Chapter Fifty-Seven

Those were exceptionally good days for Brotus. In the morning he worked for Corwin, hauling goods to various merchants with the help of a few of the elven laborers they’d picked up outside of Laylan, a task he was entrusted to carry out entirely independently, as the ‘old man’ would barely leave his assigned room.

Then after he was done, Brotus would visit with Corwin’s uncle Amberose and notice things that Corwin never mentioned. “Laborers are just tools that work, that’s all. Slaves are just the most effective tools a man can own. The gods themselves decreed that some are born to rule, to lead, to amass wealth, and the rest?” Amberose shrugged, “They just exist to let those people come a little closer to the gods. If a worker doesn’t serve your apparatus, why should you keep him in it? He’s a liability, a waste of space, a drain on your pocket.”

Brotus reflexively put his hand over the coinpurse at his side. “My nephew has never understood this, not properly.” Amberose said with a contemptuous shake of his head. There were many complaints about his ‘foolish nephew’ as well as lessons about ruthlessness that were seen in direct observation when the old man went from place to place…such as at a smithy easily the size of three or four of the buildings nearby.

Smoke rose from a dozen forges and the sound of hammers pounding metal seemed more like drums of steel than common work.

Amberose however, went straight for one man who towered over him. Craning his neck back, he waved to the smith as if they were old friends.

When the giant of a smith with his soot and sweat touched arms saw Amberose and Brotus approach, he set his hammer down and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No.” He said at once, before Amberose could so much as utter a word.

Which did not stop the merchant from launching into his spiel, concluding with…

“...Of course, if you do just ‘run out’ of your ores for a few weeks… well then I think I can get you several months’ worth of upper tier potions for your wife’s condition. I happen to have some, but I was planning to ship them to North Qadish. For a friend though, well what are friends for?” Amberose shrugged his shoulders and held his hand out to show he was ready to close what passed for a ‘deal.’

Even as a novice, Brotus could see what was happening. The smith in front of them was a burly figure whose hands and arms were covered in the burn scars of a veteran of his craft, beardless, as most tended to be, and he relied on the steady supply of ore for weapons and repairs to common equipment, if he were forced to slow down production for any length of time, it would be expensive.

‘But the sellers of new goods would make a killing, selling at a premium what couldn’t wait to be repaired…’ Brotus had to bite his tongue to keep from gasping at the audacious deal.

“I suppose I should close down number thirty-two and thirty for a few weeks, added support beams and all would keep the miners safer and the ore flowing better if we avoided a cave in. Just have a delivery sent to my home tonight.” The smith answered and accepted Amberose’s hand.

The hefty merchant winced, but smiled through the pain before they moved on.

“I have to ask,” Brotus whispered, “did you make his wife sick, or how did you know she was sick or…”

“Neither. For some reason, tradesmen in certain fields like smithing and hat making tend to get sick, and so do their wives and family members. I just bought up the majority of potions and waited for my chance.” Amberose explained.

“But… how, isn’t that expensive?” Brotus’s mind reeled as he considered the cost of such a move.

“Not if you are able to control the cost of ingredients needed to make potions. I just lowered the price on storage temporarily to attract the herbalists and alchemists. Then bought up the majority of now lower cost potions, then raised the price of storage to obscene levels to force them to clear the inventory and cut the transport of new materials in… I take a little loss on storage, but with not enough potions to go around and hoarding most of the supply myself, I can hold a lot of lives in my hands, and even look benevolent while I make the market dance.” Amberose chortled a little.

They were passing through an alleyway, by then and after a quick glance back and forth Amberose added, “I have an abundance of weapons and armor, not to mention common tools, with that shortage of ore-”

Brotus interjected, “They can’t repair their damaged tools and things, so they buy new ones from you, you can buy the broken ones for next to nothing. Then later? You can sell every bit of it at a premium where it’s already expensive.” He reflexively turned his palm up to catch the coins of clinking gold falling from the heavens like rain to land in his hand.

Amberose clapped him on the shoulder, “Exactly. A few weeks from now the ‘shortage’ will be fixed, but by then I’ll have bought up the used things that couldn’t be repaired, I’ll then fix them at an ultra-low price and sell them out in the countryside to the latifundias and other places for an enormous profit. And with that, my boy… the rewards of wealth await!”

Brotus didn’t need to ask what that ‘reward’ was. They emerged from their shortcut onto a narrow road of cobblestone filled with small buildings. Outside most were women both human and elven alike, but here and there, there were young men, with people of both sexes and races dressed in a mockery of clothing while lute music passed openly through open windows along with the moans and grunts of patrons and clients alike.

