke the raw, rather naive Bronzemen by meeting up around their barracks. I knew what they could get up to. “Yes, they do. They’re not always Called as frequently by the Ladies as when they were Bronzemen themselves – and also, the Ladies have established Favorites, leaving some men less popular. However, it’s important that they have relief, that they can attend to all their needs.” And not disturb the barracks or the training, I thought. It was accepted for the Silvers to be kept at their aggressive best, and therefore they must be allowed to relax their bodies when they needed to, not necessarily at the Ladies’ whim. It made for a more settled barracks; it calmed tempers and soothed frustration. But that was no business of this boy’s – not at the moment. “Will they – couple with me?”

58 | Clare London I tried to see if he were concerned at this, or accepting. I knew that women were more plentiful among the Remainders – that they had the option of coupling with men or women, at the easiest of convenience. It kept the population content and settled – similar to the motivation for the Silvers – though for the Remainders, it was to dampen their aggression, not to enhance it. “They may, one day. If you want. However, they cannot touch you as a Bronzeman – it’s forbidden, on pain of death. When you are a Silver, they can couple with you, but only if you agree. You have the same rights as they do, then.” Dax was staring at me, his brows furrowed. “And as a Gold Warrior, Sir? Like you? What is the purpose of your Devotions?” Like me, he’d said. Like I was someone of another world. Suddenly I felt my position most keenly, and so I answered rather too abruptly. “My Devotions have changed as well. I no longer need to provide either pleasure or breeding, though it isn’t unheard of for a Gold Warrior to contribute to the City in those ways. What’s important for me is to offer sound advice and support to the Mistress, to plan her campaigns, to protect her Queen’s City wherever it’s needed, to train and control her soldiers.” “And that’s all of it, then.” I could see him musing on this. “All of the life as a soldier – duty, devotion, and death.” “I would say service and satisfaction!” I retorted. His eyes were still on me; I could see his chest heaving slightly under his tunic as he breathed carefully, concentrating on understanding. I tried to put all my enthusiasm and pride into my voice. “It’s a fine career for you to aspire to. With the help of the Devotions, your own hard work, and the support of your Mistress, you can achieve the highest rank–” It was as if he’d stopped listening, even as I started talking. “So it’s her that you care about, Sir? Do you love her?” I blanched at the naivety of the boy – it was close to blasphemy, and I wondered what they were taught in the Central School, that they could be so misguided! Or perhaps it was the Remainder society that he’d mixed in that had corrupted him. I must speak to the Gold Warrior at the House of Schooling and maybe also at the House of Maintenance….

The Gold Warrior | 59 “It’s not a question of loving her, Dax! That’s a word that the younger Ladies use, just in fun – in sexual play with their men. It’s not something that men consider and it’s not something that soldiers are required for. I’m at her Call and that’s what I’m committed to. It’s an honor that she even notices me, that she gives me some of her time.” Dax caught in a sharp breath. His eyes narrowed, as if he disapproved of something. I was suddenly angry, and I wanted to take his shoulders and shake him. “Why do you look like that, boy?” He didn’t seem intimidated; instead, he glared back at me. Again, the challenge – the lack of respect! It infuriated me, yet it excited me as well, somehow. “You may talk freely, Dax. I can’t say I’ll give you that opportunity again, but I’ll not hold it against you. You show a strong intelligence and much promise. It’s critical that you understand your position now, before you take a false step.” He shook his head slightly; his skin looked mottled, as if it didn’t know whether to flush from anger or pale with fear of me. I looked down and saw that I had actually taken hold of him: my hand gripped at his wrist, though he made no move to pull it away. “I look at you, Sir, and I see a strong, passionate man,” he gasped. “They tell me you’re the best Gold Warrior here – possibly in all the City. That you’re harsh but fair, and your loyalty to the City and your ferocity in battle are the finest. But then I hear such passive speech, about how you’re owned by the City, and the Mistress, and do only your duty. It’s confusing to me, that’s all–” I released his hand at once and rose, abruptly. This was too much – I’d allowed myself to be distracted and this was my punishment! “I can have you whipped again for that.” “I know you can,” he said, steadily. His pale face had flushed darkly. The fingers of his other hand rubbed briefly at the wrist I’d been holding. “Though that wouldn’t have stopped me saying it, even if you call me stupid. You won’t be the first!” His eyes turned up to me, and the expression was almost pleading. “I want to learn, Sir! I want to talk to those who have intelligence; who have knowledge, who can tell me the way of things here. It’s all so different!”

60 | Clare London “You can learn that from anyone in your Guard.” My words were hard and clipped short. “You have designated mentors among the Silver Captains.” “You, Sir,” he said, his chin set stubbornly. “I want to learn from you. The best. The finest.” “Why me, Dax?” I don’t know why I asked. Conversation with this boy was becoming high on my list of uncomfortable duties. “I trust you, Sir.” His eyes were wide and the expression as dark as the deep waters in the courtyard well. He looked as young as his age; yet as old as Bernos and his like. “I don’t understand you, Dax,” I sighed. I was almost afraid to ask more, but I did. There was some kind of madness in me this morning, it seemed. “Your questions of me – do I assume that you have someone, boy? Someone or something you think of beyond your duty?” “No,” he said, quickly. “You misunderstand, Sir. I’ve explained myself badly. Please forget I spoke.” That was the one thing that I knew I couldn’t do: but I wouldn’t let the boy know that. “I’m sorry, too, Dax, if I was too harsh with you. It’s just that I want you to succeed – and I’m afraid that such ideas and talk will only antagonize the Guard. There are no personal relationships, you see, beyond loyal soldier and friend–” He interrupted me again. “I apologize, Sir. I never meant to be disrespectful.” I laughed, then. It was a rich, startling sound in the quiet room. “And I believe you, boy. But that doesn’t hide the fact that you are, that there’s something in your every word and deed that disturbs me!” He was gazing back at me, and now there was a grin on his own face. “Your smile, Sir – it’s good! I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you laugh like that. If such amusement is the result of disturbing you, perhaps it’s worth it.” We still sat in the Hall. I was uneasily aware of the duties awaiting me, yet no one had come to seek me out. And there was still so much to be learned from – and about – this strange boy. “Dax, you speak all the time of being a Remainder – of your job there, that you were unhappy there. But why should you think of

The Gold Warrior | 61 yourself like that? Surely you were in with all the other young men, from all backgrounds. The education is for all – the House of Schooling accepts all children. All young men may be put forward for Choosing….” The blond young man bit back a harsh, involuntary laugh. “So you’re told, Sir. Do you really believe that all the children of the City are educated together? That they all have the same opportunities?” I stared at him. But of course I did! That was the Queen’s Rule – the Children were to be Schooled to a certain standard, and only when they were youths would they be put forward for Choosing, or passed on to service as a Remainder. There was no personal pride or shame in either destination; that was just the way that it was. Dax’s expression was a strange mixture of discomfort and irritation. “Why do you think so few boys of Remainder stock come through to the Choosing? Why so few girls of Remainder stock ever take position as Ladies? A child’s bloodline is known from its birth from the brand on its arm. Household children are expected to go forward to service in the Household, albeit not their own. Remainder children stay just that way for ever. We are already alienated, even at our birth, divided from the other children.” “No,” I said, for I had no idea what else to say. “Yes. Sir,” he replied. A painful sigh escaped him. His tone became more impassioned – he sounded almost distressed. “Listen to the name: Remainder! What does it mean to you? It means the people who are left behind, the people who are found wanting. Never the best; never the favored! They breed amongst themselves, they never improve their bloodline – they’re marked further and further into the Remainder world. The children are taken from the Central School as soon as they’re old enough to use machinery and tools, and their Schooling interrupted or neglected completely. The women are used either for breeding new Remainder children or as workers like the men. They work their guts out for the City, and then they die for the City, old and tired and poor!” His eyes looked damp, as if he were close to tears –from sadness or anger, I didn’t know. “That’s the world I wanted out of!” he spat out. “Do you know how difficult it was, to get put forward for the Choosing? To be seen – to be considered – to get the Negotiator to see beyond my brand?”

62 | Clare London I was appalled. I knew that his speech was totally disrespectful, but I was more astonished by the content, by the deep feelings behind it. Was that really how it was? “Have you ever been to the Central School?” he asked, a little more calmly. He looked wary of my reaction. I was silent – and that was his answer. “A Remainder’s life is already set, at childhood,” he said, and he sounded bitter. His head had dropped forward, his hair swinging forward to hide his face. “We keep the City running – we are its veins. But we’re neither its brain nor its senses.” His sigh was soft now. “We’re nothing.” We had both been silent for a while. I was conscious of his gentle breathing beside me, his hands gradually unclenching. A thread of his white blond hair caught the edge of my eye, as he raised his head again. I took a deep breath. “You cannot speak this way to anyone else, Dax.” “I know, Sir,” he replied. There was the hint of a wry grin on his face. “I’ve learnt that already, in the barracks. But thank you.” “What for?” “For allowing me to talk to you, for listening. For any time you’ve found for me, during my Training, for I know you have the whole barracks to look after. But since the day I arrived, since you spoke to us all…” he hesitated, and his face flushed. “I’ve admired you from that day on, Sir.” “I had you beaten.” “I know, Sir,” he said, again. “I deserved it. It was your right to do that – I’m yours to train in whatever way you choose.” I felt as if the ground shifted beneath me; I felt unstable. He felt unnaturally close to me. I heard the calm words in that firm, young voice; I watched the set of the strong, muscular shoulders. “How has it been with the Mistress, Dax? Have you been Called?” “Yes, Sir.” He met my gaze with complete composure. “Many times.” The flush seemed to have spread to his neck, and we could both hear noises outside the Hall that heralded the approach of servants to prepare the room for the next Devotions at the mid-day. “May I go now, Sir? I have a Training session with Fremer, with the heavier

The Gold Warrior | 63 horses, and he dislikes lateness. Even if I tell him that I was talking with the Gold Warrior.” It was something about his tone, I thought. Or maybe his attitude. Something that slipped through the respectful words and shook me, time and again. I seemed to see him in a totally different way from the other Bronzemen. I kept being distracted by the man that he was, and that he was growing to be, rather than the soldier that I had under my control. Sometimes he made me angry – then he would delight me, in equal measure. I was aware of everything about him: the movement of his body, the reflection of the morning light in his eyes, the occasional breeze through the Hall from the corridors outside, lifting that astonishing hair of his. It had been cut to a more reasonable length, of course, but its lack of color was still conspicuous. Still striking. I wanted to ask him how it had been – his initiation into the world of women’s desires. Not that I wanted graphic details of any kind, but I wanted to know that he had found her the kind and sensual Mistress that I did myself. I wanted to know that he was content with his role there, at least. What on earth did I want to know? I watched Dax hurry back to his training, not understanding why I should be so disturbed by our conversation. The boy just needed the proper guidance – he would have to conform to the Training and lose his rebellious thoughts, and then he would learn the true strength of Service to the City. He would learn! I was sure of that. I was determined that he would. But the disturbance remained in my mind.

64 | Clare London

CHAPTER FIVE Precious Gold

M

istress Luana sat at her desk, her counter-signature required on the latest capital projects – the renovation of the roof on the stables, and some significant repair at the public Remainder baths. I had spent most of the previous night with her, and she had allowed me to stay on with her in her quarters until the morning. We were both dressed and ready for duty at an early hour. I stood at ease by the door and watched her read, carefully yet swiftly, making calculations on her papers. I saw her smile with pleasure, then purse her full lips with wry irritation at some incomplete submission. Her handwriting was bold and flowing, unlike many Ladies’, and the individually small clutches of paper passed gradually from one side of the desk to the other. She listened to my report on how the Guard flourished, on the status of our weaponry, on the progress of the training of the Bronzemen. She made brief, intelligent comments and, in return, I enjoyed seeing her skills at work. Breakfast had been brought for us both, though her Secretary obviously disapproved of such latitude given to me, a mere soldier. As she left the food and took her leave of the Mistress, her expression had been both shocked and angry at my presence. “I’m a scandal here,” I said, gently, and not without amusement. “I should have been sent back to my quarters after use.” “Then I have the bother of calling you in again, after breakfast, for your report!” snapped back my Mistress, sorting the papers and notes on her desk. “I will send and Call as I wish, Maen, as you know.”

The Gold Warrior | 65 “As I well know,” I murmured in agreement, and I was rewarded by her bright, dark eyes darting up to sparkle at me. “Maybe you are distracting,” she said slowly. Her smile was gentle, yet possessive. She was modestly dressed as she always was at work, in a long-sleeved, deep-hemmed silk gown, with a jerkin of smooth animal skin, and an intricately woven leather belt around her waist and hips. But her face was still flushed, and her hair required further arrangement: we had woken earlier than we were needed, and I’d spent the spare time between her legs, laughing and kissing and listening with delight as she moaned and gripped at my hair at her moment of ecstasy. “Perhaps I could have asked my questions as to the state of the stables of one of your reliable Silver Captains, or even one of the more promising Bronzemen–” “Perhaps you could, Mistress,” I said calmly. “Any of them would consider it a great honor to be Called on to help in your work, in however minor a way.” She met my eyes with a challenge, and for a moment I wasn’t sure I could match it. “And talking of the Bronzemen, they seem very promising this year,” she said. There was an edge to her voice that I couldn’t quite identify. “A couple are still rather immature, but the rest are excellent. Strong young men, full of energy and enthusiasm and a touching loyalty to your Training.” “I’m glad you find them pleasing,” I replied steadily. “I hope that none of them has given you any trouble, have misunderstood or failed in their duties.” She raised an eyebrow. “Maen, is that a specific query? Or just your general caution? I rarely have problems with your recruits – you Train them well. They may still be inexperienced, but at the moment, that’s their charm.” “Their charm…” I repeated. “That’s what I said,” she replied. Our eyes met and I wondered whether we were both talking about the same things. Of course, she would be concerned that the young men were pleasant companions in bed, as well as promising soldiers. “And then there’s the boy, Dax…” she began, slowly, and this time I didn’t mistake the look in her eye. It was almost malicious. “That young man is very unusual. He has a singular attraction, most

66 | Clare London definitely, and an excellent look about him. I can only hope he’s as fertile as his body promises. But the pleasure is well hidden: he holds it inside himself and covers it with scowls and aggression–” “Not towards you!” I let the protest escape me, rudely interrupting her. “No, not to me,” she assured me. For a moment, her eyes flashed anger. “Don’t worry about that, for he’s a sharp one, too. He learns quickly, the proper way to behave with the Ladies. It’s just that, with him, it never seems quite sincere enough. Though never enough to punish….” I felt cold fear wash over my body. Punishment from the Guard was one thing – but a Lady’s displeasure could be far more devastating. I couldn’t help myself; I remembered Varden and his disgrace, and his leaving the Household. I remembered his eyes, deep with sorrow and anger and humiliation. I remembered a proud, brave soldier, who had been found wanting: I remembered a good friend. I had never really discovered what his sin had been, to deserve such abandonment by everything that he had fought for and protected with his life. Mistress Luana was continuing, her thoughts appeared to have been distracted by other things. “Dax’s body is magnificent, Maen, though you’ll know that already, from his time on the training ground. I can rely on the rigors and discipline of my Gold Warrior’s Training to develop such a soft, boyish bud into a full, muscular branch of manhood, can’t I?” She seemed to realize that I wasn’t fully concentrating; her sharp words snapped me back to attention. “I was saying, Maen, that he’s full of the deliciousness of a young boy, yet has the strengths of a growing man. It’s a delight to have him in my bed!” Something made me blanch: I couldn’t have said what, and I prayed that my Mistress didn’t see the grimace across my face. She sighed, rather theatrically, and put down her papers. “And yet his coupling is rather cautious, I’d say. As if he were afraid of letting go. As if he has part of his thoughts and passions elsewhere – though I can assure you, if I had any stronger evidence of that, I would have asked you to beat it out of him before now! I have kept him for myself for a while; the Ladies can amuse themselves with the other Bronzemen. I’ll not pass Dax into the Household for a while longer.” She looked back at me, as if she expected a response. “He’s a challenge, Maen. For both of us.”

The Gold Warrior | 67 I was startled by her comment. “Yes, indeed he is, Mistress. In many ways.” She stepped out from behind the desk and walked over to me. I stood with my back against the wall, and she barely reached my armpit. I had on my tunic and trousers, no armor plate or heavy leather yet. Against me, she looked almost fragile; a beautiful, delicate woman, a body that could demand and dispense both pleasure and punishment. But even in this casual state, I couldn’t allow myself to see her as anything but my Mistress, and therefore to be both respected and feared. She knew that – she expected that. “You are spending a lot of time with him, Maen. A very personal attention, I would say.” I drew a deeper breath than usual. “He’s shown tremendous promise, Mistress. He’s very strong, possibly the best Bronzeman we’ve ever had. He needs more challenge than Grien and Fremer can offer so I’ve sometimes taken him on additional Training exercises.” She watched me closely, as the words spilled out of my mouth, rather too swiftly. It was almost as if she sought to catch me out in something unsavory. “So he’ll likely be a Silver Captain sooner than the others – sooner than is usual?” I nodded. “And of course you understand what that means, Maen.” Our eyes met. It was as if she looked deeply into me and I feared that she would see things there that I wanted to keep hidden. Things that she’d despise; things she’d be furious with. “He’s watched very closely by the others, do you know that? The other Silver Captains, and maybe the Gold Warriors as well. They desire him – he has a way about him that makes men look, as well as women. He appears far more mature than the others, and they’re waiting for him to become Silver. To become available.” “They watch him?” I repeated her words rather dully. “Especially that Silver Captain called Orven,” she said lightly. She moved back towards her desk, but her eyes were still on me. “He has a rather unpleasant way about him – I never desired him much, after his Bronzeman period. But some of my Ladies have him as a Favorite, and he talks most indiscreetly to them about his couplings, both actual and desired. I think that you should have better control of your Captains, Maen.”

68 | Clare London “He is sufficient enough in the barracks,” I said, rather too sharply. “His pillow talk is not my responsibility!” Her eyes widened in surprise and she wheeled around to face me again. “How dare you speak to me like that, Gold Warrior!” she hissed. “I’ll have you whipped like the lowest Bronzeman if I choose!” I stiffened – shocked. “Mistress, forgive me! I don’t know what possessed me!” I went to drop to my knees, but she was at my side as I moved, a firm hand on my arm, holding me still. “Maen – oh, my precious Gold….” She sounded almost distressed, but when I stared into her face, I still saw the anger in her eyes. “When you saw the child Dax at the Choosing, I saw the look on your face! I’d not seen that look for a long time. Not since you came first to me, as a Bronzeman, when you made me feel I was a Queen in your sight and there was nothing more wonderful than serving and pleasing me.” I began to shake my head; I didn’t understand what she was saying. I’d spoken out of turn, in my anger towards Orven. “I’ve always felt that way, Mistress, believe me….” She didn’t answer me directly. Her face tilted up to me, and I gave her the kiss she wanted – a kiss of apology and of regret; a kiss that emphasized my loyalty and devotion to her. Her lips were cool, though, and her hand was tight on my arm, holding me to her. “I’ll be good to him, Maen,” she murmured. “Your Bronzeman. He’s safe with me. He will have the best treatment. At least while he’s under my care.” “I know that,” I said. I was having trouble finding other words. “Don’t let me down, Maen,” she said, warningly, though I had only a confused idea of what disappointment she might fear. “You’re special to me. You have always been the best – the finest. The most steady of my Warriors. That’s what I rely on from you. I wouldn’t want that to change in any way.” “It won’t.” I said, emphatically. “I’m always here for you, for whatever you wish, Mistress. That’s all I’ve ever aspired to.” “That’s not exactly what I mean.” She shook her head, a little impatiently. It wasn’t for a Mistress to explain herself to a soldier. “I know what has possessed you, Maen, and it disturbs me. When I speak

The Gold Warrior | 69 of Dax in my bed, when I warn you about Orven’s desire for him… I see a side of Maen’s character that has never troubled me before.” Then she seemed to shake off her worries. She drew herself up and walked back to the desk. Her smile to me was calm again. “You are forgiven your lapse of judgment, Warrior, and you may leave for your day’s duties.” Her eyes met mine boldly, and maybe she glimpsed my relief. “I know I can rely on your fidelity, always. And I know that you’re not jealous of another Bronzeman, for I’ve never known that in you.” “It’s not allowed,” I said, emphatically. Of course I wasn’t jealous! Though if I had been, I didn’t think it would be of Dax. The issue was not that I resented sharing her with him…. “No,” she agreed, watching my face. “The Rules don’t allow it. Do they?”

THE young Bronzeman stood in the stables, alone. He stood at attention when I entered, though his blond hair fell awkwardly over his brow and his tunic was torn at the side. But he was calm: his expression was set carefully to neutral, though I saw again the flicker of hostility in his eyes that had always been present – ever since I saw him in the Arena, so many months ago. I hadn’t seen him except from a distance since our discussion in the Hall the other morning. I had been more than disturbed at his misconceptions, then – his misunderstanding of how things were. I had to ignore the strange gnawings in my mind, that maybe the City wasn’t run quite as I had always believed. I had to – else I would have had to question everything about my life. “Dax? Why are you here? It’s horsemanship training – Fremer is your mentor today.” His eyes cast down, as if he were ashamed in front of me. “I know, Sir. I mishandled a horse – I was thrown and Fremer was displeased with me. He’s taken the beast to calm it down and I’m to await my lashes here.” I stared at him as he colored. It was well within Fremer’s authority to order punishment for students who misbehaved or performed badly, though limited to five lashes at any time. For

70 | Clare London anything else, I would need to be consulted. I remembered that first day, when I’d had him whipped for his ill behavior; I wondered how many other times his trainers had had to chastise him. He was a promising recruit indeed, but I doubted he was an easy student. My mind filled with the thought of the broad young body under his tunic and what marks there might already be across his back. He looked up at me again, the white hair brushing at his neck, the eyes steadying as he gathered his courage around him. “Please accept my apologies, Sir; I won’t make that error again. I hope you won’t think too badly of me when Fremer reports the day to you. I – I’m so eager to do well, but I let things run away from me, sometimes. ” “I believe that you do, Dax,” I said. “I understand your passion, boy–” “Do you?” he interrupted, so abruptly that I was momentarily shocked. “Silence!” I snapped, and he flinched. “Else there’ll be more lashes to look forward to, and they’ll be from my hand! I wanted to say that I understand your passion, but that it’s discipline that you must master. That’s your weakness and will be your undoing.” He flushed again, and his body shook with nerves. “I know, Sir,” he replied, in a low voice. There was a hoarseness to it that made him sound much older than his years. “But then, I think – what’s the worst they can do to me?” I stared. “The worst? You could be lashed into unconsciousness, and I couldn’t guarantee that your limbs would ever be as sound again. Or you could be dismissed from the Guard and have to return to the Remainders. In an extreme case, you could be Exiled.” I’d not meant to be so harsh, but he made the anger rise in me too quickly. I heard the echo of my breath in the silent stables – it sounded ragged. He was white. “I know of men who’ve been Exiled,” he whispered. “Sir. I’d never be allowed back in the City, would I? I’d never see….” His voice trailed off. I had to ask. “Dax, what do you know of the Exiles? Do the Remainders know more than the Household? Do you know personally of people who have deserted the City?”

The Gold Warrior | 71 “Deserted?” he broke in. “Is that what the tale is? That people run away – that they accept Exile, that they seek it?” He saw the flame of anger in my face, and he groaned aloud. “Forgive me, Sir. But perhaps I can’t answer your questions and still remain submissive to you! Which do you want? An obedient, pliant Bronzeman who chants the Devotions to you on request, or someone who wants your respect and wants to learn from you, but who wants to talk to you about these things, and talk as a man, not as a child?” I was astonished. Never had any recruit spoken to me in such a way! I stepped forward and I grasped his arm. His body was very close to mine and I felt his heat. He’d grown since he joined us, though he was probably near his full height by now. His head came above my shoulder; his eyes stared into mine, startled and maybe fearing. “Sir – forgive me! But you were told that the Exiles were people who couldn’t work in the City, who couldn’t give their commitment to the Queen. Weren’t you?” “They–” I didn’t know why I felt I should answer him, but I did. “They were original colonists, turned out of the City because they couldn’t adapt. They’ve bred a community of sorts, though without all the advantages that we have in the City here – sometimes others join them. Rejects, misfits–” Dax’s face twisted with his emotions. I was drawn into the dark blue depths; I was distracted by the brush of his hair on my arm, where we stood so closely together. “Maybe that was right originally, Sir, but there are many that have joined them since. And not just the rejects, not just the prisoners!” He met my questioning gaze steadily. “There have been people who left voluntarily. Men and women. For a different way of life, or so the rumors tell me….” We stared at each other for a moment, both shocked by the conversation. Dax cleared his throat, still standing at attention, legs braced on the bare floor of the stables. “Will you punish me, now, Sir?” I was a moment in replying. My tongue felt heavy and awkward in my mouth. “No, Dax. I asked for your reply – I’ll listen to it, whether I agree with it or not. I’ll not punish you for that.” His eyes widened, but there was a flash of deep pleasure in them. “Thank you, Sir.”

72 | Clare London There was a gust of fresh air and the sound of the stable door creaking open again. Fremer was there, surprised to see me. I had passed him some time ago, at work on the training ground, on my usual rounds of the barracks. He held the cane in his hand, and for a moment he looked to me, as if there might be some problem in carrying out his orders. “You can come forward, Fremer,” I called clearly, though my eyes stayed on Dax. “I won’t stay for the punishment, but report to me at the end of the day.” Dax looked down at my hand, still gripping his forearm. He seemed to draw in a breath, as if it pained him: his eyes half-closed for a second. I was conscious suddenly of the muscles under his skin, the draft of his breath on my hand. I smelled his sweat. I felt a ghostly imprint on my mouth that confused me. He looked up at me through pale lashes and there was fear in his eyes – and something else much darker. “They’re right about you; you are a fine man, Sir,” he gasped. “You are the best.” Then he slipped his arm away, and turned bravely to face Fremer’s beating.

IT was a couple of hours before the midnight and I was on my way back to my bunk for sleep. There was a burst of laughter from the Bronzemen barracks as I passed outside, which was just as quickly stifled. They’d spent a hard day preparing a display for the Games at the end of the year, and I’d released them early in the evening to relax. They were not allowed out of the Household compound, but they found plenty of entertainment and distraction in the barracks itself, yet with little enough leisure time to find mischief. I knew that Dax had been Called again to my Mistress: another of the Bronzemen attended her assistant, Melassi. All the young men were well settled into the routine of the Household now and I was learning to recognize many of the characters and identify those with the best potential. Some had grown arrogant with their popularity with the Ladies – some were struggling with the training. But they were a satisfactory enough intake for me. The Silver barracks was no quieter. Some of the Captains were preparing to go down into the town; some were running an unofficial gambling game, with a mixture of dice and sticks of bone, and both

The Gold Warrior | 73 winners and losers were loud with cheers and complaints. I had a bunk at the end of the room. There was slightly more space around the pallet than for the other Captains and a low cupboard for my belongings and clean clothes, but otherwise there was nothing to differentiate my space from anyone else’s. That’s how things were; I was still a soldier, like the others. Apart from my office as Gold Warrior, I had nothing more or less than any other man. I sat on my bunk for a while, but there were noises from Fremer’s bunk next to me and only a thin, portable screen between us. Privacy was not a luxury we were automatically entitled to. The screens paid a mere lip service to it, allowing a man to pull them around his bunk and gain an illusion of space. More usually, anything the Captains did in their rest periods was in full view of the others, and although they did try to find quiet times to couple, or late at night, hidden by the darkness, I had to admit that it was rare for anything to inhibit them. They had the supreme arrogance and confidence of men in their prime, men who were wanted for their skills and their looks, who protected the City and pleasured the Ladies. What they were entitled to, they took – and enjoyed to the full. Fremer had recently become interested in Justes: they sparred often together, and only yesterday I had found them in the stables, Fremer’s mouth at Justes’s neck and his hand down between his legs, caressing him enthusiastically. Tonight, they seemed to be extending the intimacy. There were soft grunts of pleasure, the creaking of a bed that was bearing the weight of two young, fit Silver Captains. There was the clatter of a belt hitting the floor and a mumbled complaint from someone else in the room at the time. Fremer’s voice could be heard muttering an angry reply and the other voice withdrew, after a ribald laugh. When I heard Justes’s low groan, I knew that my peace was ruined for a while. I leant back on my bunk, wondering whether to take a walk around the Household before retiring for the night. Looking across to the other side of the barracks, I saw Orven lying on his own bunk. He’d been polishing his boots, for the cloth was still on the end of the pallet, but the boots had fallen back on to the floor and his body was still. He caught my eye, and inclined his head slightly, acknowledging me. As we stared at each other, the sounds from Fremer’s bunk began a rocking, rhythmic sound. There was another groan from Justes, an urgent gasp in Fremer’s voice.

74 | Clare London I continued to hold Orven’s gaze. I could almost see the throb of his throat as he swallowed. It was obvious that we were both listening to the coupling. It was nothing new, and I knew I had little other choice. However, I suspected from what I knew of him that Orven found it positively stimulating. He enjoyed being a voyeur: my men told me many things about their colleagues, both in words, and in what they didn’t say. I had no intention of watching any more closely, but I saw Orven pull himself up to a sitting position, and his hand slide to his lap. He cupped it firmly at his groin and began to stroke his cock through the cloth. He was already half-aroused. I sighed to myself. He didn’t turn his head, but obviously made some signal across the room, because another, fair-haired Captain came over to join him. It was Sentus, one of the younger men - a promising horseman, so Fremer had reported. He was thicker built than Orven, almost plump, with a slight weakness about the mouth. He wore only his open vest and the soft trousers – his feet were bare. As he approached the bunk, Orven reached up and pulled the other man’s head down to him, tugging at a handful of hair. I watched the tableau of the two men, one seated, one standing with his head buried in the other’s neck, and not once did Orven’s eyes leave mine. Sentus gave a murmur of desire and Orven’s mouth closed over the skin of the younger man’s throat. His eyelids flickered – I saw his chest move more quickly with a shortened breath. His free hand reached out to Sentus’s waist, then fondled between his legs. I saw his arm start to move with a slow, stroking movement. Sentus’s back arched; Orven’s tongue darted out and began lapping at the bared flesh. Sentus shivered and he sank down on to the bunk beside Orven. His hands reached to grasp helplessly at Orven’s shoulders – his legs widened, to let the older man’s knee in between his thighs, to let his hand pull roughly at the fastenings of his trousers and slide in to grasp him. In the background, Fremer’s voice groaned more loudly, and his pallet slammed against the insubstantial screen beside me. I stood up, rather abruptly. I was no more inhibited than any of my men, but I had no desire to be part of Orven’s little drama, even as a spectator. I took up my boots and turned to leave the barracks. Orven’s glinting eyes followed me all the way: I felt them at my back, even as I left the room.

The Gold Warrior | 75

GRIEN was in the armory. It was his night for duty and his companion Captain was patrolling the training ground outside. The room was stone built and cold on such an autumn night, but the duty Captain would normally have a blanket with him. I let myself inside and the door swung slowly closed behind me. It let in just the slightest sliver of the moonlight through cracks in its boards. Grien turned, surprised perhaps that I was still out and about. It wouldn’t have occurred to him that I might be checking up on him, for he knew his work was always satisfactory: I realized how reassuring his self-confidence was. “Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly. I looked at him and he must have seen something in my expression, for his own eyes narrowed. “You’ve been restless for a while, Maen,” he said shrewdly. “And when your own men disturb you, it’s a measure of how much.” He grinned suddenly. “Come help me stack the longbows – the wood of the container has cracked in the damp and they’ve fallen awkwardly. I’m reluctant to lose any of them.” We worked together for a while, sorting the arms, testing the strength of wood and twine. We cleared out a few of the shelves that were rarely used except at the ceremonial Games, and marked up the areas in the armory that needed repair or cleaning. A team would be sent out in the morning to make good, probably made up of Bronzemen who showed aptitude in such work. The final circuit of the room complete, Grien leant against the shelving beside me and yawned loudly, stretching his limber arms above his head. I watched the tunic rise up on his chest, then settle back down on his hips. Despite the chill, there was a slight sheen of sweat on his neck and along the muscles of his forearms, where his sleeves had been rolled up. When he turned his easy smile on me, I knew why I had come here. “I feel calmer now, Grien. Perhaps sometimes I should listen to you, eh? About needing to relax….” He tensed suddenly, and his mouth opened slightly. He looked at my face, tried to measure the underlying meaning. His mind was sharp and he had known me for a long time. No words came out at first, but his eyes flashed, as if they reflected his thoughts. As if he were treading on the shells of broken eggs, afraid of saying the wrong thing. “So come here, Maen.”

76 | Clare London I didn’t move, still hesitant. Grien’s eyes travelled greedily over my face, my neck, and then down to my groin. “Right,” he smiled wryly. “So I’ll come to you, instead.” The submissiveness was not my own; I don’t know why I stood so still as he pressed me back against the stone wall and put a rough hand around my waist. He was panting softly, his heart beat too fast and it made his body shake. I knew that he wanted to speak, that he wanted to talk about my surrender. Grien liked to talk: he was articulate, and witty, and at ease with expressing his feelings. But for now he was silent. Perhaps he knew that I wouldn’t necessarily welcome talk. Not tonight. I knew the feeling running through his body; I knew the passion in my own. I wanted him as much as he wanted me – and that was the only way this should ever happen. It was an unwritten Rule to Silver coupling, that the parties must always be willing; it was essential to prevent any troubles at the barracks that would distract us from our duties. Everyone understood those Rules: it was madness to flout them and would lead to Exile and maybe death. But my desire disturbed me tonight, it upset me. I’d not taken anyone for months, apart from my Mistress. I’d resisted the urges as inconvenient and a sign of weakness. I was a Gold Warrior! I should have had little need for myself, to seek out this satisfaction. I had no explanation for the blazing ache in my body, the turmoil in my mind that kept resurrecting itself. Grien saw it, though, and wanted it. Perhaps that was all that was needed; I was questioning something that was better left alone. Grien was panting softly against my face, his tongue against my lips, pressing for entrance. I opened my mouth and took it in, sucking eagerly as I felt the wave of shivering heat rise up through me. His hands were on my jaw, at the nape of my neck, gripping the muscle of my arm as he dropped to his knees in front of me on to the harsh stone of the floor. I protested, softly, and he groped around to find the blanket, pulling it impatiently underneath his body. I don’t think he felt the slabs beneath him, but I didn’t want anyone suffering for this. His hands were chilled but not too cold, as he slipped open the fastenings of my trousers. His breath was warm on my groin and my arousal sprang eagerly from my clothing, reaching out towards his face. I heard him

The Gold Warrior | 77 sigh with pleasure, then his mouth was opening wide and wet, and it came down hungrily on to my cock. I groaned aloud – I tried to keep it quiet, though there was no one to overhear us. I looked down on the dark head at my groin, sliding carefully yet greedily, back and forth. Grien’s breathing was harsh, his boots creaking slightly in the night air as he knelt in them. His sure, strong hand was tight on my thigh, anchoring himself; there were small flecks of cobweb in his hair from where we’d been clearing away some of the darker corners of the store. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this, how much I’d missed a firm, masculine touch. A touch that knew how much I could stand, what I wanted. My Mistress gave me satisfaction, even though she had no obligation to do so, but she was a woman, so of course the priority was always her own pleasure. There had been few Ladies who had touched me like this, who had caressed me this way. When Grien grew a little noisier, the roughness of his tongue laving at my over sensitive skin, I was lost. I grasped at his hair, thrusting into his mouth, pulling at his shoulders, and feeling the familiar shuddering in my limbs that heralded the onrush of climax. I thought I heard him mumble my name, his lips stretched around my swollen flesh with what I suspected was a satisfied smile. I tried to catch a glimpse of his face; I tried to concentrate on his body beneath me – his smell, his shape. I remembered too keenly my respect for him, my liking for him. My gratitude for his unselfish attention. But when I came, shaking and spilling into his mouth, I bit my lip to prevent some other sound from escaping in the heat of the passion. Some other name. The strength of my feelings terrified me.

78 | Clare London

CHAPTER SIX Ambush!

T

he Queen’s party would arrive at the Household later that week. There had been scouts sent ahead to alert us, but even so we would have known. The unofficial spies were everywhere, and there was no way a large party of Royal guests would have made a journey across the lands within our City without us knowing well in advance. Mistress Luana would have the guest rooms ready and the kitchens preparing for feasting well in advance of the first arrivals at the gates. We had brought forward the dates of our latest Games, to offer entertainment. No one knew how long the party might stay at Aza – nor who would be within it. However, it was no surprise to me to learn that it would include the illustrious Queen-Elect herself, Seleste.

GRIEN came to me the night before the party was due, both of us off duty together for once. We drank a few ales and sparred for a while, just for amusement. We chose the armory again, in order to have some privacy, and sent the duty Captains to patrol the grounds. Grien was more than a match for me in wrestling, though I was the stronger: it usually made for a decent challenge for both of us. But I drank a little too much and he was just a little too nervous of me – the match finished in laughter and half-hearted bruises. And then, when I had him pinned to the ground, he growled at me and pulled me down for a fierce, open-mouthed kiss.

