His partner today was one of his bunk mates. Not one of the nice ones. A bushy eyebrowed, sneering shit-eater, with the overly fine features of the well-bred.

“Watch yourself, Empyrean scum. Today I’m going to put you in your place.”

It wasn’t worth arguing with a guy like this. He was like a smaller, reedy-voiced, uglier copy of Sig. But his foot positioning was slightly off, and his grip on the hilt of his weapon was too tight. Sloppy. After the past couple weeks of training, Ren could beat him.

Probably.

“What’s that?” said the boy, staring wide eyed at something behind Ren.

Ren followed his gaze, looking over his shoulder. There was nothing—

CRACK

Ren staggered back, clutching his ribs. Another swing whistled through the air where his head had been a moment before.

He dodged two more attacks—faster and more precise than he’d anticipated—then stepped inside of a wide overconfident swing, knocking it aside and ramming the butt of his weapon into the shit-eater’s gut. As his opponent bent and gasped, Ren hooked his leg and threw his full weight into an elbow strike at the same spot. Just like Garam had done so many times to him, Ren sent the boy crashing to the ground.

Ren pressed the point of his wooden sword into the kid’s sternum.

“You-” he was gasping between breaths and spitting at Ren with each word “-damn- empyrians- always- cheat-”

Ren pushed his weapon down harder till the boy squirmed. “I’m not a fucking Empyrean.” He glanced aside just in time to see the drill instructor turning his way. A quick back-step.

His opponent was still wheezing on the ground by the time the sergeant got to them and regarded Ren. “You’ve come a long way, recruit. Keep it up.” Then he was off.

Ren couldn’t help but smile back at the hateful glare that came up at him. His partner was more wary after that and the rest of the day passed without incident, though his ribs still ached as he sat down with Parna after their usual evening session of training together after dinner.

“That guy’s been needing to get knocked on his ass.” Parna passed him the flask. He had no idea how everyone seemed able to sneak liquor into the base, but his ribs certainly didn’t mind.

“I hope I get to face off against him during the trials,” said Ren, his tongue a little loose. “The shit-eater won’t know what hit him.”

“Pretty sure that already happened today. Just watch out for him. You know his kind. Too dumb to make a living, and too proud not to blame someone else for his shortcomings.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Fine, fine.” Parna held up his hands, before stroking his chin. “You know… I could probably arrange that matchup if you really want that. Just got to know who and when to give the right favor to for that sort of thing. But surprising an idiot who’s got his guard down isn’t the same as being a great fighter. You’re going to have to train harder, or throw him off with one of those Parvethi moves you’ve been showing me.”

It was true. Ren lost as many sparring matches as he won, which was a vast improvement, but still, he knew he was no sword sage. On the other hand, he’d yet to see Parna lose a single match. Even against Ramul, he fought to a draw every time.

“Keep in mind that he’s got money and the tutors that come with it. When he’s not underestimating his opponent he’s got some skill. We’ll want to put together some special trick to exploit the weaknesses in his style.” Parna took the flask back and yawned. “I’m gonna turn in. See you tomorrow.”

Ren waved and sat a few more minutes before taking his ney from the case he’d hidden in his cloak and lifted it to his lips. Here on the outskirts of camp, if he played real quiet, nobody bothered him.

“What do we have here?”

Ren knew that voice. It was the shit-eater.

“What do you want now?” he asked, turning. There were four other recruits with the boy.

Ren stood.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” The boy raised his hands like Ren was some kind of mule he was trying to placate. “I’m not here to fight.”

Ren eyed the boy’s followers who were fanning out, blocking his exit routes. Yeah, that was ratshit if he’d ever heard any.

“I’m serious,” said the boy, his bushy eyebrows rising innocently. “Look, I’m sorry for taking that cheap shot earlier. I know that was a bad move. I’m actually here as a friend right now.”

“A friend?” Ren should have run immediately. He was surrounded now.

“I know that guy who you’ve been hanging around with.”

“You mean Parna?”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The boy’s smile left his eyes. “Ya, that’s the one. He’s no good. Dangerous. Used to do dirty work on the streets back home. How do you think he got so good at fighting? Well, let’s just say he isn’t the kind of person you should want watching your back.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, we don’t want him watching our backs either. What do you say to joining us? We are going to knock him out in the first round of the trials. At the very least we can make sure we don’t have to take orders from a dirty street rat like him.”

Ren usually made smart decisions. But anger took him and before he could think about his predicament, his answer was leaving his mouth. “You know, this would be a whole lot more convincing if you hadn’t been antagonizing me since we started bunking together. You might be right about his past, but on the streets you do what you need to do. People like you won’t understand until you get dunked face first into the gutter. He's the only one who’s extended a hand to me these past weeks. Not you. I may not know a ton, but I know that a man’s actions speak more to his character than his oily rat tongue.” He gestured to the other recruits. “You come here after insulting and attacking me, surround me, and tell me to be your friend? Only an honorless slug proposes friendship under threat.”

Then reality caught up to him. Right about the same time as the group took a collective step toward him.