While the street was clean as all were in Wenmark, everywhere they went there was the stink of musk and desires… “My treat, Brotus, just remember, you tell me anything interesting that comes your way from my nephew. Do that, and I’ll see you rise higher than he ever could.”

“Yessir.” Brotus mumbled, the memory of want and loss and hard beds and sweaty work and the dreams of wealth and luxury all filled his head to such an extent that they pushed the word out with barely a thought. He licked his lips and half stumbled toward the door while already reaching for his pants with one hand, and with the other he reached out for the sylvan prostitute who curled her finger toward herself and stepped within the door.

‘Could it be any easier?’ Amberose wondered as he followed behind the young man. ‘Maybe?’ He thought, ‘But I don’t see how.’

________________________________________

When Corwin failed to see Brotus at the stables… or at the common barracks… or even down with the elves… and found that all the required work for the day was done, a sinking feeling came over him that twisted his stomach up in knots. The stack of goods meant for final disbursal was now much smaller. Everything appeared to be in order. ‘He’s not stealing at least. I can rule that out.’ He thought, but that was not the worst thing Corwin could think of.

“Amberose.” Corwin growled out and spat down on the floor of the warehouse where the last of his supplies were waiting for movement. He thought briefly of confronting his uncle, ‘Just go to his home and confront the bastard!’ But that would involve seeing the array of bondservants, not only the elves, but the humans the old man mistreated nearly as badly.

He wanted to think, ‘I’ll lose my temper.’ But every time Corwin tried to tell himself that, his heart quavered, ‘I’ll lose my nerve.’ The true thought came to mind, and for the thousandth time in his life before the judge and jury of his own mind he declared, ‘You are a coward.’

And unable to bring himself to go to his uncle directly, he simply waited. Whatever Brotus was doing, whatever he’d done, the apprentice was still himself, and a diligent apprentice would check the security of his master’s goods as surely as a knight would check the horses before going to sleep.

So, Corwin sat on a worn wooden crate and waited, watching the sun pass across the sky through a distant window until, tellingly, Brotus appeared in the door.

“Master!” Brotus gasped. “Why are you here, I’ve been checking the goods every night as you taught me!”

Corwin’s face turned purple with rage, and Brotus’s face turned ghostly white at the rare display of temper. “Get over here, boy!” Corwin snapped and jabbed a fat finger down toward the stone floor in front of him.

Brotus scurried to obey, racing across the distance, and blinking with confusion, “Sir, Master, have I done any-”

“I saw the expense report, the receipt from Laylan.” Corwin’s declaration came out as a snarl of disgust. “No common whore costs that much, there’s only one form of ‘recreation’ in Laylan that can be that expensive in that city.”

Brotus blushed as his liaison with the elven consort was exposed. “You told me I could spend whatev-”

Corwin had never moved his hand so fast in his life, he grabbed Brotus by the throat. “I taught you better, didn’t I, boy!”

Brotus grabbed at the merchant’s wrists and pushed the hand away while he pulled himself back. “She didn’t mind! She was my first! And I-”

“And since then?! Have you been spending time with my uncle?!” Corwin growled as his hand was forcibly pulled away, he yanked it the rest of the way himself and let it fall down at his side.

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Defiance entered Brotus’s eyes, “Yessir! He’s teaching me things you didn’t! Look out there, Master Corwin! All over the city the proof of the value of those creatures is obvious! He’s richer than you, the city is safer than any I’ve ever seen! We’d be fools to pretend otherwise!”

“Aye, he’s teaching you things I didn’t.” Corwin said and clenched his hand into a meaty fat fist, “Things you weren’t meant to know, because those are lessons for people you weren’t meant to be like! I know my uncle’s view. All workers are tools that work. Elven slavery keeps labor costs low and profits high, and they’re beautiful, pleasurable… the gods meant for them to please the houses of man… do you think I haven’t heard these things, boy!” Corwin demanded and stood up.

“But did I ever treat you or any of your fellow apprentices as just… tools that work?! Did I?!” Corwin demanded.

“Master Amberose says that some people are meant to be lifted up, and others are meant to do the lifting.” Brotus protested, and Corwin reared back as if he’d been struck.

“I taught you better, to be better. I gave you everything, I blessed you, boy, not because you deserved it, but so that somebody would inherit what I’ve built to pass that blessing on! Not so you could be part of the long nightmares of the lives of the helpless chattel that lives in this gilded cage!” Corwin’s bellow of rebuke echoed over the empty warehouse.

“But Master… they’re not actually people-” Brotus did not get to finish his statement, because Corwin’s open palm cracked across his face. The young man’s eyes blinked as tears of sudden pain blurred his vision.

“You are no longer my apprentice. Allowing you to be a merchant is allowing more misery into this world, I regret ever taking you in.” Corwin barked. “You will inherit nothing; I will meet you at the guild hall tomorrow to decertify you and give you your payment for services rendered. After that, never let me see you again!”