The Gold Warrior | 79 I pulled away slightly; I rolled off his body on to my back, laughing, though I’d liked the feel of his legs and hips under mine. “She’s arriving tomorrow, Maen,” he said in that low, throaty voice that was so different from his daily, easygoing tone. “She’ll be Calling for you, I think.” He grinned, but it wasn’t as easy as his usual smile. “Even if Mistress Luana tries to hide you again.” “She didn’t try to hide me!” I said, but it was only a gentle rebuke. The Royal party had arrived last year as well, with Seleste at the head of it. My Calling by her had been a surprise to me – though not, I think, to my Mistress. There had been a lot of additional duties for me that had surprisingly materialized just as Seleste had arrived, though not enough to occupy me out of her notice. “The Mistress has no authority to refuse any man in her Household to any visiting Mistress–” “Let alone one from the Royal Household,” gibed Grien. “As you say, let alone one from the Royal Household,” I replied. My heartbeat had steadied after the bout of exercise, and I could feel the sweat cooling under my vest. I gave a sigh. “There are plenty of new Bronzemen to attend to her this visit.” “The immature youths are not always the richer option…” murmured Grien, and he rolled on to his side, his firm hand on my chest, holding me to the ground. His head pushed into my neck, his teeth nipping almost playfully at me, his tongue sliding out to lick at the trails of sweat running into the hollow of my neck. “It’s late, Grien. I still have duties for the visit tomorrow, the Games to be prepared….” Grien ignored my protest, and his hand slid to my belly, teasing up under the vest. I drew in a sharp breath. His fingers were sensitive on the muscles of my stomach; his skin felt fresh and tight against mine. When he tugged at my trouser fastenings, I let him. He was panting from far more than our sparring: his eyes were a little wild. Ever since I’d restarted our coupling, he’d been greedy for me – but I couldn’t be hypocritical; I needed the physical attention more and more these days and he was glad to supply it. He peeled off his own trousers and straddled me as I lay there on my back, his arms on my shoulders in a parody of capture. I was aroused quickly – we were always fast and furious; it seemed we had no time to question what we did or how we

80 | Clare London did it. There was always the need, the almost angry passion! He’d brought a small vial of oil in his pocket, using a handful to lubricate his hands and my erection, and then he passed it to me to help prepare him. “Grien–” I gasped. “Hush,” he said roughly. “Now!” I reached for him rather clumsily, but my fingers were demanding inside him and he arched above me, crying his eagerness. I gripped his hips and drew him down on to my cock, slowly but deeply. He gasped over me, his thighs clenching tightly and his hands fisting at the sleeves of my vest. I closed my eyes as he moved above me – I cried pleasure, but as always there was an empty need in me that couldn’t be filled, that prevented my full participation. If Grien knew, he never said anything. It wasn’t for any of us to ask anything of a coupling partner except agreement and physical satisfaction. He was an intelligent, sensitive man – but he was a soldier, the same as I. It sufficed for the moment, and nothing more.

THE Call came for me late in the afternoon of the following day. I’d been busy since dawn, greeting the Guard that accompanied the Royal party, settling them into barracks, and seeing that all our warrants were in order. A visit from the Royal Household was never merely a social event; they inevitably used the occasion as a chance to audit everything and everyone in sight. We had never been found wanting before, and I prided myself on the reputation of the Household, though the credit was taken by my Mistress, not any of her servants in particular. But she ruled us well and inspired that commitment. The word went round quickly that a Lady of the Royal Household had arrived at the barracks, demanding my attention. I returned there as quickly as was practicable, but that was still enough time for her to have requested a tour around the Bronzemen’s quarters – and to have rested her eye on one of the stronger, dark-haired youths. I watched as Grien accepted her instructions, and the young man looked nervously between them as they determined where her rooms would be and what time he would visit her there. Eventually it was my turn for her attention and I followed her to my Mistress’s meeting room. We were greeted by the same Secretary who had been so scornful of

The Gold Warrior | 81 my shared breakfast with my Lady a while ago. But this time, I had been called on the orders of the Queen-Elect, and so I had some small personal satisfaction at seeing that same Lady’s reluctant respect. Mistress Luana stood at the head of her table, the ultimate Commander of her Household – however, all eyes in the room were irresistibly drawn to the other woman beside her. The Queen-Elect, Seleste, had that effect on men and women alike, even if they hadn’t taken account of the attendants around her, her opulent gown and cloak, and the strong fragrance of expensive perfume that hung about her. “My Lady,” I said, bowing my head and making the palmed salute to my heart. Seleste was younger than my Mistress and considerably more beautiful: she had an exotic, dazzling loveliness that made heads turn, if only to find confirmation of what their eyes were telling them. Long, dark hair, of a more purple hue than my Mistress’s, and almond-shaped eyes of a deep brown that merged with the black pupils when she was angry. Yes, I’d seen her angry. I’d seen Seleste, the Queen-Elect, more times than anyone else of my City Guard, though it wasn’t necessarily something I felt comfortable about. Some said she was the very favorite daughter of the Queen; that Seleste would, without any question, succeed her. I knew that if the succession were based on personal determination alone, there would be no match for Seleste. “Maen!” she exclaimed, as if it were a surprise to see me here, when after all, I’d been Called by her own request. Her lips were full and the color of red summer fruits. They curved in a welcoming, almost lascivious smile, and the words fell gently from them like musical lyrics. She was, indeed, a superb creature. “What a delight to see you.” She turned slightly to Mistress Luana, as if sharing a Ladies’ secret. “And he is still so much in his prime, isn’t he? He was a relatively new Gold Warrior when first we met, but every year, I can see how he has flourished in the role. In so many ways! Such an excellent example for all your Bronzemen – for they are always so raw, so naïve. It’s a pleasure to see such masculine maturity instead.” I remained calm in the face of this embarrassing praise, but my Mistress gave a rather obvious cough. She looked as if she’d swallowed something both sharp and sour. “Mistress Seleste, we will be pleased to make you and your party comfortable in the guest

82 | Clare London quarters,” she said. “We have a supper prepared and after that we may continue our discussions.” “I wish that Maen be present then, too,” said Seleste imperiously. There was a sudden, rather shocked silence. “He has his Household duties,” my Mistress countered. “It’s not usual for soldiers to be present at Central Council meetings, except as personal Guard for Royal representatives, and you have your own men for that. If it’s a case of specific advice on the Household, any of my Gold Warriors may be called upon–” “Maen,” repeated Seleste, very firmly. It was not a suggestion. My Mistress was decidedly angry, though she hid it well. “Maen? Return at sundown, when you will attend the meeting with the Queen-Elect and her party.” Seleste caught my eye as I bowed and made to leave. Her eyes flickered, almost as if she winked at me.

SOME hours later, I heard a disturbance in the barracks; it seemed that Grien was struggling to settle it. I met him at the door as he was attempting to calm several of the Captains. “What is it? “The Royal Guard are displeased with their quarters, Sir,” he said tightly. His eyes spoke volumes, even as he held an angry Silver Captain at bay, at the same time as directing the delivery of several boxes of expensive rugs and linens, and instructing dietary requirements to be relayed to the kitchen staff. “I explained that we need to keep the watch manned at all approaches to the City, but they insist that they wish to be settled near the Queen-Elect herself, and will need to displace our men. It interferes with the watch, Sir,” he protested, in a lower tone. “I’ve always been cautious of the eastern face, the mountains there, and the increase in skirmishes from the Exiles over the last months–” “I know,” I said. I’d reported the same concerns to my Mistress, but I’d been accused of being over-cautious. Then there’d been that disturbing conversation with Bernos, warning me not to underestimate the growth in strength and cunning of the Exiles. I felt the chill of potential danger. “We must comply with the Queen’s Guard and their demands, though,” I sighed. “Move the men as the Royal Guard

The Gold Warrior | 83 demand, but set our spies at the gates – send a scout outside, if only to watch the lie of the mountain ground. Who else is set to cover that gate tonight?” “Orven, Justes – and a couple of the Bronzemen as part of their Training.” I grimaced slightly. “I’ll join them, then, and cover that area myself. At least while the Royal party is here.” Grien tilted his head to the side, to announce the arrival of another one of the Queen-Elect’s Ladies, bustling around amongst us again, looking for someone in particular. I followed his gaze and grimaced at the sight. Was it that time already? When I turned back to Grien, there was a sardonic twist to his mouth. “You’ll not be joining anyone soon, except for the Honored Guest herself, Sir,” he grinned. “I’ll lay ten credits that the Queen-Elect has her own scout – and she’s looking for you!” I didn’t take the bet, because I knew that Grien rarely lost. And tonight was no exception.

THE meeting with Mistress Luana and the Royal party had been long and fairly tedious. I had stood quietly at attention, at the back of the room. I might have been taken as one of the personal Guard except that Mistress Seleste called me over periodically to ask my opinion on military matters. It was politics – I understood most of what they discussed, but I had little knowledge of the context. I was very interested to hear reference to the other Cities on our world – perhaps there was more communication between us all than I believed. And when Mistress Seleste made mention of the Exiles, I was immediately alerted. Mistress Luana darted a glance at me, and in that moment I realized that this was possibly the main thrust of this meeting after all. The politicking and the endless auditing of the Household accounts had been merely a diversion. “I hear that the attacks are becoming more regular; more intrusive,” said my Mistress, a little cautiously. “Will the Queen be issuing a Bulletin on the matter? We will welcome her guidance….”

84 | Clare London To my surprise, Mistress Seleste turned directly to me. “Maen, I wish for your input on this. What opinion do you have on the threat from the Exiles? Have you suffered in this part of the City from attacks? I would be most interested to know what your recommendations are from a military point of view, as to the defenses we may need to reassure ourselves that Aza City is safe from invasion.” Her scribe paused, a little confused as to whether to continue to record the meeting speech; it was unusual for a soldier to be involved to such an extent in a formal meeting, and virtually unheard of for one’s opinions to be sought, let alone recorded in the City Journals. Mistress Luana’s expression was again a little sour; she was tolerant of me in a personal capacity, but when it came to City protocol she was one of the strictest adherents. Mistress Seleste, as I had noted on other occasions, was fairly careless of this. She ignored her hostess’s discomfort and gestured me to a chair. I preferred to stand, but I was pleased to be able to speak. “We have suffered little at this Household, Mistress, though the last attacks were only months ago and some fairly serious damage was suffered at the grain store. However, I have been concerned to hear of increasing aggression on their part, and some surprising attacks at the other Households….” “Surprising?” Mistress Luana looked sharply at me. “Be reassured, Mistress that there are only small bands of Exiles venturing this far to the City and they are easily repelled. One was killed at the Household of Physic only last month, though none have been captured alive to date. But they showed a good knowledge of the arrangements of the watch and the structure of the Household buildings. They were able to penetrate through to the central courtyard before being discovered.” There was silence in the room. Some of the Royal Guard exchanged quick glances – a couple of the Secretaries looked pale. I had reported these tales at the time to my Mistress, but she had dismissed them as anecdotal. I had asked to increase the Guard on the eastern quarters where I felt the Household was most vulnerable, but she had insisted I wait until we had bought new Bronzemen and had more resources. It had been her decision, as was every decision concerning the Household and its protection and development.

The Gold Warrior | 85 It wasn’t for me to question her – but I didn’t necessarily agree. “I have heard similar tales,” said Mistress Seleste. “I am glad you confirm them, Maen, though I am not pleased that our City may be more at risk than we thought.” I bowed my head slightly in thanks for her words to me, but also because I was slightly shocked that she implied a criticism of the Queen herself! All of the last few Bulletins had reassured us that there was no threat from the Exiles – that measures were being taken to defend us against them. “You may go now, Maen,” came my Mistress’s sharp tone, and there was no argument from Mistress Seleste. But as I bowed to make my exit, a Secretary passed a slip of paper into my hand, and when I’d left the room, I opened it quickly. See me in the Guest Bath Rooms in an hour, it said. The only signature was a royal seal and the initial S.

THE Bath Rooms were deserted, though still hot from the evening’s bathing; most of the Ladies from the Royal party had rested and cleansed and gossiped their evening away there whilst their QueenElect was in conference. I stood just inside the door, feeling the heat too close against my skin, and I loosened the neck of my vest, glad I’d left the tunic off. There was no one to be seen – even the Remainders who cleaned out the Rooms had finished their work and gone to other duties. And then she was there. It was incredible that the Queen-Elect should be wandering about the Household at this late hour, without the company of either Lady or Warrior! But then, I had learned that Mistress Seleste was a rule unto herself. I also knew the Gold Warrior who had accompanied her here, Jarmen; he was pompous and poorly trained. Adequate enough with the support of his Guard around him, but nothing more. It didn’t surprise me that she’d slipped his watch so easily. “I sent the foolish Jarmen away on some spurious errand,” came her soft voice. I believed that all the Mistresses studied at the House of Magic at some stage of their lives – it’s the only explanation I’ve ever found for their uncanny ability to know what a man’s thoughts are. “You think him useless, don’t you, Maen?” “No, not useless,” I said cautiously. “Mistress.”

86 | Clare London She moved out from the slightly steamy shadows of the towel room to face me, laughing gently. “Always so diplomatic, Maen. Yet your standards are the highest there are, and I know you would scorn Jarmen in your Guard. There are so few like you, so very few.” “Mistress,” I murmured. There really was nothing else I could say to her in reply. She was fully clothed, a situation for which I gave thanks, for I had no desire to be found alone with the unaccompanied Queen-Elect dressed in nothing but a towel. However delicious the thought might be in the minds of many a soldier tonight…. She took my arm, and drew us both into a vacant steam room. They were luxurious enough in our Household, and only for the use of the Ladies, but she still wrinkled her nose up at the sparse furnishings and picked fitfully at the quality of the towels. She didn’t close the door behind us but she stood near it, effectively blocking my exit until she should choose to dismiss me. “I want to know more about the Exiles, Maen,” she said, very abruptly. “I want you to find out for me. I suspect that your intelligence is better than mine – I believe that Warriors talk to you, exchange news with you. They respect you. They fear me, and their tongues are liable to talk rubbish or lies which they think will please me.” She saw the slight smile on my face and appeared pleased to have amused me. Her hand rested lightly on my arm and I could smell the fragrance she used. It was unique to the Royal Ladies: it would hang like a persistent memory in my nostrils long after she’d gone. “Maen...” she murmured. “The so very perfect soldier… Why won’t you come to my Household and serve me? I could demand it, you know. It would be impossible for Luana to refuse me if I ordered it in the name of the Queen.” “I can serve the City well, right here,” I said, just as gently. “But of course, I’m a servant of the City – whatever the Queen wishes, I will do. Though I believe her Guard is already the very best that the City can provide.” Seleste’s laugh was louder now. “You are such a good companion, Maen!” she cried. “You speak so loyally, and yet I know what your heart says underneath the doctrine, underlying all your most correct Devotions! It speaks its own mind to you, eh?” She must have seen the start on my face, for her brow furrowed for a moment. “Maen? Have I said something to disturb you? I would regret that, I think….”

The Gold Warrior | 87 I shook my head. She couldn’t really have known anything about my deeper thoughts; her words were only a repeat of her frequent request, her frequent appraisal of my abilities. She’d made the offer already last year, for me to join her own Guard, and the same message had been reiterated several times since whenever I received messages from the Royal Household. But she had no real knowledge of me as a man, my life here in the Household. My duties. My men. I was purely a soldier to her. We did not merit close attention; we had no right to hold any secrets or thoughts of our own. I glanced at the doorway; I didn’t want to offend her, but this whole situation was disturbing in itself. “There’s something about you, Gold Warrior,” she sighed. She sounded wistful, but a glance at her face showed that her eyes sparkled with something more like mischief. She played with people; I knew that, in both physical and emotional ways. I never saw Mistress Luana more upset than when Mistress Seleste was mentioned. I myself tried not to remember her dealings with me – it led to broken nights. “You are not the toy the other men are. Yet you are loyal to a fault, a totally committed servant of the City and our Queen. In fact,” she said, rather slyly running a hand up my arm to my shoulder, a finger trailing slightly at the hollow of my neck, “In fact you are everything I need to support my claim to the Queenship.” I knew of the approaching event – who didn’t? The current Queen would leave us at the end of the next year, and the battle would commence for her successor. The Queen was the only person in the whole City who kept her blood children near to her from birth – her daughters, anyway. I had no knowledge of the Queen ever having given birth to a son or what might have become of him if such a thing had happened. And the daughters were raised to fight for that birthright! For those old enough to take the position as Queen, there would be a magnificent, awesome, deadly battle between them, held at the Arena for all Ladies to attend. I had attended the last one, ten years back as a raw Silver Captain accompanying my Mistress, when the current Queen had defeated her sisters and taken the role. She had then taken up residence in the Royal Household and her own daughters had begun their preparations for the very same event in years to come. Mistress Seleste would have been only a few years past Schooling age then. She had certainly matured as a young woman since.

88 | Clare London I remembered asking what happened to the surviving women who had lost the battle, but Mistress Luana had given me no answer. I’d thought at the time that she was scornful of my questions; I was very young and dreaming of a promotion to Gold Warrior one day with great excitement and pride. I was still greatly in awe of my Mistress and all she represented. But after more years at the barracks, and a successful career for myself, I’d talked to many other Gold Warriors about the subject. They’d led me to believe that her silence on the subject was more sinister than I’d imagined at the time. I grimaced, very slightly. “You have good servants and a fine Guard, Mistress. You’ll be well placed when it comes to the Battle for Queenship.” She made a brisk sound of frustration. “I will win the Battle, have no fear! None of my sisters has the ambition that I do, none have the appetite for it that I do. You know my strengths and my determination, don’t you, Maen? But with you in my Household, I would be all the more reassured in my campaign – much stronger….” Her eyes met mine. “More satisfied.” She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and her mind was sharp and swift and witty. Next to my loyalty for Mistress Luana, I was fascinated by Mistress Seleste. I thought it a good thing that she visited so rarely, for I had no desire to be distracted by such a woman! She might request me now, but when her Call was over, she’d grow bored and turn to another plaything – or three. I knew that would be the case. That was despite what she’d told me a year ago, cosseted as we were in the finest linen bedding, and with her gasps still whispering in my ears at the end of our athletic passion. There had been something furious in her desire when she Called me, something greedy. I had been Called by many Ladies in my career, ever since I was a Bronzeman, and I’d known many types of passion and need. Some Ladies were careless with the men; some were eager to act out roles that they were too afraid of in their real lives. But never had any of them been like Mistress Seleste. She didn’t seek to hurt either of us that night, but her hands and lips were shockingly experienced, and she raised my desire to a pitch that no other ever had. Her beauty was exposed when she was naked: she became more of a woman than a politician, yet still something to be feared, I think. Her coupling was both graceful and satisfying, but she spoke to me by name and seemed

The Gold Warrior | 89 to see my person in her bed, rather than just a tool for her pleasure. Maybe I fooled myself; I think many men did, when they serviced Mistress Seleste. That night, there were tears shed and some indefinable anguish in her manner all through the dark hours, and she spoke strange, alien words to me when I entered her. Her eyes had followed mine as I moved inside her, watching me darkly, hungrily, as if she sucked more than my eager cock into her body, demanded more than my almost uncontrollable climax within her hot flesh. Yes, Mistress Seleste had been decidedly un-Queenly that time – and the times after, until her visit ended and she and her Guard returned to the Queen’s Household. I’d been the butt of jokes in the barracks for many weeks, and even now they nudged each other when the Queen was mentioned, and slid sidelong glances at me. The Bronzemen of that year had been used but discarded after a night, and were confused that a Gold Warrior had merited more attention from the Queen-Elect than they. So, for that matter, was I. But it had been a personally rewarding time, though I’d never admit that to anyone. There was something about her that marked her apart from the other Ladies, the more traditional Mistresses. I’d never considered for a moment that I wouldn’t meet her here tonight – of course, I should have reported the Call to my Mistress, who would have demanded a full process of Permission. By which time, Mistress Seleste would likely have grown bored and moved to another man. But I hadn’t. I’d wanted to see her, just as eagerly. I wondered what my true reasons were. My silence seemed to answer her attentions as well as words – for although she allowed me to speak fairly freely, I wouldn’t have replied to her with anything but my loyalty and devotion to my Mistress. And Mistress Seleste knew that. She turned slightly away, as if in a playful mood. “So we must speak of sensible Household matters, Maen, I think. I have seen your Bronzemen this year – an excellent intake! Your Captains have presented them as the introduction to the Games on the third day. Perhaps I’ll have a need for more entertainment than just you tonight – perhaps some of them could join you in my room. To please me. Some of the blond ones are the finest….”

90 | Clare London I felt my heart beating too fast; too hard. I was afraid that Mistress Seleste would see my disturbance – that she would misunderstand it! Or maybe understand too well. Suddenly my whole life was rocking on its foundations. It was within her rights to demand any of them, of course it was, but why must she announce it before me now? What was her purpose? “Or maybe not!” she laughed, breaking the mood. I didn’t know if she’d seen the instinctive reaction in my face. “It has been a tiring journey – and even more tiring politicking.” She moved aside then, allowing me to leave, but her eyes watched me still. There was an unusual expression in them: I was startled to see vulnerability. I had seen it in young Bronzemen when they arrived; I had seen it in less experienced Ladies, faced with the instruction and control of a bold, strong soldier. “You know the allowances that I have made for you tonight, Maen?” she murmured. “You, who are just a man?” “I do, Mistress,” I said levelly. She nodded, as if pleased that we understood each other. That strange expression flickered in her eyes again, and she seemed much younger than I, when I knew there were only a few years between us. “If things were different here, Maen, we might be something else to each other, I think.” What did she mean? The uncertainty shook me again – there were too many things that threatened my equilibrium and I was afraid that Mistress Seleste would see my weakness. Then she turned back into the Royal person that she was and answered herself. “But they’re not, of course, are they? Everything is as it’s always been, as balanced as it’s always been. As the Queen wishes it to be.” I watched her face openly now, and when she turned those deep, dark eyes to me, my gaze sank into them. “Kiss me, Maen,” she murmured. “With your tongue, with firm lips….” It was an order that I’d expected, and I took her head in my hands and carried it out with plenty of my own pleasure. Her mouth tasted of the sweet fruits that their color imitated. My body responded quickly and with an almost frightened anticipation. Mistress Seleste murmured into my mouth as we broke gently apart. “Why do you cling to her, Maen? To your Mistress? To this

The Gold Warrior | 91 rather tedious Household, which gives nothing but accounting and frustration and disapproval to the rest of the City?” I smiled, feeling the movement of my lips on hers. “I go where I’m bid, Mistress.” “No,” she replied. “Never has that been less true of a man, Gold Warrior.” I sighed. Mistress Seleste deserved a better response from me, I knew. “I feel loyalty to her, a great regard. I can see my achievements here and be pleased with their service to the City. I have many good memories here.” “Past friends?” She put an unusual emphasis on friends. “Yes.” “And current, maybe?” I drew a shallow breath and pulled away from her. “That wouldn’t be appropriate, Mistress. The Rules don’t allow personal liaisons, as you know.” “As I know,” she nodded, her imperious tone returning. Her hand traced my jawline with some reluctance, but she pulled away as well. “I believe there’s something you must tell me, Maen.” “About the Exiles–?” I started. “Maybe, but other things too.” By now I had gained control of myself with her, and my eyes looked back at her with confidence. She stared for a while, even as she tugged her cloak back around her. “Come to me later, Maen. I have the appropriate Permission from your Mistress. I will expect you an hour after midnight.”

I never met the appointment with Mistress Seleste. It was less than an hour from midnight when there was a hammering at the door of my office and Dax – of all people – half fell through the door. I rose immediately from my chair, my cup overturning, my papers brushed aside. His clothes were torn and his hair was tangled – there was no sign of his weapon. When he stared at me, his eyes were wild with fear. “Report!” I snapped at him, knowing that the Commander’s voice would be the best to calm his obvious panic.

92 | Clare London “Exiles! Ex – a pack of them! Sir – Maen, Sir – there are injured Captains–” I was at his side in an instant, grabbing his arm, staring into his frightened face. “What do you mean, boy? Where are the Exiles? Where is the attack?” I remembered that Grien had sent Bronzemen to help cover the eastern wall – at once, I knew that Dax had been one of them. I cursed Grien for allowing such inexperienced soldiers into active duties, and I cursed myself for dallying with the Queen-Elect, for not being there to support them. Dax was gulping in large breaths, obviously trying to gather his wits, to report properly. I admired him for that, for he was young and scared. “The eastern gate, Sir! I was there – with Orven and Justes – also two of the other Bronzemen. They – they’ve been hit, sir, with arrows, then swords of a strange, primitive design, I’ve never seen such things before–” I put my hand on his shoulder and it seemed to help him calm down. His eyes were wet with threatening tears, and he clutched at his arm suddenly as if it pained him. “You’re injured?” I asked urgently. “How are the others?” Dax paled. “I’m fine, Sir – I can… I’m fine. One of the Bronzemen – he’s dead I think, Sir. The other ran for cover. Justes – I think he may be… I don’t know!” He was struggling with his emotions, and his need to communicate with me. I suddenly realized how frightened I was, that he might have been hurt, maybe killed! I was angry for my other men – but for Dax, it was some other, stronger emotion. I pushed the perplexing thoughts away: they were nothing but alien to me. “Where is Orven? Didn’t he protect you all?” Dax flushed darkly, shaking his head, but I wanted to strike him in return; didn’t he realize he had to tell me the extent of the problem? “Tell me everything or I’ll kill you myself, boy!” “He was with me, Sir. We were – apart from the others. He was–” He gave a sharp, unintelligible curse, that I could only think was in some Remainder dialect. “I’ll not protect him, Sir, though he threatened me. He wanted to touch me – he took me aside on some pretext, and then he tried to push me to my knees, to take his cock in my mouth and suck on it.”

The Gold Warrior | 93 “Dax–” I was so frighteningly furious that it stunned me. The man would die for this! Dax was shaking his head, for apparently I’d missed the point of his report, he wasn’t looking to complain about an abusive Silver Captain. “We were away from the main attack, that’s what saved us. When he realized what was happening, Orven sent me to tell you – to fetch reinforcements – and he went back to support Justes. I think he’s dead as well – I didn’t see – I ran to you!” And he clutched at my hand on his shoulder, looking up into my eyes. I saw the naked emotion in his face. Such pain, such need, such trust! It chilled me, but it also thrilled through me. “Sir–” he grimaced – he had been wounded, but he was hiding it from me well. “Let me get back to them – to fight! To defend them!” “You’ll do what you’re told,” I hissed at him. “There’s no place for foolish bravery now. Just take me there as fast as you can!” I pushed him in front of me, out of the barracks and towards the eastern block. There were no signs or sounds to alert us of any battle, and I feared that the Exiles might already be in the Household: the danger might be more critical than ever. I dreaded what I might find at the eastern gate! We half ran, for Dax was exhausted and still shocked, and I had no idea how badly he’d been injured. His left arm hung at his side, so I thought it might be cut, maybe broken. If so, he should be resting, he should be splinted, to help it heal. I had no desire for a damaged Bronzeman, one who’d be less than effective in a battle. I watched the pain slide over his face as he stumbled across the courtyard and I personally ached in sympathy for him. “You must go back to the barracks,” I urged him. “Sound the alarm! Get Grien – call Bernos and Hull to the gate and we’ll–” I don’t know what hit me then; all I felt was a sudden blow to my neck and a pain that managed to be both sharp and dull at the same time. I felt the breath expelled from my lungs, the energy dragged out from my limbs. There were hands, many of them, surrounding me and pinning my arms to my sides, grasping at my hair to pull my head back. I cursed not being adequately prepared; I cursed caring more for the boy’s welfare than my own, so that it had distracted me at the very moment I should have been most aware.

94 | Clare London I heard a cry from Dax. I wrenched my head around to see an arm gripping his neck in a stranglehold and dark figures appearing from all around the courtyard. Now I could hear the sounds of battle: harsh metal on unyielding shields; hoarse, splintered cries of anger and fear; the gurgling splash and flow of spilt blood. Then I saw no more, heard no more. We were lost.

The Gold Warrior | 95

CHAPTER SEVEN Twisted Brand

T

he morning air was sharp and fresh on my face: there was the taste of frost in my mouth. I wondered aimlessly why there was no shelter over my bunk, why the barracks smelled so vividly of the open air. The attack – the ambush! I sat up abruptly, the memories of it flooding through my body, but a sudden weakness swamped me and I couldn’t make my limbs obey me as they should. There was a sharp pain in my left leg: the knee felt swollen against the other leg, and too cumbersome to move. I felt a sudden fear that threatened to suck my breath out from me. For Life’s sake, clamored the thoughts in my head, I needed to know where I was, what had happened – there might still be danger! Then there was a hand on my chest, strong and forceful, and it pushed me back down. I fell flat, weak as a child. “Stop there, soldier!” came a harsh, male voice. “You’re going nowhere yet. Takk and Aran need to talk to you; I don’t know if they’ll be pleased to see you’ve survived. Takk’s bow has taken many lives these last moons – he doesn’t often miss his mark. They’ll expect something more from you to compensate, I think.” I looked around, fully awake now. I was in a cave: I could see the rocky ceiling high above me, the jagged, petrified stalactites pointing their cold fingers down at me. There was a chill to the breeze that blew in from outside, for the mouth of the cave was wide and unsheltered. From the direction of the wind and my limited knowledge of the geography of our planet, I decided that I was still at the eastern

96 | Clare London side, though obviously not still in the Household. The air felt thin, as if the cave were on high ground. There was a cold dampness under my body and I wondered whether I lay on the rock floor of the cave itself. I tried to gather my wits, but it was difficult – I felt groggy, as if I’d been drugged by the heavy herbal remedies that were often used as painkillers by the House of Physic. As far as I could tell there was only one other person in the cave, though I could occasionally hear the murmur of other voices outside. The man staring at me had thick, dark hair, cut roughly around his shoulders. He wore a close-fitting vest and trousers that seemed to be of hide, and he had a short, broad sword at his waist. It was curved in a strange, unfamiliar design. His body was thickset and short compared to mine, and his eyes had the gleam of youth, but his face was lined across the brow and around the mouth like one of our elders. Even if I hadn’t been in such a place, I’d have known that this man was an Exile. “I’ve got nothing to offer you. I’m just a soldier,” I said, trying to make my voice sound even weaker than it actually was. “You’re a Gold Warrior!” he laughed scornfully. “Do you think we don’t recognize that ring in your ear? No one else has gold, except for the women. And your body: that’s not the body of a soldier in training. We’ve had plenty of time to study you, soldier – and Eila’s enjoyed it, I can tell you. She did her own inspection when you were first brought in.” His raucous laughter was too sharp in my ears, like a physical pain – my head ached as if it were in a vice. He was uncouth and there was an undercurrent of barely controlled violence about him that disturbed me. There’d been no military training for him, I could see – it was just his natural aggression. That would make him an inefficient enemy in a fight, but an unpredictable one. Either way, in my weakened state, a fight would be dangerous. He leant into me, as if enjoying my discomfiture. “Don’t underestimate us, soldier; we know far more about you than you do about us. Not so much the perfect soldier now, are you?” I looked down at myself now, to understand more about this nightmare, and also to avoid his pungent breath in my face. I saw I was stripped to my trousers only, laid out on a low stone bench cut into the wall of the cave. The fabric over my left knee was ripped apart; I could see the skin of my kneecap bruised and swollen, and shining from some

The Gold Warrior | 97 kind of thick ointment. A memory nagged at my mind – a blow to my legs, a vicious cutting away of my foothold. I remembered being brought down, losing control of my body for that vital minute when they must have taken me prisoner. They must have carried me here, dragged me up to this cave! I had no idea where we were or how far from the City it might be, no idea of the passage of time at all. And why did they bother to take me prisoner at all? There was a rough blanket under me and a thin fur pelt at my feet. I looked around my body, desperate to know what other injuries I might have. I could see some surface cuts on my torso, probably from being carried up to this place. The only other pain came from a throbbing wound at my neck; there was some kind of bandaging around it, slightly abrasive against my skin. Someone had dressed that wound and probably saved my life. The last thing I noticed was a mark in my flesh, just below my waist – it was like a circle of twisted letters, though none that I recognized, only a hand span wide, but in a deep red color. For a few puzzled seconds, I considered whether it had been cut into my skin and the coloring was my blood. That’s how it felt: the skin was tight around it, as if it were knitting back after invasion. It felt as if I’d been branded. I wanted to touch the mark, but lay still instead. My first priority was to establish the situation here and find out the fate of my other men. “So who am I being held by? Are there others here, others of my men?” The dark-haired man laughed outright at me. “Feels odd, does it, to find yourself the guest of the Exiles? And as for your men – you’re a strange one to care about them! We killed a few back at the City, sure, but then we lost some men ourselves.” His face darkened with anger and I wondered how long I might be safe here with him. “I’d have slaughtered you where you fell, Gold Warrior, but Takk had other ideas. Full of ’em, he is. But we’re not in the habit of dragging bodies like yours to the Place, so we left the rest of ’em behind. Just brought the two of you. The boy fought harder than a wild buck–” The boy? “Con!” There was a sharp call at the entrance to the cave, and the man wheeled round, startled. Another man strode in. He was taller, though still thickset, and he looked just as unkempt despite a band of hide around his forehead, holding back his own dark hair. He looked

98 | Clare London younger, though, and had the fluid movement of a good soldier. I thought that I was probably seeing someone of importance, and I unconsciously braced myself in readiness. “You shouldn’t be telling him anything about his capture, for freedom’s sake!” “Takk.” The man called Con flushed darkly. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? Didn’t mean any harm – and what’s it matter what he knows, when he’s sure to die after questioning?” I never really saw the other man begin to move, but he was obviously swift and strong, for Con was thrown fiercely across the floor of the cave even before the last word was out of his leering mouth. “You’re a fool, and I told Aran not to leave you in charge!” the younger man hissed. “Get out of here! I’ll see to him myself now.” There was argument in low, angry voices outside the mouth of the cave; the man called Con had scrambled to his feet and stumbled out, and Takk had followed him. Con had been furious with his treatment and unwilling to defer to Takk’s demands. I found the disobedience appalling: that a man should question his superior’s order! It was obvious that Takk was the better soldier - any other man should have expected to serve him. It was when I was drawing enough strength together to contemplate an escape from here, sliding my legs off the stone shelf and trying to ignore the sapping of energy from every muscle I’d ever depended on – that’s when a woman came into the cave, brushing carelessly past the arguing men. I turned to face her and found that I couldn’t do any more; I froze where I sat. She was so obviously an Exile herself but she was a woman! My Training demanded that I defer to her. She was almost as tall as Takk, with the same dark hair, though hers was long and curling naturally and was half-tied behind her neck. It was clean – I could say that of all of them, that there was a high standard of cleanliness, even after battle. She was attractive, in that her face was smooth and her eyes lively, but she didn’t have the pale, rarefied beauty of the Ladies. I liked the healthy, vibrant look of her, I had to admit. What was rather more shocking was her manner of dress, for she wore trousers like the men and a similar vest. She had a good figure, barely hidden under the close-fitting hide, and it seemed as if she actually enjoyed showing her womanly shape. That was all so

The Gold Warrior | 99 different from the modest dress of my own Mistress and her Ladies. I refused to be drawn to stare at her further, but she stood there as confidently as the men, and stared her challenge at me. I fought the disorientation that made me both nervous and nauseous. “Mistress Eila…” I said softly, acknowledging her at last. “You’ve heard my name,” she said, her mouth twisting with amusement. “That means we’ve been formally introduced, I guess. Or it would, in your world. So tell me your name, soldier.” “Maen,” I replied. “Gold Warrior of the House of the Exchequer. Will you tell me why I’m here and who else you have of my men?” She didn’t answer directly. She moved to within a few feet of me, and I noticed that she carried a sword – it was barely shorter than Takk’s, and yet she seemed perfectly comfortable with it. I also noticed that she always kept just out of my reach, suggesting that she had an idea of what my capabilities would be, were I fit enough to challenge her. My initial reactions to her altered rapidly. “I understand that Con has already briefed you,” she said wryly. “He’ll be disciplined for that.” “This is your – Household?” I hesitated to ask, for this was not my territory. I knew I’d made a mistake when she burst into low, musical laughter. “There are no Households here, Maen, no Mistresses! Just call me Eila. We all live together; we aren’t a large enough community to survive unless we pool our resources. And none of us – for various reasons – have a love of the way the City is run. We’ve chosen other routes, other social structures.” “So who is in charge?” She shrugged. “Of this camp – I suppose that Takk and I are. We’re a couple; we have the skills and influence to direct the others. I think you’d call us the leaders.” “You lead with a man!” I protested, and she laughed again. “Men aren’t the pets here that they are in the City, Maen! They have a freedom here that you’ve never had. You’ll hear us use that word a lot – freedom. It’s the desire of us all, our religion, you might call it, if such things hadn’t been outlawed on this planet from the time

100 | Clare London of Colonization. We were only ever offered the Queen as our leader, as our Goddess. For some of us, that was a servitude that we couldn’t submit to.” She saw my dawning shock and smiled rather cruelly. “Haven’t you ever bitten back your words, held back your hand? Other men do, all the time, and they’re the ones who have joined us, voluntarily or not. Men who want a say in their lives, who want to share the power with their women.” “And the women accept this?” I couldn’t help the note of cynicism in my voice. She smiled at me again and this time it was a very sweet smile indeed, though not without a glint of irony in her eyes. “Admittedly, some of us might like the life that the Ladies have in the City, pampered as they are… I think most of us believe we deserve it! But then we’ve chosen life here, at the Place. We prefer to share the load, the responsibility. The joys and trials of life, and to share them with a companion, not a captive plaything.” She leant in towards me, and for a moment I smelled on her the muskiness of wood smoke, and tart, rich oils. It was an exotic, totally unfamiliar mix. “The women here have a confidence that comes from inside of them, rather than having it dealt out according to the lottery of their birth. We don’t need to keep our men in thrall, Maen, for fear of losing control over our wealth and power.” “The City’s not like that!” I was angry; I wouldn’t allow her to continue with such heresy! “You slander it: you mock the stability of the society! After all, it’s the natural way of things, for the women to rule us–” “You mean the tales of Colonization?” She sounded both scornful and sorrowful. I was very afraid that her pity was for me, and for the first time I felt vulnerable in an emotional sense. She was so very confident, so very assertive. “The tales told us that the women brought all of us here – that they established the Cities and were destined to rule this planet. Isn’t that the doctrine you were brought up on, Maen?” She laughed sharply. “Don’t flinch, soldier, for I had the same upbringing as you. I heard the same tales myself. And so you also subscribe to the tales of the saving Devotions, the medication that the Ladies developed to save their men – the need that men have for these, for Life itself. We were all warned about the toxicity of this very planet towards the male population. We were all indoctrinated with the

The Gold Warrior | 101 fear that they’d be entirely wiped out by a horrific Disease if not for those precious Devotions.” Her eyes flickered up and down my body: I felt as if I’d been physically stroked, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. “So how do you feel today, Maen?” she murmured. “Weak, I think, but that’s from your injuries, for we’ve not drugged you. We’d not waste precious medicines on you, believe me! No, what you’re feeling is the effect of the Devotions leaving your body – every man suffers it when he first leaves the City. There’s an exhaustion at first, particularly for a man like you, who’s taken them for every day of his adult life, for so many years. But soon you’ll feel refreshed and with vibrancy that you thought came only with your time as Bronzeman.” She stood back from me again, her hand on her sword and her eyes on mine. “It’s all a myth, soldier, that men will perish without their drugs. It’s not the truth, and we’ve proved it so. Our men here have had to adapt because we cannot get access to supplies of the Devotions – but they survive and they breed and they fight, all without that aid. It’s just a clever tale….” I shook my head and now I laughed too. “Yours is an equally clever tale, Eila! I know the ways of the City far better than you and I know your way is not sustainable. Your men may survive for a time without Devotions, but they won’t thrive. And my Mistress is more than good to me: she cares for all my needs, and together we serve the Queen. I’ve never felt this conflict that you speak of – I’ve been challenged enough in service to the City, and my life has been filled with many satisfactions. It works well enough.” My voice rang out strongly in the bleak cave, for I believed every word I spoke. It had always been my life, my reason for living. Thus had I earned my proud position as Gold Warrior. I wouldn’t be seduced away from that so easily Eila’s face darkened, and for a second I thought she might strike me. She was right about one thing: I did feel a strange weakness all over, and I was realizing that I wasn’t going to be able to keep up my Devotions. For that matter, I had no idea how long I’d been here, away from the routines of the City, no idea how many days’ attentions I may have missed. Her words had been passionate and perhaps she believed them as truly as I knew my own life followed the right path. But I thought it far more likely that my weakness came from the Disease that the planet would visit on the men of the species – the Disease that I had

102 | Clare London been protected from since birth, by many conscientious Mistresses, and a magnanimous Queen. The loss of my Devotions frightened me in a new, unknown way. “Believe what you wish, soldier!” she snapped at me. “I’d thought you an intelligent man, but I can see you’re just a City-bred, like all the others there. You’ll be given some food and some care, but nothing more than the minimum. When you can walk, you’ll work for us. We’ll keep you alive for a while, until we have what we want from you. And I’d suggest that you don’t offend me any further, or your time here will be all the more uncomfortable.” She turned sharply, as if she didn’t want to look at me any longer; as if she were disgusted with me. “Either way, you’ll never see the City again, or your precious Mistress.” The voices outside the cave had died away by now, and Eila herself was leaving. I was to be left alone again, and I didn’t know whether to believe her promises of food and care. I might be left to die here in another cold night. I struggled to keep my courage firm. “My men–” I called to her. “Who else is here?” She paused at the mouth of the cave, her hand on her sword, her back to me. “That’s interesting, soldier, that you should care to ask. There’s another one here, another soldier who falls a little short of your discipline, and your unyielding loyalty. But then, he’s just a boy. A boy who seemed as concerned about you as you are of him – but a boy who has already told us plenty that we needed to know, albeit in his fevered dreams. I don’t know which of you will outlive your usefulness to us first.” She turned to stare back at me, her eyes fierce. “He says that his name’s Dax. And perhaps of more significance to you, is that he says he’ll become one of us. Willingly, it seems!”