A light shone onto them then, cutting the darkness. One of the night guards. Thank the spirits.

The other boys bolted, but Ren stayed. He let the guard take him to the night commander.

“They said what?” The man had an angry vein bulging on his forehead. It had grown more bulbous with each word of Ren’s tale. Hopefully they’d be kicked out so they couldn’t attack Parna. What if they moved up their plan now that he’d said no?

“I swear it sir.”

The man palmed his face. “Fucking recruits… I believe you. You came without fuss, and my man reports he saw others running away, even recognized some. But I can’t do much about it. Do you know who that kid is?”

Ren shook his head. He’d made a point not to know too much about any of the people who couldn’t be bothered to treat him with decency. They didn’t deserve space in his mind.

“That is Recruit Kareem, Councilman Gutari’s son. We can’t kick him out without making a serious fuss. Best I can do is a lashing to scare them off.”

Azura burn it all.

***

The next morning, Captain Lurron’s voice boomed out over the complex. The councilman’s son and his friends were called out in front of everyone.

“What does it mean to be a soldier of the Northern Brigade?” His voice was filled with fire. “We are the bastion of our great republic against those who would destroy us. Who would rape our wives and daughters, enslave our sons, steal our resources and force us to starve and wither. We fight against those who conspire to destroy all we hold dear.”

Whenever the Captain spoke like this, something stirred in Ren. He’d never felt any loyalty toward Ardus. As far as his memories went, he’d been much happier when his family was traveling the spice road. But these were the words of a hero–in spirit if not in rank. And if Ren wanted anything, it was to be a hero. A hero would be respected. A hero was powerful. A hero was brave and true. A hero could save his family.

The captain continued. “We do not tolerate conspiracy within our ranks. You need to brawl something out, fine. We’ll dock your pay, but we’re soldiers of Ardus and our blood runs hot. However, planning, sabotage, cold blood like a Parvethi snake—I won’t have it in my company. Do you hear me?”

“Yes sir!” Thousands of recruits spoke as one.

Kareem and his friends were stripped and tied to poles that stood vertically in the square. Ren didn’t envy their bare feet on the snow that had coated everything the night before. Their bodies quivered.

Then the lashing began. The first blow drew a scream and blood that spattered crimson on the white ground. Another blow landed, this one crossing the previous wound, drawing out a strangled yelp. The flesh bloomed outward where the lines met. By the fourth, the councilman’s son was whimpering and shaking, sagging on weak knees, held upright by his bound arms. A red sheen coated his back and buttocks.

Ren’s stomach churned. He focused on his breath so as to avoid retching.

Parna sidled up next to him through the crowd. “You look a bit green.”

Another crack, another scream. His gorge rose even as they untied the boy and moved on to the next.

“This your doing?” asked his friend, eyes hard.

Ren grimaced at yet another tearing slap.

“If it was, be careful. You know what they say about loose tongues on the streets.”

Still, Ren refused to meet his eyes. He knew the saying. He’d seen what happened to those who tried going to the city guard. But this wasn’t the maze of Katarn. This was the military. A place of order. It was different here. Wasn’t it?

Parna shrugged and disappeared into the crowd.

Five lashes for each recruit, every stroke of the whip splitting and curling the skin it carved.

Had he done the right thing?

One time at Garam’s they’d received a delivery of molasses rather than ale. Nobody noticed until they tapped the barrel and tried to pour a mug. It passed through the nozzle so gradually they could barely tell if it was moving at all. The rest of the day was like that. Painfully slow. Ren couldn’t stop hearing the crack of the whip or the whimpering yelps and sobs. He couldn’t stop seeing the splatter on the snow or the look of disgust and disappointment on Parna’s face.

It was true, less than half a year ago he never would have turned someone in to the authorities. There was a code on the street. A separate set of rules. It seemed like his friend still held to those rules. Ren swore to himself he wouldn’t do something like that again. You’d burn all your trust and respect that way. After all, some day–probably too soon–they’d all be fighting together.

He grabbed his meal, scarfed it down, picked up his ney from the barracks, and headed to the outskirts again. If he didn’t clear his head somehow he’d be up all night.

***

His heart remained uneasy for the next few days, so he leaned into his nightly forays as a way to escape. When he was playing, he didn’t have to think about the looks he was getting from the other recruits now that Kareem and his friends had returned to training and told everyone what happened. He didn’t have to think about how his friend Parna hadn’t met up with him in three days.

The music came out rough and throaty at first, as though his doubt and frustration were clogging the holes. But each note carried away a little of the burden. He started with the Sappling Song of the Autumn Breeze, but every time he tried playing it nowadays there was this feeling, like the song wanted to change with the season. That night, he gave in and let his fingers dance new notes along the stem of his ney. It became an ode to winter, slow and mournful, seeking. Like the tapestry of night, bright notes glimmered in the depths of the song. This one the moment a snowflake lands, that one the smoky plume of breath, another one the crackling of a fire against the cold. The sound of snow crunching underfoot.

Wait, that was coming from behind him.