Brotus touched his hand to the cheek where a red palm print was already forming on his face, his mouth opened as words failed to form on his tongue. Before his eyes, all the visions of wealth, comfort, inheriting his master’s business… it was all slipping away. The future path he laid out for himself went from being a wide path easy to walk, to being a knife’s edge beneath his feet and hovering over a pit of flames to the left and vipers to the right, and his balance was slipping.

“Master I-” Brotus began to protest, “You can’t do this to me!”

“I can and I am! My uncle’s poison has gotten into you, and I won’t let it spread any further! Get out of my warehouse! Get out!” Corwin shouted, and Brotus cringed back, tears of pain turned into tears of anger, but still proper words could not be formed.

He turned and ran from the room like a scolded child, out of the door, into the streets. He stared back from just out of view as Corwin left the warehouse alone and, predictably, locked the door.

There was no one around, no one but Corwin and himself in this little traveled area of the city. The former apprentice’s fingers tensed, ‘Could I… could I kill him? Could I get away with it?’ He wondered as he looked with fury at the man to take away the life Brotus had been working toward for year after year.

He could envision it clearly, Corwin still intimidated him, at least some, a lingering memory of his being big and tall compared to the young boys he taught. But now? ‘I could easily kill him if I catch him off guard.’ But then that brought up another question.

‘I wouldn’t get anything since I’m not an adopted son or even tied to him beyond an apprenticeship… plus I’d probably get caught too. After all, everybody knows I’m supposed to come and check the goods. And what if he told someone he was waiting for me there?’ Brotus shivered and touched his hand to his throat, the noose held no appeal for him.

Then it hit him, just as Amberose had attacked the problem of supplies from a different angle, so could he. With that, Brotus turned and ran toward the home of Corwin’s uncle, ‘Whatever promises I have to make to him will be worth it.’ He reassured himself, and never hesitated a step in his dead sprint through the streets, all the way to the home of Amberose.

________________________________________

“Good.” Speranzi said while crouched down beside Skana and Illyana. The former clad in her brand-new armor, delivered that very morning, was now pinned beneath Illyana. The elf’s fore and middle finger spread and hovering over Skana’s eyes. It hadn’t been a true bout; the former brigand had been cooperating as they went through the motions.

But with nothing to do in the exceptionally safe city, the cooperative process was the way they passed the time. Between games of cards and training for hour after hour, Illyana began to grow rapidly.

The quiet, frightened rabbit look that left Illyana’s eyes dull save when lit by her fears was fading as her seed of confidence was growing. “Very good.” Speranzi said and stretching out her hand, she touched her finger to the base of Illyana’s thumb and brought it down to touch Skana’s eyes. “But always train to finish.” She said as Skana’s eyes reflexively blinked. “As you train, you will fight. Stop in training, stop in combat, and that is lethal.”

“Reset.” Speranzi said and stood up. Illyana still flinched when Speranzi touched her even a little, but the fear she exhibited in her expression was gone.

The two women were covered in sweat, and when Illyana got up, she held out a hand to assist Skana in rising, the former brigand popped up to her feet as if she were fresh, her auburn hair bouncing around behind her as she flashed the slave a smile. “Thanks.” She said and rubbed her hands together as they took position again.

Illyana’s smile flashed pearl white teeth before she stood at the ready with one foot back. “Teacher.” She said, inclining her head toward Speranzi, and the mercenary commander snapped out ‘Begin!’

The room was then filled with grunts and cries and the moans of struggle as the two rolled around on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Skana held back some of her strength to allow Illyana to perform the required motions, but it was still far from easy.

For the first two days, Speranzi watched the door like a hungry hawk, concerned that someone might enter when Illyana or Skana let out a cry of pain, or even due to what sounded like desperate struggles…

It wasn’t until Illyana said during a brief rest, “You don’t need to guard the door, noises like that in rooms like this are not going to draw attention, just their absence will.”

And Speranzi’s heart inflamed with fury all the more.

But she no longer watched the door.

“Not bad.” Speranzi said as Illyana thrust the tip of the wooden dagger at Skana’s neck, stopped only by the demon-eyed warrior’s quick hand. “You’re not strong enough to push through metal, but you can get through most flesh just fine. Go for where the armor is weakest, or better yet, absent.”

“Yes, teacher.” Illyana said, and again she aided Skana in rising to her feet.

Each time the slave said the word ‘teacher,’ Speranzi felt a different warmth within, the reluctance became acceptance, the acceptance became admiration, and as one day became another, it was closer to trust.

During Speranzi’s breaks she left the room and the building to attend to her soldiers, speak with Corwin, and otherwise ensure her apparatus of command was in good order. For her soldiers she issued but one rule. “No visiting brothels.”