I must have swooned then, for I had no memory of hearing her voice any more, just the memory of its lilt, both melodic and mocking. I was already sure that I was dying from the Disease, abandoned and unprotected outside the City. I’d wanted to see Dax before I died, but I thought that unlikely now…. “Maen? Maen!” Someone’s voice was high and sharp, and was disturbing my last rest. I shook my head, impatient to be left alone. “Warrior! Here’s food, for freedom’s sake, and ale. Wake up!” Then I

The Gold Warrior | 103 was hauled roughly back up, my body sagging like a limp corpse in their arms, and another pelt was thrown around my shoulders. Suddenly, I could smell fresh bread in the cave, and the air was warmer than before. I recognized Eila’s voice in amongst many others. “It’s no good; I think we’ll lose him. He’s too weak – the withdrawal from the Devotions has been too fierce! I’ve never seen the effect on a Gold – never thought it’d be like this. Con, go fetch Healer Wesley, I’ve no skill to help nurse such a reaction.” I guessed that these people were moving around me, but I could only see dark shadowy shapes, for my eyes were blinded by a sharp, painful light at the edges of my vision. My head felt as if it were gripped between the stones of a wall, tight and monstrously hard against my flesh: I knew I was about to vomit. I did. And it felt good, like poison being expelled from my system! I heard curses around me, though I didn’t understand the references. I heard Eila’s laughter again, though not so merry. I thought I heard Dax’s voice, but of course that was hallucination. “That’s good, soldier! Maybe you’re not ready for death just yet, eh?” I couldn’t have answered, and anyway it was patently untrue. I was dying – of course I was. In my thoughts and dreams, I’d not thought my life would end like this. But then, it had never been mine to determine, had it?

I didn’t die that night, of course, although I was very sick for a week or more. I passed in and out of fever and unconsciousness, being fed and given water and generally nursed back to life. It was a strange affair – at the same time as being comforted, I was conscious of bindings on my legs holding me prisoner, even though I’d never been fit enough to flee. My knee seemed to be taking a long time to recover from the blow I received during my capture: there was great pain some nights, and I often heard myself crying out, not even recognizing the words myself. And when awareness returned to me, fresh and painful to my miserable consciousness, I’d remember being very afraid about all the other dangers in my life, apart from keeping myself alive. I was afraid that I – like Dax – had talked indiscreetly in my troubled sleep and somehow betrayed the City. Dax….

104 | Clare London I think he was with me some of the time. I’m sure I saw him, but I was so disturbed that it may have been a dream. And then when I did finally wake enough to make coherent speech and actually ask, unaided, for water – he wasn’t there. However, Eila and Takk were. “Gold Warrior,” the man greeted me, sourly. His voice was impatient and harsh. He looked tired and his clothes smelled of days’ wear, as if he’d been on watch for some time beside my stone bed. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake. To question you.” Eila made a small sound behind him, as if she were annoyed. He held up a hand to her, impatiently. “He must tell us, Eila! We don’t have much time. We need the medicines; we need the grain. Another bad winter and we’ll have nothing!” He leaned over me, breathing his strange, musky breath into my face. “You must tell us, Maen. We will know the way in through the eastern gate!” The eastern gate, I thought rather dully. So that’s what they wanted. A gate already weakened from the last attack, already vulnerable. Just as Grien had told me; just as Bernos had hinted. The Exiles needed a way into the heart of the City, perhaps to the QueenElect herself. The eastern gate. The gate where my men died, I thought. “No,” I said, my voice like a thin bubble of water falling into the air and bursting. “Never.” “Kill him!” came a harsh voice from the back of the cave. “He’s weak now, but if he won’t talk, and then he recovers his strength–” There were murmurs of fear among the other Exiles. I wondered, rather hysterically, why I merited so many visitors. “Sweet talk him, Eila!” came another unknown speaker, and several male voices laughed. “Takk won’t mind – and even the Citybreds, they’re just men, right? He’ll open up his legs to a teasing hand and a soft mouth and tell you everything you need to know.” Eila’s voice was sharp in reply. “Sure, he has the same equipment as you, Nonn, though considerably better proportioned!” Now Nonn was the butt of the jokes, it seemed, and there were angry shouts in amongst the even louder laughter. Eila’s voice returned, alone, and near to my ear. Almost caressing. “I doubt that you’re just a man, Gold Warrior – you’re more precious than that, else there’d not be the threat of a search party leaving the City to find you, would there?

The Gold Warrior | 105 And I can see your worth, despite my enmity, despite already having a man that I love.” Her laugh was soft and her lips touched at my neck. “I’d be more than happy to have you for myself, Maen, for a Gold Warrior is a marvelous thing to us: a hero, the type of man we don’t subscribe to here. You’re different – a most glorious specimen of manhood – and you’re a strange, frightening threat to us all!” She whispered fiercely at me. “But my man is jealous of me spending more time with you, and I’m expected to abide by his wishes. Can you believe that? That I’d defer to him before taking another lover? You’ll not understand that concept, I know: fidelity. Love. That’s another of the tales you were told, isn’t it? No personal relationships, no attachments allowed. Coupling only for the relief of bodily urges. No family, no children, no lovers….” She must have felt my body tense beside her, for her laugh was louder and more bitter. “Oh yes, you’ll find that I know far more about the City than you could ever imagine….” Then Takk was pushing her aside and grasping at the cloth of my clothes. It seemed that I’d been dressed in some of their own garb, for it wasn’t my own linen vest and trousers any more. “Tell us what we want to know, Gold Warrior, and perhaps you can have any woman you like.” “Several!” came another man’s sneering cry. “A final request or two–” “It’s the boy he came with!” shouted another. “It’s the boy he wants, of course. He’s got love for him – they’re like that in the City, don’t you know? They told me about the military ways, before I left.” “But the boy’s a Remainder!” cried someone else. “He’s from the same stock as some of us–” “The boy is just a soldier,” snapped Takk, but his attention wasn’t on the others in the cave: it was on me. “And so are you, Gold Warrior – though one of the best, I’d guess, else I’d never have considered capturing you instead of killing you outright. You know what position you’re in – you’re isolated, abandoned! And you know the City ways, better than us all. No one will mourn you: there’ll be others to take your place, most eagerly. And so we’ll have the information some way, Maen. Either you’ll tell us without pain, or we’ll torture you, for the same result.”

106 | Clare London “No,” came Eila’s soft, firm voice beside him. “We’ll torture the boy, Maen. Will you let us do that? How far will you go to protect a member of your Guard? Or, perhaps, for this boy alone you’ll make those terrible sacrifices….” I felt a rush of relief, even amongst my fear. I knew now that Dax was well, and that it was these people alone who kept him from me. They were cunning, and at present, they were a match for me. But they still sought the information they needed. I suspected that I hadn’t released any secrets about the City while I raved, but that other secrets had been exposed instead. I looked Eila in the eyes. There was wariness there, and maybe a hint of compassion. “Let me see him,” I said simply. “Let me see the boy.”

DAX came to see me, some time later. It was early in the morning; I could tell from the angle of the sunlight through the cave mouth. He appeared as a silhouette, the sun behind his back, and he walked in swiftly as if he were trying not to run, trying not to appear too eager. He wasn’t restrained in any way, whereas I still had the bindings on my legs, but there were body shadows behind him, outside the entrance of the cave, reminding us that we were both still prisoners. We gazed at each other. He looked me up and down and his eyes widened. Perhaps I still bore the signs of my illness – I certainly felt less than my best. I looked him over the same way, almost hungry for the sight of him. He wore their strange clothes, too, but he seemed more at home in them. His hair was loose – that astonishing hair that looked all the more striking surrounded by the dark-haired Exiles – and he looked very young. But his shoulders were still at attention, his body still in readiness for orders. I tried to struggle to an upright position, keen to appear well before him. “Are you hurt?” I asked in a low voice that I hoped wouldn’t carry. “Why did they take you as well as me?” “I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little shaky. “Sir. My arm was strained badly, I think, but they strapped it up for a few days and it seems much better now. I’m so glad to see – Maen – Sir!” His voice faltered. “I thought you were dead, the way you fell in front of me….” Those deep blue eyes were as intense as ever, and I felt my head swim

The Gold Warrior | 107 when he turned them on me. I blamed my illness, and the fact that he was in so much better health than I. “They took you down with an arrow to your neck – they cut away at your legs. I – I tried to get to you, to stop them taking you, and they had to take me as well, for I was hindering their escape from the Household!” He looked again at me, as if afraid he’d be punished for his ridiculous bravery, and then he smiled, full of a youth’s natural charm, almost mischievously. “I was a fool, Sir, right?” “Right,” I smiled back. “Trying to be a Gold Warrior before you’ve passed a year as a Bronzeman. It’s not a path I’d recommend a man to take.” He sat down on the shelf beside me, eyes softening with pleasure at my gentle teasing. The simple furs fell away from my legs and I could feel Dax’s hip pressing lightly against mine, I could feel the warmth of his young body at my side. Everything seemed so disorientated, here in this alien world. I could forget we were soldiers with such distant rank between us. I could feel that we were men together who should share this experience, support each other, be nothing more than comrades. I wondered whether this wildness came from missing Devotions or whether I had the Disease after all. My concern for him was renewed. “You’re well enough for missing your Devotions, Dax? They wouldn’t tell me if you were ill–” He flushed. “I’m well. Sir – Maen – I must tell you that I haven’t always taken my Devotions. Not as a Remainder, and even sometimes as a Bronzeman. I thought that it distracted me sometimes, from feeling as I ought….” He hung his head a little. “I’d take the tablets from the Dispensary, but hide them, then dispose of them later. The loss of them now hasn’t been a trouble to me.” I stared in amazement, but of course, it would explain a lot about his erratic behavior. I wondered why I wasn’t more appalled, why I felt some sneaking sympathy for his feelings. Had I felt the same myself? Wondered at the tremors of resistance I sometimes felt, as I took my own Devotions? No, that was false memory! Besides, there were other things to discuss now, of more importance. I lowered my voice further and drew nearer to his ear. “I will ask you this, Dax, and you must answer truthfully. They say that you told them details of the

108 | Clare London Household – of the City – when you were in fever. And that now you want to join them as an Exile.” “It’s true. I can’t lie.” He looked wretched, yet sharp-eyed at the same time. Was he afraid I’d punish him here and now? “I rambled on about nonsense, but in amongst it was some sense, it seems. But I don’t think it’s been enough for them, for I know very little of the Household plans. The only benefit is that they see me in a more sympathetic light – they allow me the freedom of the Place, which is what they call this camp. As for joining them, it seemed to calm them when I suggested it, so I kept up the pretence….” He turned back to me, a sudden passion in his eyes. “But why not? What do I have back to at the City? Especially after this disaster; even if I get out of here alive and can go back, I’ll never be accepted as a Bronzeman again. I’ll never be trusted – I’ll disgust people, for I’ll have been without Devotions, won’t I? They’ll think I might carry the Disease and my unusual behavior will be tolerated even less.” “You’ve been forcibly taken,” I protested. “No one will blame you for the Exiles’ hostile attack on the Household–” He made a noise of frustration, stopping me. “Forcibly, you say? Would you really describe it as such a thing? Even though our men were killed, that’s only because we were so ill-prepared, not because of the superior skill of the Exiles. You’ve seen the men here – there’s no Training like in the City; there are no military leaders like you and the other Gold Warriors. We can defeat them easily and they know it! But they still risk the attacks, and now I understand it’s because they need things from the City that the Queen won’t give them–” “They infiltrated the City defenses; they killed soldiers!” I was suddenly angry at his naivety. “They are our enemies!” “They only want supplies!” he cried in reply, his face alight with a new cause. “They just need to live: they need food – linens – tools. Medicines! That’s why they attacked the House of Physic the other month. And our Household was targeted for money, because they need to trade with the merchants, with the other Cities.” “That’s impossible!” I almost shouted. “They’re outcasts to all–”

The Gold Warrior | 109 But Dax was shaking his head. “Not so, Maen. It seems that the other Cities are not so hostile to Exiles; they see them as another community, with different ideals, of course, but they’re tolerant towards them, even deal with them in some commodities, so long as they don’t disturb the life and trade of the City itself–” His voice trailed off. He saw the furious horror in my expression and realized he’d gone too far. There was a sudden, shocked silence between us, whilst I fought to regain my composure. My chest hurt, and from more than my enforced invalidity. “I – forgot – ,” he said faintly, at last. “I should call you Sir – but I forget it sometimes….” I took a deep breath. “I know,” I said wryly. I tried to regain my anger, to be appalled at his behavior. It was apparent that he had abandoned far too swiftly the discipline he’d learned since he joined the barracks. But it was difficult to maintain my righteousness, when I myself was so confused, and his eyes shone with such passion, even if it were misguided. I liked to watch those eyes turn to me; I liked his look of trust and admiration. I grimaced at my own foolishness. I’d always prided myself that I spurned the need for personal attention, that I never felt the lack of my own ambitions and needs. And yet here I was, savoring every word and move of a callow, impressionable young man. Fool! I told myself. And you’re doing Dax a disservice with such a dismissive description. He’s more of a man than that – or will be, one day. I wanted to see that; I wanted to guide him there! I wanted to contribute to his life in any way I could. I was both thrilled and terrified at these shocking new feelings – at the escape of things that I’d thought were held so safely within me. I gentled my voice. “You forget a lot of things, boy, especially your respect towards me as your commanding officer. But then, it’s never been one of your strong points, remembering that. I think that, here, you’d better call me Maen.” “Maen,” he said, as if trying it out in his mouth. “Thank you, Sir. Maen.” He couldn’t know that I’d been painfully aware of every time he’d called me Maen, unintentionally – I probably remembered

110 | Clare London the occasions far more than he did. My name sounded young and fresh in his voice; it sounded as if it amused and pleased his mouth to say it. “We must talk…” I began. “This camp – I don’t know where we might be–” “They call it the Place: it’s where they live. Outside the cave and down the rock face there are settlements, corrals for horses, crops grown in the fields–” “It’s a ghetto, Dax,” I said harshly. “A place for people who have nothing else. People who can’t live as they should – who’ve been expelled for whatever reason.” “No! Look around you, Maen,” he urged. “They’re pleased with their life here, many of them. It’s very different, but it’s a proper life, for them. They’ve thrown off so many of the conventions of the City, though. There are children here, living with their birth parents! Men and women live as couples; men aren’t segregated, aren’t in servitude, aren’t at the beck and call of Ladies. The women are rougher, I know, but they’re as clever and witty as our Mistress and her like: just different, that’s all.” He continued to use that word – different. I could see that he’d been drawn into their tales already, but then he was still so young and suggestible. “They’re Exiles, Dax,” I said, more softly. “They’re people who have failed at life in the City.” “At first,” he said, “that may have been the case.” His eyes glinted with determination. He wanted me to understand. “We spoke about it before, didn’t we? I hadn’t even thought about what their Place might be like, then. But there are many here who joined voluntarily, like the rumors told me, back in the Remainder community; there are many who’ve been born here and never known anything else. They have the refugees and the criminals, I know, but don’t you find those everywhere? Here, they have their own society, Maen, their own agriculture, their own defense and settlement rules, their own masters and religion of sorts….” He saw my wince of horror, and rushed on regardless. “They aren’t controlled by Mistresses – not even by women alone! All the people share the organization of the Place, men and women, together or apart, depending on whether they have the skills

The Gold Warrior | 111 and the taste for a job. The people in charge are chosen by merit – by the choice of all of the Exiles.” “They fight amongst themselves,” I said, grimly. “They argue. There’s unnecessary conflict. These men are not soldiers….” “No, I know. I think that the strict discipline and the very singular strength has been lost to them, somehow.” His brow furrowed as he struggled to think through such rebellious concepts. “But many of the men are better pleased with running the Place, with responsibilities towards a family, instead. I don’t know, Maen….” “Perhaps you only see what they want you to see,” I said rather harshly. “Your Devotions have stopped completely and your body and mind will be disturbed. The Exiles would want us to be confused, to be undermined. That way, they’re more likely to trick the information they want out of us. And they will want their revenge of some kind – how better than to distress good citizens of the City?” He sighed gently, though his gaze was still firm. “You’re right, Maen – you’ve always been right. And true, and good. I know I’m young. I know nothing except the City, and the life of a Remainder. You’ve been close to the Mistress, and even the Queen’s Household….” “Their life may seem attractive, because of that very difference that you describe. But such a society will not work as well as you think,” I stressed. “They are very rough here, and not as sophisticated. They’re obviously suffering from lack of food and other essentials, and they don’t have the skills or the ability to improve their lot. They have pride, I’ll allow them that respect. But it means that they won’t want us to know how miserable their life is.” His eyes were turned away from me now, and I was suddenly, shockingly afraid that I’d lost him – his attention, his trust, his admiration. But wasn’t it better that he knew the truth? “Is that what you want, Dax? That life?” My words were hoarse. I wanted to put my hand on his shoulder – I did it, too, for I saw it resting there, large and rather calloused. I felt the tension in his young body, and it startled me. “You mean, to live here?” His reply was thoughtful, his voice hoarse. But there was a hint of steel underlying his next words. “To live in a group like this – all ages together, men and women, children too? The opportunity to do more than the job you’re allocated by the

112 | Clare London House of Utilities, make more decisions than just how best to please your Mistress this night, look forward to something other than retirement in the Training School, and when you get old, the company of no one but your fellow soldiers, outliving their use?” He shrugged off my hand, and the loss of contact was strangely hurtful. “The Exiles are rough, but there’s potential here, Maen, if they had help – there’s challenge! And yes, I would want that challenge, that freedom, for it’s what I’ve dreamed of! In the Remainder camps – even in the Household, where I’d hoped to find a new, more satisfying way of life. What I’ve dreamed of!” he almost spat at me. And then he turned and ran from the cave.

The Gold Warrior | 113

CHAPTER EIGHT New Loyalties

I

straightened my back, groaning a little. I’d thought I was the fittest I could ever be, but a couple of weeks of work in the dry river beds had shown me how limited my stamina actually was. Admittedly, I’d lost some muscle strength while I was recovering from my wounds, and I was still in pain from my knee. Today was particularly bad, after I’d put a lot of pressure on the leg. I was also hobbled by a thin but effective chain shackled to cuffs around my ankles: it made it difficult to work effectively. Both I and Dax had been put to work while the Exiles continued their attacks on parts of the City. There was an air of urgency in the camp that led me to believe that we had been caught up in a sustained campaign against the Queen – or so I understood, listening in to snatches of conversation and watching the movement of groups of men. I kept my quiet counsel, just noting who went missing from the camp, and how often – and in what state they returned. We were still watched, but less carefully. Every man was preoccupied with preparation for the attacks and the expectation of being called into action at any time. I also thought that Takk was still deciding what to do with us. I didn’t fool myself, however: I waited for further interrogation, knowing it could come at any time. So could our death; so could our execution. In the meantime, they used our muscles to help maintain the Place. The work in the river beds was an attempt to shore up the banks, to retain what little natural water there was flowing through the hills. It was dry, painful work, as we often fell on the stones, and the base of the riverbed itself was cold and hard. There

114 | Clare London were some other Exiles working with us, and I suspected that they were criminals of some kind. They were still treated with more respect and care than I was. Eila came to watch us sometimes. It seemed she wasn’t expected to be part of the battle party, though I think she may have been annoyed at that, rather than pleased to be in the relative safety of the Place. She was presumably supervising us, but at certain times, when we took our brief rest periods, she joined us for water and bread. A few days after we started our labors, another girl began to accompany her. I’d noticed that there were specific, hereditary traits to those who presumably had been born and bred here: thick, dark hair and a short, stocky build, even in the women. This new girl was slim and had lighter hair than many of the other Exiles. She looked very young: the Exiles brought their children into the life of the Place at the earliest age, it seemed. I didn’t think she was Eila’s daughter, as there was little physical resemblance, though I suppose she may have been a cousin of some kind. Her name was Veli, and she appeared fascinated by Dax from the very beginning. He’d smiled at her, having seen her elsewhere in the camp, and she’d taken this as some kind of encouragement. She was fascinated by his white hair, though her eyes strayed often to the rest of his body. We wore very little at work, just loose trousers and vest, and boots from a central pile of footwear, none of which seemed to fit anyone in particular. Our work kept us warm, and when we stopped to rest there was a pile of furs that we could huddle into, to keep our bodies from locking up with the sudden cold. Eila seemed to find it amusing at first, the longing gaze that Veli would give the prisoner from the City, but she could also be irritated by it. I found this erratic mood interesting, for I was sure that she’d brought Veli along for that very purpose in the first place. And I was proved right: after a few days and more than a few urgent, whispered conversations between her and Veli, Eila allowed Dax out of his chains and to take a longer break than I. Then he went off somewhere with Veli, and wasn’t back for a while. When he returned after this trip, he had trouble meeting my eyes. There were other days, other trips off with Veli. Dax refused to acknowledge anything about it to me. For Devotions’ sake, did he think I was stupid? I knew they’d been coupling. I’d learned from overhearing the crude discussions of the Exile men that Exile women

The Gold Warrior | 115 were sexually active from their first admission of a womanly cycle. Dax himself had told me that the life of the Remainders was similar – the children became available both for coupling and for work as soon as they emerged from childhood. It had been a surprise for me to learn this, for in a Household, the Ladies and their soldiers waited for a few more years of maturity before entering fully into breeding and pleasure. It was another example, perhaps, of how little I actually knew about life outside the Household, even within my own home City. But for once, Dax’s liaisons were no business of mine. Things had changed very subtly between us during these weeks away from the City. Dax and I had become comrades here in the Place – men together, not recruit and Commander. There was no way I could maintain any kind of superiority over him when we were both prisoners, both stripped of rank and respect. What was most different between us was the way we were viewed by the Exiles themselves. Dax seemed to be tolerated by them, even welcomed in some cases. No one seemed concerned that his chains were often missing; no one spoke with any disgust about his coupling with an Exile girl. I’d found him laughing with some of the men, sometimes. I’d seen him crouched beside a fire with them, examining their weapons, sharing the same food. Was it because he’d been a Remainder? Many of the Exiles had come from that stock, and even though Dax had unusual looks for a Remainder, his attitude and background were easily similar to theirs. It was a very different situation for me. When I caught people’s eyes, I was met with suspicion and fear – sometimes even hatred. It wasn’t because of my looks, which weren’t so very different from theirs. My hair was darker than Dax’s and my skin was colored by the sun and years of work on the Training Ground. Of course, I was much taller, and of a very muscular build, and I couldn’t fail to see that the Devotions had kept my body younger and fitter than Exile men of the same age. I thought that the main issue was that I was a symbol of the City: the place so many of them had been expelled from or found untenable. In the City, I’d been a person to admire, the sign of all that was good and strong. Here, I was a reminder of detestation and exile. I was ashamed to admit how much this new treatment depressed me.

116 | Clare London I had reviewed my opinion of the Exiles, as well. I had been too dismissive of them at first, believing them to be an immature society, made up of rejects and miscreants. I found their lack of order in some things offensive in the extreme, but I could see that they ran the camp as best they could, and in many ways it was efficient enough. Their arguments and their communal debates were exhausting, of course. I would often hear them outside my tent, the fire burning too long into the night, the women – and men! – disagreeing and haranguing each other. But by the end of the debate, a decision would be made amongst themselves, and they would follow it with surprising enthusiasm. The role of their women continued to distress me – or was it that I found the belligerence of their men so shocking? Many of the women deferred to the men completely, and many men treated the women with appalling disrespect. I found the presence of their children strange and distracting, yet I found some pleasure in the sounds of their playing and their relentless cheer, even in the face of a difficult time for the camp. The Exiles were very different, indeed – their way of life was totally foreign to me. Yet it seemed to work happily enough for them. But I feared for Dax. In all honesty, although we’d been treated with some semblance of care, I believed that we’d be killed as soon as the battle parties all returned and Takk turned his attention back to us. I would never tell him anything that would threaten the City that had succored me all my life, and Dax knew little enough to tell. But I feared that they’d torture Dax in the hope of loosening my tongue: Eila had said as much. I watched him at work, and I watched him asleep at night, for we shared a small, battered tent on the outskirts of the camp grounds. I watched him every time he returned from his dealings with the fragile Veli. Throughout it all, I wondered how I could protect him.

“THEY’RE a fine couple, aren’t they?” came Eila’s voice, low at my ear. “Veli and your young apprentice?” I started – I’d been sitting alone in a corner of the rest tent, savoring the fresh water that had been left for us and rubbing circulation back into my cold hands. I was on digging duty that morning, and the ground had frozen overnight. Dax had been with me for a while, but he was currently away with Veli.

The Gold Warrior | 117 It was true that I’d been watching out for his return, and Eila must have seen that. I didn’t reply to her at first. I remained very wary of her motives in her dealings with me. Admittedly, she intrigued me, and I couldn’t deny that she was an attractive woman, but I was determined not to underestimate her. I suspected that she was of stronger mettle even than Takk, who was obviously their dominant male. Whatever she liked to say, the ruling of this Place may not have been such a partnership after all. And maybe I still had plenty of conflicting issues about my relationship with women. She laughed at my stubborn look. “They’re just having some fun, Maen – it’s perfectly natural. Don’t you feel it, yourself? There are girls who’d love to share a bed with you, you know. You must have seen them hovering around the work areas; it’s not just Dax who attracts the attention! To have a real live Gold Warrior here – and especially one as impressive as you – well, what would you expect? You could have your share of it, too. You could be warm under someone else’s furs instead of on your own in your tent, breathing someone else’s moans, thrusting into their body, sleeping between their legs. I’d allow you to visit one – or two – if you chose. I’d be lenient, for a while.” “You’re in charge,” I said sharply. “I don’t doubt you’d send me wherever you wished, whether I wanted it or not.” My mood was increasingly aggressive, but in a very different way than my controlled military strength: nothing like the way I was in the City. I was quick to anger these days, and eager to voice an opinion, though it was never asked. I was often too ready to rise to Eila’s baiting. I blamed the change in my equilibrium on the loss of Devotions. I was exhausted from the work and still recovering my full strength after injury, but Eila had been right when she said I’d start to feel the flow of blood in my veins again, that I’d feel a vibrancy that I’d not felt since I was a Bronzeman. I woke each morning with a clear head and thoughts running richly in my mind. I was aware of the change of weather on my skin in a way I’d never experienced before; I tasted the very basic food as if it were something new. And I felt the rush of sexual excitement in my body on waking, with a persistency that I found hard to deny.

118 | Clare London Eila put a hand on my thigh as she sat down on the bench beside me. I knew she was provoking me, for that was her way. It kept me uncertain of how things were – and perhaps she knew that. I’d often catch her watching me, and Takk too, when he was in the Place, though at the moment he was always away on the raids. Eila seemed to have been left in charge of the camp… and me. I never knew whether she expected me to be the frightened prisoner or the aggressive Warrior. Did she hate me? Fear me? To feel her sitting so close to me today was unusual. She must have known that I could overpower her now; the manual labor had succeeded in developing many muscles that had been dormant in me. But what could I do if I attacked her and tried to escape? I still bore the shackles, and we were still high in the hills. And I wouldn’t leave Dax here alone. “You’re right, soldier,” she hissed softly. “You’re entirely at my disposal. And you know we argue over it, don’t you? Takk and I, over what to do with you.” “Let me go then,” I said swiftly. “Both of us. You’ll get nothing from me. I won’t betray my City or my Mistress.” “Nor your Queen?” “No,” I replied, startled. “Nor my Queen.” Her face flushed with something dark and furious, and I think she wanted to strike me. “Have you ever seen her, Maen? Your Queen?” “Once. I was a new Silver Captain when the Battle for Queenship was held in the Arena. She was magnificent – she held all of the contenders at bay! Her men were intractable; her strategy reckless, but imaginative–” Eila made a sound of anguish, interrupting me. “She must have used Magic, Maen! Her men fought madly, with suicidal zeal! There’s no other plausible explanation for it, except that she drew on spells and tricks from the time of Colonization – that they protected her from her sisters’ attacks, and inspired her own troops. Many men died that day – far more than was usual, even in a battle like that. She defiled the event, for she conquered her opponents unfairly! It is a tournament, Maen, or meant to be - not a bloody war.” “I suppose that may have been so… but she was a marvel to behold.”

The Gold Warrior | 119 “And she was the only one in people’s eyes, wasn’t she?” Eila’s voice was sharp, with a tone that I’d never heard in her speech before. “A glorious, bloodthirsty, victorious, beautiful woman, claiming her birthright, destroying her insignificant fellow siblings–” I stared at her passion. “You were there,” I breathed, realization hitting me with a cold shiver, even in the midst of such a chill morning. “You were one of them!” Eila’s eyebrows rose slightly, and there was a blush high on her cheeks. “I was indeed, soldier. Maybe you weren’t so mesmerized by my elder sister after all. I was one of the youngest. I was never expected to be a serious challenge to her, but I still had to participate. I was a precocious child and I was considered old enough at that time. It’s the way of things in the City, isn’t it? All the sisters meet and battle, and only one will take the Queenship. I believe it will happen again in a year or so, with my sister’s children. They’ll meet in the Arena, and years of kinship, and perhaps friendship, will be destroyed in a single event. Many will lose their lives as well, for of course it’s the only time that women will battle on their own behalf. One will go on to the greatest glory and adoration and power – but all of the others will lose.” “You survived–” She made a noise of discomfort. “I did, Maen. Much to her disgust! Any siblings who survive are nothing but an embarrassment and a horror to the reigning Queen. They may have been gentle, womanly sisters in the Royal Household, but who knows what kind of support they may be after such a crisis? After all, they might still harbor ambitions to be Queen; they may still be a threat to her position.” She saw my horror at all this and laughed. It was a short, bitter laugh. “There were such plots after the battle, Maen, believe me. Two of my older sisters were reluctant to relinquish their positions and sink back to being nothing but Ladies, serving the Queen, or maybe not even in her own Household. There were dark, secret betrayals, and loyal Guards were used and abused: they were persuaded to infiltrate and undermine the Royal Household….” “And what happened to those sisters?” Eila’s face was blank now, unnaturally so. For the first time, I felt compassion for her. “She had them killed, Maen. She had her own

120 | Clare London ways, and her own men, and her overriding lust for her position. The women vanished overnight and their Guard was redeployed, the Queen taking the best for herself.” She must have caught some of the expression in my face, for I was becoming less adept at hiding my emotions nowadays. “Do you know any of the current contenders, soldier? Do they have that hunger for the position? If so, is it likely they’d accept anything but victory at the Battle as a result? There’s no life for a failed Queen-Elect….” I thought of Seleste, and I wondered how she might be if she lost. I couldn’t imagine it. Or rather, I could, but my mind shied away from such fear. I wouldn’t relish being in her vengeful path if things went ill for her. Eila was watching me. Her hand tightened on my thigh. “You’ve learned more about me in your brief time here than Takk has in years,” she said softly. “I can see that in your face, too. You have that way with you – that empathy with a woman’s needs. Don’t fight it, Maen.” She was smiling down at my lap and I wasn’t surprised to find that I was half aroused, my cock swelling the coarse fabric of my trousers. Her smell was always both exotic and sensual, but then it seemed I grew aroused far too easily nowadays, just from a hand on my leg and the bittersweet memories of my lost life. What was happening to me? “You’re a very fine man,” she murmured. “I want you, you know that, don’t you?” The other workers were in another part of the tent by now, and she put her hand further down between my thighs, knowing she couldn’t really be seen. Knowing I couldn’t protest. “After all, any of us would like the chance of your blood line amongst us.” “You’d want me for breeding purposes?” I said coldly. “Are you no better than the City for that?” She looked surprised that I’d say such a thing. “You seem to be absorbing a little more of the Exile way of life than the dirt from our construction projects, soldier. Would you have said such a thing a month ago? Questioned the Rules like that?” The stab of remembrance was sudden and painful. “Men are not meant for independent thought against the Rules of the City. Men are for the disposition of the Mistress–”

The Gold Warrior | 121 Eila looked mischievous, as I struggled to remember the Rules and all that I’d lived by. How could things have changed for me so deeply, so swiftly? “Think of me as your Mistress then,” she murmured. “I could command you to open your trousers and let me take you in my mouth. I could command you to lay down behind the rest tent and let me use you until I felt satisfied–” “And Takk? Your partner, the relationship that you put such store in? What respect does that show for him?” “You sound far more passionate than I’d have expected of such a perfect soldier!” she snapped back at me; I was challenging her, and yet I was still only a prisoner. I wasn’t sure what made me so reckless. It may have been my anger and frustration at life here, or the reawakening pain in my leg. Maybe the anticipation of crisis, when Takk returned. It may have just been the confusion in my head between my old and new life, or the sweet, sharp smell of a woman with her hand on the cloth above my aching groin. “Well…” she murmured. “You are shedding the City, Maen, though you’ll not want to admit it, I’m sure. I expected you to scorn my relationship, to be confused. You’ve never been allowed the idea of relationships, of fidelity towards another person other than the Mistress. But you sound almost jealous….” “I’m just tired,” I said. “Tired of the work, of your games.” She was wrong, too. I was far from jealous of her and Takk’s relationship, of their love. I doubted she had any idea where my real confusion lay. “What happened to you, Eila? After the Battle?” There was silence from her for a while. I could hear the sound of the other workers returning to their duties. A couple glanced curiously over at us, but would never have dared to question Eila, even though she was keeping the despised prisoner from his fair share of the toil. “I was hiding at my sister’s…” she began, slowly. “She was wounded, and she was angry at our new Queen for her tricks during the Battle. She told me we’d both have to flee – she’d have the Guard distracted at the far gate of the Royal Household and she’d meet me there at the midnight.” “Is she here, too?”

122 | Clare London Eila wasn’t meeting my eyes. “She never met me. I waited for a long time: the Guard had, indeed, been distracted away, so the coast was clear. But my sister never arrived.” “She was one of those–” “Yes. One of those taken by the Queen. I never saw her again. In the morning, I was almost too cold and scared to run, but when I heard the Guard discussing the work of the Queen during the night, against her supposed enemies – well, I knew which side I would be counted on! I rolled down the hills outside the gate and I ran for cover. I found the Place a few days later, or rather, some scouts from the Place found me. I was young – only twelve years – and obviously on the run from the Household. They were pleased to accept me.” Twelve, I thought. What chance would such a child have had in battle? And yet it was in the Rules: when a Queen was due to be succeeded, all her grown daughters must join the Battle. And only the victor was ever talked of again. “Did they search for you?” “Yes. For a while, it seemed. Or so the Exiles told me. There was some talk of handing me over, for a ransom or some other bargain. But Takk was here then, and the leader at that time was his elder brother. He persuaded him to give me sanctuary. And so I’ve been here ever since.” She smiled gently. “They didn’t consider me enough of either a threat or a prize, to keep up a search beyond a few miles of the Household’s gates. Unlike their opinion of you, Gold Warrior.” “They’ve been searching for me? To find me?” I was astonished; perhaps I was flattered. I tried to swallow such thoughts as unworthy of Devotion to the City, but it seemed easier to admit of a little personal pride nowadays. “They tried. They failed.” She laughed. “They have no idea of the geography of this Place, Maen. You’d agree with that, I think? Your lives revolve around the City – around defense, not attack in the outside world. Whereas we roam wherever we please, wherever will support us.” “You have people already in the City!” I didn’t know why I was so sure, but something about her manner alerted me. There were already spies in the City, it was obvious, and it was a fierce shock.