In any other city such an order was unthinkable, but in this one? ‘If any of them did, I could never look at them the same way again. Never.’

At night, Illyana took the bed and passed out from exhaustion in her training, leaving Speranzi and Skana alone to take the floor.

“You have your own room available; you know.” Speranzi said as she slid into her bedroll. She’d given that reminder each night, but always Skana refused.

“This is where I want to be.” Skana said quietly, “I like it here, I’m happy here…” She yawned a little. For the first two nights that had been her only response and Speranzi had let it go. She’d used different but similar answers subsequently, but now she was back to that again.

But on this night Speranzi chuckled and said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love with me.”

Skana did not laugh, she was glad of the darkness and the fact that Speranzi’s back was turned, and it was because of both of those that she had the courage to reach up to touch the noblewoman’s shoulder.

Speranzi was quiet, her heart seized up in her breast. “Don’t even joke about that, Skana. It’s not funny.” She gritted her teeth and clung tighter to her bedroll.

“I’m not laughing and I’m not joking…Speranzi. You don’t have to feel the same.” Skana whispered in a quiet voice, but close enough that her warm breath kissed the back of Speranzi’s neck. “But I wanted you to know how I felt at least.”

Speranzi didn’t roll over to look at her, the way Skana hoped in her heart of hearts, ‘See me…’ The former brigand pled with her eyes focused on a woman who was facing away from her.

For the mercenary leader, that was more than she was ready to take in. So instead of answering directly, she looked toward the bed. “She’s sleeping quietly tonight. That’s good.”

“Exhaustion makes sleep easy.” Skana said, deferring to the obvious desire for a shift in subject. “We’ve been wearing her out since we began.

“I suppose. But if the previous nights were any indication, she doesn’t sleep easily. Nightmares. A lot of soldiers have them.” Speranzi said with quiet resignation.

“A lot of peasants do too.” Skana answered, it wasn’t exactly a rebuke, but nonetheless it was a sharp point. “But at least she seems all right for now. She has you to thank for that, you know.”

Speranzi immediately retorted, “Not really. The really important thing will be when I go confront the temples and admonish them for their conduct. Here? Here I haven’t done anything but teach one slave some basic self-defense. Even with a mastery of that, you can do everything right and still lose… but it is nice seeing someone grow, bloom in a way. Like watching a flower dying in a draught restored with a sudden shower. Or watching a soul be reborn.”

“That’s poetic.” Skana answered with a little smile, passively ignoring the promise of some grandiose admonition of high nobles and priests. ‘I can’t fault the effort, even if I think it will be futile to report Laylan or to criticize what this city does…’ She thought, and added additional praise instead, “I never imagined poetry out of the Maiden of the Door…”

“I grew up as a noble, and even if my bastard parents loved me as much as a boil on their necks, I was still given a good education.” Speranzi answered with bitterness in every bit of every word only slightly tempered by the praise.

“They were fools.” Skana insisted without reservation and inched her bedroll closer to Speranzi, “Besides, you are helping her. She has freedom to look forward to, a life outside of here… an end to all this, a way out. And your instruction matters, it makes her feel like she’s not as helpless as she was… it’s like…” Skana was still while she sought words beyond her skill in using them. “Like you said, sort of… she’s getting her soul back… I think.”

“Maybe. I’ve never been anyone’s ‘teacher’ before. Not like this. It does feel good. Really… really good. Not many people are comfortable letting me do my duty as a paladin. I never thought the first one to really want my help, to be okay with my help, would be an elf. But I’m actually glad I can do this, this, and a lot more. In a strange way, it’ll be the fulfillment of a part of my life to see her cross the border on her way home. I hope I see a smile when I say goodbye. People don’t smile at me much.” Speranzi said with a rueful chuckle.

“I’m sure it will be as radiant as the sun.” Skana said, and let out a long yawn.

Speranzi yawned in turn, murmured a quiet, “I hope so…” and then they fell asleep, with a fond hope for the future blossoming within their breasts..

Illyana lay awake and still, listening to the two chatter. And for the first time in her life, a hint of shame came over her at eavesdropping on the two humans who slept on the floor of her quarters. This was a frequent tactic of hers to help ensure her safety, to listen in on those around her, but never in all that time had she heard words like those. And never had her heart been moved by murmured nothings… ‘Good humans… what a change…’ She thought. She locked Skana’s secret away in her heart, ‘One gives me power over her life, another teaches me to protect myself and promises to get me home… my prayers are finally being answered.’ She could smile at that and curled herself up under warm blankets, then finally did allow herself to sleep. Now certain that she would not be awakened to cruelty, she had no nightmares that night.