The Gold Warrior | 123 Maybe they were in the Remainder population: I couldn’t believe that treason lived unmarked in the army or the Households themselves. She shrugged. “It’s not for me to say. You can discuss that with Takk, perhaps, when he returns. There are many things he wants to discuss with you.” “Your people here, the Exiles–” I had more questions of my own, but I could tell from the pressure of her hand that her mind was straying now from matters of strategy and rule. For that matter, so was mine. But I wouldn’t miss a chance to understand more. “Isn’t that what they all want, in their hearts? To go back into the City?” “You’re a fool!” she hissed. “City-breds see no further than their beds, it’s said, and it seems to be true. Always the City, the City – why do you think some of us left, Maen? We weren’t all driven out; we aren’t all refugees. Some chose this life because it was better, more equitable–” “No, the best is within the City; that’s always been the way, the rest of this planet can’t support us all–” “But it can!” she exclaimed. She was very heated now: her hand gripped my leg, and her mouth was close to mine, almost as if she’d force her words and her will into me through it. “That’s another clever tale, Maen, a convenience to keep all the population under the City’s control. The planet has never been as hostile as it’s described, but it needs more work, more support to maintain – and it’s we who need that support! It’s never been offered, not even by the Cities who are more tolerant towards Exiles. But aren’t we entitled to the spoils of this world, too? To share the planet equally?” She kissed me, then, as I knew she would. Her mouth was hard and fierce, but the moistness of her lips was very pleasant. I knew I was in no position to resist her, and if there was one thing I was expert in, it was knowing when a woman wanted sexual attention. I’d never known a woman to restrain herself when she did. And Eila was, if nothing else, a true woman, whatever her loyalties to Place and partner. “You’re no different from the Mistresses,” I said, as she dropped to her knees between my legs, fumbling with my trouser fastening. “Don’t you see? You’re asking the same of me, here and now, in your supposedly new world–” I gasped, as her hands slipped in to cup me, to slide possessively up and down my arousal.

124 | Clare London “It’s you who can’t see the difference,” she replied, a sense of urgency in her voice. “I want you for what you are – for your strength and your intellect and your very masculinity. Don’t you see, Maen? This is how coupling should be. We should both want it equally, both enjoy it, and seek it out, and savor it.” She bent her head over my lap, her hair brushing at my skin. She licked at me with her hot, wet woman’s lips, and sucked me deep into her mouth. I shuddered, completely lost to her desire. I hadn’t felt a woman like that for weeks: since my Mistress had last Called me. Every exhausted nerve in my body told me that I needed the touch, that I needed satisfaction, even though I was ashamed to admit such lack of self-discipline. But I felt the agony rush through me in a way it hadn’t since I was an untrained boy: I felt the animal need to thrust into her mouth, to take her for my own pleasure. I’d never felt such a way before! Was this what it meant, to be outside the City, to be free of the Devotions – to be like beasts, experiencing such urges and passions that you could scarcely control them? When I felt myself coming, I pushed her forcefully away, her mouth open in a surprised ‘O’, her lips moist with my leaking seed. I groaned and I spilled out on to my hand, the excess dribbling on to the ground. I didn’t want to be in her when that happened – I didn’t want that connection with her and her kind. She just smiled, her eyes very bright and sharp, as if she’d seen and understood every confused, sensual thought I’d had. Her hands trailed away from my legs, teasing at the hot, sweaty skin as they went, tugging at the barely opened cloth. She was panting slightly, and I knew she’d have me again, as soon as she liked. She saw through me like my Mistress never did. Her world was turning me into another kind of man – one that responded almost against his will - one that she coveted. It was a different kind of fear that consumed me now.

THE end of the day was dark and silent. We’d eaten our meager supper a few hours earlier and been dismissed from our work when it became too dark to see our steps. As we’d collected up our blankets for the night, the girl Veli had called for Dax but, to my surprise, he didn’t go with her this time. Together we made our way back to our isolated tent and I settled on the ground outside, not yet

The Gold Warrior | 125 able to sleep. Occasionally I shifted the shackles to get comfortable, but although the day’s work had exhausted my body, tension tormented my mind. Takk was expected to return the next day. I’d listened in to many whispered conversations and I’d seen the preparations in the camp, clearing away in time for the raiding party to return. Eila was at her most officious, and the gaze of other Exiles slid guiltily away whenever we passed. Tomorrow they’d decide how far to go, to get the information they wanted from us. Then they’d kill me, at least. I could only hope that Dax was genuinely accepted by them, and they’d let him live. To live: that’s all I wanted now for him. For me, there were no expectations. I understood that too well, for it came with my position. I had always been at someone else’s disposition. The best I could hope for was courage and loyalty, at the last. I had tried so many times to understand what was happening to me. It had only been a few weeks since we were taken from the City, but my body felt as if it were entirely new. I found it difficult to bring my Devotions to mind; difficult to recall the pure, certain confidence of my life as a trusted Gold Warrior. I remembered Mistress Luana of course, but with feelings that were decidedly more mixed than before. I remembered Grien, and wondered what he might be thinking about me now, if anything. I seemed to be thinking of the people far more than the City, the personalities rather than the duties. And I thought of Dax almost constantly. It was like a deep wound that itched for recovery, yet I couldn’t reach it to soothe myself. I gave up even trying to sleep. I picked up my blanket and crawled quietly back over to sit at the mouth of our miserable little shelter. The ground was just as cold there and there was nothing but the calling of night animals to distract me while I sought something to settle my mind. Whatever was happening to me, it was nothing compared to the effect on Dax, for he was thriving in this world! I couldn’t help but be pleased to see it, even as my distress about our situation grew. His body had recovered quickly from any injuries he suffered on capture, and he seemed to have grown in stature, even in this short period. The food we ate was rough and sparse, but I supposed that the hard labor and the struggle back to the camp over the rocks each day had challenged his young body rather than broken it. His borrowed shirt

126 | Clare London clung to his torso as his muscles strengthened, and his hair had grown longer than would have been allowed in the City. I looked back into the darkness of the canvas, where I could see only his silhouette under the other blanket. We shared the tent because none of the Exiles would trust themselves with us. We were both shackled at work, though Dax’s bindings were often removed at the end of the day when we’d join the others to collect our food and to learn the arrangements for the following day. However much they shunned me, the people of the Place still seemed to like him. As someone had once pointed out to me, he had a charm of his own. It seemed to flourish here. There was movement; he stirred. “Maen?” He didn’t ask why I couldn’t sleep. He had grown in intelligence and maturity over the last few weeks as well. We worked well together, and supported each other in the midst of the Exiles’ hostility. He seemed to understand me a lot better. Not that there had ever been the need before now – nor the encouragement. I tried not to let it give me too much pleasure, for I knew we would soon be apart again. With a quiet groan, he threw his blanket aside and crawled over to join me. His shackles were still off, an oversight on the part of the Exiles, maybe. Or part of his increasing familiarity with them. “We must escape – and soon,” I said tersely. I felt him tense up beside me. “I can’t see how, Maen. They’d kill us before we could get back to the City.” “There’ll be a chance some time. At least for you.” He was silent. “Don’t you want to get out, Dax? You had the beginnings of everything at the City–” He hissed a sound into the darkness; I didn’t catch it. I drew another deep breath and spoke as low as I could. “Are you a spy for the Exiles, Dax? You can tell me. I believe they’re infiltrating the City, putting their own people in amongst us. What better than to have a Bronzeman spying for them! This whole capture is very unusual for them; it makes me suspicious of their motives – they had no need to take us in the first place. And the way we’ve been kept alive, when I’ve refused to offer the information they need… I’m of no

The Gold Warrior | 127 use to them. I won’t talk. Both of us, we’re nothing but a burden to them.” His hand slapped down sharply on to my arm, forcing me to twist around to face him. He looked very angry. “You think I don’t know that? But how dare you accuse me of treason!” I shook my head: I was still confused. “Of course, I never thought – I shouldn’t have – forgive me, Dax. I’m frightened for you–” His voice broke through mine, also low and very urgent. “They’re frightened of you, Maen! They should never have taken us, true – but they were caught unawares and thought to use us. Now they do want us dead, but Eila has shown interest in you, and Takk has been away. They’re confused, but I’ve convinced Veli on a daily basis that they should keep you safe–” He bit off his words sharply, but not before I’d realized what he meant. “You? You argue for my life?” “Of course,” he said. The emotion in his voice seemed to be restrained, as if he were scared of me hearing it. “Of course! She has influence with Eila and the others – she’s some kind of distant cousin to Eila, and the daughter of one of the original founders of this camp. I – she’s willing to listen to me, when I ask such favors. Besides, you’d do the same for me.” Would I? I thought. But of course I would. And more. “You cannot save me, Dax. Takk will have no further tolerance for me after tomorrow.” “He doesn’t know about you and Eila–” he hissed. I shook my head. “That’s not the issue. I have nothing for him, and I also represent danger to the Exiles and this Place. I’m a disturbance; a potential threat. I’m alien to everything they have here, everything they believe. I have a day or so to make my move, maybe less, to have any chance of escape. I must confirm the location of this Place with regards to the City and find the quickest way back. Cause some distraction – break these shackles somehow. Yes, I’ve made my plans already.” I took a breath and I tried to avoid his wide, shocked eyes. “But you – you have the chance to survive, especially with the girl’s patronage. You can bide your time here when I’m gone, and plan your own way.”

128 | Clare London “No! We’re to be together,” he hissed. He pulled at me, trying to get me to turn to face him again. “We stay or leave together.” “No!” I said, sharply. “Don’t take me for a fool! I know you might never go back. You’ve got men here you respect – women who will care for you. Dax, I know that you never gave everything to the City – to me. You were always resistant; always out of step. You could have been one of my finest men, but you’ve admitted as much to me, that you seek something else in your heart. You’re finding something here that the City couldn’t give you – that I couldn’t give you!” “You can!” He sounded distraught. “You could! Maen, for Devotions’ sake–” I was angry as well, and I needed him to break away from my support. I suspected it was the only way I’d save his life. He must no longer be associated with me! I pushed at him, but his hold was surprisingly strong, and all he did was rock back a little on the ground beside me. “Don’t treat me like that!” he growled, startling me. “You’re not my Commander here. I thought you were coming around to it, understanding me, appreciating the alternative life here. Realizing that things could be different. That we’d both find something here–” “Never!” We were both furious by now: we were actually struggling against each other. It was a shock to me, to feel what a match he was for me now. “I can’t change to be like this, Dax – to live here, to be an Exile. For Devotions’ sake, leave me be! The City means too much to me: it’s been my life, and all I’ve ever known and respected. You’re the one who’s different now – you have other companions, other chances. Other needs to follow.” “So why do you think I’m here with you, then, not with them?” he gasped. His face was flushed, even though I had only the moonlight to see it. His eyes were like those of an animal, wide and sharp and glowing, full of ferocity. I could smell his sweat and his breath on my face. His body felt strong under me, his arms tight with aggressive resistance. I was swamped, suddenly, with dreams of how he’d looked at the Arena, at the Choosing; how he’d been so belligerent on his first day; how he’d accepted the beating that I ordered for him. How he’d sought my advice since, and how his questions had always unnerved

The Gold Warrior | 129 me. How I felt whenever another person spoke of him. How I felt when I thought of him coupling with another – I buried my hand in his hair, gripping the fine, beautiful stuff as if I wanted to hold him by its threads, to strike him. His hair shone white in the darkness; it had always marked him out as unlike anyone I’d ever seen or known before. His head was drawn back, his teeth glinted between his stretched lips and he bared his slim neck to me. And then I kissed him.

130 | Clare London

CHAPTER NINE Treason

I

knew I had to break away, but my mouth pressed so firmly on to him that I thought we’d become one. Some shred of sense inside of me was horrified – some lingering inhibition was appalled at my selfishness! But still I forced myself on his lips; still I took the taste of him as if I’d never had such sensual pleasure. And his hand dropped from my arm and snaked around my neck, tugging me in closer. His mouth opened and his tongue sought me out. It was slick and fierce, and I sucked on it, drawing him into me even further. We were panting – grunting too – and it was Dax who had the sense to pull our bodies back in under the cover of the tent, still kissing, still touching, still clinging. We fell on to his crumpled blanket, clumsy in our desperation. “No – !” I tried to pull away, but even I could hear the anguish in my voice, the need. “I mustn’t touch you–” “You think it disgusts me?” he panted, trying to hold me back to him. His lips were swollen: they reached for me and I let them. “Throw those ways off, Maen. This is all I want!” “I can’t! It’s forbidden–” “Touch me!” he hissed urgently. His chest heaved in great, shuddering breaths, and his mouth pressed on mine again. His hands slid around my waist, scrabbling under my vest to feel my skin against his. His fingers were like firebrands: he broke from me, gasping, as if he felt the heat too. “Touch me – and then I can touch you! How long have I waited for you to see me like this? I’ve admired you since I first saw you, since I was so scared of you, so fearful of your displeasure. I

The Gold Warrior | 131 never thought I’d be worthy of you, but I’ve listened to every word you said – I’ve tried to be a fine Bronzeman.” “You have! You are,” I gasped. “But this is wrong–” “I can’t have mistaken it all!” he cried. He grabbed at my hand and pressed it to his chest. His heart was hammering even more loudly than my own. “The look in your eyes sometimes, when we talked like companions, not soldiers – did I imagine it? I begged for it. These feelings have always been in me, whenever you were with me… it’s been a torment since the day I joined the Household. At first, I didn’t dare hope you had the same respect for me, but I sought you out regardless – I wanted to be near you. Maen, I wanted to be a Silver Captain so very much! To do you honor, but also so that I could have you, like they all use each other. So that I could feel you take me, your body covering mine, your hands on my ass, your cock inside me – if you so wanted–” If I so wanted? I felt that my body was alight with desire, that if I didn’t crouch between his legs and slide my fingers up into him right now, I’d expire from the frustration. It took only that second – only that first, hungry kiss – to know that I’d wanted nothing but that, since the day I saw him. “I have put up with their pawing,” he ground out. “All of them: women and men. They want me, I know. I can smell it on them when I pass, do you think I don’t notice? And it’s all the same to me – it’s nothing much to want, or to hate. But to have you – ! I’d do anything. I heard the Silvers at night, and that’s what I wanted with you. I knew that to be more true than anything else in my life.” “But you’re still a Bronzeman, not yet a Silver,” I protested. “It’s the most hideous crime….” He ignored me, and couldn’t I admire that youthful arrogance? His mouth sucked at my neck, his fingers pinched at a nipple, up under my thin vest. And when his hand cupped the front of my trousers and squeezed my agony there, I heard him suck in his breath. “You mean you can’t touch me like this. You can’t have me.” “No,” I groaned. “You’re not for me. You’re only for the Ladies – for the Mistress. You could satisfy yourself in the Household, with them. Even here, you’re Called in a similar way by the girl Veli. You’ve no need of anything, Dax – no need of anyone else.”

132 | Clare London “I don’t want them,” he hissed, holding me tight in his palm, pumping at me. To both my shame and my increasing delight, I leaned into him eagerly, bucking my hips, straining for his touch. My hands grasped at his buttocks, feeling the muscles clench under the thin fabric of his trousers. “I don’t want the Ladies,” he muttered, “with their soft, urgent bodies, and their begging for my seed. I don’t even want Veli, not in the way that I want you!” It was too much – I couldn’t think straight. I despised the way that my body no longer followed my commands, and yet I felt inflamed with the thrill of him, the desire for him. I was becoming a man that I barely recognized! My fingers were at his hips and he was fumbling at his trousers opening, trying to wriggle the cloth away from his skin so that I could touch more of him. He was panting softly. “Is this all my imagination, Maen? Am I the only one who wants this? Are you angry with me? It’s commonplace in the barracks – I know what men do, even you, I’m sure–” “Don’t be stupid, Dax!” I spoke harshly, because it seemed I had no control over my voice either. “You’ve never had a man – it’s not an easy thing–” “Do you want me?” he said bluntly, his voice urgent and thick with desire. “Because I want you – I want to couple with you. I never wanted anyone before, not like this. I want your mouth on my cock and your hands caressing me. I want to wrap my legs around you and feel you push into me, possessing me. I want to give you pleasure, Maen: I want you inside me. I want everything! I’m not going to be very experienced, of course, but I know I can learn – I can make it good for you–” I groaned aloud. “That’s not what I meant.” Foolish man! As if it had ever been my concern, for coupling to be good for me! My heart ached that he should care for that. “You’re talking nonsense, Dax – it’s the fear of this time, the strangeness of our situation. We can forget this, now, then perhaps when you’re Silver, we can think again–” “No!” he snapped. “It was bad enough in my Training, taking those Devotions, allowing the Ladies to Call and use me when they wished. Don’t you see what the Bronzemen become, Maen? They’re breeding animals, that’s all, until they’re older and more manly, and then they’re pumped full of the Devotions until they become dullards: muscle-bound fodder for the battles of the City. I don’t want to wait

The Gold Warrior | 133 for you until my brain is dull and my body’s a tool for others – I never did! I never thought I’d have any other choice, but we’ve escaped that, now. And don’t tell me you can’t feel the difference in you, here at the Place. I want to share this time with you – this bright spark of my flame, before it’s caught in duty and death and snuffed out–” He shifted suddenly, pressing himself back against me and trapping my leg between his. His own arousal was very fierce and very hard, dragged halfway out of his clothing, the heat of his flesh pressing insistently on mine, making me gasp. “I want you here, Maen. As we are now – as the men we are now.” His mouth touched at my neck again, his teeth nicking the skin. I could feel the lashes of his eyes against my cheek; smell the sweat and the desperation from his body in my nostrils. I wanted to hold him very close to me, and I wanted him to be part of me, in a way that no other body ever had. I’d never shared more than my physical needs with anyone else; never offered anything except my duty. This boy felt more to me than my own self. The strength of my emotions was terrifying to me. “It’s treason, Dax!” At that, he paused. He pulled back from me, rolling on to his side and leaning on a bended arm. He stared up into my face, struggling to regain his breath. “Treason? The Rules say you’d be killed for that.” “Yes,” I said. “When we go back.” He continued to stare at me, as if he were looking for some kind of answer in my face. “If we go back.” His voice sounded as if it caught on a sob. “When,” I said, cruel in my misery. “And you’d be whipped.” “But I’d not be killed,” he said. His eyes drew me in – in the half light, they looked manic. “They’d still need me, wouldn’t they? In the City – to be their seed for the future. They might want me to return and use my body in exchange for their investment. But you – the Rules treat you as if you’re nothing to the City, as if you’d outlived your usefulness. The Queen might think you’d been compromised by your time here: she might even think of you as a threat to the stability of the City. So her Rules would have you killed.” His voice shook with sudden anger. “How can you think that fair, Maen? That no one cares anything for your life, a life you’ve given to that City and the

134 | Clare London Queen, willingly and well – always?” The shock was clear in his face the fear, the anger. “And all because of one slip, one moment of personal enjoyment.” It was his youth speaking, his disbelief that anyone might think differently from him. I realized now that he may never have made a good Gold Warrior, for his character was always questioning, always full of its own opinion. It was what made him so attractive, and so fascinating. But it was also his greatest hindrance. He saw no reason to hold himself back – no reason to restrain himself in seeking exactly what he wanted. He had no idea of the horror of what he was suggesting. Bronzemen were sacred! If a Bronzeman broke the Rule of coupling and met with another man, he’d be whipped, and often expelled from the Household. I’d known some boys kill themselves at the mere threat of expulsion. Many thought that death was preferable to such shame – to become a Remainder after failing as a Bronzeman was abhorrent to all. And as for the other soldier who had broken the Rule, whether Silver or Gold: if he’d coupled with a Bronzeman, he’d be executed. It was very clear in the Rules of the City: no ambiguity. And no leniency. Indeed, I’d attended an execution of that kind myself, years ago. It had been one of the most difficult times of my life. The man concerned – a soft-spoken, intelligent Silver Captain, from a neighboring Household – had been brought to us for the sole purpose of carrying out his execution. It was a favor for another Mistress, for there was some concern that the Guard from her own Household may not have been able to perform it effectively. He’d been very well respected in his Guard. Even the men who brought him to us in chains had an air of shock and distress about them, though they tried to hide it. He’d been sadly accepting of his fate. It fell to Bernos to carry out the deed, beheading him by the sword, but a representation of the Silver Captains were required to stand with their Gold Warrior as the deed was done. I was one of them. I was never sure why my Mistress had chosen me, because I was very new to the role at that time. But I supposed that it was meant to be a mark of her approval, so I stood there, beside Varden who was barely more experienced than I, and marked the man’s death.

The Gold Warrior | 135 It was one of my first executions, though my role demanded that I would both attend and participate in many during my career. That day, the atmosphere in the Household had been chilled with horror. “I can’t deny the Rules, Dax.” My words felt like sand in my mouth, like the bitter, humiliating dirt we tasted daily in the riverbeds. “There’ll be later times. I can wait for it. Wait for you.” The lies came from my mouth like snagged threads on clothing, awkward and ugly. My body ached and my hands clenched into fists, trying to avoid touching him. “So you do want me,” he whispered, his eyes lit by something fierce and joyful. “Take me now, then.” “Aren’t you listening to me? Soon – if we escape – then you’ll still have the chance to be a Silver–” He laughed softly. He knew that I was the one talking nonsense now. This time together had made me vulnerable to him, and he understood me far better, now. Or was it that I had less control over myself? “Don’t say it, Maen. Tonight is when I want you. We only have tonight. Who knows what’ll happen tomorrow? Who knows what might happen to us back in the City? Or cares?” I cared. I knew very well the Rules of the City, for I’d been brought up with them. At first I’d been a little naïve, like Dax, and I’d only learned the Rules as words, as theory, never thinking them that serious – until the day that I officiated at that execution. There’d been tears that day, from grown men. I heard that a couple of soldiers were under discipline, because of their poor performance at sword practice – it was suspected that they were deliberately avoiding attendance at the beheading. Bernos himself, whom I had never seen fazed by anything he was required to do for the City – well, even his hand shook at the end. To give my Mistress her credit, she had cried for the lost Captain as well. I felt that I had stepped into a nightmare that day, but I’d done my duty as best I could. I was very young, still – it was my first and only experience of such a crime and its horribly harsh punishment. My Mistress had Called me that night, as if she’d known I needed comfort. She’d reminded me how the Rules are there to protect

136 | Clare London the Bronzemen, to maintain their purity for the Mistresses, and for the City itself. Service to the City is our Reward, I’d chanted softly to myself, as she pulled me into her bed and enchanted me as usual. That’s what I told myself that night, and for many following – I was doing my duty: that’s what I lived for. There’d been a time of confusion after that day, which lasted over a week – I heard harsh arguments in the barracks, and many of the soldiers were close to fighting each other, which was strictly forbidden. I saw a soldier hideously beaten for allegedly refusing his Devotions. There’d been the removal of some of our Bronzemen, though I didn’t know where they went or why they’d gone. The body of the executed Silver Captain had been taken away by his men for burning, but there’d never been any sign of the Bronzeman, the victim of his awesome abuse. My Mistress had swiftly drawn the Household back under control and routines had been re-established. I had been calmed, reassured that all was well. That was then. Dax’s mouth was breathing at my ear. He took my hand and kissed the palm. His tongue flickered at my wrist, warming the pulse as if to prevent me feeling the cold night on my skin. He grunted and wriggled, and I realized he was pushing his clothing off completely. He was clumsy and we didn’t have much space to maneuver but it wasn’t long before he was naked beside me. The meager blanket was a mess of creases underneath us, but neither of us cared. He kissed me, softly this time, some of his nervousness returning. I felt the sensuous delight of his smooth flesh against mine. I let him lift my vest up over my shoulders, throwing it to the ground, and his head dipping down to lick gently at my nipple. It felt as sharp as a cut from a blade. I struggled to get closer to him, but I was still shackled. He held me carefully balanced beside him, and his slim, strong fingers helped me, pushing my trousers away from my hips, letting my cock spring free, hot and damp in the cool night air. I had never felt such poignant joy in all of my life. And this was now. “Take me,” he whispered again. His own cock was thick and hot and slid urgently along my belly, wet with its own excitement. He

The Gold Warrior | 137 rolled on to his back, pulling me down on top of him. His hand gripped one of mine and tugged it between our bodies, wrapping it around his erection and urging me to squeeze and caress him. He began to pant, quite loudly: I could feel his heart hammering inside his chest, pressed up against mine. At the same time, he opened his legs around me, letting me fall into the haven between them. My cock was swollen and painful, and it nudged eagerly between his thighs. He stretched his legs higher and wider, pulling them back, exposing himself for me. “I know enough about it–” he gasped. “Use what leaks out of my cock, to make the way easier – use your spit, Maen, whatever, I can take it….” “I’ll hurt you–” His other hand slid around my head and gripped the skin at the back of my neck. He would make bruises on me: I could feel the strength behind it. “Do it!” he growled. “Perhaps that’s what I want!” I forgot who was the seducer here and who the victim. It was only me and Dax, here in a cold, plain canvas tent, our bodies tired and bruised after another day’s work in this Life-forsaken place. I couldn’t have resisted him now if the blade had been at my own throat. I moved as carefully as I could when I pushed into him, but he still winced and bit his lip – and yet he pulled me ever closer. I thrust slowly and inexorably into him, and it was like coming home: it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. This man was drawing my very heart into him: everything I held dear, everything that anchored me. This young man, whom I’d been fascinated by since the day I met him – since I rudely ordered my Mistress to buy him for the Household. When I’d had him beaten, I must have known it wasn’t for his discipline, but for my own. I’d known I was drawn unnaturally to him, against all the Rules that I held dear. My life had been lost, ever since. “Maen–” he whimpered. His climax was close already: his arousal was being rubbed between our bodies as I leant harder against him, groaning my need into him. “Don’t be afraid of it, of this, I won’t let them kill you – we’ll be together – this is all I ever wanted–” “Hush,” I murmured into the hollow of his throat, trying so hard to hold myself back, trying not to crush him against the hard ground. But I’d not been able to control myself properly since I left off my Devotions and my body responded more quickly and more fiercely

138 | Clare London nowadays. The feel of him - his arms clutching at my shoulders, his thighs sweating and tense around my hips, the soft groans from him at each thrust – it was too much joy to bear for long! I came, refusing to pull out of him, although I knew there might still be salvation for me if I did. No; I surrendered completely to my overwhelming desire, climaxing into him, moaning his name, and pressing my fingers so tightly into his flesh that I was sure I’d hurt him. I could feel the sticky relief of his own climax on my belly, and heard his soft, young voice in my ears, but no words were clear except for my name, again and again. “Hush, hush,” I breathed. “If this means death, Dax, there’s no other way I’d choose!”

IT was a couple of hours away from dawn and we were both awake. We’d barely slept the night, for our emotions were charged too fiercely for anything but the occasional drowsiness. We’d drifted asleep after the first time, wrapped awkwardly in the blanket, but reluctant to let each other out of our arms. Then he’d teased me awake a while later, his mouth at my groin, sucking and licking with murmured laughter around my balls. My climax was sweeter this time, but just as incredible – I spent my seed all over him far too quickly, hiccupping with hot excitement, unable to control myself under the onslaught of his hungry tongue and lips. His eyes were wide: he was bright-eyed and astonished at the effect he’d had on me. There was also the dance of amusement in them, that I’d been so easily defeated. So in mock revenge, I rolled him on to his stomach, spread his muscled ass, and pressed my way none too carefully into him again. He moaned, but not with distress. We’d coupled and gasped and laughed for a long time then. And now the dawn was near, and I thought that I might be able to hear the sound of men on horses approaching the Place. I had learned a lot about the lay of the land around the camp while I’d been working there. I hadn’t told Dax, but I’d gradually worked out the position of it in relation to the City. I knew that there were only a few ridges of rock between the two locations, though a distance of many miles. During my miserable hours spent in the dry, treacherous riverbeds, I knew the best route to quit the Place without falling foul of them, and I’d marked out the best crevice to begin the tortuous climb back towards the City.

The Gold Warrior | 139 This information was critical, if I were ever to escape. If we were ever to escape. And now everything had changed. My hand lay gently at Dax’s hip, idly tracing the mark there. We both had one, a kind of tattoo: a combination, I assumed, of letters from the arcane magic language of the Place and the brand of the Exiles themselves. They had been carved into us when we were first taken – Dax remembered the pain, though I did not. Eila had smiled at her first sight of mine, a scarlet flash of scarred blood and ink on my skin. She’d visited me several times while I lay recovering my strength in that original cave; I’d been in no state to protest, of course, and I was still used to acquiescing to a woman’s demands without question. She would wipe down the wound as it healed and trace her fingers over the mark, murmuring words that I didn’t understand, her eyes dark with something that was almost frightening. Her smile had been full of bitterness. I still didn’t know what the mark meant, though it was obviously nothing complimentary. As far as I was concerned, it was just further evidence of how time at this Place had scarred us – in many more ways than physical. “Smile, Maen,” said Dax, softly. His own smile was bright, his teeth glinting in the pale light of the rising dawn. His voice sounded a little slurred, both from sleepiness and perhaps from other emotions. “You laughed last night – I heard it! You’re a different man when you laugh. Do you only let the pleasure out under cover of darkness?” I did smile, then. I couldn’t resist it, when I had his body under mine, and his mischief teasing at me. “Maybe you’re right. Things aren’t always as daylight-clear to me as they seem to be to you.” “You see how it is, with the Exiles? How it’s changed me?” he murmured in reply. His slender limbs stretched out beside me: he was totally devoid of any self-consciousness. “I can be a person here – not just someone to use for his looks, for his masculinity. I had no respect at the City.” “You’re a Bronzeman! Your job has respect,” I protested, though gently. How could he ask me to forget everything? To turn against everything that had been my life for so long? And yet I was afraid of disturbing him again; I wanted nothing more than to please him, and to listen to his optimistic words. “Your Household has

140 | Clare London respect, and your fellow soldiers. There’s respect between your companions, for your Mentors, your Commander.” “But no personal respect allowed,” he said, almost sullenly. “No personal ambition, no personal attachments. Nothing to signify your life except duty and sacrifice and denying everything that challenges that.” “I always respected you,” I sighed into his shoulder. “I hope I give that credit to every one of my Guard. But you, especially – your life could be so very much easier if you accepted the honor, and gave way to the discipline. You’re fine looking and very strong – you’ll be a superb soldier one day, a Gold Warrior even. And you’ll have an intelligent Mistress, one who will protect and appreciate your loyalty, as mine does….” “I won’t be a Gold Warrior,” he said, in an uncanny echo of my own thoughts, earlier. “I don’t have the taste for it. I would disappoint you in the end, Maen. And what else does a man have in the City?” I tried to reply, but his words overrode mine. “Nothing! A man only has to fight and to service. He’s not required for anything else.” “He’s admired for that. It’s an honor–” “It’s not enough,” protested Dax. His anger was rising again: I could feel the heat coursing along his veins. “There’s nothing else, Dax. Your thoughts are dangerous. Speak those in the City and you’ll be punished, and sent back to the Remainder quarters, and never set foot in the Household again.” “With never the chance to fight back,” he muttered. “Did you ever fight back, Maen? I can’t see you as a timid Bronzeman, eager to obey, submissive to all….” “Never,” I said. It was the only answer he would get from me, however I felt about him, however vulnerable I felt towards him now. There were things about myself that only I knew – no one else ever would. His childishness sparked a painful place in me, and I wanted to strike out at him in retaliation. “You’re a fool if you think that’s an option for you. Some have fought the Rules in the past, indeed. Some deliberately – and some have just lost their control, lost their respect.” Dax was silent for a while. “What happened to them?”

The Gold Warrior | 141 “They were punished. Exiled. Some were killed,” I said harshly. I felt his body tighten against mine. Inappropriate though it was, I felt the shiver of sexual excitement along my spine: I thought I’d never feel anything as good as his lithe body against mine. “It’s rare, but it happens, Dax. And some were executed by me and my men. Don’t protest! As a Bronzeman, you’d also have learned the way of punishment and executions at some time.” “What did they do wrong?” he whispered. “Many different things. They challenged the Mistress – the Queen, even. They were unreliable; they put their comrades’ lives in danger. They refused the Devotions. They were disrespectful to their Commander; they disobeyed orders.” I sighed. “Many reasons.” Treason, I wanted to add. They coupled with a Bronzeman. But I didn’t say it aloud. The boy wasn’t stupid. He knew how it was. Thinking back on those occasions, I thought to myself that some men had been more deserving of their punishment than others. There was always a political agenda of sorts to be taken into account. My Mistress made the final decision on such serious crimes; she determined the punishment. I had never questioned her wisdom aloud. Not before now. “They should have left the City. Escaped to somewhere like here,” he said. It was only bravado – he was intelligent enough to know the strength and power of the City and its Households. Escape from the City was something that wasn’t ever admitted officially: any attempt was fiercely resisted. “Impossible.” I touched my lips to his throat, to distract him, and he shuddered with pleasure. “We’ll go back and you’ll be a magnificent Silver Captain. Your Devotions will enhance your skills and your strength. Everyone will admire and want you. Everything will seem clearer – you’ll be more emotionally mature.” “Emotionally mature? I’ll be drugged, Maen, that’s how it’ll be.” He raised himself on his arm, now staring down into my face. His hair lay awkwardly on his head, and there were gentle bite marks on his neck, marks of my possession and fever. I felt him as if he were part of my own being; his hostility was a palpable hurt. “I’ll be the puppet they want, not the man I am now. I’ll rut with anyone, like an animal – and not like this. Not like this night! Not with you.” His eyes were angry and wet with emotion, all at the same time. I didn’t see how I

142 | Clare London could think the less of him for his anguish, when I was wracked with it myself. “I won’t love you like I do now, Maen.” The unfamiliar word sounded alien in his voice: it jarred my hearing, at the same time as thrilling me. I put my hand over his mouth and silenced him with the greedy touch of my body. It was all I could think of to do. It was getting lighter outside the cave, and after we were exhausted again, I did nothing but lie still and hold him close. That was all I ever wanted.

THEY came for us both, just after dawn.

The Gold Warrior | 143

CHAPTER TEN Smell of Fear

I

dreamed that I was at my own Choosing, so many years ago. I felt very young, very nervous. I smelled the sweet sweat of many other apprehensive boys, and I felt the heat of another hot summer on my half-naked body. I saw the fierce armor of Bernos, coming to inspect me, and then the dark, liquid eyes of my Mistress, so much younger then, and even more beautiful than I remembered. She looked at me far longer than the other boys; one of them nudged me jealously in the ribs, and the Negotiator slapped him on the head for not paying attention. I just felt ridiculously proud, though I tried so hard to swallow it down, to keep the eager light from shining too brightly in my eyes. My only hope was to serve the City, to be Chosen for that purpose alone. To be a fine soldier; it was all I’d ever wanted! That’s when the pain struck me again. I didn’t think it was in the dream; I didn’t think I was a boy any longer. I was a man, of course I was – a soldier already. My body shuddered under some vicious touch, but I didn’t know if it was from my Mistress, or Bernos, or someone else. After all, I’d received pain from each one of them in the past. Why should now be any different? I could hear my name being shouted, then it was being whispered, with something like horror. It was familiar; it was entreating; it was a foul, evil worm inside my head that threatened to suck out my brains and leave me a drooling wreck. I laughed, loudly. It sounded very ragged. I thought about Dax and his spectacular young body. I laughed again, wondering how I could ever have thought it could be mine for the taking. His laugh

144 | Clare London responded to mine, but the sound was abrasive and mocking, not the joyful amusement I’d heard in the dark night. His hands tugged at my arms and I wondered why I resisted him, but then I saw they weren’t Dax’s hands at all, but from someone far older and rougher. There was blood on their fingers; there was the shine of a curved blade that I knew wasn’t mine. Then the pain returned, and I felt the hot trail of trickling blood along my skin. I could smell it - I could smell fear! With every nerve of my body, I begged that the fear wasn’t Dax’s. It wasn’t a conscious thought so much as an instinctive, agonizing emotion that consumed me. I groaned; I think it was aloud. The voices were hammering at me, again and again, the same words, yet none of them ever clear. Or maybe I had learned the way to shut them out at last. I felt absurdly proud of that last thought, as if that was, in fact, what I’d always been trying to do. My memory – my senses – faded yet again, into merciful unconsciousness.

WHEN I was next fully conscious, I discovered myself in another cave hewn into the rock of the Place. I awoke looking up at the high, stark ceiling, lying on my back. I stayed still for a while, gathering my thoughts and listening to a selection of whispers and groans and coughs around me. It was a much larger cave than the one I’d been in originally, and it was occupied by many other people, too. We were all on pallets on the ground, and when I slid my head carefully to the side, I could see the other makeshift beds. Some people had blankets thrown over them and some lay uncovered. I could see the evidence of wounds and bandaging, and the occasional body which lay so still that I knew it for dead. It was some kind of House of Physic, for the treatment of physical problems. It was a surprise to me, for I’d never been in such a place. We had so few sicknesses in the City: people rarely fell ill, except perhaps for the Remainders. Our House of Physic had been devoted to nursing the occasional refugee, or nurturing research and investigation into the best methods of prolonging Life and health. It was closely connected to the House of Magic, and the lines between the two disciplines were often blurred.

The Gold Warrior | 145 I looked down at myself with difficulty – my neck ached agonizingly. I flexed each limb to check that I was still whole: it was a relief to find that I was, despite the agony that every movement seemed to cause me. There was new pain in my knee, and some light bandages on my torso. They were carelessly done and I could see the knife cuts underneath, across my skin. One still oozed a little blood. The scars on these might never fade, I thought to myself. I felt no particular emotion at the thought, for my body had taken enough abuse already. My mind carried out its inventory very objectively – it was oddly numbed from misery and pain. But I couldn’t deny the fact that I was still alive, and for a moment, I was filled with joy. I’d been interrogated – of course I had. Some memories came back to me now, some that I wished had stayed hidden. I’d faced physical danger many times in my life, but never had I suffered personal attack like this: vicious, deliberately cruel treatment of my mind and body, to make me release information that I wished to keep secret. I may have been naïve, but my Training had been to make me a worthy opponent on the battlefield, against other soldiers. I’d never been prepared for such cowardly enemy tactics. I remembered knives, and scalding water, and strange hook-like tools that clawed at my body. There’d been blows to render me unconscious, then freezing water to wake me to my senses again. There’d been hands pulling at my limbs, stretching them, forcing back the digits of my hand…. No, I’d never undergone any Training that might have prepared me for all that. But I thought that I’d stood firm, that my secrets had remained with me. I suspected that this was why I was still alive – to be ready for the next onslaught. I could only hope that they’d not turned on Dax, as they’d threatened – Dax! I wrenched my body up on the pallet, wincing with the pain of my bruises and sore, broken skin. There were other patients around me, and I searched their faces with a strange, cold, fearful hope. I couldn’t see Dax – but I didn’t know what that might mean. Was I already too late to save him? “He’s not here,” came a low, slow voice. It was a man’s voice, and when I turned my head to the other side, I saw the man in question.

146 | Clare London He’d come to squat on the floor beside my pallet. He was tall and broadly built, but he moved easily. His hands hung casually by his sides, but there was a sharp concern in his eyes that belied his apparent calm. To my astonishment, I knew him. Should it have been so shocking to see him here? I’d not set eyes on him in over five years. It was a relief, actually, a comforting face in the midst of madness. “Varden.” I smiled, a little crookedly. “What a pleasure to see you. Are you being held here, too?” He shook his head gently then, his eyes flickering up and down my injured body as if he, too, were performing an inventory of my troubles. He was taller than I, but thinner, much thinner than I remembered him. He had been born in the same month as me – we used to joke about it during Training. I peered at his face, the puzzlement seeping into me. Why did he look so much older; so much more worn? “Maen,” he replied gently. It was an expression of weary surprise, and I liked to think there was friendship there, too. We’d been more than colleagues when he was at the Household: I understood a lot more about that now. I felt that my knowledge of human relationships had been a sorry, stunted thing for all of my life – that my compassion and empathy had never grown from its infancy. But that was the way I’d been expected to be in the Household. Only out here in the Place, where I was a prisoner, had I found a freedom to see people acting in a different way – to see that friendships could be forged, and commitments given at will, rather than on command, and that the end of the world didn’t necessarily follow such independence. Though at the moment, I wasn’t too sure about any of it. I’d been wary of Varden’s friendship before, suspicious that my position in the Household would be compromised. And so I’d held myself back when he’d tried to get closer to me. He’d been a mentor of sorts, and definitely a comrade, in the way that Grien had always been. But then my Mistress had found fault with him somehow. I thought he’d been moved to the House of Trade. I never heard from him, admittedly, nor had his name been mentioned by other Gold Warriors. I was rather ashamed now to realize that I’d never pursued the matter further, either. I had truly been a very loyal, single-minded soldier. “I was looking for Dax,” I said, rather dully. I don’t think my mind was quite recovered. “My Bronzeman. We were captured together: Takk is looking for information from us, though I think I’ve

The Gold Warrior | 147 withstood him and his methods so far. But Dax is very raw in his Training, still. I wouldn’t want them to harm him.” There was a smile on Varden’s face that seemed to be rather sad. “He’s alive, Maen,” he said, his voice unnaturally calm, as if he were trying to soothe a maniac with his words. His gentle tone was a surprise to me. He’d always been a very aggressive challenger, and we’d sparred both physically and verbally. He’d never shown any unnecessary compassion, and he was as committed to the good of the City as I, disregarding any personal needs. So this strange new persona upset me in some undefined way. “Don’t worry, Maen. The boy is alive, and maybe you’ll see him again. But I don’t think it wise for now.” “He’s hurt?” “Yes.” Varden had always been honest with me, too. “Badly. They tried to use him to loosen your tongue, it seems. He has several fingers broken, I think, and there’s some scarring to his face. But he lives. And you didn’t tell them anything, Maen.” His eyes shone with something I didn’t understand. “The boy stayed loyal to you, too – he demanded you stay silent. He bore his own pain remarkably well.” Varden laughed, a deep, rich sound, just as I remembered. “I wish that I’d had boys like that for my Bronzemen, back at the House of Trade. Things might have been different, then.” “Why are you here, Varden?” My heart ached to see Dax, to comfort him. But there were too many questions in my head to let me rest. “Why aren’t you still in the City? You were transferred, the Mistress said….” “Maen,” he sighed. “You still frustrate me. You really were the most magnificent of all the Guard – but surely you realized that your blind loyalty to Mistress Luana was the reason for most of our arguments? I thought you knew how I cared for you… how I chose only you for coupling. But you could only ever think of her, of the City, of your duty….” He saw my eyes widen and he laughed softly. There was no bitterness in it. “Fools, both of us, eh? I have my answer from the look on your face. But whether you realized it or not, it was my downfall. That was the sole reason for my transfer, Maen. Oh, there was a formal complaint lodged, for certain, that she had to investigate. But it was a complaint that was fabricated about me by one of her Favorites. A few words on a pillow, provoked by her greedy jealousy

148 | Clare London of all who shared you – she couldn’t wait to transfer me away and return you to her sole attention. And I admit that I was foolish, too – I made a righteous fuss, but I complained to the wrong people. I was indiscreet in my anger and I was reported to my new Mistress, a second misdemeanor. You know that two complaints mean discipline.” I was struggling to understand; I was still very weak. “She transferred you because we were close? You were angry at her?” “I’ll knock that head back on course for you if you don’t recover your wits more speedily,” he growled. “I cared for you, far more than as a comrade, far more than as a fellow Captain. I was incensed to be parted from you, angry that a selfish woman would dispose of me so carelessly! For Devotions’ sake, I can see that you never felt the same way – but I didn’t mind that.” He put out a hand to my arm and grasped it, as a friend. I could remember, suddenly, how his arm had felt in a different time. In the hot, easy enjoyment of the barracks, hidden in the dark night - laughing, touching, groaning. When Varden had left the Household, I didn’t seem to have the same appetite for sexual enjoyment any more, though my body sometimes demanded it of me, despite my thoughts. When he’d left, I had felt a strange bereavement. But I’d never taken the time to understand why. “So you were Exiled?” He nodded. “As you have been, albeit unwillingly. You realize, of course, that you can’t go back, Maen. You mustn’t go back! Your life will be snuffed out by that woman as easily as a candle. You’ve been contaminated by the excrement that is the Exile world. You would be a living reminder of a bridge between the two worlds. No one in the City wants to face up to the Exiles and their lands – to admit that they exist, let alone thrive. But they do.” “You look… less than before,” I began, slowly. But he wasn’t offended. He laughed! It was a shocking sound, in amongst the sorry cries and snuffling of the other invalids. “I know. No longer the brave, sturdy Captain, eh? Without the support of the Devotions, I grow older more quickly, I sometimes have illness. But I’m more than compensated. Here I’m Varden, the man – I have a partner and children of my own who know me as their father. I teach the men some soldiering. You could have all that too, Maen.”

The Gold Warrior | 149 “Now I know that Dax is alive,” I said, dryly. “For you speak as if with his voice.” Varden grinned at me, with a camaraderie that I recognized for the comfort it had always been. “You lie there, Maen, sorely wounded and facing death, and still your words are sharp and firm. I have missed you, soldier! I’d have been more proud to serve under you as Gold Warrior than I would have been with most anything else in my life. But I was sent away, and although that wasn’t my choice, in the end I have what I want.” His eyes narrowed. “Let me talk to Takk. Let me ask him to free you from interrogation – to let you live here in peace.” He looked at me kindly enough. “I’ll not distress you by talking about the boy Dax, Maen, but I have eyes in my head. So have many others at the Place. We see how you two are together. And we’re easy here with partners of all kinds, although most of us take the opposite sex as most comfortable. If Takk agrees to let you live, no one will be surprised if the two of you stay here together.” “I can’t fit into this world,” I said firmly. “I live for the City, Varden – I always have.” “The City has abandoned you–” he began to protest. “No!” I said, sharply. “It is I who have abandoned my duty.” Did he think this was easy for me? My body was beaten and I inevitably faced death at the next meeting with Takk and his men – but I could see no other future for me. I would never be accepted here; I would never be seen as anything other than a spy and a traitor, the enemy. I was too strong, and my rank too high to be trusted, even if I’d been able to convince them that I no longer had loyalty to the City that raised me. And that I could not do, anyway. What else did I know? I was lost without the City – without my role, without my men. Without my Mistress. If there were any opportunity at all, I had to try to return to that. I would take my chances with the Mistress who had nurtured me so far. Varden saw my silence, and unlike so many others I had known and perplexed during my life, he guessed the reason for it. His eyes narrowed: he knew what I planned to do. “When?” “It must be tonight,” I muttered, grateful for his pragmatism. “I must escape tonight, else I’ll die tomorrow under Takk. Will you help?

150 | Clare London I doubt now that I could go any distance at all without some help from those who know this camp. Or will you tell the tale to Takk? I understand that he’s your master now, that you’ve chosen this community as your own. I’m not a fool. And I’m ready for my death, Varden. I’ve been expecting it for a while. I just want to protect Dax, more than I do myself. But I’d not want you to suffer trouble for it, either.” “Like you will, if the Exiles find you. Like you will, back at the City,” he said, his lips drawn tightly across his teeth. “I must go back,” I said. I wished that my voice sounded more confident. “I must face it. I need to know about my men, what happened to them. And the Mistress, too. I cannot desert her, Varden. She’s always been fairness itself to me.” “You’re a fool,” said Varden sadly. “So very strong – yet so appallingly weak where the City is concerned.” “No!” I replied sharply. “The City has been my life. I cannot throw that away like dirty water and not feel the loss. I gave my commitment to my Mistress when I became a Warrior. It’s what I do; it’s what I am. I must return and see what role I might still have.” “Even if that role’s death? Don’t delude yourself, Maen. Where you’ve been – what you’ve done – you’re a living treason. The penalty for that is death.” Death here – death there. I wondered why I should think one better than the other. Or even if I thought any sense at all. Varden shrugged, his eyes glittering with yet another strange emotion. I was beginning to feel that anything I had ever learned about people was nothing but smoke, and about as robust. “I see.” He sighed, once. Then his expression hardened again. “I won’t tell Takk, Maen – that’s not my way, as you should know. So I can get you the key to the shackles, and I can help with a diversion that they would never connect back to me. But I do this purely for how I used to feel about you, not for any other reason, for I still think you’re a fool to even try to escape.” “And Dax?” I said urgently. “He must come with me.” “He won’t,” said Varden, just as firmly. “How can you ask that of him? There’s nothing for him back there except suspicion and

The Gold Warrior | 151 relegation back to the Remainders. He’ll be made miserable for the rest of his life – just as likely as you’ll be executed.” “They need him–” Varden made a noise of disgust. “Your own desire clouds your judgment, Maen. He might be the most beautiful, most talented Bronzeman you’ve ever had in the Household, but they’ll not accept him back now. You’re both marked, not just by the Exiles stamp on your bodies, which we all carry. But if they know about you and he–” “They won’t,” I hissed, shocked that Varden himself knew the extent of our relationship. Was it that obvious in my face, in my words? “I’ll protect him! I will beg the Mistress for his forgiveness: I’ll take all the blame on myself. He must have his chance for greatness – to be a Warrior. She knows his worth, for he’s a Favorite of hers, like I was once. She needs men like him in the Household, and I will retrieve him for her. She’ll be glad for that, even if my own usefulness is over.” “Maen!” came another voice, from behind Varden. “You’re awake. Varden, step aside – let me see him.” The older man rolled his eyes, but he moved to the side, and Dax stepped forward to face me. “For Devotions’ sake,” growled Varden, “keep your voices down. Most of these poor souls are near death after the raids on the City’s defenses, and their own incompetence served them ill. But if one person hears your talk, there’ll be nothing but death for all of us.” He stared at me, knowing I was the one in charge: old habits died hard. I nodded to him, and he backed away quickly, out of earshot. “Dax….” What did I think to say? It was a joy I’d never expected, to see him alive in front of me. I felt the rush of emotion throughout my weakened limbs, making my head spin. My body ached but it thrilled as well, remembering what we’d been together, what we’d done together, only a night ago. “Dax, it’ll be all right….” “It’ll never be that,” he snapped back at me, though his eyes searched me all over, as if he scarcely believed I was there. “I’m fine,” I said, though I obviously wasn’t. “And you?” His face was very white. His right hand was bandaged heavily, the blood still staining it brown underneath. It looked an awkward shape, and I could tell that no one had set the broken digits properly for

152 | Clare London him. It must still be very painful. His hair fell forward over his face, lank and tangled. His eyes shone at me from under the blond curtain, and when his head lifted a little higher, I had to bite my lip to hold back a cry of horror at the sight. His face was covered in cuts, as if they’d sliced deliberately and slowly, marking a small but devastating pattern of squares and flaps to lift the skin away. It was worst over a section of his left cheek, red raw and glistening with the exposed skin underneath. He was shackled, the same as I, which accounted for his shuffling, clumsy steps across the room. That, and his abject misery. “Not so beautiful now, eh?” he said, bitterly, seeing my shock. “We’re a sorry pair – and I believe that Takk and his men intend to return for another session after their night’s rest. I had to come to see you, Maen, though they told me–” He paused, as if the words caught in his throat. “Anyway, they told me I wasn’t to see you again.” “There’s a guard with you?” I looked behind him, but could see no one. The whole cave seemed deserted by any Exiles apart from the wounded. Maybe the men were elsewhere, preparing for more raids. Maybe the patients weren’t considered any kind of a threat. Dax dismissed my worries with an impatient shake of his head. “There were some men with me, but they gave me over to Varden for his attention. There are too many wounded, and all the able-bodied men are preparing the next attack. I’m not considered much of a threat. And Varden agreed to watch you, too; I don’t think they realized he knew you from the City.” “I have a lot to thank Varden for,” I said softly. “Dax – I think we–” “You’re planning to escape,” hissed Dax, interrupting me. His eyes rolled slightly, and his head turned away from me as if with an effort. “Aren’t you? Though I don’t blame you. In fact, I think it very wise that you leave now, Maen, else neither of us will survive another day here.” “You want to stay,” I said softly, wishing I might touch him, but afraid of the additional noise our chains might make. When he looked back at me, his eyes were deep with pain. “I can understand these people, Maen, and I have doubts and fears inside me that you have never had. I could live here, yes, if they’d have me.”

The Gold Warrior | 153 “They will, without me,” I said. I tried very hard to keep my voice from breaking. “So when I’m gone–” “No,” he said quietly, but very clearly. “I’ll come with you.” “That’s foolish, Dax,” I gasped, though my heart had soared to think I’d have more time with him. I couldn’t believe how selfish I’d become, since being in this place. “Varden has explained it to me – the risk of going back, the opportunities you have here….” “They tortured me as well as you,” he said, sharply. “They scarred me too, Maen. Is that the action of people who want me to join them?” I shook my head. “They’re scared. Scared of me and the City and everything. When I’m taken out of the picture they’ll return to trusting you – to liking you. What’s not to like? Like you said yourself, you understand them. You come from a similar background; you can relate to them.” “You–” “No,” I said wearily. “I’ll never be accepted like that, Dax. You’ve seen the looks I get – they spit at me. They avoid me. You must stay here and pretend you know nothing of my escape. Then you can have what you want–” “No!” he said again, rather loudly, so that some of the nearby patients stirred and groaned. “You see, what I want, more than anything else, is to be with you.” For a second, nothing stirred around us – even the ragged breathing of the other patients seemed to pause. “So we go together,” he said, his voice barely a murmur. “Wherever we go, Maen, we go together.”

154 | Clare London

CHAPTER ELEVEN Warrior’s Return

I

stood in the armory, alone. The night was cold and my harsh breath made steam as I exhaled. In the distance, I could hear the sound of a couple of Silver Captains laughing. Their voices grew louder as they passed the armory, and for a moment my gaze fixed on the heavy door, trying to remember if I’d bolted it behind me. But they moved on without approaching any nearer. My heartbeat slowed. My knee ached painfully, and the scars on my torso had healed awkwardly, the skin being painfully tight when I twisted my body quickly. I wanted to sit and rest; I wanted to stay far away from the others. I wanted many things, but none of them were open to me. And so I stood there, hiding like some coward in my own barracks, trying desperately to make some sense of it all. I didn’t know what I was waiting for, but I was very sure that it wasn’t the memories of the last few days in my life.

VARDEN had been as good as his word in helping us escape that night. At a couple of hours before the midnight, there was a commotion on the far side of the camp. A fire had broken out at the tents there – somewhere there’d been some carelessness, and whilst the men were in conference with Takk’s recently returned battle party, the flames had caught at the rough canvas. Within a few minutes, the fire had spread across the highly flammable materials of the camp and everyone was called to rush and help put out the blaze. Even from the

The Gold Warrior | 155 Physic cave I could see the flickering shadows of it; I could smell the sulphuric air, hear the crackling of the flames. When I struggled to my feet, Dax had appeared at the mouth of the cave. He had the key to my shackles and a rough bag over his shoulders with some extra clothing and provisions. He wore a loose hood over his head, covering up the characteristic shine of his whiteblond hair. He’d not said a word while we were inside, but swiftly released me and helped me stagger out of the cave and across to the riverbeds where we’d spent so many days working. It was dark, and the familiar tents and tool stores were strangely shaped shadows, unlike the background we’d known during the daylight hours. But even without the flare of the fire on the horizon, I would have known the route we must take. Dax rummaged in his bag, and I accepted the warm shirt and jerkin gratefully, though it was too tight across my broad chest. Together we stumbled forward in the dark across the rocky terrain. Only once did we look back – the fire was still blazing at the Place, and Dax turned to catch the last scarlet flickers on the horizon behind us. “Dax….” I didn’t know what to say to him. “They were going to come for you tonight,” he replied, as if he hadn’t heard me speak at all. “Takk lost many more men in the raids this month, and the amount they’ve captured or stolen is negligible. No medicines to speak of, no weapons except from the fallen soldiers. The Exiles are beaten for this winter, and they’ll not attack again until the brighter weather comes. Though who knows, by then, how many will have survived another year of these harsh conditions?” I stared at him, hearing pain in his voice as well as weariness. “He’s more than angry. He’s already fallen out with Eila and he was humiliated at your interrogation last night, for he learned nothing new from you. He was going to come for you again tonight, to begin the interrogation again – he saw no reason to give you a night’s rest.” He sounded very angry, as if he bit back emotions that were threatening to spiral out of his control. “It’s behind us now, Dax,” I said. “We must move on – we’ll not be able to keep this distance from them for long. When they find us gone….”

156 | Clare London “You’d not have lived through it,” he said stubbornly. “It would have killed you. They would have killed you.” “Whether they got the information or not,” I agreed quietly. “Yes. I was marked for death there.” He said no more, but his eyes glinted at me in the night’s darkness. He glared at me like a wild animal; he was almost feral. His hand tightened on my arm and we set off at a faster pace again.

THE journey back towards the City was the horror that I’d dreaded, even with Dax’s help. After a mile or so, I could hardly walk – I was weak from the interrogation and my knee injury had flared up again. I knew that Dax must be in pain from his broken fingers, but he still half-carried me for the worst, and final, part of the journey. I lay against his strong but young shoulders, and I concentrated on breathing as steadily as I could through the agony. The night weather was bitterly cold, and a wind had blown up fiercely, buffeting us when we could least bear it. I had only a pair of mismatched boots that Dax had snatched from the work tent, and we had no food except for a canteen of water and some dried fruits. It was near dawn before we approached the outskirts of the City. We were back near the eastern gate, near the Household of the Exchequer itself. We were perched at the top of a rocky range that looked down on the buildings and walls that we knew so well. “Not so far at all,” gasped Dax, though his body shuddered as he let me down to the ground beside him. I heard his bones creak their complaint. “I wonder why there’s not more communication between the City and the Exiles. Surely the City must be aware of how close they are? There could be some kind of peace between them, if someone brokered it. And if that’s not an option, why don’t the Exiles seek a sanctuary further away?” I didn’t answer. My tongue was tied with bearing my pain, with my plans to get us finally to safety, with the opinions that I already had of my own. “Maen, are you all right?” he said, concerned. “Veli said that they’d sent the Guard out to find you, when we were first taken. They came to find you. Do you think they might still be watching out?” His face was drawn with pain and exhaustion, and neither of us was

The Gold Warrior | 157 currently in any condition to make the last journey down from the cliff face to the plains below. He sank down opposite me, panting, to sit at the base of a rock. “Maybe,” I ground out my reply. The weather was still as chilled as ice, although the wind had dropped as the night passed. The pain in my leg made me dizzy; the confusion in my head was frustrating. I was concerned in my own way for Dax, for I could see that he was shaking and his words were slurring. “Dax, you must rest now, and then perhaps later–” He didn’t hear me. His eyes were rolling in his head, and his hands grasped at something invisible. He murmured words that must have been Remainder ones, or maybe even Exile ones, for I didn’t recognize many of them. He was exhausted, and maybe still suffering from injuries that I knew nothing about. Even as I struggled to pull my body up and reach out for him, he slumped to the ground, sinking into unconsciousness. It was all I could do to drag him across into my arms and let him lie there, trying to shelter him from the cold with my chest and body.

MAYBE I heard the voices and the clatter of armor when the Guard approached, but I doubt I could have made any other move except to raise my bitterly weary head. They had climbed the cliff to reach us, so they must have seen us, and thought the effort of leaving the City worth it for some reason. I didn’t believe – as Dax might have done – that they had kept watch for me specifically. But even as I struggled to my feet – even as I braced myself against the rock behind us – I felt an overwhelming relief at the sight of City clothes and City armor. “Take us to the Mistress of the House of the Exchequer,” I whispered, my voice nothing but a thread of painful sound. I felt strong arms grasp at mine: faces swam in front of me, though my focus was blurred due to the pain and the cold and the shock of it all. “We are part of her Guard.” Another soldier pushed past the ones that held me – he threw them aside and caught at me himself, even as my knee buckled again and I began to fall.

158 | Clare London I never saw his face, before I collapsed. I could only hope that we’d be treated with respect. I expected no more of my life now.

IT was a couple of days before the fever left me again. I had never been ill before in my life, and to be so debilitated – twice, in such a short time – scared me. Grien had apparently insisted that I was kept in the barracks, where he could monitor my progress. I was put on a spare pallet at the back of the room, and screens pulled around me for some privacy and rest. He had no fear of disturbing me – I didn’t even register where I was for a day and a night or maybe more. He had medicines brought in, and bandages changed, and a thin soup brought when I was fit enough to eat it. Trust Grien, I thought to myself when my spirit was brave enough to consider a weary, private smile. Trust Grien to think about food! On the first evening that I was properly conscious again, he called on me, when most of the Silver Captains were either on watch or preparing for the winter season Games. The Games had been postponed after the Exiles’ attack, but were now due to be held in a few days’ time, and visitors were already arriving in the Household. “Maen,” he said gently. “You’re looking much better now. Though you’ll bear scars that we could do nothing about.” Not just on my body, I wanted to say, but I held my tongue about that. “I must thank you. We were close to collapse after the journey. Was it you who led the party out to the rocks?” He nodded. I stared up at him, unsure as to whether he would welcome a smile of friendship. There was something about his bearing now, something in his eyes that was different towards me. I glanced at his face and smiled. The small, precious gold earring was bright and new in his ear. “You’re a Gold Warrior yourself now, I see. Congratulations.” “We needed the third Warrior,” he said swiftly, though he flushed with pride as well. “With you gone. I was promoted as soon as the hunting party returned with no news of you.” He looked at my own ear, bare of its badge. “Did you lose yours to the Exiles?”

The Gold Warrior | 159 I stared back at him, keeping my face clear, and I nodded. “Did you ask for the hunting party as well? When I was first taken?” He made a small, quick noise of annoyance, as if my questioning was embarrassing to him. “I did, though it was in vain – we lost their trail very quickly in the poor weather and unfamiliar terrain. I suggested to Mistress Luana that we should try to recover you, that the Exiles wouldn’t get far carrying a wounded Gold Warrior. That it was in the Household’s interests to prevent any security knowledge being captured by them.” “Thank you,” I said. “For trying.” His eyes met mine, but the expression was strangely distant. “I did it for the Household, Maen. You’ll understand that. For the City – for the Mistress. Devotion to the City is everything–” “Service to the City is our Reward,” I completed. There was a sudden chill across my weakened body. It was almost as if he sought to trip me – to catch me out in a weakness of devotion, as well. “How many did I – we lose in the attack?” I asked. The answer was devastating, and Grien was visibly upset. We had lost the other Bronzeman and also Orven. Justes had sustained a vicious blow to his arm from a badly-kept weapon, and he’d died shortly afterwards from a strange and untreatable infection, raving and in great pain. The Exiles had taken other soldiers down with them before they retreated – but those named were the ones that affected me most personally. “And Fremer?” “Fremer is fine,” said Grien shortly. He must have known why I asked. Fremer and Justes had been good friends – for Devotion’s sake, I believed they’d been more than that. But when I looked for compassion in Grien’s face I saw nothing in return except cold, steady distance. It was partly a relief to me, for it meant that he couldn’t know about me and Dax, and what we’d done while we’d been held captive. What we’d discovered about each other – what we’d become. Such knowledge would have shown in his face, I was sure. But his disapproval was a strange new kind of agony, too – it was as if I no longer rated his respect and admiration. The feeling stung me as painfully as if he’d struck me with his blade. The thought of having lost my position was suddenly abhorrent, though I must have known it was probable. After all, what kind of a

160 | Clare London Gold Warrior would I be now, with such serious injuries? To say nothing of the potential danger from being in the enemy camp for so long. “So, Grien, you are now in charge.” My voice sounded tight. “Will you have me report for duty as soon as I’m on my feet again? Is that what the Mistress wants?” His eyes flickered, but the expression passed too quickly for me to be sure of what it meant. His tone grew a little warmer than before, but he still held my gaze challengingly. “She’ll tell us both what she wants soon, I’m sure.” I’d provoked him, I knew. My own tone was sharp in reply, as if I still commanded him, but I needed information from him, and I needed him to retain just some of that obedience and loyalty that he once had towards me. “The Bronzeman with me, Grien – did he survive the journey too?” There was another flicker of emotion in Grien’s eyes – maybe less than before. “He’s well enough,” he replied promptly. “The boy called Dax. Though I doubt he’ll ever be the man he once promised to be. The capture and incarceration has taken its toll on him. You must have seen that yourself, Maen. Did you wonder at the wisdom of bringing him back with you?” I was puzzled for a moment. “You think I shouldn’t have bothered? Surely he’s as much a part of our Guard as I, as much a citizen of the City as I, and entitled to be returned in the same way. I couldn’t have left him to the Exiles.” “They are barbarians!” Grien was roused now. “A man who’s been in their hands can never be the same: they despise and undermine everything that we have here, everything that’s good and fine. I’ve seen what they did to you both – I’ve seen your injuries, Maen. They’re wild animals and should be loathed and exterminated as such.” “Yes,” I said, in a low voice. “As you say. And me, Grien?” “You?” “Did you think it wise that I should have returned too?” Did you feel such loss for me, I thought silently, as you did for the fallen Silvers and Bronzemen? “Of course you had to return!” he exclaimed, and for that moment I saw the care and concern for me that he obviously still held. “It’s a dreadful thing, the loss of a Gold Warrior. I don’t understand

The Gold Warrior | 161 your tone, Maen, but I do appreciate the hideous ordeal you’ve been through. This has been too much for you, obviously. We can talk again later, when you’re more recovered. I’ll leave you now to rest.” He gazed at me, sure of his words, but as he turned to leave me alone in the barracks I thought I caught sight of a glimmer of fear in his eyes. I didn’t dare to think what might be reflected in my own.

I stood now in the armory, thinking over those first few days back at the City. I’d not been Called by the Mistress, in any capacity, at any time. Grien had not allowed me back on active duty, nor was I accorded back the position of Gold Warrior. I just rested, and allowed my body to recover itself, the wounds knitting back together. I was in limbo: I had no direction, no purpose. I brooded. And I feared. I heard the heavy creak of the armory door opening, and I tensed, waiting to be discovered. By whom? I thought bitterly. What had become of me that I crept about the Household, limping slightly on my less than perfect knee, afraid of confrontation? Is this what I’d come back for? To my astonishment, it was Dax. I’d not seen him since we both got back to the City, for by the time I recovered consciousness, he’d been taken somewhere else and I didn’t dare ask for news of him. I was afraid that my concern would give us both away. Now he was here, and the shock of his physical presence swept over me with great waves of relief and pleasure, and – although it shamed me, too – desire. He closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. I glanced at his hand, seeing the bandages much reduced, and his weight taken against it almost as much as the other. But the set of his fingers was still awkward, the digits misshapen. It will never be as good again, I thought. I knew he would never hold a sword again as firmly as he had – never have as sensitive a touch at a horse’s mouth. What in Devotion’s name had we both become? I raged to myself. What would happen to us? “Maen.” He spoke my name, but it wasn’t to attract my attention for he already had that. It was as if he wanted to hear it on his tongue again.

162 | Clare London “You cannot call me that here,” I sighed. His bright eyes glinted in the dim light of the room. “So what else will I call you? They don’t acknowledge you as Gold Warrior any more. I don’t see you about in the barracks: I don’t see you on the training ground. Am I still to call you Sir? Or have they already begun to abandon you?” “I won’t have you talking that way – I won’t allow it.” My eyes followed him as he stepped further into the room, towards me. He looked so different here, back in the Household. He looked less of a man and more of a boy, and suddenly I couldn’t see how anyone would ever consider him one of the Guard again. He had never looked more out of place, more dispossessed. It was in his attitude, in his very movements. In the way he turned his head too sharply; in the way his eyes were slightly hooded, and his hands clenched too eagerly at his sides. And the injuries – I couldn’t forget those. He was only a foot in front of me, and such was his recent growth that we were almost face to face. He wore casual clothing, just the vest and jerkin and trousers, and his hair was loose around his face. He looked a little wild, and his speech was too aggressive for a Bronzeman: it reminded me of how he’d been when he first came to us. When he’d first come to me. It just confirmed my fears that he hadn’t been allowed back into active duties, either. The fear hung as a thick, cold cloud around my heart. I watched my hand as it reached out and pressed a lock of his white-blond hair back behind his ear. I uncovered his cheek – the crisscross of scars that was healing well, and yet would never be entirely gone. “How has it been, Dax? With the other soldiers?” “You can imagine, I expect,” he said. “Don’t play games with me. I can’t bear it, Maen, if you return to treating me like the others.” “So. Not well, then,” I said, a little dryly. He sighed then, and his gaze dropped. I saw the warmth of his breath as mist in the cool air of the armory. I smelled his scent, close to me. Memories assaulted me, like the enemies of my peace they undoubtedly were. And yet I felt my own heart open up and let them in.

The Gold Warrior | 163 “They don’t know what to do with me – how to treat me. Some of them are disgusted by me; some look scared. Others are desperate to ask me how it was, to ask me about the Exiles. I can see their eyes shining greedily when they look at me. Stupid boys, that’s all they are! Even the Ladies look at me askance. And without word from the Mistress, Grien won’t let me participate in the Training.” His eyes darted to my face, and there was such an anguished plea there that I felt the ache in my own bones. I’m not sure he even recognized the inner pain himself. “They don’t know about us, Maen. That I’m sure of. You’re safe, aren’t you?” It was too much to bear. I was weak, both emotionally and physically, and the object of all my misery and desire was in front of me, his body a hand’s touch away, his need for me in every word he spoke. He’d been my comfort and my companion – he’d been loyal to me – he’d suffered horribly for me. His body had been naked against me, and his mouth had whispered strange, excited noises as I took him. He was all I had. All I wanted. I didn’t remember moving forward, but then he was pressed back against the armory wall, my hands holding tightly at his upper arms, and I was kissing him. My mouth was very fierce – it seemed so long since I had tasted him like this. It was as if we were back at the Place, for my actions were too unruly for a Gold Warrior, yet I felt a rush of excitement and passion to my head that was shockingly familiar. Dax’s tongue was fast in response: his hands lifted and gripped me back. “This is real, isn’t it, Maen?” he gasped. “This will never be taken away from me. Nothing else matters – I’ll put up with anything for this.” My hands ran down his arms and slid around his waist. I felt the muscles of his torso tighten in anticipation. I was very aroused, my hard cock pressing painfully against my own trousers: my very nerves begged for him. “This is madness, lunacy. If we’re caught–” “Maen,” he murmured in my ear, and the lilt of my name in his voice was like music. “We’re caught already, aren’t we? Caught up in this. Let me touch you. I’ve not been allowed near you since we returned.”

164 | Clare London “But now–?” My voice was nothing but a gasp. His hands reached greedily for the front of my trousers and slid in against my cool skin. I’d never wanted anyone so quickly, so fiercely before. “I insisted they gave me something to do. I’m working in the kitchen – but the night’s supper is done, and none of them have any instructions for my time beyond that. When I left, they assumed I was going back to the barracks, or on to some other duties. But I knew you came here at night; you’ve done this for several days now.” “You’ve seen me?” “I’ve watched you,” he said, simply. His lips pressed at my neck. When his hand loosened the cord of my trousers and spread the opening wide to the evening air, I felt a ripple of surrender flow through me as smoothly as my own blood. “I have no other purpose now.” His hand was on my cock, lifting it up into his palm, caressing it. I wanted to stop him – to reassure him that his career at the Household would be renewed – that he mustn’t be seen with me, a Warrior who now struggled to hold any status at all. Bernos would accept him into his Guard, I was sure, if Grien were unwilling. The wounds would heal and he would be fit again. He would be magnificent…. The words felt like dry sand in my mind, even before I tried to speak them. I was beginning to realize that I could fool no one but myself, and now even I had found my eyes opened. His mouth was on mine again, and I felt the brusque shove of his free hand, pushing down his own trousers, stepping out of them so that he was covered with nothing but his long shirt. When I reached down I found the muscles of his legs under my touch, the shudder of the flesh between his inner thighs, the press of his hips against my own uncovered skin. He was panting. “How will you take me, Maen? Shall I turn around against the wall? Or will you look into my face….” “I – can’t–” He ignored me. He turned inside the circle of my grasp until he faced the wall, and he leant out slightly in front of me, letting his arms hold him against the bare stone. My hands slid from his waist to his buttocks where his skin was tight with the chill and the anticipation. I

The Gold Warrior | 165 traced the muscles I found there, I let one of my hands slip gently round to the front of his groin, to stroke him a few times in return. He groaned softly. “Take me now. The Guard is on duty at the other end of the barracks – I checked. I will have you, Maen.” I faltered, even as my body ached to be part of him. “I never knew this passion was in you. Dax, I never meant for any of this to happen–” “Shut up!” His voice was sharp. His hand reached behind him, to tug at my hip to bring me nearer. The tip of my erection nudged at him and his legs spread further open, instinctively. He gave a short, almost harsh laugh. “Did you think the same desire was in you, Maen? Haven’t we both been holding ourselves back all this time? I never wanted anything for myself until I saw you. I’ve been keeping it all inside – waiting for something, all this time – even if I didn’t know it. Even if it means–” “Enough!” I was beside myself with longing and the need to assuage my loneliness. Dax’s body was a treasure in my hands – it was part of me – he was part of me! How could I explain it? No one would ever understand; no one would ever tolerate such a thing. I pressed as gently as I could into him without extra lubrication, though he still winced and gasped. I thrust into him then like I was mad – as, in fact, I think I was. I locked my arm underneath his chest to keep him to me, to hold him still as I claimed him. His hair tangled around my face as his body bucked under me, and he twisted his head back to reach for me, to kiss me. I leaned forward to meet his lips, gasping as I moved in and out of him – and once I laughed, not knowing why. Dax moaned. He lifted one hand off the wall to reach down to his own neglected cock. “To hear you laugh, Maen… For freedom’s sake, it was a miracle when I first heard it. A joy in itself–” He gasped, and I knew he was close to climax. I was shuddering towards it, myself: coherent words escaped me. “Now!” he groaned. “Harder–” I gripped at his hips and sank myself as deeply into him as I dared. With a final, heavy shudder, I felt my own completion race through me and a cry escaped my mouth. Dax arched up underneath me, and I felt the muscles of his arm working fiercely to bring him his

166 | Clare London own pleasure. I was panting and my head swam; I was still hard inside him, my flesh over-sensitive and sated. But I reached a shaking hand around to place over his own, clutched around his cock, and we pumped together. His groan when he climaxed was from so deep inside him that I didn’t recognize his voice. It thrummed through me, as I pressed myself against his back, feeling every shiver and wrench of his muscles as part of my own reaction. We were a single being; we were melded together. I keened along with him. I felt the warm, thick liquid spilling from him all over our joined hands: I felt his head go back against mine and his breath turn harsh and begging in my ear. We came apart reluctantly – Dax lifted himself carefully from me, his skin flushed. He turned slowly to stand with his back once more to the wall, and he held himself upright there, gathering his breath. I tried to dress myself back into my clothes but my actions seemed clumsy and slow. “Maen–?” He sounded suddenly hesitant, as if his courage and confidence had bled out of him with his spilled seed. I looked up and I felt as if saw into his soul again. I saw his excitement, his fear, his youth. His eyes seemed so astonishingly open. Or was it just to me? “Maen, you know how I feel about you, don’t you? I need to tell you–” “You don’t need to tell me anything,” I said swiftly. I took the single step that brought us close again, and I took hold of his chin. When I kissed him, his mouth opened eagerly and he reached to run his hand through my hair, smoothing it back from my face. No one had ever touched me with such an intimate gesture in all my life – not even the most tender of Ladies. It was as if he soothed and caressed me; as if he regarded me as his own. It was an unusual reversal of our roles, where I was his mentor and Commander. When we broke apart again I licked softly at the silver thread of saliva between our lips. It bonded us for those few seconds more. “I know, Dax. You tell me everything I need to know without your words. Believe me, I feel the same.” His eyes flickered. There was hope there, and more fear. And a very youthful delight. “You – are you sure? I dreamed that it was just while we were in the Place – that back in the City, you’d be disgusted

The Gold Warrior | 167 with me. I told myself I wouldn’t be ashamed of my own actions and feelings, whatever you felt, yourself–” “Did I seem disgusted just now?” I asked softly. “Were we ashamed of what we did?” He looked into my eyes as if he searched for the truth there, and at last I was sure he’d find it. I’d never shown such warmth or care to any other human, never been asked for it. But now I wanted to show it and I wasn’t ashamed to do so. Only I knew that it was sheltering my own personal fear – and my anticipation of what would surely happen to us. But he was the one I cared for; the one that had to be saved. Dax was bending down to pull his trousers back up his legs and I suddenly wondered if he were hiding his face from me. His body had tensed. When he spoke, his words were very low. “I overheard Grien, Maen. In the barracks tonight. About the Mistress.” “The Mistress?” He looked up then, staring me out. His face was pale, and his expression one that I couldn’t easily identify. “She wants to see you, Maen. The Mistress will Call you tonight.”

168 | Clare London

CHAPTER TWELVE Loyalty Rewarded

I

don’t know what I expected: it had been so long in my mind that I would be Called by her to talk about my absence, that when the Call actually came I was shocked. Or was I fearful? Her Secretary showed me through, as she often had in the past. But this time her eyes lingered on me too long to be anywhere near polite. I had also noticed the additional Guards along the corridor to the Mistress’s room – it was more than I had ever thought necessary. Maybe Grien had a different approach to the matter, or maybe it was solely because of my visit. I wondered whether I should feel flattered. As the Secretary waved me through with nothing short of insolence, all I felt was nausea. Mistress Luana greeted me with a view of her back. She stood at her window, dressed in her favorite blue silk, her hair loose down to her waist. The room was dimly lit, and yet I had no feeling of sensuality: there was a strange coolness in the air. And then she turned to face me. My senses responded to her with a rush of eager, startled, confused emotions. She looked well. Her face was a little drawn and she was pale, but there was a glow to her skin that was very becoming. She’d put on a little weight, and the added voluptuousness suited her. I had forgotten her beauty – I’d forgotten the dark liquid eyes, and the almost arrogant arch to her brows. Such a slight, feminine body, yet disguising such strength of will. Perhaps most shocking of all, I seemed to have forgotten my training in her Household, and my joyful

The Gold Warrior | 169 loyalty to her for so many years. I’d missed her; I’d missed my place in her Guard – serving her. It felt like a sudden bereavement. I realized almost immediately after my initial appraisal that she’d been drinking. Heavily. My Mistress enjoyed her drinking, and usually carried it well. But tonight it had lent a wild volatility to her eyes and a slurred softness to her speech. I was a little startled, for I’d never known her to be anything less than totally in control. “You’re back then, Maen.” Her voice was low and soft, and her body leaned gently towards me, as if in welcome. I didn’t move any nearer. Did she forget how well I knew her? Did she doubt that I’d hear the sharp warning underlying such a seductive tone? I had seen her turn on many a soldier – for Devotions’ sake, I’d known her anger myself several times. Although my instinct was to drop to my knees before her, something held me back, something that warned me to watch out for myself. “Yes, Mistress,” I replied. “And I thank you for the opportunity to see you again – to be back in your company. It was the greatest hardship, to be parted from my duty.” She stared at me. And then she laughed, still softly. “The same body – the same voice. And even the same words! Maen, I will admit to you that I missed you, too. I gave you up for dead. Only your very loyal Silver Captain asked to pursue you, persuading me that there was a chance to recover you.” “I am honored, Mistress. A soldier doesn’t deserve special treatment – none of us have the right to personal ambition or hopes, only the satisfaction of serving the City.” “How dare you mock!” she snapped. “No!” I growled back, and for a moment her eyes flashed in surprise. I quickly tempered my tone. “It’s not mockery, Mistress. But forgive me if I am slow or clumsy in my responses. I’ve had no chance to express my loyalty and devotion for weeks now.” “Because you have been in the Place, Maen, have you not? The Place of Exiles. A guest of their hospitality. A victim of their sedition.” Her eyes met mine as if in challenge. “Yes,” I said. “Mistress, I have. Against my will.”

170 | Clare London Her hand rose slightly from her side, as if to brush away my comment. “I’ll not insult you, Maen, for you were ever one of my most intelligent men. You must know that your position is unprecedented – that we have never recovered a lost soldier, let alone a Gold Warrior. And not one who has spent time with the Exiles – and lived to tell his tales.” I was silent. What did she want me to say? Was I to apologize? To beg forgiveness for having a strong will to live? “Even the Queen-Elect is interested in your return,” she continued. In her current tone, it sounded like a sneer. It was an ugly sound in her lovely mouth, but I knew better than to draw attention to that. “Seleste is returning to my Household, having heard of your escape. She will presume yet again on my hospitality, and have her people call on my resources. I might as well tell you that she supported Grien’s pursuit of you – in fact, she insisted that a watch be kept at the eastern gate in case you escaped captivity and returned. As – eventually – you did.” “We did,” I said. She didn’t note my words at all. Her eyes still had the wildness in them, and she stepped now towards me, her brow darkening with anger. “Did you engineer this whole enterprise, Maen? Was this some plot you hatched with Seleste, to discover more intelligence about the Exiles? I don’t know what her schemes may be….” “Mistress,” I broke in. I was shocked at her paranoia, but I kept my face as clear as I could. “There was no premeditation. I was injured and I was tortured for my knowledge, though I told them nothing–” “Silence!” she said, sharply. “And now the woman is beside me at every turn, demanding to know what I will do with you.” My mouth opened – then closed again. “I would wish to be back on duty, Mistress,” I said carefully. “To serve you as I always have done.” “What you wish is of no importance!” she cried, and for the first time I saw the suspicion of a tear at the corner of her eye. I thought it was probably the drink in her, making her maudlin. I felt a deep sorrow at causing her trouble. I felt the familiar tug to the strings of my

The Gold Warrior | 171 loyalty towards everything she stood for – and my care for her, personally. I slipped slowly to one knee – my injury no longer allowed me to put full weight on both. “Forgive me, I know that, Mistress. Whatever you decide, I’ll obey. You know I will.” I felt her eyes on me for quite a few seconds before she spoke. “What do I know, Maen?” I looked up – she was closer now. Close enough to put her hand to my shoulder, though she didn’t. “You must know that I’ve never been anything but loyal to the City, Mistress, and to you. That’s why I knew I had to escape – to return. To bring us both back to the City.” “Both?” I stared up at her fully now. Her dark eyes were shining with reflections from the candles on the walls. “I brought both myself and Dax back to you, Mistress. He is the best recruit we have ever had. He will be a fine and prestigious Warrior for you one day–” Her sharp, mirthless laugh cut across my words, startling me. “Maen, have your eyes been damaged, too? I have seen the boy, and the way that his face is scarred most unpleasantly – also his hand is so injured that I wonder how he will hold an axe again. I won’t be taking him back as a Bronzeman: I have no need of such a sub-standard person for my Guard. And although he was a pleasant toy in bed, who will want to take him there now?” She looked at me very deliberately, and her mouth phrased the words as if they were a caress, not the shocking cruelty that they obviously were. I stared at her in astonishment. Why did I feel that she was baiting me? “What do you propose to do with him, then?” I said. I knew I shouldn’t speak to her in that way, but she’d startled me. I’d never known her to be needlessly cruel: I didn’t understand her extreme reaction. “He’s serviced you well as a Bronzeman; he’s fought bravely for you, for your Household. He suffered most terribly at the camp of the Exiles. Is he to be cast aside, even after that?” She didn’t answer me directly. Instead, her eyebrows rose slightly, and her eyes flashed a warning. “So, now we see another side of you, soldier. I think the whole matter is more about you, Maen. What do I do with you?”

172 | Clare London “With me?” The heat of her anger was almost palpable now. “Listen to you! You question me; you challenge me! What sort of disrespect have you learned during your abandonment of the City?” “Abandonment–?” I was too horrified to phrase a response, nor did she give me any chance. “Who has trained and disciplined your other men whilst you’ve been gone? Who has kept the Guard in a state of readiness in case of further attack? Those are the qualities I need and appreciate – not the argument that you offer me. And this boy–” She paused, as if to regain her composure, but her anger still sparked at me. “Why do you defend him so passionately, Maen? What is he to you?” “He’s one of my men.” “Just one, Maen,” she said, her voice icy. “Just one. But one that you have been unhealthily fascinated by, ever since he joined the Guard.” “No!“ I protested. I had no idea how convincing I might sound. For a second, a look of hatred flashed across her face. I was sure that I hadn’t mistaken it. “The Council says that you are compromised, Maen. That no man can spend time with the Exiles and return to a pure life in the City.” I struggled back to my feet, whether she wished it or not. I would not face this on my knees – she couldn’t expect me to! My breath was painful in my chest. “I told them nothing about the City’s security or defenses. I have always been loyal to the City. To you.” “You lost men in the attack – you were taken. What hope does that give me of security?” “I–” I stuttered; I was confused. What did she want of me? Why did she attack me like this? “It will not happen again. If I’m allowed to take a position in the Guard–” She interrupted me as if I hadn’t spoken. “And you are injured yourself, Maen. Don’t think I don’t see the limp, the pain in your leg. You have indeed been compromised – in many ways.” “But I am healing,” I said. “I will be fit again, and good for duty, as I always have been.” For some strange reason my breath was calming. The shock of her displeasure was lessening. Maybe it was

The Gold Warrior | 173 the rise of my own anger, eclipsing my fear. Maybe it was a growing realization that I had already been judged by her – and found wanting. I tried to swallow my indignation. I would never have felt this way towards my Mistress before my capture, before my time outside the City. Would never have dared such defiance. The feelings filled me with heat and the promise of newfound confidence. She glared at me. “Are you taking your Devotions again, soldier?” My body shrank away from answering, but luckily her eyes flickered away from my face, as if she assumed my obedience. I’d been hiding them, as Dax used to do, for a couple of days now. My mind rebelled against taking them – against returning to the calmer, less vibrant man that I’d been. I couldn’t have explained to anyone why I did that, for it was a blatant crime. I avoided making any explanation, anyway. I tried to deny that I was so very different than before – and yet my own behavior lied to me. “And the other marks on your body?” Her gaze swept across me with contempt. I felt dirty, degraded. I flushed. “Filthy, corrupting Exile marks!” Her disgust was also palpable. “We had no choice in that.” I said grimly. “They were made on our bodies when we were captured. They’re just marks–” “They’re the marks of your shame, Maen!” Her voice was suddenly higher – there was distress in her tone. I’d never known her so volatile, and for the first time I thought I should feel pity for her. She appeared to be as distressed at her own behavior as she was at mine. “They’re the marks of mine!” There was a sudden silence. Her eyes were wide and I looked straight into them. For that second we saw each other as equal humans – not Mistress and soldier. I saw things that I shouldn’t have; that I didn’t want to see. “You knew about the Exiles, Mistress,” I said slowly. “Didn’t you? You knew they were near to the Household – that they were bleeding us of men and supplies, and that we were vulnerable to their attacks. You must have known! You’ve listened to my reports and my warnings, and you’ve chosen deliberately not to act on them. You persuaded the Queen-Elect that the Household was well-defended, despite her concerns – but then you lost one of your Gold Warriors to

174 | Clare London them. Is that your shame? That you’ve underestimated the Exiles? That you have some knowledge of them that you dared not share? That you fear them?” “Maen!” Her gasp was horrified. Her face twisted both with anger and a fear that I recognized: it gave the truth to my suspicions. She knew far more about the planet than I – or my men – had ever been led to believe. She knew of the growing disparity between the tales told to us in the City and the reality. Tales that had always reassured us of our invulnerability, of our superior strength and intelligence. Of our dominance of the planet. How much of that was true? How long had I been kept ignorant of the developments outside the security of the City walls? I had been persuaded into a sense of security that was false. How many other Mistresses knew of the Exiles and their growing strength – and yet did not admit to it? I didn’t want to believe that I’d been wrong to place my faith in my Mistress and the rulers of the City, yet the belief was there, and it saturated me with misery and horror alike. Was there nothing left to comfort me – nothing left of the bedrock of my whole life? She spat out words as if they were poison festering in her mouth. “Your insolence is appalling – I will have you flogged.” “I’ve been flogged,” I said harshly. “And worse. I do not fear it. What I fear is the loss of a strong, wise Mistress. I need her careful protection of my Household, its nurturing, its success. I need a Mistress who is leader of her men, an example to the Ladies who are her companions. Whose decisions are clear and bold. Whose men will obey her to the death, as I would have done. I can’t believe you wouldn’t have struck out at the Exiles if you knew them to be a threat – I can’t believe you wouldn’t have ordered us to take the initiative, to quash that threat.” She was shaking, but I didn’t hold back. I heard words tumble from my mouth as if they were from someone else, and each one seemed to jolt her further. “I will follow your orders whatever they may be. I am a soldier – I always have been. And this soldier has returned to you, to offer whatever he has left for your use. Don’t question my loyalty – don’t despise me as you seem to do now! I have no shame at my wounds, for they were suffered for the City; for you.

The Gold Warrior | 175 Whatever the politics are between the City and the Exiles, it’s nothing to me. I have just done my duty.” “Then it is my right to use or abuse you as I wish,” she flared suddenly at me. “I may have no use for you at all! I do not owe you anything – you have no right to anything, except to act on my whim.” I drew breath. “I rely on your whim being wise, Mistress. I can’t ask for anything else.” It was as if the tension between us shattered like a thin pane of glass.

SHE sagged, very slightly, but I feared that she would fall. I took the steps to be beside her, and caught her gently around the waist. For that moment she leant into me, as she often had before – with affection and desire. I touched my lips to her soft hair: my hand stroked at the soft dimpling flesh of her body. “Everything has changed, Maen.” Her voice was like a sob. “I don’t know what to say to comfort you, Mistress,” I said. I knew my own life had been rocked to its foundations. But that could be nothing more than a minor inconvenience in my Mistress’s life – what else could be causing her such distress? ”You think the life of a Mistress is easy,” she sighed. She broke away from me, though gently, and stepped back as if fearing to be too close to me. “That my rule is an easy task.” “No,” I said softly. “Never. I don’t envy you the burden.” She flashed a glance at me, as if she suspected me of mockery again. “You were always beside me, Maen. You were always there – always supporting me. The best Gold Warrior in the City, some said. And you were in my Household.” I still am, I thought, but didn’t dare say. Was this to do with her pride alone? That she had lost a Warrior? That she had somehow lost face? “And yet, because of my pleasure for you, I ignored the warning signs. Signs of your inherent weakness.” I started, and my fists clenched at my sides as I fought not to protest. What did she mean? I’d lived – I’d survived the worst that a soldier had ever suffered. I was the strongest she’d ever had in her Guard –

176 | Clare London “You were weak, Maen. I believe that you still are. Even as a Bronzeman, you had a vulnerability towards the soldiers, towards other men. You always had the need for them.” The chill was slow to surround me, but it was seeping deep into my bones. “Comrades,” I said, but my voice sounded weak. “That’s what they are to me. I have taken pride in building you a Guard of strong, fine men. I have been selfish, perhaps, in enjoying that achievement….” Mistress Luana was moving back towards me now, and it was I who was weak on my feet. I felt a fear that I had never known in battle – a fear that I’d never known with the Exiles, except when they’d attacked Dax. I looked at the slight, lovely woman and I saw nothing but my own disaster. She knew. She knew about Dax and me. I didn’t know how, but I knew that she did. The suspicion of magic flared in my mind, as it often had. Or maybe it was just her knowledge of me – perhaps I’d never been in control of myself at all. “Selfish, yes. And to give you credit, you’ve fought your desires: you’ve hidden them well. But it’s eaten away at you, Maen – the need for something more than mere physical satisfaction. I’ve felt it sometimes when you’ve been with me – seen it in your eyes when you look at the men. You see more than their skills, more than their use to the City.” I couldn’t deny it. I had thought it a strength that I cared for my men more than other Gold Warriors did. To my Mistress, though, it was a betrayal: a dilution of the total devotion to her that she craved. And in the case of Dax – so much more. I was distracted and never saw her hand rise. Her slap was vicious, knocking my head to the side. I bit at my lip, feeling the stinging warmth on my cheek. “You are not entitled to anything more than existence, soldier!” she hissed. Her anger was back and fiercer than ever. “I don’t ask you to have pride – to enjoy your life! What makes you think you can humiliate me by seeking more than that?” I didn’t even try to answer now. She would not have listened to me.

The Gold Warrior | 177 “Since you came to me – since I first saw you as mine – you’ve been different from the rest. I thought I would teach you the joy of serving your Mistress alone, the satisfaction in controlling my Guard, the pleasure of battle for the glory of the City. I had such hopes of you, Maen! But I saw the seeds of restlessness so early on, when you were only a new Silver Captain.” She caught my shocked eyes. “Yes, I think you were tempted even then, to seek the friendships that you know are forbidden. And so I thought I should show you what it meant to care too much for your own. To give affection to your own kind.” To show me? “Don’t you remember it, Maen? Your first execution?” She must have seen from my expression that I did, all too well. “I needed you to see that, to see what the role of Gold Warrior encompassed, to see what you’d be giving yourself to. You were so eager then – so ready to do my bidding.” A thin, sad smile tugged at her mouth. Her face was flushed with her argument. “But you had to know that there would be pain, too, and punishment for disobeying Devotions. For allowing anything at all to become more important than Service to the City. That’s what that Gold Warrior learned that day. And I hoped that you would too.” I stared at her – I remembered her insistence that I attended the execution. Remembered standing next to Varden, scared of the whole event and yet comforted by his presence beside me. Remembered my Mistress’s especially sensual comfort of me that night. And then the banishment of Varden. Sudden – and vindictive. That had all been part of her lesson. “I claimed you back, Maen,” she murmured. Her voice was slurring again – her hand reached out towards me, but never touched. “You were only ever for me. And you’d been happy with that, hadn’t you? You were the most perfect Warrior, the most devoted servant.” I was silent. “But now the boy….” She moved slowly across the floor, as if pacing out her thoughts. Her brow furrowed a little as she struggled to understand. Her hand strayed to her stomach: maybe she held back nausea. But this time, I didn’t step forward to help her. I knew her ways too well not to be wary of her. My feelings towards my Mistress were changing – had been changed – and I was never more aware of it.

178 | Clare London “Didn’t I look after him enough for you, Maen? He could never be yours, of course not! But I thought I would help you be strong: I would help you overcome your weakness. So I kept him from the others – I kept him for myself.” Her laugh was low and truly bitter. “He was always different, like you had been. Beautiful as only a young boy can be… with a great strength and will, I’d guess. But he held something back, he hid something of himself from me. From me! Unlike you, I was never convinced that he’d be as loyal.” She turned suddenly, facing back to me. “Why wasn’t that enough for you?” “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, conscious of repressing all emotion in my voice. Her eyes bored into me. The expression on her face had twisted her so severely that her beauty was just a memory to me. “What happened to the pair of you there, Maen? At the Place? You must tell me, as your duty. I command you to! What happened to you?” It was a defining moment in our relationship. We both knew that. I stared back at her. She was my Mistress, still, but I felt the surge of confidence I’d felt earlier. I felt as if I had been released from a dark, clouded time; as if I’d been cast out into a bright, busy world that I knew only a fraction of. It was terrifying – but it was empowering. Of all things, it couldn’t be ignored. “I have nothing more to tell you,” I said. My voice sounded strained, but steady. Mistress Luana seemed to shrink back from me. “It’s not enough, Maen. Tell me things will be the same. That you will be the same!” She struggled to recover her composure, turning dark eyes back to me that she had tried to soften, to fill with a plea. “Tell me that you’ll still look at me the same way.” I bowed my head, for I wouldn’t do her the disservice of staring at her with my disobedience, with my rebellion. With my inability to give her the answer she wanted. She was silent for a long moment. “I no longer want you here,” she hissed. “Go! Go, and wait for my Call.” I backed out of the room. Her whisper followed me, even as I closed the heavy door behind me. “And so now I know….”

The Gold Warrior | 179

IT seemed as if I walked through the barracks for hours, and it was as if I were on another planet. It had been difficult ever since I returned, and now I was truly honest with myself. I looked at the men with different eyes; I judged them with different standards. Had it really made such an impact on me, my time at the Place? Had I really absorbed so much of the Exiles’ ways that I couldn’t regain my objectivity? I had blamed the pain of my injuries, my fear for Dax and what the Household would do to him. I had blamed the break in my Devotions. I had blamed everything but the change in my own attitude. It was a revelation. I looked now at soldiers I knew and saw them as men. I compared them with the people and the types that I’d met at the Place. The two worlds seemed so very dissimilar, but humankind was still the same. I recognized a range of personality that I’d never acknowledged before. The generic soldier – loyal, obedient, servile – was no longer so obvious. I saw men I knew to be good, sound, compassionate, ugly in mind, selfish, cruel. Now my eyes had been fully opened. This was the true objectivity. Eventually, I sought out Grien, asking several Silver Captains where he could be found. Every request I made forced me to see the shock in their faces – the fear that they had of associating with me. It was vivid; it was humiliating. These men had been respectful of me, had once been grateful for my leadership. But now they looked at me as if I were an Exile myself – I was an outcast, someone to fear, or at the very least to despise. I had been told that Bernos was away on special business, or I would have gone to him. I’d never built the same relationship with Hull. So Grien was the only one I could talk to. I found him in the office that I once used myself. I paused at the door, ready to knock, then I dropped my hand and just pushed the door open. He looked up with surprise, his eyes narrowing quickly. “Maen. The Mistress–” “I’ve seen her already,” I said. “She’ll Call me back, I’m sure. Before that, I need to know where Dax is.” “Dax?” Grien’s mouth started to form a protest, but something in my look stopped him. Instead, he stood so that he faced me. His eyes had never shown the disgust that I saw in others, but there was still a look of apprehension. And now I played on it.

180 | Clare London “Tell me at once.” “He’s been taken to the Hall. Just an hour ago.” The Hall was the central room of the Mistress’s quarters. She held large entertainments there, some of the indoor sports at the Games. The Household feasts and general Council matters: they were all attended to in the Hall. And so were any requirements for disciplinary hearings of her Guard. I turned to go there immediately. “Maen,” called Grien, in a low but urgent voice. I paused, though I didn’t turn back to face him. It hurt too much, to see the change in him; to know the change in myself. “Maen, the Queen-Elect has arrived back in the Household, too. Seleste herself is here. She’s demanded to oversee the questioning of him, personally.” He seemed to grow impatient at my silence. “Maen, what in Devotions’ name happened at the Place?” It was an unconscious echo of my Mistress’s earlier words. “What’s going to happen to you both?” I didn’t answer him – couldn’t, for I didn’t know. “I must go there,” is all I said to him, for I felt he deserved some response. “I must see Seleste.” And seek my own answers.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN Confession

T

he corridor to the Hall was guarded by Silver Captains – many of them. Some of them were my own, or rather, they had been part of the Guard when I was their Gold Warrior. A few I knew less well, as they were under Bernos’s Guard, or Hull’s. I began to stride past them, but one soldier immediately moved away from his position at the side and barred my way. “No one can enter the Hall except with the Queen-Elect’s permission,” he said rather pompously. “Her Questioning is in progress.” I only glanced at him, for I knew he was young and untried. Even with my injuries, I could have taken him down in a moment. But because of all the others around, I knew I wouldn’t get any further if I did. “Then speak to her,” I said boldly. “She will want to see me. Tell her Maen is here.” I still had the bearing of a Gold Warrior: I still had the voice. I saw the young man hesitate. Two others moved in behind him, but I could see an uncertainty in several faces. I moved my feet slightly, taking up a fighting stance. And then Bernos appeared from a side room. I’d not seen him since my return and now I wondered if the Mistress had forbidden the other Gold Warriors to speak to me. His eyes caught mine and they were dark and angry. It chilled me: he had been my mentor for so long that I had thought him someone who would understand.

182 | Clare London “Maen,” he said quietly, though his voice carried easily throughout the corridor. “Leave it alone. Go back to your barracks.” “No,” I said. “This concerns me as much as the Bronzeman.” Bernos’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to me. “I know that,” he said sharply, though now our conversation was directed away from the listening ears of the soldiers. I was startled. “Then let me through….” “I know,” he repeated, putting a hand to my chest to restrain me. “And that’s why you must keep away. His fate will be whatever the Queen-Elect decides – but yours will maybe have a chance. If you ally yourself with him now, you place yourself in the same danger.” It was all wrong, I knew that. Dax had been as loyal as I, as faithful as I. But I knew that a man after Questioning was never accepted back to the House as before – I knew that this display was often a way to deal with men whom the Household could not subjugate. The results were a farce, for the decision had already been made as regards a man’s future. Or lack of it. And my future? Bernos implied that I might have one, unlike Dax. That I might save myself if I distanced myself from Dax and the ordeal we’d been through. I looked at the Gold Warrior who had been my companion and colleague through many years, and my gaze was steady. I couldn’t accept any future on those terms. I couldn’t bear the pain it caused me. “Let me through,” I insisted. “I must talk to her.” I pushed too hard on the door to the hall, and it swung open with the groan that only comes from old, weary wood. The room was full of people, many of whom turned towards me, startled. My Mistress was there, with Hull at her side. There were Silvers I recognized too – Fremer, looking very tired, and several others who had been in my Guard. Also a cluster of unfamiliar soldiers in full armor and rich cloaks, surrounding and protecting the intimidating presence of the Queen-Elect herself. My eyes were elsewhere. Dax was bound on a frame at far the side of the Hall. He was held upright but I could see that if it weren’t for the ropes around his limbs he would have fallen: he was barely conscious. He was in

The Gold Warrior | 183 nothing but his loose trousers, and there was a network of small cuts across his body. Admittedly, it was nothing like the crude brutality of the Exiles’ torture. Soldiers of the Household were trained in far more subtle – yet far more effective – methods of extracting information. But there was the glint of sweat all over his skin and an unhealthy yellow pallor to his face. His eyes lifted as I entered the room, but I couldn’t see if he registered my presence or not. A tall, handsome Gold Warrior stood beside him, glaring at me. He must have been part of Seleste’s Guard, and relatively new, as I thought I knew most of them from her previous visit. He was in formal armor with only the helmet removed, and I acknowledged the small gold hoop in his ear. “Mistresses,” he said, in a deep, strong voice. “Do you wish this soldier removed from the Hall?” There were plenty of Silvers around the walls of the room. If the Queen-Elect requested it, I could easily be ejected. I thought I saw my Mistress moving restlessly at the other side of the room, though I didn’t turn my head to check. It was Seleste who answered her soldier. “No, Zander,” she said, in her powerful yet melodic voice. The soldier flushed slightly, as if he’d heard that voice in other settings, and responded too readily to it. I knew he was likely a Favorite of hers. “Maen will be my guest. Unless, of course, Mistress Luana has some objection?” I had no idea why the women were so hostile to each other, but it had never been clearer than at that moment. My Mistress pushed herself out from behind Hull to face me. Her face was pale and her dark eyes wide and ringed with dark shadows. I was startled at her apparent disturbance. “My objections have no bearing on this matter,” she almost snapped. “The Queen-Elect has command of the Hall and precedence over the people therein.” Seleste raised an eyebrow very slightly and answered clearly, though her gaze was on me, not my Mistress. “You speak truth, Mistress Luana. You are honored by the visit of the Royal Household, and the Council will credit you for it. We thank you for that and have made our desires and requirements clear to you. There is no need for you to bear any further responsibility for us.” There were flickering

184 | Clare London lights in her eyes, catching and reflecting the steady flames of the lamps balanced high on the walls. I tried to understand her expression; I failed. Strangely enough, her look reminded me of the Exile woman, Eila. I wondered if that was because they were part of the same family, however slightly. Seleste moved towards me, the soldier Zander at her shoulder. “Do you come to offer any further information, Maen?” she asked calmly. “The boy has been as helpful as he can be, I believe.” What did that mean? I thought. “He’s already told my Mistress about the ambush – about his abduction,” I said, rather too fiercely. “There’s no need for further interrogation–” “Silence!” she ordered, and I bit back any further words. “I do not ask your contribution to my decisions, soldier. Your attendance here is at my bidding, not yours. Of course, you may wish to tell me more about that time than you told your Mistress. In which case, I will listen.” My Mistress gave a sob of fury and humiliation behind me: my eyes narrowed. Dax had told her nothing new under Questioning, that was now confirmed. They had only our own word for what had happened outside the City – they had to accept whatever we might tell them. “No, Mistress,” I said, as steadily as I could. I saw Zander look from me to his Mistress, then back again with a puzzled anger. “I have nothing more to add.” There was a brief silence, then Seleste raised a hand gently to her lips and brushed away a drop of moisture. She watched me as she did so. “Maen,” she said, her voice soft again, yet still as strong. “You speak of his abduction, and if we assume his innocence in all that, it was a painful and regrettable thing for him to have borne. But it is obviously a potentially dangerous situation for the Household, and the City, as well. I do not have to justify my actions in investigating whether there is any danger to us and our people from the unfortunate experiences of one boy. Do not think that I underestimate the wide range of implications for us all.” Her eyes bored into me, the dark depths like velvet. “But it was your experience too, of course. Your abduction – your captivity. Your compromise.” “I remained loyal at all times,” I blurted out. I’m sure I saw Dax’s head move then. “As I always have. I told them nothing they

The Gold Warrior | 185 didn’t already know. I gave them nothing that would aid them in their offenses against us. My one aim was to return us to the Household and my Mistress’s service. And yet now I return, I’m treated as nothing–” I bit my lip, but too late. Her eyes glinted, and Zander’s hand was on his sword. “Complaint, soldier?” she snapped. “I think you are in no position for that.” I bent my head, and dropped to my knees, trying not to wince at the physical pain I felt. It was a gesture of submission, but it also shadowed the anger and resentment in my eyes. I could not hide them from her otherwise. “I apologize. I was entirely at fault. I was insolent and await the Mistress’s punishment.” Seleste turned towards Mistress Luana, but I didn’t see either of their expressions. I heard my Mistress’s voice first. “Do you take the Devotions again, Maen? Your name is not always on the register.” “Of course, Mistress,” I lied. It hurt me to lie to her, but I knew now it had to be done. Despite hiding my daily dose, I tried to be seen at the Dispensary each day as usual, so as not to arouse more suspicion. However, it seemed that my name had been forgotten by the Dispenser, maybe deliberately so. “What was your relationship with the Bronzeman whilst you were at the Place? Were you alone together at any time?” My Mistress’s voice was low and harsh, as if she swallowed the emotion back with each word. Had they asked this of Dax? Of course they had. But it was cruel of Seleste to insist on my Mistress initiating this further questioning of me. I could see the Queen-Elect’s hand in all of this. She showed compassion only when it suited her, I knew. “I was his Gold Warrior – his commanding officer. That alone,” I said. The lies came easily now, frighteningly so. “You were together for a lot of the time.” “Yes, Mistress,” I said. “Prisoners were kept together.” “You protected him–” “We protected each other.” I felt the Silver Captains stirring around me: they had sympathy with this. They alone would appreciate the bond there was between a Gold Warrior and his men.

186 | Clare London “Did you touch the Bronzeman in an inappropriate way whilst at the Place?” “We defended each other,” I said, still on my knees, gritting my teeth to keep the pain at bay and my tone steady. Two swift steps, and Mistress Luana was directly in front of me. I could also see Hull’s feet beside her, his sword hanging by his side. “Answer my question, soldier!” she hissed. “You dare not evade me. Did you couple with him?” There was a small gasp from around the room: maybe some of the Silvers hadn’t yet realized the suspicions of us. Rumor didn’t always reach every corner of the barracks at the same speed. Maybe they were shocked that the Mistress would speak of it so openly in front of them. “I defended him,” I repeated, but I knew I disobeyed her by avoiding the question. There was the rustle of heavier garments and suddenly Seleste was in front of me, too. “That’s enough,” Seleste said sharply. “His respect for his Mistress is now also in question, I believe.” My Mistress gasped. “Seleste–” Did she agree with her QueenElect? Had I taken that final step beyond the line of duty? Or did she seek to protect me one last time? “Thank you, Mistress,” Seleste continued firmly. “The Bronzeman is still in your care, so have him taken out and put in a cell. His wounds may be treated; he may have food and water. I will interrogate Maen now, myself.”

MY Mistress had left the Hall, accompanied by Hull and most of the Silvers. Dax was taken down from the frame, and for a moment I lifted my head to catch sight of him. He looked at me – he saw me. The emotion flickered in his eyes but he didn’t attempt to speak to me. I think we understood each other without any further need. Three Silvers lifted him off, not unkindly, and half-carried him from the room. Seleste stepped back in front of me, blocking my view. I dropped my head again. “Do I need the frame for you, Maen?” she mused. “It seems you wish to be treated in the same way as your subordinate.”

The Gold Warrior | 187 “No, Mistress,” I said slowly. “I hope that you will see that as unnecessary.” She put a hand down to my head and lifted my chin up. “Stand up, soldier. I wish to talk to you as the man you are, not some groveling boy.” I rose with some difficulty, and stood to attention before her. Zander stood a few feet away, obviously acting as her personal Guard. She had left herself with remarkably few men otherwise, and they were scattered against the far walls, out of earshot. “Zander,” she called. “Step back to the others. I wish for some privacy.” “Mistress,” he protested. His hand was still tight on the hilt of his sword. “The soldier isn’t even bound. I know of his reputation–” “And so do I,” she replied, sharply. “Step back.” I watched him withdraw with reluctance. Seleste and I remained a couple of feet apart, but with our conversation sheltered from the soldiers. “So, Maen,” she murmured. “What are we to do now?” “You wish to interrogate me,” I said, with some bitterness. “You have exhausted the boy, and now you must exhaust the man.” And she laughed – an outrageously shocking sound, in the hitherto somber room. “But that would be such a very different interrogation! I want so much more from you than I want from a whole barrack-full of Bronzemen. And I want it willingly, and intelligently.” She moved very swiftly towards me, despite the long robes and the rich cloak, until she stood a breath away and stared up into my face. “But there will still be pain, Gold Warrior, unless you submit to me.” “I am the Mistress’s servant,” I said, but even I could hear how weary my voice sounded. She drew in a sharp breath. “That is what I want, Maen. But that is what I have never really had.” She reached to my arm and grasped it. Over her shoulder I saw Zander’s mistrustful eyes on me. “Tell me about the Exiles. Tell me everything you know – who you saw there, what you did.” I answered her with a question of my own. “Did you know about the Exiles, Mistress – how close they are to us here? How vulnerable we are? “

188 | Clare London “I’m not here to answer your questions,” she hissed. “I have a Queenship to pursue and there are mere months left to gather my supporters around me.” Was that the distraction that had allowed us to ignore the threat from outside? And perhaps worst of all, to ignore the needs of the humans outside the City, the basic needs for life? I looked into her eyes and knew that she understood far more about the Exiles than I would ever suspect. But her Queenship was of more pressing importance to her. Did the two things interweave? I thought of Eila and could not help but compare her upbringing to that of Seleste’s. The two women had been corrupted at a young age by the battle for Queenship: one by the lure of its power, and one by its horrific aftermath. What was at the root of Seleste’s hunger for information about the Exiles? Did she suspect – or know – that there were outcasts there from her own family? What care did she have: what sense of family could thrive inside her? “And the boy, Maen.” Her cool statement broke into my thoughts. “He has brought you to this, I believe. Rebellion, disobedience, disrespect for everything your position and the City has ever given you.” I looked at her angrily, and she must have felt the muscles of my arm tense under her touch, but she didn’t flinch. “Don’t be a fool,” she murmured. “Don’t even try your lies with me. Luana believes what she wants to, and your men have too little imagination to comprehend such heresy. But I know that the two of you have coupled. Away from the restrictions of the City, bereft of the company of your own kind – it was inevitable you would have sought the soulmate you’ve always wanted. And he is indeed a beautiful creature.” I couldn’t hide the anguish in my eyes now. Strangely enough, her expression seemed almost compassionate in return. “I know you far better than you ever imagined, Maen,” she sighed. She leaned forward, and for a moment her breath warmed my throat. “Admit it – at least privately, to me. You were ripe for him – you’ve been almost too perfect in your diligence all these years. He adores you, and you responded to that. If it were not such a hideous crime, I would have some sympathy for you, I think.” “If that is true, then I should die for it,” I said sharply. She flinched, then, and I felt some satisfaction at shaking her arrogance. “The boy told us that he set himself at you – that you kept

The Gold Warrior | 189 him at bay even when you were sick and weak, but still he tried to take advantage of your kind attention. You were tolerant of his unnatural hero worship of you… he was entirely to blame for any hint of misbehavior.” “That’s not the truth of it,” I said harshly. My breath was tight in my chest, wracking me with cold, angry pain. Dax could have said that. He wouldn’t have told them about us, I was sure, but he may have been tricked into admitting a mild intimacy between us – and that was still a monumentally serious breach of the Rules. Then he would have tried to protect me. “The boy was always an innocent. I was disturbed by my capture and the loss of my Devotions. I behaved selfishly towards him and he had too much respect to refuse me. He tried to avoid me; he resisted my company. My interest could easily have been misconstrued, and I should have known it. It was my fault alone. He has nothing to answer to.” Seleste stared at me, her head shaking slowly. “I had no idea they were so deep, Maen. Your feelings. I had hoped to find you like that… but had never seen anything from you except your duty of passion when I Called you to my bed. And yet this pathetic mongrel of a boy has awakened such self-sacrificing nonsense in you.” For the first time, her confidence seemed insecure. “I wonder now how I might save you at all. Did you touch, caress? Was there full penetration? Even if there was, yet you did not climax into him… There may still be hope for you if it had been nothing but an insignificant, external pleasure.” I made a noise of disgust. That she should talk of it like this! It was nothing to do with her. “Do what you like with me, but he mustn’t be blamed. Call it what you will – a misunderstanding, a touch, a moment, something insignificant….” “You lie again,” she said softly. “It was not insignificant to you.” “Yet not significant enough for death – to lose such a good servant!” I cried, and I saw some of the Silvers turn our way. Zander was at attention immediately, should he be needed to subdue me. I put my hand over Seleste’s and felt her tremble beneath it. “Save him, Seleste! Let me return to some kind of service – give me whatever punishment you like. But he is the City’s future. If you ever thought anything of me–”

190 | Clare London And then she lifted her other hand and struck my face. The crack of her palm on my flesh echoed throughout the Hall. There was frenzy among the soldiers. Zander thrust me aside and had his sword to my throat before Seleste regained her control and called him off. She had me pushed to the side of the Hall, and Zander was held barely back at bay. He looked as if he would have gladly slit my throat and was only waiting for the command. I glared at the Queen-Elect, my hands in fists at my side. And she glared back. She didn’t fear me or my masculine strength at all – I had rarely known her fearful of anything. “I can’t believe you’ve been so stupid, Maen! A man of your intelligence, of your strength and loyalty. How could you think you’d just return after such a thing, and slide back into your prior role, a position of such trust and care?” “I am the same man–” “You are nothing like the same man!” she exclaimed. “Even Luana sees that. Why are you so blind about her?” “About her?” “You have no idea how much she treasures you, do you? She is with child, Maen. Her moods are outrageously volatile, for she suffers greatly with pregnancy, every time. She wouldn’t thank me for telling you that, for she and I are very rarely in accord: she wouldn’t gladly share her personal habits with me. But in the case of a woman’s body, it is only other women who can empathize.” I understood now my Mistress’s look, her drawn face and changed body. But what was that to do with me, and the trials I had been through? Seleste was right - in the normal way of things, there was little empathy between a Mistress and her soldier, just blind obedience. We were trained in the arts of giving pleasure and satisfaction, but not in the ways of a woman’s mind. It wasn’t for us to know more than was necessary to perform our duties well, and any deeper understanding came only from our own individual powers of perception. So there was to be a child again… it had been a while since her last confinement. It was said that sometimes a Mistress would know who had sired her child, though the soldier would never be told. Was it to be mine? Was that why she was so hostile to me – so angry with my absence? I felt nothing but confusion.

The Gold Warrior | 191 “So Mistress Luana is angry with me–” “She has demanded your execution!” snapped Seleste, and I felt the blood drain from my face. “It is her right.” “Maen,” she cried. “You are surely not that passive! Don’t you understand what all this is about? You’ve always been her Favorite. Yet she’s never been able to have you exclusively. She has lost you many times – firstly to your duty, and her position of course – and then to the Exiles. When you were taken, she mourned in her own way – and she suffered with the growing child.” “A Mistress may have Favorites. She has the choice of all her men….” Seleste leaned more closely and her eyes were bright with a selfish cynicism. “She doesn’t want them, Maen. Only you. She is a determined woman and has been a fair Mistress of her Household – she is true to the City and the Devotions, and hides her bias well most of the time. But her need for you has been as subversive as yours for the boy.” I shook my head stubbornly. A Mistress must not show unusual preference for a soldier. Love was a word used by immature Ladies in sexual play, as I’d once explained to Dax, and Remainder children who knew no better. I was the presumed traitor here – not my Mistress. “Then you returned,” sighed Seleste. “But with the boy in tow, and your whole loyalty in question. This final betrayal has destroyed her. She is beyond reason. Despite your ridiculous stories, and your defense of each other, she has demanded that you be punished as if the coupling had taken place.” I knew the law. I knew my Mistress. She had never wavered from a decision in the past. “When will it be?” I asked. I wondered who it would be, to carry out the sentence…. But Seleste’s renewed anger startled me. “For the City’s sake, no such thing will happen to you,” she snapped. “The woman is a fool, I’ve told her so, and she will lose you now for certain. To me! She is the one who will be punished.” I stared at her, astounded. “The Rules insist….”

192 | Clare London “I will be the Rules of this City!” she hissed. “And for now, my will is law in this Household, whatever your Mistress may say. You will come away with me, Maen, back to my Household. I need you in my Guard, however you may have been affected by your time outside the City. I need you beside me. To be with me.” I gaped at her: I must have looked ridiculous. Our voices had risen and Zander’s face was flushed. He knew what we were discussing. “You have no need of a Gold Warrior,” I said a little hoarsely. “I will not be as strong again, not as secure in battle.” She shrugged gently. Her hand came back to my arm, but this time it stroked at me. “Jarmen has gone. I sent him to another House, for he was a disappointment to me. I may have whomever I please. Besides, I don’t want you in battle. I have another role for you.” I recognized that look in her eyes, now. It was, indeed, a reflection of the zeal in Eila’s eyes – but from the emotion, not the woman herself. Seleste wanted me as her partner. “That is above and beyond anything that a soldier should provide,” I said, deliberately dropping my voice again. “Mistress, that talk is dangerous. The Rules forbid it.” For Devotion’s sake, she’d only just now chastised my Mistress for the same personal desire. “Things will change when I am Queen, Maen,” she murmured, sliding her smooth hand up my arm. “I will have more children, not by you necessarily, but they might be ours. You’ll be with me. You are the only one I have talked to about the changes that will come, that are already happening. It is both foolish and short-sighted of us to ignore them. We’ll prepare for them and take the City for ours.” “It’s madness.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and knew I was appallingly disrespectful. I expected her to strike me again. But she smiled instead. Her beauty was magnificent in her smile – her face lit up and I knew why she would be Queen. No one could fail to follow her, with the dark shine in her eyes and the seductive strength of her arrogance. “You think I don’t see the change in you? You are walking evidence of what our men may be in the future. Many fear it, for it undermines the rule of this City. But I welcome it! You’ve matured, Maen – you have become more of the man I desire. There’s a fire in you that was only ever released for the

The Gold Warrior | 193 military; an intelligence that was only ever wasted on incestuous strategy and blind obedience to your Mistress.” She lifted her face, turning it slightly and I knew what she wanted. The royal perfume wafted past me. I bent my head and touched my lips to her cheek. “It won’t happen overnight, Maen,” she whispered. A flush had appeared on her cheek that was like a young girl’s. “We must continue to live as the City demands. But there are other things that the Exiles can teach us – other citizens who live there, but may return. There will be conflict and yet there will be challenge.” She half closed her eyes, nestling her face against mine for a brief moment. “You are the only man I know who is able for it. The only one who will respond to it.” “At the Place…” I said, hesitantly. “I was afraid.” “I like that, Maen,” she laughed softly. “It shows that you have imagination – a respect for diversity. It’s a good basis. Courage is shown in the midst of fear, not in the midst of comfort.” “I am under investigation. The City will abandon me.” “But I will save you.” She smiled again. “It has been agreed. I have the right to pardon a soldier of anything, if I consider there are mitigating circumstances. I’m not a stranger to hostility, inside my own City as well as from invaders.” “You have it all agreed. All arranged.” My voice was quiet, and even a little gentle. But maybe she heard a thread of argument in it still. “Relax, Maen. I do indeed have everything arranged,” she whispered. Her beauty was awesome. In her expression I saw triumph, and the knowledge that there was potential ahead for great power. And a need for me. I looked into her eyes again and felt myself sinking. The boy,” I said. My head was whirling. ”The boy?” “Will you take Dax as well, Mistress? Will he have a place in your Household?” For a moment, she stared. I wondered if she’d call Zander to her side: if she’d conclude our conversation. “Dax has no worth to this Household, nor to mine.” Her words were calm, almost bored, but I knew she would understand the impact

194 | Clare London of them on me. “He’s been contaminated, damaged. His Devotions have been interrupted.” “But so have mine,” I said. My heart was beginning to beat more quickly. “But you are already loyal to us, Gold Warrior,” she smiled. There was an edge of menace to her tone that chilled me. “He is too young, as yet immature. He is a danger to us all, regardless of anything that happened between you. His background has proved insurmountable. I doubt we will choose Remainder boys for Training again.” No, I thought. “What will happen to him?” She frowned a little. She glanced towards Zander, already restless with me, I could see. “He will be executed. Luana has given the order and I have authorized it.” “Executed?” I was stunned. “The Rules allow for exile, surely? There are precedents–” “There has never been a precedent for a Bronzeman and such a Gold Warrior as you,” she replied. “For adventures such as yours.” “No,” I said, aloud. “Pardon him. Exile him.” “What do you care?” Her voice was light, and she smoothed at her gown, her movements apparently aimless. I suspected that nothing Seleste ever did was aimless. “He was just a toy for you. You have enough concern with your own life.” “It’s because of me, isn’t it?” I said. I was the toy – for the Mistresses who demanded my attention. I was the danger – the threat to equilibrium. And Dax was the focus of my devotion, not those Mistresses themselves. That was the true, most awful crime. “You have twisted the Rules solely for your own purposes. Is this the price of my own life?” Seleste met my eyes steadily. I made sure she could see the fury and determination in mine. “I will not accept it,” I said. “I will confess publicly to whatever is necessary.” I drew myself up to my full height, holding my head as proudly as I could. “You must execute us both.” “There is no need for that,” Seleste said, her voice higher than before. “Maen, what are you trying to prove?”

The Gold Warrior | 195 “What my life means to me,” I said hoarsely. “To prove that to you.” She made a sudden move, and Zander stepped swiftly to her side. “Put him to his knees,” she snapped. The soldier pressed harshly on my shoulder and I allowed myself to be lowered. “Show me the mark,” she said. Her voice sounded breathless, though whether in excitement or anger, I couldn’t tell. Zander’s hand brushed roughly at my waist. I felt his strong, cool fingers inside the band of my trousers, and the sharp wrench of fabric as he pulled it down at the side. I knelt before the Queen-Elect, the bare flesh of my hips exposed to the room. The soldiers around us stirred again. I looked up and found Seleste’s eyes were on me. “I had been told about your mark, Gold Warrior,” she breathed. I touched lightly at the Exile brand on my skin. It had healed to nothing but a dark slash of script. Things were becoming clearer to me since I had returned from the Exiles – since I had learned of the other men in the world outside the City boundaries. And other women. “Do you know this mark, Mistress?” I whispered. Her eyes flashed in recognition. “It is a bastardization of the Queen’s mark,” she said. “I suspected something like that,” I said. The brands on me and Dax had obviously been devised by Eila, born of her hatred of the City and the family that had nearly murdered her. I wouldn’t let Seleste’s gaze move away from mine. Her liquid dark eyes darted from the mark to my face and back. “It’s a mockery, Gold Warrior. A challenge from the Exiles.” It was almost a gasp. You see that, too, don’t you? said her look. I met that look: I challenged her myself. “The boy has one too,” I said. Her eyes widened. “The boy – the boy. Your persistence is most irritating. What do you want, Maen? You can’t have him.” There was almost a plea in her voice. “I know,” I said. My voice was steady, but it was such an effort to keep it so. I lifted myself to my feet again, without her express wishes. But she had admired my new assertiveness, so she must tolerate it now. I stood at ease, with my head slightly bowed to her. “I

196 | Clare London will confess, even if it’s a lie, and die proudly… or I will go with you, Mistress. I am the servant of the Royal Household. You know that. But the choice is yours.” My words weren’t important, though veiled in outward respect. The critical things weren’t being said at all – they didn’t need to be. Seleste had always been a match for any sharp thinking of mine. She would know what my terms were. We breathed heavily: I could see her gown rising on her breast. Pale blue jewels sparkled around her slim neck. We stared at each other and we waited. “Mistress.” Zander’s imperious voice broke in. “Mistress, do you want the soldier taken to the cells as well?” “Be quiet,” she said. I looked at him, and he blanched. He looked between us again, both humiliated and confused as to why his Mistress didn’t strike me down where I stood. He was young, of course. He would need to develop a better knowledge of men, to be a fine Gold Warrior. ”You have twelve hours, Maen,” Seleste murmured to me. Her face was still flushed. “That’s when I will leave this Household, and with you. Go where you wish, see whom you will – but you must not bear arms, nor give me reason to punish you further.” “I understand, Mistress,” I said. “I’ll be ready.” I made the gesture of obeisance, palm to my heart, and moved backwards out of the Hall. Zander watched me go; so did the Silvers. Seleste called to me as I opened the door. “Twelve hours, Maen. And I will never let you go.” Truly, I believed her.

The Gold Warrior | 197

CHAPTER FOURTEEN No Longer Your Commander

“M

aen, why are you here?” Mistress Luana stood at her writing desk and stared at me. I was flanked by two of her Silver Captains, but I still had the freedom of her inner office. She looked shocked: I think she’d thought never to see me again. Did she think I’d be executed in the Hall that very day? And so why was I there? Did I wish to give her one last chance to be the Mistress I remembered? I realized how much I’d respected her. How much I’d missed her, when I was abducted: missed her company, her guidance, her wit. Even her pleasant, enjoyable coupling. But now I looked at her and I saw only a woman – and one who was disturbed. “Mistress Seleste tells me that you are with child.” She flushed, for I’d been less than fully respectful to her. “Did she? I find that indiscretion most distasteful, but the Queen-Elect takes the law unto herself in many ways.” She bit her lip, bringing her emotions back under control. “In any case, the insult is past now. Yes, I am with child, though it’s nothing to you, soldier.” “I care for my Mistress’s well-being–” She turned on me, at that. Her eyes narrowed with anger and her hand gripped at the back of her chair for support. “You are a hypocrite, Maen, and should be ashamed of it! You think to treat me differently because of my condition? That you might be able to show less respect, that I might be more lenient of your appalling escapades?”

198 | Clare London “Never that, Mistress,” I said sharply. “I have only ever wanted to show you respect. I have only ever supported you.” I turned and stared at the Silvers beside me as if memorizing their features, until they shifted with discomfort. Then I looked back to the Mistress. “Are you so afraid of the change in me,” I said softly, “that you feel you need protection?” She frowned, and waved the Silver Captains back so that our conversation might be private, though she gestured for them to stay by the door. I bowed my head slightly to her. “Thank you, Mistress. You mustn’t fear me.” But her face paled even further. She shook her head in return and her hand hovered defensively in front of her belly. “There are many reasons to fear you, Maen. You are a criminal. Whatever you might have said to Seleste, whatever you made her believe.” “No, Mistress,” I said, but I could see that things had gone too far between us for there to be any true reconciliation. “It’s not for me to tell the Queen-Elect what to believe.” I watched her struggle with her feelings: her distress manifested in physical tremors. I’d once thought her the best Mistress a soldier could ask for. She’d brought me from boy to man in her service. She’d often made me laugh: she made me feel good. She made me hungry for her attention. I had always hoped it enhanced her own enjoyment and satisfaction, but a Mistress didn’t have to do that, didn’t have to enchant her men in return. To serve her had been all I ever wanted. To please her. My ambitions had once been solely concentrated on her. “You speak of Seleste with familiarity, I see. So she will bend the Rules and take you for her own – is that so?” I hesitated, but I answered her honestly. “I will leave with her tomorrow, Mistress. The sentence that was placed on me has been lifted.” “She pardoned you.” “I confessed to no crime.” I couldn’t restrain the anger in my tone.

The Gold Warrior | 199 “You think I need official confirmation to know what you did?” She laughed, a little too loudly. “So you refused to tell either of us the truth. That is enough of a crime for me.” “To sentence me to execution? Mistress, I came back to the City, to serve you, to be yours–” “Stupid man,” she said, her voice harsh. She rubbed almost absently at her belly. “You were his by then. In the service of your illicit lust; demeaned. Soiled. Nothing but a rutting animal, and not worthy of the honor and gravitas of a Gold Warrior. You lost your reputation along with the careless loss of your precious earring.” I didn’t wish to listen to this any more. I didn’t deserve it, though I might have thought so in the past. I turned away from her, ready to leave the room. “I wish you only the best, Mistress. And for the child.” “Wait!” She gasped behind me, and I paused. “Maen, it’s not for a soldier to pass such comments on a Mistress. What have you become?” “It’s not of significance to you, I know,” I said quietly. “But the children are for the City. I treasure that, and I support that. This City – and its welfare – is my life.” She moved then, coming to stand closer to me, and I turned back to face her. Her mouth was twisted by her abhorrence of my behavior, but there was confusion in her eyes. “Do you remember, Maen, I once said I might tell you if I had borne your children? Didn’t you ever want to know?” Was it a trick of hers, to tempt me to even further misbehavior? “It’s not for a man to know,” I said slowly. Her sudden touch on my arm seemed conspiratorial. The soldiers at the door stood steadfast, and there was no increase in tension in the room. I held my breath. “There have been two already born, Maen, that I know are yours. A boy of around six, in the Central School now. Maybe one day he will be at the Choosing, and bring honor to his Household. So may the one I carry now. This will be a boy. This will be the third child of yours.”

200 | Clare London I was stunned. My gaze dropped to the floor, my head spinning. I hadn’t realized how the thought of a child connected specifically to me might feel! It roused unusual emotions: pride; joy; a stab of pain because I knew that I would never know them. I could never have felt this before my time with the Exiles, before my time away from the City and my Devotions. Before I’d opened my heart to Dax. Mistress Luana watched my unguarded expressions, and her face tightened. “There’s a daughter, too, Maen. A woman. A female. No soldier, but a potential Mistress. I never told you before – not that I ever had to, nor should. She was at the School too, though I have lost touch with her. She can be traced through her brand, should it be necessary. She would be nine by now, maybe ten. Born soon after I Chose you and brought you here. A couple of years, and she will be ready to train for a life as a Lady.” She let her fingers trail along my wrist as she moved away again. “The Queen-Elect will never give you that, Maen. Never give you those children, of those times. And even less likely that she would give you news of them like this.” “You lost touch with the child – with the girl.” I didn’t know why I echoed it. It seemed important. “She was weak at birth.” My Mistress shrugged carelessly. “She was never as beautiful or as strong as my other children. I passed them to the School as is the way, but had no particular feeling for this progeny. She looked too much like you….” My gaze snapped up sharply, but she had moved to face the window and was obviously concluding the meeting. “Go, Maen. I do not wish to see you again.” I bowed respectfully and backed away towards the door. On either side of me, the Silver Captains stood to attention again, announced by the soft clatter of their swords against their uniform. My Mistress’s voice threaded softly behind me – no longer angry or distressed, just sad. “You were such a perfect Warrior, Maen. Such a perfect servant. But then, at the end, such weakness….” I wanted to speak, but knew there was no point. I wanted to tell her that my weakness was, to me, a strength, and that I had come to realize this because of my time outside. I wanted to tell her that I had learned to treasure another person for themself, for something more than physical satisfaction and the furtherance of duty. To tell her that I

The Gold Warrior | 201 was indeed a different man, but that I was beginning to welcome it. That there were more models of man and society than the ones she clung to here in the City. But then, perhaps, she already knew that and chose not to acknowledge it. “Weakness,” she repeated, her back still to me. “And I won’t have that in my Household.”

THINGS had changed subtly since Seleste’s Questioning of me. I had expected to be accompanied everywhere by Royal Guards until I left the Household, but as soon as I had been dismissed from the Hall they had fallen away from me. I stood now outside my Mistress’s private quarters, alone and wracked with confusion after my audience with her. The Guards watched me warily – and some with naked curiosity – but none approached. I was an exile here, too. I had no men of my own to support me; no Mistress to protect me. The rumor might be spreading swiftly through the corridors that the Queen-Elect had selected me to be part of her Household, but all that had been achieved by that was to leave me in a strange, dispossessed place between belonging and barter. I was no one. I had nowhere to go. And there was only one place I wished to be. No one spoke to me as I strode through the corridors of the Household, though many pairs of eyes watched me. Did the watchers wonder why I was allowed to wander about, unguarded? Was it known that I had been sentenced to death but then pardoned? There was no one here who had ever seen that happen. I had become an anomaly: a pariah. I had no place here now, I knew. I would never be accepted back with any comfort, let alone made welcome. I assumed that Dax would be in one of the lower cells, deep in the Detention Quarters. That area was naturally secure, set in what had once been a basement grain storage facility. The walls were of the sturdiest brick, and there was little natural light to the cells. It was usually patrolled by a couple of Silver Captains and maintained by some auxiliary Remainders. There’d never been any need to have more security than that, and the cells were rarely used, for our Household’s subjects had always been very obedient and loyal. Minor

202 | Clare London misdemeanors were dealt with by the Mistresses, and our Exile prisoners were held in a higher profile, more fiercely guarded fortress beside the gates of the City. I believed the Remainders had their own prison facility within their area of the City. After all, who else had we to incarcerate, except for disobedient soldiers? It was a depressing, lonely corridor of detention rooms. Few soldiers welcomed their tour of duty in such a forsaken place. Even less ever expected to be a guest there. As I approached the facility, I saw fewer and fewer people. Soldiers were required elsewhere, apparently, and any Remainders shrank away from me and hurried off about their work. The prisoners in this place had little contact with the rest of the City, for their captivity was enough to ostracize them from the rest of our civilized society. Hadn’t I suffered that exclusion myself? I was still shocked at the brutality of it: it lingered within me now. Inside me was a destructive urge, one that tempted me to turn on those who’d watched me on my way here, and cry out a protest at my betrayal. I felt it as keenly as if they’d thrown me bodily from the City walls and bolted the gates behind me. But I didn’t seek out any further confrontation now; instead, I dipped my head like any anonymous citizen and entered the Quarters without notice from anyone. It was a shock to see that Fremer was the Silver Captain in charge. I didn’t know the other Captain with him, who must have been one of Seleste’s Guard. The stranger saw me first, his face paling with shock as I strode towards him. He looked very young and was sitting at a low wooden table in front of the archway that led to the cells. As I approached, he put down the short knife that he’d been sharpening with a slow, even stroke, though leaving it still within his reach. Otherwise on the table there were a couple of cups of drink and an empty plate: very little else to distract. I knew too well that this was a solitary, dreary duty. I saw the young Captain glance between me and Fremer with some trepidation, and in my previous status as Gold Warrior, I would have disciplined him for that look – for that intimation of weakness. But now I stood as nothing more than another soldier – maybe only another man.

The Gold Warrior | 203 I stopped a few feet from Fremer and met his gaze. His eyes narrowed. “Maen,” he said. His voice sounded tight, as if he struggled to keep it even. “I didn’t think to see you here.” I realized I didn’t know how to speak to him. He had been in my own Guard – I’d been his commanding Warrior – but now everything had changed. I knew him as a man, indeed, but we’d never been enough of the same mind to have found a friendship, even if that hadn’t been discouraged. His expression was weary, and pain festered deep within his eyes. I remembered that Justes had been killed in the raid by the Exiles, when they took me and Dax. “Is the Bronzeman here? I wish to see him.” I marveled at how my own voice sounded so calm. Fremer stared at me for a moment longer. “Yes, he’s here. But you can’t see him.” He saw me start to protest, and held up his hand. “I’m in charge here, and I say what happens. Do you understand, Maen?” I was aware of the other Captain beside us and the sudden glint in Fremer’s eyes. “Yes, I understand.” “Sir, shouldn’t he–?” The other Captain, though nominally of the same rank, deferred to Fremer’s experience and his assertiveness. “Be quiet,” said Fremer, quite sharply. “Go and check the prisoner. Fasten the hatch at the end of the corridor.” “It’s fastened already–” Fremer turned on him, fiercely. I had never appreciated this side of him – this aggression – and I was impressed. He would make an excellent Gold Warrior one day, if he were given the chance to develop under Grien’s leadership. “I said go! The bolts are weak; use the rope there to reinforce them.” The man looked disgruntled, but he turned and marched off through the archway, his boots echoing down the flagstones. As soon as he was out of both sight and earshot, Fremer turned back to me. Something had shifted subtly in his expression. “Grien has ordered me not to let you down here, Maen. The Mistress has sent word to us all that you’re no longer of the Guard – you no longer have any privileges or status.” He lowered his voice slightly. “You leave the Household none too soon. You’ve disgraced both yourself and our name. And your men.”

204 | Clare London “I know, Fremer,” I said. “I told you that I understood.” He glared at me, his face flushed with anger. I admired his courage in facing me, for it must have been clear from my own expression that I had no intention of backing down. “You must go, Sir.” I met his eyes. Yes, he knew, yet he stood his ground. He shook his head, frustrated with me, perhaps still retaining some respect towards me from the past. “I won’t hesitate to report you if you abuse my duty.” I nodded. “I know.” We were silent for another second, but fully understanding each other. Then he stepped past me to the archway and called the other Captain back. The younger man came back up the corridor swiftly, as if spending time too close to the cells disgusted him. When he looked at me, there was both hatred and fear in his eyes; when he spoke to Fremer, he spat the words out. “The Remainder is well secured. He’s in some pain, moans on about water.” “Then fetch it.” The Silver looked startled. “He can wait, surely? The barrel needs filling but we can’t leave our post.” Fremer’s mouth tightened. “Fetch the water, Tarnus. I’ll watch here.” Tarnus glared at us both. I suspected that he disliked this duty, being wrenched from the Queen-Elect’s Guard in order to support a Silver Captain from the Household of the Exchequer. I imagined that many of Seleste’s Guard felt themselves superior to others: a dangerous and arrogant assumption. However, he had orders and whatever his faults, he would have been well trained to obey them. He turned on his heel and left the room. We heard his boots on the steps as he climbed back up to ground level to seek more water. There was another silence in the room. My mind reached out as if trying to see through the archway to the cells; I heard no sounds, saw no movement beyond. “You should search me,” I said quietly. It was accepted procedure for all visitors to the cells. He grimaced. “You are unarmed, I assume.”

The Gold Warrior | 205 I stared back at him. “I returned to the City with no weapons, nor any formal status in the Guard. The Queen-Elect herself has forbidden me to carry any arms.” Fremer scowled at me, and shook his head again. “So go quickly, Maen. See what you have to, then leave me to my duty. I don’t wish to know any more than that.” I don’t wish to know you, to touch you, he was saying. I don’t wish to be associated with you. I moved past the table and felt his body shudder at the near contact. For a brief moment, he turned his whole body and stepped away from me, eyes averted. Then I walked on through the archway, until I was hidden from his view. There were over twenty cells, all of reasonable size considering their purpose. Dax was in none of the nearby ones, although I knew from experience that these were the strongest. I walked as quickly as I dared, controlled my breathing as best I could. The walls were patchily wet and the floors in disrepair: the air had gradually grown too damp for this basement’s original purpose. At the end of the corridor were deep wooden shelves that had once held the sacks of foodstuffs, but now they were empty and rotted. Beyond that was a large, man-sized hatch set into the wall, where the goods used to be winched up by ropes to the courtyard outside the kitchens. This hatch was now bolted, and Tarnus had further secured the hinges with rope. It seemed excessive, for the cells themselves were locked and there was no other exit to the facility except for back through the archway. That was the route they used to take prisoners back out to their execution. I had trodden it myself, on duty, more than once. Few men were kept here for more than a day or so before they met their punishment. I saw Dax before he saw me. The front of every cell consisted of a door frame of thick metal bars running from floor level up to the ceiling. It enabled the guards to see their captives clearly at all times, and allowed the minimum of resources to keep them under surveillance. From the angle of my approach I could see through the bars into the furthest cell. Dax sat on the floor, his back against the wall and his legs drawn up to his chest.

206 | Clare London I felt the breath knocked from my chest as if by a blow. He nursed his injured hand and I could see plenty of bruises on his arms. He was dressed in his loose trousers and a sleeveless tunic, his feet in sandals. His head was dropped down onto his knees, his pale hair dusty and tangled and loose on his shoulders. He looked nothing like a soldier any more, just a young man in pain and misery. It was agony for me, to see him like this. And then he either heard my footsteps or sensed that someone else was in the corridor because his body tensed, and although he didn’t raise his head at once, his hands readied themselves into fists. I was proud to see that he was preparing himself to face whatever approached him. He would have been the most magnificent soldier if things had been different. Then he looked up and saw me. I felt a sudden, searing joy at seeing his blue eyes fix upon me and widen with instinctive pleasure. His fists relaxed and opened again, as if to welcome me. I drew my breath back under control, but I felt light-headed. The pain of his humiliation clenched at my gut all the more fiercely; it was an agonizing contrast to that joy. Then his eyes darted behind me as if to see who followed and his expression hardened again. He stumbled to his feet and tried to salute. Why did he think I was there? Did he think I was enemy or friend? “Dax.” My voice sounded hoarse. “I’m alone, I’m here to see you. I’m not in the Guard any longer. Fremer has allowed me a private moment with you for–” For what? I paused, then tried to recover a firm tone. “For speaking to you. To see how you are.” I wasn’t sure if he were listening to my words: his eyes ran back and forth across me as if checking that I was really there. “Maen, I didn’t ….” His voice was weak and sounded close to a child’s. I sometimes forgot how very young he was. “Can we talk here?” I glanced towards the archway but there was no movement beyond. “Yes, for a while.” “I told them nothing incriminating,” he said quickly, his voice firmer, his words tumbling out. “I tried so hard not to shame you with my fear or my weakness. My Mistress was so….” He lurched forward against the bars and his good hand thrust forward towards me. “Tell

The Gold Warrior | 207 me you’re safe. Tell me she won’t think the worst of you – that she’ll believe us both.” I took his hand and felt the warm clamminess of his palm. “Dax, it’ll be all right, I promise….” “For freedom’s sake!” he snapped back, startling me. He snatched his hand away. “Don’t tell me those stupid lies! It will never be all right again, and I know that. But I want to know that you’re safe.” I looked up and met his eyes. They were wild. “I am safe from execution,” I said. “The Queen-Elect has pardoned me. They couldn’t prove anything from either of us.” It was as if his whole body relaxed: his shoulders sagged with relief. “That’s all that matters. When I was in the Hall I didn’t know what was happening to you. I couldn’t ask and they never said. Then when they brought you in, too, I thought….” He coughed, his face grimacing with pain. “I don’t know what I thought. But you’re safe.” He repeated, “That’s all that matters.” “The situation is not that simple, Dax,” I said gently. His body tensed, and he stared back down at the floor. “Of course not. Tell me.” “I wish I could say–” “Tell me!” he said sharply, though his voice was still low. “I don’t know what time we have left. Don’t waste it trying to shield me.” I drew a long breath. “The price of my pardon is to go with the Queen-Elect to her Household. Tomorrow.” I saw him flinch, but he didn’t speak. “The Mistress is angry with both of us, no matter whether our crime is real or imagined. We are a disgrace to her Household and she demands a penalty.” He looked up then and I realized how foolish I’d been to think I could speak these words with equanimity. “You will be executed, Dax.” He stood still but his face went even whiter. The scar on his face grew livid against the pale skin. “I’ve not done anything that deserves that.” “I know. She is… she isn’t in her right mind. Both she and the Queen-Elect are making their own rules. We are merely casualties.” “Maen….” The soft word was a plea, and it ripped right through me. “You’ve served her all your life. You were the one who

208 | Clare London never wavered – who insisted on our return to the City. It’s right that you’re spared. You shouldn’t die for your loyalty.” I started forward and grasped at the bars. “This isn’t about me! You’ll die tomorrow, don’t you understand? You deserve it even less than I!” He stared at me and suddenly his eyes were those of an old man. “I am no longer useful. I’m damaged goods.” His hand lifted and brushed gently at his cheek. “There’s been too little investment in me to be worth saving.” The cynicism in his voice chilled me. “You’re not an investment of the City anymore,” I said sharply. “You’re a man who has been wrongly tortured; a man who has been betrayed by this Household. You must escape tonight and I’m here to help you.” He gazed at me, and for a moment he looked as shocked as if he’d seen me go insane in front of his very eyes. He shook his head slowly. “How ridiculous. That can’t happen, Maen. No one escapes the City from Detention.” “No one has before, but it can be done. There are very few Guards here tonight – the Household has been distracted by this new visit from the Queen-Elect.” I could hear the mounting urgency in my voice: I was impatient with his apparent surrender. “This is the weakest cell in the whole corridor, Dax, they should never have put a prisoner in here. You can break the bolt fairly easily, then you can get through the hatch and find your way out through the kitchens to the City walls.” He was still staring at me, amazed. “The hatch is bolted and roped off,” he said slowly. He glanced at his injured hand and I felt nausea at the sight of its twisted digits, bound with a dirty bandage. The pain must have been excruciating. “I… I doubt I can release them all. What are you thinking?” I moved my hand slowly, so as not to startle him. Tarnus’s blade glinted in my hand, catching the small gleam of light from a high window. The Silver Captain had been careless, leaving it on the table when he went for water. I’d slipped it into the palm of my hand as I passed on the way to the cells. “I have this for now, though it won’t be long before they find it gone. Use it to split open the bolt and cut any ropes that bind you in.”

The Gold Warrior | 209 “Maen….” “You will be free! I will make that happen!” I growled like a wild beast, and I saw him step back. “But this is your only chance. Don’t argue with me; the time is very limited.” He was puzzled, confused. “They’ll catch us before we get that far. The walls are such a distance away, and we’d have to climb out unaided and with our injuries–” “Not us, Dax,” I said harshly. I couldn’t understand his reluctance. Was it fear? Was he weakened from the questioning, both physically and mentally? Perhaps he was in shock from the news that he was to be executed. I felt a rising panic, knowing how vulnerable we were at this moment. “Not us. Just you.” I reached through the bars and pressed the knife hilt into his good hand. His fingers closed around it but he didn’t move. The flash of shock and pain in his eyes had shaken me. I was very conscious of his hand against mine: of his body, shivering slightly, only a stride away from me on the other side of the bars. “No,” he said, calmly and firmly. “I won’t go without you. Didn’t I tell you that before? I came back here of my own free will, Maen, and I’ll accept what it’s brought me. I came back to be with you. If I die for that, that’s what must happen. Besides, they’ll know you helped me escape. I won’t leave you here – I won’t endanger you.” “I can protect myself,” I hissed. “I said I would be with you,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. His eyes were feverish now and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from them. “That’s all I want, for as long as I have.” “Don’t be a fool!” I looked away from his determined expression and started to wrestle with the bolt myself, knowing its weak spots, knowing the rusted hinges that could be prized apart. “Dax, you can go back to the Exiles. You can live. You must live! You should have stayed with them in the first place – I shouldn’t have persuaded you to come back here.” I was so naïve, I thought. Naïve, and selfish. The desire for a few more days with him – maybe only hours – had been an unforgivable weakness, and solely mine. “You can come with me there.” He made it sound more of a statement than a question. I continued to work at the old metal, the bolt creaking under my hands. “We’ll be together, Maen. The City doesn’t

210 | Clare London want or need either of us now. The City has abandoned us: the Mistresses have discarded us.” “I knew you wouldn’t be accepted back.” I was talking mainly to myself – my impatience was increasing. How long before Fremer came to see what was keeping me? Before Tarnus returned begrudgingly with water? “In my heart, I knew. I should have been more honest. We are so very different, but all I could see was my own needs. That time with the Exiles ruined you, but I just couldn’t – wouldn’t – see it.” Suddenly he moved, his broken hand stretching across to rest on my arm. The tremor of his touch ran through me like the wind from a summer storm, jolting me as the sudden lightning would strike the City walls. “I’m not ruined, Maen, and you know it.” His voice was eerily gentle. “It was the making of me. Of both of us. You can’t deny it.” “You’ll die for it!” I was angry in my distress. “Better that than a life here as the dullard, the fool, the toy,” he hissed back. “Come with me! We can be together outside of this place. There’s no restriction on caste, or lineage, or gender there. You’ll belong there, in time – they’ll accept us both.” “I have no time,” I said, bitterly. “But you….” “You know I want nothing more than that,” he said. His eyes caught at me again, piercing into me, holding me more securely than any rope. The bolt of the door snapped suddenly against my palm, finally breaking apart, but I never even looked at it. “We can be together.” I thought that the pain in my chest would actually stop my heart. “We can never be together, Dax, not like that.” He frowned. I wondered if the pain had turned his mind, for he seemed to have no sense of the danger he was in. “But you did want me, Maen? I didn’t imagine it….” “Did?” I nearly wept for his simplicity. I reached my free hand through the bars to the nape of his neck and grasped at his tangled hair. His head jerked back in my grip, looking up into my face. “Dax, I will never want anyone or anything as much as I want you. Do you believe me?”

The Gold Warrior | 211 He stared at me, his eyes even wider than before, and now they focused perfectly on my face. He nodded, and for a second, a smile transformed him. Then it slid away like liquid through loose fingers. “And yet you won’t come with me.” I pulled the door open as widely as I could, though the metal was old and bent in places so that it caught on the uneven stone floor, scraping across it. Every sharp sound made me wince with the fear of imminent discovery. I drew Dax out of the cell, supporting him. His legs were weak and one of his ankles seemed badly twisted. My heart sank at the thought of him trying to make his way undiscovered through the City and safely over its walls, let alone finding the Place among the rocks again. “I can’t leave with you,” I said. “I won’t.” He might stand a chance as a lone, disgraced Remainder boy. If, however, he had a notorious Gold Warrior with him, the Guard would show no mercy in hunting him down. “It’s not the life I’ve been trained for,” I said cruelly. “It’s not the life I want.” But he didn’t seem offended. I started to shuffle him down the corridor to the hatch, ready to bundle him in. His mouth twisted with an awkward smile. “You say the Queen-Elect has pardoned you,” he muttered. “The talk was all around the barracks, how she favors you. If she takes you to her Household, she’ll never let you go, will she?” “No.” My voice was a whisper. He had a better understanding of my position than I credited him for. If I left with Dax, what would Seleste do? She would pursue me until death, I knew. Maybe not because of her desire for me, but definitely for satisfaction of her anger at my disobedience. Either way, I would not be pardoned a second time. It would be death for me – and Dax. “Do you care for her?” he asked, hesitantly. I tensed up, gripping him more closely. “No,” I said. It was treasonous, to deny care for the Mistresses of the City. Should I have recited my loyalty to the Household and my Queen, along with all her daughters? Maybe. But this was a time for just me and Dax – our last time. I knew what he was really asking me, and so I would be a man with him: I would have the honesty and emotions of a man. And love.

212 | Clare London “I care for you,” I said. “Only you. Believe it. And so you must go now.” He staggered slightly in my arms, and as I caught him I turned his shoulders to face me. He looked up and the dark blue eyes stared again into mine. I couldn’t say anything to reassure him. I knew the chances of us being discovered, any moment now. I knew the chances of Dax being able to escape across the City unaided. I knew the chances of both our lives being lost. I kissed him. I took his poor, beautiful face in my hands and I pressed my mouth to his. The taste was pain and pleasure, mingled in together. I held him, and I committed to memory the feel of his body as he stretched against me, and I allowed myself the smallest moment of mourning and regret. Then I held him away from me, steadying him. His lips were moist from my breath and they moved with the shape of my name. My groin ached for him; my eyes were sharp with salty fluid. “Go, Dax. Quickly, while there’s still a chance.” “No,” he argued. His good hand clung to my sleeve. “I belong with you. You belong with me. You’re my life.” “Fool!” I hissed at him, and he flinched back. “I’m your death, how many times must I tell you? My life is here, and I will not leave. This City is the only life for me: it’s all I know, all I can offer. I cannot belong anywhere else. But you belong with the Exiles, we both know it. We both saw it, when we were there. They welcomed you, trusted you.” And the girl, Veli was there. Dax would have comfort there, I knew. The sudden, unfamiliar heat of jealousy swept through me, and I swallowed its bile back down. “Besides, they’ll need you – you have useful military skills to offer them. You saw the work that was starting at the Place: their plans, their attacks on the City.” “You support that now?” He looked confused again. He held his good hand against the wall, keeping himself upright while I hacked at the ropes holding the hatch. I was working desperately, conscious of how long it was all taking us, and maybe not mindful enough of the noise we were making. “No,” I growled. All my life, I’d served the City. I couldn’t change that now: it lay at the very core of me. “But I see their world more clearly now.” I wrenched the last loop away and let the cut pieces

The Gold Warrior | 213 fall to the floor. The hatch would bear Dax’s weight, I thought, and it was the only escape route he had. I turned back to him. “Things will change in the City, I think. I’ll be here to see it. The City will need me again, then.” “Your loyalty is no longer blind,” he protested. “How can you stay? How will you bear it?” I slid my hand around behind his neck, gripping him to me. He understood me too well. “I have been well trained,” I said with bitterness. “I will bear it. Whatever changes, I won’t deliberately betray my men and my Mistress. The City will still need to be defended – the Queen-Elect will find a use for me. My duty will support me.” He stared back, his eyes misted and his expression grim. “Now who’s the fool?” I frowned. I bent my head slightly and brushed at his lips again. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would have died at the Place. You saved my life; let me save yours.” When he struggled against me again, I gripped all the harder. “Please. Have respect for me, however poor a Gold Warrior I’ve been to you. Get out now!” And suddenly another voice came from the end of the corridor, cold and clear above our hissed whispers. “And where is your respect, Maen, for the men you betrayed, your Household, and your Mistress’s law?” Dax’s eyes rolled as if he was about to collapse; I grabbed at him, holding him to me, and together we turned to face Fremer. There was a horrified silence from us all for many seconds. I knew we only had the knife to defend ourselves: I also knew that I’d never use it on Fremer, not in this situation. It was all over. Fremer took a couple of steps towards us until his body was effectively blocking the archway to the cells. His eyes skimmed over Dax, not interested in him. His gaze was for me alone. “Maen. What do you have to say for yourself?” “I have no defense,” I replied, as calmly as I could. “But the boy doesn’t deserve to die.” Fremer bit his lip. He didn’t move, and I was momentarily confused. Had he suspected that I would try to free Dax? Had he

214 | Clare London noticed the missing knife? I remembered the way he’d sent Tarnus away; how he’d turned away from me in the room outside, as if disgusted by me. His guard had slipped long enough for me to palm the weapon in secret. Or had it? “You may despise me as a soldier,” I said slowly. “But I think you have compassion for me as a man.” I felt Dax grip at my arm, knowing that my words could be judged as traitorous. I kept my gaze steady and my body firm, accepting whatever Fremer might decide. He was a fine, loyal soldier, but he’d also known intimacy with a man he’d cared for. I could recognize that now. I was hoping for something more from him, though I knew I had no right to do so. Finally, Fremer let out a long, deep breath. His eyes ranged over Dax, then glanced at the hatch behind us. For the first time he seemed to take account of the boy’s condition. There was no change in his expression when he spoke again to me, and his voice was still cold, but his words were a revelation. “The courtyard behind the kitchen is poorly guarded. There’s also a spare horse or two in the back stables there. The Queen-Elect’s men have commandeered our own beasts and left a couple of the most tired ones until their next visit. No one’s interested in them, but the beasts are well trained; they know their way back to the gates. A man could take one and ride along the outer perimeter for some time without being challenged, so long as he dismounted before the first check point. There are several places in the walls where a single man could leave the City without permission.” Dax tensed beside me – I didn’t dare turn to look at him just yet. “It happens, I know. Men have left the City with our silent sanction….” “And sometimes not,” interrupted Fremer. “Don’t take me for a fool, Maen.” I inclined my head slightly towards him. “I would never do that. Then a man would only have to strike north–” Fremer nodded back. “It’s a matter of some miles, I believe, but with fair weather and a firm will, the man would pass out of the City’s sight.” He gathered another deep breath. “Forever.” Dax made a small sound beside me, and now I turned back to him. “Go,” I said, in a low, urgent tone. “You will never have this chance again.”

The Gold Warrior | 215 “What about you?” His eyes darted to Fremer, too. “Maen, I will not leave you in danger.” Fremer spoke back to him sharply, though he still looked only at me. “That’s none of your business now, boy. I know what’s happening here – what this will mean. It’s for Maen and I to settle.” I looked at Fremer in amazement now. “Thank you,” I said, but his look never changed. There may have been a flicker of pain in his eyes, but then again, I may have been mistaken. “You were always a fine soldier, but this….” He grimaced, interrupting me again. “I may understand how you feel, Maen, but I will never accept it; it’s sacrilege. You’ve destroyed the honor of this Household. Don’t waste my moment of confusion with more of your disturbed behavior. I must find Tarnus, now – he’s been gone for too long. He may have met with an accident.” He turned to go back through the archway, then paused. “Maen….” “Yes?” He sighed, very softly. “If you have any honor left, don’t let any taint of this escape lie with me.”

DAX was small enough still to fit in the hatch. It shuddered alarmingly when he climbed in, and the boards creaked with years of neglect, but I thought the ropes would hold. I tested a couple and knew the mechanism well enough to be able to operate it from below. I would winch him up to the kitchen courtyard and the rest would be up to him. I thought he could probably ride well enough despite his injuries; he had always been a good horseman. I thought there were plenty of places in the City walls where a man might slip out quickly, unseen. I thought…. I realized I was filling my head with plans and thoughts, just to suffocate the swelling pain in my heart. I think he understood at last, for he was silent. His eyes were wide and wet with unshed tears as he stared at me from inside the hatch. “Obey me now,” I said hoarsely. “Will you promise me that? Get as far away, as quickly as you can. Seek help at the Place: find a life that you can live.” Be happy, I wanted to urge him, but my voice failed me in that. “Promise to obey me in this, Dax.”

216 | Clare London “Is that a command?” he said softly. “No,” I groaned with misery. “I’m no longer your Commander….” “For you,” he said, quickly. His voice shook. “I’ll do it for you, not for any order.” He reached a hand to my face, brushing at my skin, touching the wet trail on my cheek. “You have always been my Commander, Maen, and you always will be.” “Go,” I urged. I couldn’t find any more words. I grasped at the rope of the hatch, but at the same time, gripped Dax’s shoulder with my other hand. I didn’t seem to be able to choose between the conflicting objectives. Then the hatch swayed under his weight and I needed both hands to steady it. When it settled, I released my hand for a second to pull something from under my tunic. “Take this.” I pressed it into his hand. He stared down at his palm, and I saw his throat convulse with a painful swallow. The small gold hoop of my earring glinted against his dirty skin. I’d removed it for safekeeping when I was in the Place and never returned it to its rightful place. Instead, I’d hidden it and kept its whereabouts secret; I had found myself reluctant to disclose it. It was the symbol to me of everything I had been in the City; everything that had now gone. I had nothing else of my own to give Dax. I watched his fist close around it slowly, wonderingly. Now it was a symbol for us alone. I started to pull on the ropes and the hatch began to edge its way up the channel to the kitchen above. Dax watched me every step of the way. Just before his head disappeared out of sight, he shifted around as if suddenly panicking. “Maen!” I paused, leaning on the rope. “There’s no time for more.” “There will be,” he said sharply, startling me. “I will see you again.” “No–” I started to protest. I was suddenly very weary of the misery and the pain, and the knowledge of how much more of it there was to bear. I didn’t think I could take another argument from him; I was afraid of weakening and causing both our deaths. “I will!” he repeated. He thrust his fist out towards me in an abrupt, jagged gesture. “I will keep this and return it to you one day. We won’t be apart for ever.”

The Gold Warrior | 217 “Show courage,” I whispered. The hatch shifted again and he passed out of sight. It was the hardest thing I ever did, hauling the weight of the wooden cage up to the outside world, with nothing to see but the bare walls of the cell block and the mist of grief in my eyes. I thought I still heard him, for a moment more. Maybe I was hallucinating. “Seleste will have you. She will be your Mistress. But what will you be, Maen?” The hatch shuddered against its moorings and I knew it had reached the courtyard. I fastened off the rope and leant back against the stone, exhausted. What will you be, Maen? I will be lost, I thought to myself, close to collapse, my mouth trapping desperate wails of horror and pain inside me. I will be bereft.

THE Queen-Elect Seleste called me to her quarters at dawn. When she came through to the entrance hall an hour later, she found me patiently waiting for her, groomed, dressed in uniform, and standing at attention. She was accompanied by her Guard, but they stood some way behind her as if told to keep their distance from me. I wondered what they would think of my future role in her Household: for that matter, I wondered what I would think of it myself. We gazed at each other for a moment. When she averted her eyes first, it was by no means a measure of surrender. “I hope you are well rested,” she said sharply. Her voice had its usual imperiousness, though it was maybe a little harsher than at other times. “We have a long journey ahead of us and I will not accept any delay or weakness.” I bowed my head slightly to her. “I’m fine, Mistress,” I said calmly. “I will not give you cause for concern.” She raised an elegantly darkened eyebrow. “I doubt that, Maen, but I can – and will – deal with that as it arises.” She looked closely at my face, obviously looking for some evidence of my emotional state. My eyes had only a bathing of salted water to try to hide the weariness and sadness in them, but I met her inquisition steadily. “I expect you’ve heard that the boy escaped last night,” she said. “My Captain had an unfortunate accident on the stairs, it seems, and

218 | Clare London was knocked out from the fall, leaving his post unattended. And I believe the prisoner also evaded another Silver Captain, one of your Guard, I believe – though, of course, let’s not forget that you’ve been stripped of your Warrior position now, haven’t you, Maen? You have no Guard any more. No rank.” “No, Mistress,” I replied. “I have no rank.” She frowned slightly. “The Captain from this Household was a strong one, but he was beaten unconscious to the ground. I’d not have expected a Bronzeman to have the nerve – or the strength – to do that, particularly after a round of my questioning. If I’d not seen the wounds on the Captain’s body myself, I might have been less forgiving towards him for his failure on watch.” “His Mistress will judge his service fairly,” I said. Then, as her eyes widened, suspecting deliberate insolence, I added swiftly, “As you will mine, Mistress.” Her eyes narrowed again and she stepped closer to me. I could smell her perfume and it made my head swim. Despite what I’d told her, I’d not slept at all the previous night, nor had I eaten properly for a while, now. “Maen,” she murmured. “You know we will find the boy sooner or later, and execute him. And if by some stroke of luck he escapes the City – well, he’s in a very poor state, isn’t he? I doubt he will last another cold night, out on the rocks, alone.” She reached a hand to me and touched the bare skin at my neck. It was a gentle touch, and her voice suddenly became much softer. “But that is no longer your concern, is it? You’re mine now, and I don’t allow any interest in anything – or anyone – without my express order.” It was a marvel, the way that her voice could change from cruel strike to caressing stroke in a moment; it had kept her people fearful and loyal to her for many years, and had conversely been the downfall of many who underestimated her. Whatever Seleste had been – or would be – to me, I had nothing but admiration for her. And a healthy caution towards everything she did. “Maen, have I ever shown you anything but respect?” Her expression was smooth but her eyes flashed a deep, warning darkness. “I will punish you if you warrant it, but you surely must expect that of my position. You can expect an equivalent reward, too, if that also is warranted.” Her breath was warm on my throat and when I glanced

The Gold Warrior | 219 down at her, her gaze was fierce. “To aid a prisoner in escape is punishable by execution.” “I know that,” I replied. “Mistress.” She walked slowly around me, her eyes taking in my bearing and my uniform. I had been standing like this for over an hour now, but I knew better than to show exhaustion. Finally she paused behind me, her voice humming against my ear, naked of its jewelry. “Before we leave the Household, I must speak with Mistress Luana about the security of the cells. Go to my room and wait for me there.” I saw a couple of the Guard stir in surprise at this tolerance of me in her private quarters. The zealous Warrior Zander wasn’t with them, and I wondered in what room Seleste may have left him. I hoped not to meet him in more intimate circumstances, but then we were both at our Mistress’s mercy, wherever – or whatever – she may wish us to be. I walked calmly past the other soldiers. Every single eye was on me as I passed. Show courage, I had said in the cells, all those hours ago. I needed to do the same myself. I would not allow myself to think any further than that - to wonder, to hope. For this was how my life would be from now on.

220 | Clare London

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Freedom of Sorts

I

lay on the sumptuous bed in Seleste’s private quarters with the Queen-Elect’s warm, naked body wrapped in my arms, and I realized two things. Firstly, how easy it would be to crush the breath out of her slender frame with my bare, strong arms; secondly, how quickly I had accepted that I would never do this. It was a secret comfort of mine that I could at least recognize the choices I had made. “You will never see him again or any similar such boy,” she murmured, a little sleepily. “I cannot stop your dreams of him at the moment – but never doubt that I will.” I had slept beside her for two weeks now and she told me that I talked in my sleep. I had never done such a thing when I took my Devotions, yet she hadn’t insisted that I start them up again. It was as if she tolerated my indiscretions purely because they offered her the challenge of dwelling on and delighting in them. I rolled her gently on to her side, facing away from me, pressing my body up behind her. She hissed softly. I knew what she liked, and especially in the early morning. My fingers brushed slowly across her bare hip. She made a noise of impatience and need. “Why does he still have this hold on you?” she complained. “Don’t I give you enough to devote yourself to? I know what you did: I know what you were to each other, though you will never say it aloud. But he was just a boy. You don’t have to be loyal to him anymore, Maen – you don’t have to

The Gold Warrior | 221 protect him. He’s escaped me for the moment, but that’s because I have no more desire to pursue him. He’s nothing to me – I will let the wild animals have his carcass, for he will surely have perished outside the City’s protection.” She leant back against me, provoking my arousal, rubbing the tip of my cock gently against the small of her back. “This is the real world, not your dreams. You’ve lost him for ever, whatever happens to him.” “I cannot lose what was never mine to have,” I murmured into her dark, soft hair. She laughed then, very softly, and the ripple of her hair tickled at my neck. “A wise reply. Sometimes you’re still more soldier than man.” She turned her head on the pillow so that I could see her profile. She was truly one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. “Take me again, Maen. I can enjoy you like no other man I have. I can feel the passion inside you with every touch, even though you try so hard to control it. I can release every feeling I have and know that it won’t overwhelm you as it has done to others.” I kissed her then, slipping my hand between her legs and stroking her gently in preparation for me. “Is this so bad?” she whispered. Her body arched against me as I parted her thighs and slid slowly inside her again. “No,” I murmured, letting the natural, instinctive pleasure shiver through me. Seleste in bed was a very different woman from the cold Mistress of the daytime. I knew she didn’t show this side to others: I knew she spoke to me in ways that she wouldn’t allow elsewhere. I also knew that she did this because I was learning to understand her – and that I was wise enough to be discreet about it. And also, of course, I was entirely her property. “Can’t you see it’s more than this, Maen?” She liked to talk during coupling, to provoke me, to chide me, sometimes to use words that I’d only ever heard in the barracks. I’d never known a Mistress like her. “Can’t you see that I care for you?” “It’s not allowed,” I replied. That was the standard, correct response. She moaned as I thrust more fiercely. “Not yet, Maen, no. But it will be. The pattern of life here will change and we will be the stronger for it. One day, I will make it so.” Her hand reached back and

222 | Clare London gripped at my hip, hugging it closer to her. “Do you believe I can do that?” I breathed deeply as she clutched me against her, drawing me more deeply into her. “Yes, I do. You can – and will – do whatever you choose. And be successful.” She twisted suddenly around on to her back, forcing me to pull out of her and reposition myself above her body, taking my weight easily on my arms. I was perfectly healthy nowadays, and well recovered from that time at the Household of the Exchequer, for Seleste’s Household looked after its subjects. I ate well and exercised regularly and had enjoyed a return to military duties. Now I looked down into her eyes, panting slightly but with the stimulation, not lack of breath. We were both damp with sweat. She reached a hand to my chin and turned it from one side to the other, examining my face. “Mistress…?” “Your eyes tell me what I need to know, even if your words don’t.” She sighed, and dropped her hand back. Her breasts quivered gently and sensuously on her chest. I took my cue and leaned down further, brushing my lips across her nipple. It was softened with warmth but sprang back under my touch, once more erect. She sighed again and arched underneath me. “You distract me too well. I can sometimes believe that you actually like this life – that you feel something more than duty for me. But then I look into the very deepest center of your eyes and the emptiness shocks me.” “I’m the same man as ever,” I said, but I knew I wasn’t. I knew I’d changed and would never return to the man she’d first known. Sometimes, though, I thought that was what she wanted. “I’m just a man; a soldier.” She laughed again, not quite so softly. “No, Maen, you are far from that. You’re a special man – there is no other like you, or not that I’ve met. And believe me, I have met and known more men than you’ve ever encountered in your Guard or even in your Household. You have grown beyond your commission: grown beyond your upbringing and training.” She rolled her legs around me, ready to be pleased again. “I have no wish to be so different,” I said, mildly, knowing that at one stage that statement had been true.

The Gold Warrior | 223 She shrugged, and the thin sheen of sweat shimmered on her skin. “You can’t help it. I saw that in you when we first met; I saw wildness and an insubordination that I knew would cause your Mistress – and you, yourself – the greatest trouble. But that passion is what made me want you, too.” She reached up her lips and kissed me. “There’s only one of you, Maen. You, too, can be successful beside me. One day you may even be a Gold Warrior again; I could grant you that. Would you aspire to it?” “Whatever pleases you,” I replied. “I’m content to be a soldier again in your Guard.” It was what I knew – and what I did well. Gradually, I was establishing myself with her other men, and the level of suspicion and disgust was lessening every day. I would be useful again: Seleste had given me that chance. I spread her legs and entered her again, enjoying the touch of her and her vigorous coupling. To be honest, I also enjoyed the games she played and the tension she created even in her most relaxed times. It was a welcome diversion for me in this strange new role of mine. I had no other. Seleste was the only one who had tolerated me when I was shunned by everyone else. I was a freak in the City, neither a loyal soldier nor a criminal’s corpse, but something awkwardly in between. She could very much do what she pleased, but it had still been a risk to take me in, a disgraced Warrior, a man who had once been marked for execution, suspected of one of the worst crimes imaginable. But she had still wanted me, and had saved my life. I would be in her debt for that, even if I’d never asked for it to be saved: even if I had never wanted to save it on my own behalf. I was hers now, and we both knew it.

IT was many hours after the sun had set, but I couldn’t sleep. Seleste had Called me to her bed earlier, but now she slept soundly while I paced the corridors of her private quarters. Eventually I sat down in one of her rest rooms, my chair tucked into a corner where I hoped to avoid being noticed. I could hear the Guard changing on the hour, their ceremonial swords making metallic sounds in the still air of the corridors and their voices exchanging the occasional word, but

224 | Clare London otherwise they were mercifully quiet. No one expected me there; no one found me. Spring would soon be upon us. In Seleste’s Household there would be an increase in activity, getting ready for many of the New Season festivals that such a prestigious establishment would be expected to host, and also in preparation for the Queenship challenges. These began many months before the actual Battle, and involved the strengthening of her Guard and her own personal skills. I had been disconcerted to be put in charge of much of the training, but I was not surprised. It was what she’d told me she’d do. I was becoming accepted in the Household, and in particular around her private quarters. Maybe the novelty of my arrival was wearing away. Maybe my notoriety would be forgotten one day. I stared out of the window, though there was nothing to see in the heavy darkness. I imagined I could see a man who had escaped the City, who was free even now and returning to health amongst people who cared for him, who would always be such an integral part of my spirit that I would hold and treasure his memory inside me until my death. I imagined things this way most nights. Maybe some things would never be forgotten.

SHE found me when dawn broke, still in my seat. “Maen.” Her voice was like a bird’s low call, melodic yet distracting. I wondered where her Ladies were, who should be attending her; where her Captains were, who should be protecting. But she was alone, and she came to stand beside me. She smelled of fresh, scented water and the gentle musk that was the aroma of her luscious skin. She wore only a simple shift, not yet dressed in her more regal gown and cloak, ready for the official duties of the day. “Return to your duty, soldier,” she ordered, though her voice was gentle. “I am… finding it difficult to perform that duty, Mistress.” I hadn’t planned to say it, but the words slipped unguarded from my mouth.

The Gold Warrior | 225 She was silent for a moment: a wise woman, who knew not to argue with a man’s confusion and pain, even if he were only one of her soldiers. When she spoke again, she sounded cautious. “This is not easy for you, I know, and so I have made… allowances. I cannot do that for ever.” “I don’t ask for anything, not for myself.” I bit my lip, knowing I was stepping on forbidden ground, speaking to my Mistress in such a way. But my heart was full. “You do not need me. You are ambitious for things that mean little to me. You play with power like it is fire: it excites you to try to control its flame. I don’t have the heart or the strength to join you in that.” Her eyes narrowed and for a moment I thought she would fly into a rage. I almost welcomed the anticipation. But then she put a hand on my shoulder, and when she spoke, her voice was still calm. “Oh, but I do need you, Maen. You have played with fire yourself, surely you know that? You are the only one who can recognize and appreciate that in me. And every day you grow stronger.” When I started to protest, her hand pressed firmly on me again, to silence me. “I don’t mean just physically. Your emotions are bolder; your character is more assertive. Your passion is suffusing you, opening up thoughts and feelings that you never let loose before.” I hung my head, afraid to look at her. “That pathetic boy!” she hissed, then she drew a deep breath. Perhaps she was rethinking her words, knowing that it would be indiscreet to discuss some things openly in the corridor, even in her private quarters. “That was only one passion, Maen – just one miserly portion of all the fury and desire that you have brewing inside you. Your potential is astounding, though you’ll be the last to understand it. I want the rest of you – I want all of it! With me, you will learn to control it all, and – soon, very soon – you will learn to covet the thrill of that power you accuse me of pursuing.” “I have no choice,” I said, my voice almost too low to be heard. “That’s true,” Seleste replied with spirit. “You have no choice. I will continue to demand everything of you until you learn to give it to me both instinctively and willingly. I will make you into the great man that I know you can be. I have given you your freedom and you owe that to me….”

226 | Clare London “Freedom?” I sounded bitter. She stepped forward then and stood before me. She grasped my chin and tilted my head up to face her. “You think that freedom is easy? A pleasure? Then you are still a fool! The freedom I have – and you too, now – is yet another burden. I’ve borne it alone for a very long time, and now I will have my reward. For you, it’s not easy to step out of the familiar bindings of this City’s life, and it will be dangerous, too. But I am building my own life here – and you will accompany me all the way.” I looked up into her dark eyes, admiring the beauty and the confidence. So different from the tentative, dark blue eyes that haunted my dreams: dreams that were so often nightmares of loss and loneliness. “Mistress, I’m sorry for my disobedience.” My apology was genuine, for I knew that my mood was both depressing and destructive, and that she had the right to discipline me. “I know what I owe you. I know that you offer me a freedom of sorts.” “The only one you have,” she snapped back. “And one that I know you’ll make the best of.” She gripped my shoulder again, and I rose. “I do not expect to have to say this again to you, Maen. Return to your duty at once.” I bowed to her then raised my head, our eyes meeting this time almost on a level. Then I turned and walked steadily back to my own quarters and the military duties of the day ahead. This, indeed, was how my life would be from now on. And like Seleste had said – no, demanded – I would make the best of it. I owed that to him.

The Twisted Brand By Clare London Coming June, 2008!

The Gold Warrior | 227

Clare London Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. She juggles fiction with a frantic family life and waits for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with short stories published both online and in print anthologies. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama, with a healthy serving of erotica, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters. Clare currently has a fantasy novel in the process of publication, two more nearing the submission stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in amongst the frantic family life. Visit Clare’s Website at http://www.darkpearldiva.com/

228 | Clare London

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Overseer Nicolas Wellss had been comin ng to Mount Desert Islaand for ten summeers to help build cottages c for the rich an nd powerful. Desp pite his secrets, hee had grown comfortablle in the peaceful little island town n, getting to know its in nhabitants and even to consider som me of them friends. The eleventh yeear, however, he arrived to startling neews: the island’s peace had been shattered s by a murder. At the request of o the sheriff, Shaawn Parnell, Nicolas ag greed to hire Philiip Hall, the local blacksmith and the pro obable next victim m, in the hope thaat the secure constructio on site would be safer than his ho ouse in the village. He H never expectted the decision to lead to danger. Orr to love.

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Upon theeir grandmother’s death, Tristan No orthland and his twin, Will, come into possession p of her Book B of Shadows and d the knowledg ge that their fam mily is responsible fo or a centuries old d curse. Determ mined to right the ancieent wrong, Tristan n sets off across th he ocean to reverse the dark magic that affects a the Sterling g family to this day. Benjamin n Sterling might not n be happy with his life, but it is pred dictable – at leastt until Tristan No orthland shows up in his h office, unanno ounced and with nowhere n to stay. He has h plenty of reaso on to distrust witcches and Northlands, but b instead of cau ution, he experien nces two unexpected em motions: hope and d love

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Jack k Christensen has everything he ever wanted. w He's a rising staar in US Diplomacy y, the youngest man n to have been appointed d as an Ambassado or of the United Staates. A career diplomat who's just been sent to a politicaally interesting Embassy in Europe, he haas the perfect wiffe, speaks five languagess and has all th he right credentialls, yet there's something g missing and he do oesn't quite know wh hat. Then n Lucas Carlton walks into an Embassy y reception and introduces himself and his American fiancée. From the first handshak ke, the young Engllishman makes an impression on Jack thaat leaves him co onfused and unch haracteristically insecure. Lucas' position as the t British liaison to o the American her closely and Embassy means they are forrced to work togeth they havee a hard time deny ying the attraction between them, despite th heir current relationsships. Diplomatic circles are notoriously conserrvative though, and they each know that the right woman by theeir side makes a verry significant contrib bution to their succcess. Will they be able a to make the riight choices in theiir professional and personal lives? Or will they need to saacrifice one for the other? o

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Novels from Dreamspinner D P Press Gold d Warrior by Clarre London Papeerback $11.99 ISBN N: 978-0-9815084 4-4-3

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Maen n is a Gold Warrio or, a defender of Aza A City, a world con ntrolled by the Queen Q and her womankind w where the best of men aree maintained for the t military and the women's w pleasure. A favorite of hiss imperious Mistress and a a leader am mong his men, Maen M is too cautious to o seek casual sex xual satisfaction and a so stays alone, tak king his comfortt in ensuring a stable and controlled world. That worlld is thrown into disarray by Dax, a bo old and challengin ng new Bronze soldier s who excites Maen M with his fierrce hero worship p and leads them to a forbidden affair. They T find themsellves thrown together in n a dangerous and d hostile environm ment without the supporrt of the City and far away from theeir loyalties, and Maen finds himself risk king everything fo or Dax – his position; his h loyalties; and eventually, e his lifee.

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S Seven years ago, Roan R Bucklin left the family ranch for co ollege, leaving fo oreman Patrick Laassiter with a mix of sweltering s emotio ons: relief, regrret, and nearly overw whelming desire. Afraid that Roaan would regret givin ng himself to an n older man, Pattrick let him go witho out a word aboutt his true feelingss. But Roan took Patricck’s heart with him m. R Roan had harbored a crush on Patriick from the time he’d turned fourteen. He thought he’d d gotten over it, grow wn up, moved on, but now he’s baack and home to stay. After one look, he knows he has h something to provee to Patrick – thaat he wants to bee claimed by the cowb boy who has alway ys possessed his heart. h

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Anth hologies from Dreamspinner D P Press 196 pages Paperba ack $11.99 eBook $5.99 ISBN: 978-0-9815084-0-5 5 815084-1-2 ISBN: 978-0-98 A collection of th hree m/m sci-fi no ovellas:

Far Fro om Home by Maadeleine Urban

Enhanced In Earth’s not-too--far future, a talenteed scientist stumblees over a plot to use the geenetically enhanced military to declaree martial law and take over the government. Dr. Ryne Siler en nlists his friend, Dr. Cary Matthews, M a brilliant engineer, to figure out how to stop it. When th he investigation goees awry, they’re on n the run, and the only thing between them and capture is a hidden cache of w enhancements of o their own. Ryne and a Cary sleeping soldiers with are desperate, but will waking these soldiers s help – or ju ust make things worse? Close Encounter j – delivering can nisters to Space privateer Trris is just doing his job a military sciencce vessel – when he discovers thaat he is transportiing people infected with an engineered d virus designed to exterminate e the hum man race. In the mid dst of an alien attacck, can the rogue pillot save patient Rettter - the key to the cure? Or will he lose both humanity’s salvation and his heeart? Following the Sun The nearlly fatal crash of theeir spacecraft leavess Jack and Samuel stranded s on a verdaant planet far from civilization. c Discov vered and sheltered by a native tribe, th he two resign them mselves to new livess – lives that includee a new culture, a neew language, and ev ven new love. But their t new home isn’’t at all what it seem ms, and when war an nd illness strike, theey find out just how far from home they y are.

Slight Details D & Rando om Events by Erric Arvin 224 pages p Paperba ack $11.99 ISBN: 978-0-9801018-0-5 5

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A co ollection of short stories from one of o today's most talented and challenging new writers. Ericc Arvin covers everythin ng from college love to mysticall river sprites, from deeep tragedy to bawdy sex com medy, in this collectio on that takes the ev veryday and findss the adventure within. It's a read sure to keep k you guessing g. Cov by HvH ver art and d illustrations (http://hv vhexpo.blogspot.ccom)

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Mr. Right Now

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eBook $5.99 ISBN: 978-0-98 815084-3-6 Snowbound,, Lovebound? by Fae F Sutherland & Marguerite Labbe y, all that's left is deesire. When animossity is stripped away Deacon Deciides by Eric Arvin Deacon's alw ways been a reserved d, quiet man, but wh hen he meets flight attendaant Joel on the planee to Australia, he must m decide if the risk is wo orth the reward. A Screw and d A Stud by Sonja Spencer Meeting in th he hardware store around a screws, stud ds, and lube, Mark offers to t help Tommy hang g a picture in his ho ome. Odds Are by y Chrissy Munder Returning to an annual conferen nce without his long g-time live-in boyfriend, do octor Rick Page discovers his lover had a secret he never suspectted.

A Th horough Workout by b Alix Bekins Ryan had taken to hang ging around the gym m late, waiting for Marc to approach him for hot, my, sticky sex. Ryan n wanted Marc – an nd he knew Marc wanted him. But whaat was taking steam Marc so long to make hiss move? Know w When to Spread 'em by Catt Ford In thee mood to ditch worrk and find play, Jay y goes looking for a good lunch hookup p and finds a hot bo odybuilder who occcasionally likes to walk w the guy side. The Proposition P by Rhiianne Aile & Madeeleine Urban Lookiing for a weekend companion, Marcu us chooses Gerard, an uptown, classy y young man who'ss willing to listen to his proposition. Wann na Ride? by Sonja Spencer In a dance d club where 'aanything goes' isn't just j a catch phrase,, Raul wore black leather l pants. Painteed on. And nothing else but sweat. Poweer Struggle by Anais Morten Jason n and Gero just don n't get along, on or off o the soccer field. Knowing something had to be done or the team would suffer, s they try to wo ork it out. Speciial Offer by Clare London L The grocery g store on a Saturday night wasn''t Mitch's idea of a good g time. It got wo orse when he ran in nto Will, his neighb bor from down the hall. h Both beyond annoyed, a they work on finishing their shopping, and with h each department they discover a gro owing attraction th hat cannot be denied.

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Size Ma atters: Short Sttories Long Eno ough to Satisfy

A Drea amspinner Anth hology of Gay Erotic E Novellass Paperba ack $20.00 ISBN: 978-0-9795048-0-8 8

eB Book $12.00 IS SBN: 978-0-97950 048-1-5 Snowfall In Seeattle by Lucia Lo ogan Christopheer Booth was just helping out a co--worker, never expectin ng it to catapult him into the sp potlight. When he needss help himself in his h new job as thee host of a radio sex adv vice show, he shaares some privatee secrets that lead his lo ongtime friend, Neeal Kenelly, to seee him in a new light. However, H Neal's past p makes him leery l of approaching th he other man opeenly. Will a more subtle approach be en nough to win him Chris's C heart?

Healing In Hiss Wings by Ariel Tachna T When thee crew of the Starfire S is struck k by a mysterious plaague, help comees from an uneexpected source: the heaalers of a nearby planet. p First Officer Ryan Nelson is sent to act as liaison officer o between th he Petari S and finds unexpected healin ng in their tender care. c and the Starfire Ever Changing by Shay Kincaid K Born n a Changeling, Chase C Spencer haad fooled his teach hers, playmates, even e his parents with w his altered ap ppearances, but ass he reached adultthood, the games took on a whole new meaning. Each weekend it was a different 'persona' and a different d partner, and that seemed to suit the young g man just fine, until u the night hee set his sights on n someone from his h past. Will Chase emerge from his h latest game unscathed, or will he h be caught in a web w of his own dev vising? Dreamsccape Internationa al by Connie Baileey & Rhianne Aille Visiiting dreams to grrant paid-for wishes, Dreamwalker Lucien Clarke is the best at navigaating the twists and a turns of sleep ping minds. While recovering from m a job gone wro ong, he discoverss that fantasy's paassion just can't match m reality's lov ve. Will unseen dangers d ruin it all?? An Acad demic Dilemma byy Alix Bekins Rod drigo is an art hisstory student who o finds himself attracted a to a new w friend while alsso undeniably draawn to his professsor. Exploring hiis feelings for theem both leads him m into a strange neew world of trust, kink and surprisin ng secrets.

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Size Still Matters: Short S Stories Sttill Long Enoug gh to Satisfy

A Drreamspinner Anthology of Ga ay Erotic Novelllas Papeerback $20.00 ISBN N: 978-0-9801018 8-2-9

eBook $12.00 ISBN: 978-0-98 801018-3-6 Sight Unsseen by Shay Kinccaid Famo ous actor Jackson Prescott wonders if anyone will everr look past the glitz and glamour of his Hollywoo od persona and love l the person behind the name. So o after accidentallly dialing a wro ong number and feelin ng an instant attracction to Devon Fo orrester, the stranger on o the other end of o the line, he deccides to test the waterss … using a diffeerent name. Afteer getting to know Dev von through theirr daily phone callls, Jackson starts to worry: Will th he relationship th hey've built crumble when w they meet face f to face? Or will Devon be able to forgive Jackson'ss deceit?

P by Gisellee Ellis Take My Picture Aaron n has no idea whaat he's walking in nto when he ws up to pose forr a famous photo ographer. Instead d of being the fo ocus of the show cameera, he ends up working w as Jake's assistant. a Five frrustrating, thrilling g and crazy yearss later, Jake disccovers Aaron hass become the foccus of his life, a life that's threaatened when Aaron n finds someone else, e and Jake has to set his beloved d muse free. Startt From the Beginn ning by Chrissy Munder M A heart attack leav ves Miles wrangliing with a slow reecovery and a quieet retreat … just one o cabin down frrom wounded warrrior Drew. Altho ough he's unhappy y to have his solitu ude invaded, Drew w finds himself faascinated with Milles, but he can't brring himself to pu ush aside his skitttish nerves. Both h men fear rejectiion for different reasons, r but whatt if they've instead d found the acceptaance they crave? Evan n’s Heaven by Niccki Bennett A Actor MacAlesterr Kerr wanders into a whole new w world of pam mpering and pleassure when his direector sends him to o Evan's Heaven for f a pedicure. Right R off, he meets the Evan and finds f himself head d over heels. Maac's on Cloud Nin ne when he findss out Evan feels th he same.

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Desire Beyond B Death: Tales of Eterna al Love

A Drea amspinner Anth hology of Gay Erotic E Novellass Paperba ack $20.00 ISBN: 978-0-9801018-4-3 3

eB Book $12.00 IS SBN: 978-0-98010 018-5-0 Ink: The Tale of o a Vampire in Meelbourne by Isabella a Rowan After too long alone, Domiinic enters a tattoo o parlor, fi a way to reco onnect to life. He H meets desperate to find Michael, an arrtist who evokes feeelings and needs Dominic knows are dang gerous. But those em motions and the allu ure of the handsome hum man intoxicate Dom minic as much as th he blood that keeps him alive, and he finds that t he – usually thee hunter y. just can't resist giving in to his prey m by Chrissy Mundeer After the Storm Angry and d frustrated with his h chronic illness, Vincent Poulsen moves into an old lightho ouse to live out the few f days he has left. Affter a dangerous colllapse, he meets thee ghostly Captain Cason,, who shares storiess of his distant pastt. In the process, Vinceent stumbles over the tragedy that binds b the captain to the liighthouse and his haaunted memories. Then T fate offers them botth a chance to chang ge the future… for better or

for worsee. Revenantt by Connie Bailey Wheen Bo Andressen an nd his salvage crew contract a job in a crumbling castle, th hey walk into a my ystery of murder, in ntrigue, hidden treassure and greed that has its roots in the far past. Ghosts arre only the first su uspected danger – the t crew, local con nstable Gavin Gilro oy, castle owner Sirr Rhys Turcotte and d psychic Tristan Andrews A have to find d out who of a morre earthly nature is involved, i before mo ore people fall victim m to an ancient spectre who seeks to reejoin and conquer th he mortal world. ail Roux Seeing is Believing by Abiga p that requirees a specialized toucch. Enter Scottt Cunningham has a ghost problem, a problem Zachariass, Leo, and Andy – professionals, p if you u will – in solving said s problems. But solutions don't alwaays come easy, and if Zacharias and hiss crew can't get the job done, someone innocent might gett hurt. Bittersweeet by Madeleine Urrban His business failing and d his marriage flou undering, Harrison Holden H is falling ap part. To ngs worse, he wakess one morning to seee Piers Claybrook, a man he rescued after a car make thin crash the night before, standiing in front of him – the same Piers hee'd seen dead in the hospital. host, Piers believes he's h with Harrison to t make a differencee in the other man's life, and Now a gh it's up to the two of them to o find the key to liv ving – and dying – and a how to walk th he line in between without w being separaated by it.

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